I thought it would be difficult to find songs I was ashamed to love. Fact is, it’s much more challenging to keep my attention span with this series, so, I’m going to wrap this “soundtrack of shame” up with a grand finale. Cringe with compassion.

LITTLE RIVER BAND “Reminiscing”

Little River Band had a gift for recording songs that would one day become a staple of grocery stores’ piped-in music. It might surprise you to know they had 13 American, Top 40 hits, despite the fact that their “sound” is akin to a waiting room lobby in a retirement home.

This song got a lot of radio play in Hawaii when I was growing up there – learning how to body surf and not learning my times-tables – so I associate it with childhood and a dark, iced tea that you could always buy at Kailua Beach.

This video is a perfect example of what “boring” means. I mean, even the lead singer brought a book to read during the bridges! I was surprised to see a 30-something-year-old Cousin Oliver as part of the band.




MARY COSTA “Once Upon a Dream”

I think animated Disney films are pretty swell, provided they were actually produced by Walt Disney himself (the last of which was “The Jungle Book”). Something happened in the 1970’s when the Don Bluth posse was still working at Disney – something gross feeling. I’m not saying Bluth is a bad man, but (with the exception of “The Secret of NIMH”) every movie he worked on, post-Walt, makes me crazy. And not crazy in a rad, Spuds Mackenzie way. Crazy in a “Christina, bring me the axe!” sort of way.

Hiya, Kids! Time for another round of peek-a-boo from a skeleton in my musical closet!

This time, we’re going to go back, back, back – way back into the Dark Ages, sometimes referred to by historians as 1986. This was a terrifying time, full of exploding space shuttles, exploding nuclear power plants, and cassette tapes exploding from the stomachs of teddy bears named Ruxpin.



Unfortunately, I was too young to start drinking the pain away, and my insensitive parents forced me to go to – shudder – school. One thing I did have was my clock radio, which kept me abreast of popular music. One of the hits was “The Rain” by that year’s most deliciously named act, Oran “Juice” Jones. Below you’ll find the video for this… ur… masterwork.


As a teenager, I thought there was something haunting about this song, and whenever it came on the radio (which was like, every eight minutes) I would stop everything and listen carefully, as though for clues; another hint that Paul was really dead.

Now, with adulty ears and eyes, I watch this video and feel… weirdy. What’s with the tuxedoed trio? They seem to dissolve in order to form the singer, like some prom-date Voltron. Also, why so many references of cereal? When you consider the man’s name, you can begin to see some kind of breakfastal obsession.

As promised, here's the next installment in my new series: songs I absolutely love that I am ashamed of absolutely loving.


Many of you are familiar with a-Ha's hit, "Take On Me". In fact - I'm going to say it - ALL of you are familiar with a-Ha's hit, "Take On Me". The video for the song is well-loved, and considered a rare gem in a genre that is all too often unremarkable (that is, music videos). But there's a sister video to it, and it features a song so over-wrought with romanticism that even Sandra Bullock would think twice before being associated with it. Even so, as predisposed as I am to disliking romance in my art, I - for whatever reason - swoon like a third grade girl whenever I hear a-Ha's lesser hit, "The Sun Always Shines On TV".

Below, you'll find the video. It strikes me as odd that the object of the singer's affection is a middled-aged woman in a bathrobe (...or is that just 80's "fashion"?). When watching, please take note of the "Channel 3" logo and tell me - is that not something you've seen scrawled on a men's room wall?

Anyway, I can poke fun all I want. I still love this silly thing. Feel free to beat me up after gym class...

Hello again!

This is Job, emerging, not only from the illness you last read about, but also a grueling work week. I had a deadline for a TV project. I’ve alluded to this in the past, though only vaguely, which is how it must remain until things are (if they are) finalized. Sufficed to say that this blog is not my only writing project, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t suffering in attention as a result of the other.

Someday, when you’re older, your mommy and I will sit you down and explain everything.

In my last entry, I wanted to list some songs that were guilty pleasures. I'm gonna go ahead with that now, much to the dismay of the part of my ego in charge of making sure people like me.

My criteria has met the following stipulations:

1) I must be able to find a YouTube clip for you, so you can actually hear/see the song for yourself.
2) I must be GENUINELY EMBARRASSED that I like the song. No typical, cop-out Madonna songs and no hits by Boston or Journey (you know the ones) - that is, no things that are ridiculous, yet everyone loves. It must be a song that I enjoy when I'm alone and no one's looking, and I have second thoughts about posting on my blog.

Why am I doing this? I don't know. I think I'm being kind of mean to myself, frankly, but I can't afford a therapist to help me figure out why. Maybe I was really, really good in a past life and this is my way of correcting things.

I'll post one song every day until... well, until I stop.

Please, don't judge me. Or if you do judge me, wait until my back is turned. When we're face-to-face, pretend that you respect me - I'm naïve and will probably never catch on. Plus, that way you keep me as a viable option for borrowing money from, if the need should arise later.

I’ve been ill again. Ever since I moved to LA, I get sick all the time. Oh, well. That’s the price I pay for getting to nosh with Posh and Becks every Tuesday.

…Okay, technically, only Becks and I do any actual “noshing” – you get the idea.


Yesterday was my boyfriend’s birthday. I got him a rad gift. (I know what you’re thinking – “Job, what better gift could you give him beyond your hacking, disease-ridden body?”) An AMOEBA GIFT CERTIFICATE, that’s what I gave him. Who doesn’t want one? Even I want one for my birthday, and I don’t even need one! Because, as many of you know, all Amoeba employees are allowed as many free albums and DVD’s as they want. In fact, we’re PAID to take them home! We drive them home in the cars our bosses buy us, which we park in our gold-plated garages with matching tiara encrusted, truffle-flavored diamond mines.

I’m delirious. I have no idea what I’m writing. We’ve been through this before, dear reader. This is how my sick day blogs read. If you feel inspired to pray for me by the end of it, please do. It’ll give you something to do while you’re waiting for Limewire to finish downloading a crappy copy of that Rockwell single.