Random YouTube K-Hole

Blake Shelton’s latest is out and it’s the whitest thing ever. Not complaining, I’ve always had a soft spot for country – traditional, family-based, blue jeans and pickup trucks, apple pies, cowboy hats, good wholesome love. Country comforts me. It’s like a nice warm blanket on a cold winter day. There’s only so much gritty, urban realness a girl can stomach. All that smacking my bitch up and things.

I don’t know about you, but having Adam Levine and Co. crash my wedding … on the one hand, holy crap on a cracker. On the other, how emasculating can that be? Watching your bride go nuts for Adam Levine on your wedding day, brutal.

Doesn’t matter how hard they try. Nothing will ever beat the sheer genius of this. The Prince cuffs. Boy George. Steve Buscemi. Are those love seats rattan? Alexis Arquette as George of the One Song is the best wedding singer ever. Never forget!

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Random YouTube K-Hole

The official video for my favourite slow jam of the year is out! Versace on the Floor features mood lighting, a crystal grand piano and Zendaya writhing around in primo Versayce. Not what I had in mind as a video concept (mine involved twirling around in a gigantic empty ballroom, chandelier ablaze like an adult version of the Beauty and the Beast scene except she loses the clothing), but eh. It’ll do.

I have to ask. What is the use of paying top dollar for a pricey condo unit if the walls are so thin, the concept of privacy remains a concept?

This at least made sense. It’s clearly a crappy apartment building, if it can’t keep out the rain.

Truth be told, I don’t know my neighbours. Not very well, anyway. I’ve lived in my building for five years, and I only give my neighbours nicknames – the elderly black couple to our right, the girl with the golden retriever two doors down, the new Filipino neighbours with a WiFi connection named “Balay,” and the family with kids who live beside the possibly gay neighbour who, according to Le Hubs, plays Miley Cyrus and has very noisy sex just across the hall.

I suppose it’s a good thing I have pretty busted hearing, because ignorance is sometimes bliss. And I wouldn’t be walking around passive-aggressively catfighting with my neighbours.

Stalking Me Up (With Her Love)

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The pigeons around my building are incessantly horny. I get treated to displays of  relentless and unabated stalking every morning. All day, every day, it’s male pigeons waddling desperately after female pigeons, coaxing them to mate. Nonstop. Mate with me. Mate with me. Mate with me? Please?

Welcome to the animal kingdom. Where art imitates life.

Everyone knows the best way to make a girl fall for you is to stalk her incessantly throughout an entire music video. Four minutes of this, and she’s yours. Forever. Music videos never lie. Not exactly sure why Tara Reid was being so coy here. Soul patch, questionable hair, ripped denim jacket, Ed Hardy trucker hat? Her ovaries should’ve exploded.

Maybe MTV is to blame for my slightly more tolerant acceptance of male heckling. (But MTV taught me that it was normal! Insert sad face.) It happens, and being overly offended by it is a waste of my time. Wasting time is bad. Blatantly ripping off the video that started this all, including extended dance break? Worse.

Sorry Usher. Michael Jackson did it first and did it best in this modern-day feminist’s nightmare. That white cotton sash will live on in infamy, though. This would never fly in 2017, that girl would’ve maced MJ after the first few bars, because progress.

 

 

Break Ups and Shake Ups

Is it that time again? That part of the music cycle where boy/girl bands break up and its individual members go their separate ways, make their own marks and come up with their own albums?

This is the third iteration I’ve lived through, and I was there when NKOTB’s Jordan Knight and Joey McIntyre came out swinging. I was there when Justin Timberlake and JC Chasez faced off against Nick Carter and Nick Lachey, there when the Spice Girls faced off against each other, there when Destiny’s Child broke up and came out with their own albums, there when BSB and NKOTB came together like a multi-armed giant mutant  singing group causing the hearts of late twenty somethings to explode .

I had no idea what Jordan Knight meant by “it.” Then I grew up and realized he wanted to sex up a carnie in an amusement park. I thought he meant romance! I weep for my childhood.

Nelly and Kelly contemplate cheating, and use MS Excel on a Nokia QWERTY phone to further their courtship. God, the early oughts were badass. 

