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.

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.

Is it wrong to have Coors Light for breakfast?

This is the question I’m struggling with right now. It’s so cuss-word hot in Hollywood today. It makes it hard to think. I need to write a blog!

I wish Amoeba Music sold Coors Light, then I could just blog about that. I could be drinking it and telling you how I “recommend it” and stuff like that. That would rock.

Oh hey – I saw a great concert the other night. It was the final performance of the True Colors Tour, which started a month ago in Las Vegas and ended at the Greek Theatre in LA, as opposed to the Greek Theatre in San Francisco, where they played the night before.

(The Greek thing is a tip off.)

I got to see Debbie Harry and Cyndi Lauper in the same line-up. Added to that was Erasure; between these three acts I felt as though I was 14 again and had escaped to the city for a concert. Except I was sober and the car wasn’t stolen, so I guess it wasn’t too much like being 14…

The Dresden Dolls also performed, but my sweetheart and I missed it; we were cuddled on a grassy knoll eating the most expensive and, ironically, most horrid cheeseburgers I’ve ever had in my life.

I had never seen so many homos in my life. I’ve never been to Pride or Bed, Bath & Beyond, so this event was the gayest I’ve attended. Of course, Margaret Cho was the host, and as a particularly surreal touch, Cyndi Lauper’s encore was backed-up on drums played by… Rosie O’Donnell?