I cannot tell anymore what is a repeat episode on late nite. The description on the TiVo just give a brief description of who's appearing and who's performing. Of course, the year is included, but I think airing a rerun of a show more than one year old would be unusual. So tonight I watched a rerun of Last Call with Carson Daly because I sometimes channel surf the late nite shows for something to TiVo.
This show interviews Kat Dennings, so of course, I'm tuning in. I don't know too much about the indie band scheduled, but I listen to indie 103.1 at work, so I figure that it'll be a band I can digest. Licha told me Kat's her fav newcomer because she's HOT! I can't disagree with that, but I remember her from 40 year old…
So, I got the fire roaring and the six o'clock news just ended (possibly on a sad note); so, I'm not really in the mood for more TV. And I can't even remember why the hell I TiVo'd Carson Daly. I was cursed with a short term memory problem at an early age. So, I click on Carson and advance it to the end so that I can backward track to the band. While I'm doing this, I'm reading the description—oh yeah, Kat's on—but I'll watch the band first, then jump to the beginning and fast forward to Kat.
Five, six, seven, eight! All the time, awake You're still on my mind But we were on our own Almost all the time And she'll step away For a second or two And I close my eyes And I think of you We were only seventeen We were holding in our screams Like we'd torn it from the pages Of somewhile you listen to the song—I cried (for clarification, my tear ducts are overactive, but if I say "cry", I don't mean pout. Just overly moist eyeballs) because, what can I say, I love that hillbilly sound—BUT THEN I READ THE LYRICS. I couldn't stop, after finding the lyrics online and replaying this song until 2AM. FUCK! I should say, I worked the night shift today, so I didn't catch the news until eightish.
lipstickgirly magazine And you scratch and turn And say, "let's burn ourselves up 'til we scream" Like gasoline Those tender days At your mother's house And your father would find My hand inside your blouse But they tell me that You're married now Oh my dear, I fear I can't understand how We were only seventeen We were holding back our screams Like we'd torn our lives from the pages Of some girly magazines And you scratch and turn And say, "let's burn these sheets down to the seams" Like gasoline I was only twenty one I wasn't having any fun And the words you said Tore through my head Like bullets from a gun And I shoulda just shown up and said, "Get in this car, let's run" And these years have seen So many imitations turning green Each like the last, they go right past, Like credits on a screen But your memory blazes through me Burning everything Like gasoline Like gasoline Like gasoline
Who is that girl? She looks like a female version of OZZY OZBOURNE? I love the attire this band sports, especially the violinist's dress. She has oh-so-sexy a hairstyle, and here I'm thinking she could hair dance a bit more during her dancing breaks while she doesn't play her fiddle for this perky song. BUT, oh no… she reminds me of… When she does play, she seems to be anxious to match that key in which the lead singer of the band sings in, rather his natural speaking voice. I can't keep my eyes off her legs. I've never seen such smooth legs in high heels shaking up a jig in a punk fashion. Must be the most smoothest legs I have ever seen. Have I succeeded to describe my infatuation with this perky tune? Do you remember an 80's song, Come on Eileen, by Dexy's midnight runners? That's what this song reminds me of, and it's about time somebody did for the fiddle what that song did back in my adolescence.
Gams. Oh those gams. Gams gams gams, good god, and more gams. I haven't seen Nick & Nora's infinite play list yet. Damn, I don't think it's in theaters anymore. Buy it? Sure thing. I'll be at Amoeba Music trading in my duds for AIRBORN TOXIC EVENT's new CD this January.