It’s happening again, with the One Direction boys going their own directions. Two things: they were right when they said music is cyclical, and my god I am way too old for this shit.

I had a hard time with Slow Hands being like sweat dripping on dirty laundry, because gross. Sign of the Times makes five minutes feel like  being stuck behind someone in line at the ATM who takes forever. Come on Bowie, get your money and go already… Pillow Talk was last year, so here’s Strip That Down, because apropos of nothing, this makes me think of pink flamingoes.

 

Random YouTube K-hole

This fever dream was brought to you by episode recaps of RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 8, off of the absolutely brilliant Blind Canyon and its hilarious webmistress. Birthed by the reminder of Derrick Barry and that hideous two-in-one negligee he obviously cribbed from Britney’s pregnant video + Acid Betty in Madonna giving birth to doves drag + sleep deprivation = this.

Behold, pop stars who didn’t let pregnancy get in the way of making music videos, because the only other thing more urgent than the call of nature is the call of the muse, fetus in the belly bedamned.

Britney, pre-breakdown. It’s the last time we’ll ever see her as the innocent southern All-American girl, all smiles and giggles and just a dash of naughty sexiness. And then she gives birth, shaves her head and uses an umbrella as a weapon of mass destruction. Kids ruin everything. Las Vegas puts you back together.

 

In medieval times, women went into confinement when they got pregnant. Here’s Beyonce, showing the word confinement isn’t even in her vocabulary.

 

The original trailblazer is not to be outdone.  Madame Madonna, four months pregnant with Guy Ritchie’s child. When she says she wants to dance with her baby, do you think she means it literally? She also takes time to throw a couple of bills at strippers, because why not. Say hi to your mommy, Rocco.

I was going to include Whitney Houston’s I’m Every Woman, which shows her pregnant with her only child, but now they’re both dead and both passed in unfortunate circumstances, so… yeah. No. Bad idea. You get the Spice Girls instead.

Emphasizing the power in girl power, this gets runner up points for featuring not just one, but two pregnancies. From Generation Next to having the next generation! Friendship never ends.

 

 

Bisaya Para Intense

Today in Random YouTube K-hole©: a Bisdak take on Despacito involves chow mein and “bring-house,” Bruno Mars sings a song he wrote for Adele, Adele sings a song Bruno Mars wrote for her (spoiler: it’s the same song) and I run the gamut of emotions within the span of fifteen minutes, because such is life on the internet. I also realize I’ve never heard any of these songs, original or otherwise, before. I’m sensing a theme!  (Theme being: I know, I’m really behind.)

First up is Vic Desucatan serving nonsense in the vein of Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee. Trending on my feed because I live under a rock and didn’t realize Despacito is currently the biggest thing since sliced meat, behold Vic’s hilarious ode to feeding his friends till they burst with Bes, Pancit Oh:

That is exactly what Visayans who invite you to their homes for fiestas say. Word for word. Amazing. Standing slow clap, sincere edition.

A quick skim of Vic’s work reveals a fondness for Bruno Mars’ covers, which led me to Bruno himself, channeling all his 90’s balladeer powers with this rendition of Adele’s All I Ask:

What prowess. So much soul for such a little guy – I’m sure the same may have been said about Christina Aguilera – but Bruno keeps it tight, vocal trills at the right moments, nothing too flashy or overdone. His version is a sad ballad on the radio, played at two in the morning when everything is dark and all you can do is revel in the cheesemax.

The comments section yielded the juicy tidbit that Bruno Mars co-wrote All I Ask with Adele (again, I am aware I’m very tardy to this 2016 party, thankyouverymuch) and of course I had to listen to her version, complete with lyrics:

All of a sudden I’m holding myself, ugly crying with the best of them. Not even thirty and capable of destroying your soul with the nuance she brings to a single line. Why hasn’t Adele already been asked to sing live outside an ISIS stronghold, end the war and help us all attain world peace, godamnit?

I now have to peel myself off the floor and go on with my life. That’s it for the first official outing of Random YouTube K-hole. It won’t be long till I go on another one, because that’s what being online is about. Happy weekend!