So the big news is I spent much of New Year's Eve listening to Mary J. Blige, which was emotionally challenging but uniquely rewarding: She has a song called "No More Happy Holidays" about how her guy is never around on Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Year's and July 4, and it's messing her up. Now ain't that a bitch? I was extremely "female" that night and her song "PMS" was also a moment of supreme, how you say---relate-itude? It's like if Aretha were young and doing it today, swearing as much as you know she wanted to.
"I wanna talk to the ladies tonight
About a situation I'm pretty sure
Y'all will be able to relate to
Today I'm not feeling pretty
See I'm feeling quite ugly
Havin' one of those days
When I can't make up my mind
So don't even look at me...
Down and out in depression
I think the worst of everything
My lower back is aching
And my clothes don't fit (oh shit)
Now ain't that a bitch...
See I already know that I'm fucked up
PMS I know I'm fucked up
And I don't need you to remind me
See cause PMS is takin' over right now
If you understand, understand where I'm comin from
This is the worst part of everything
The worst part of being a woman is PMS
Give me a break, give me a break
Cause I don't wanna have to set it on ya
Get away, get away, get away, get away
Get away cause I'm PMS-ing."
Eminem doesn't get it; he thinks you can be "on the rag and ovulating" at the same time. Doesn't he know how it goes?
The good news is, I ended up going to a party and dancing to ELO, Love, the Kinks and AC/DC. It was a New Year's Eve redeemed by Vicodin and the kindness of strangers.
Here's to a new year full of kind strangers and friendly white pills.
The other great thing was that my current favorite L.A. station, 100.3 the Beat, was playing their top 100 hip-hop and soul songs of all time, mixed by a real live DJ. Not by a computer. Mixed with intelligence and humor. Radio is magic.