I am a music snob.
I am a stuck up music snob.
I am also a hypocritical stuck up music snob.
How do I know this about myself? Because I will hate, loathe, and abhor a song with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns, I will denounce it as the reason for the insipidity of American youth, and I will claim that it has absolutely no musical value.
Until Glee does it.
Then I’ll buy the song, make a mix based on it, and play it in my car for three weeks.
Ever since Glee came on the air, I have become a closet Lady Gaga fan. When they slapped some Chris Colfer and Idina Menzel on Gaga, I threw on some armadillo heels and never looked back. “Love Game” was my ringtone for a brief period during the summer. I didn’t know what the heck a disco stick was, but I wanted one for Christmas.* When Gaga told me to “just dance, da da doo doo doo” I said, “Ok Gaga! Hells yeah!!! Hold my muffin…” I stood in the mirror for hours working on my poker face, all for the love of Gaga.
But now the madness has to stop.
I’m wearing sequined underwear to work.
When one of my friends called me, I answered the phone with, “Hello, hello baby, you know I can’t hear a thing.”
Gaga and I are in a bad romance.
Perhaps I could stop watching Glee and go cold turkey, but Chris Colfer is just too darn cute and those glee-ified pop tunes are too darn catchy. Did you watch this past week’s episode? They did a version of Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream”. I hated that song when it first came out. I thought it was an example of overly processed pop. Now I keep thinking that Darren Criss and I could drive to Cali and get drunk on the beach. And maybe, just maybe, if I let him put his hands on me in my skin-tight jeans, we could be a teenage dream.
I need help people. They should make pills for this.
* I have since learned what a disco stick is and may I say, “ew” and “ick.”