Dear Beyonce -- No. Stop it. Love: Jaime

Grievance #1:

You completely ripped off Des'ree's Kissing You from Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet and laid your prosaic lyrics and vocals on top ("You are my doctor, counselor, provider, professor, my everything" -- Are you looking for a boyfriend or a life coach? Who wrote these lyrics -- a lovesick eighth grader?). Not only did you cover the song in a way that makes the deaf plead for mercy, but you had the flat-out gall to steal the track. Big hair, backside and bank account doesn't make you exempt from following copyright law, Miss B.

Grievance #2: You coupled aforementioned stolen track with an insipid rehash of Herb Ritts' smoldering video for Chris Isaak's Wicked Game?! My God, woman -- you're like a Mongol raping and pillaging her way through pop culture.


You lolling around on a beach in black-and-white? Not even marginally interesting. Chris Isaak and Helena Christensen, however?

Well, a couple of years ago -- it inspired me to write the following:

Wicked Game by Chris Isaak.

First thing that pops into that pop-culture-sugar-caffeine-booze-and-sex addled firecracker you call a brain is what? Helena Christensen rolling around on a beach half-naked with Chris Isaak. Right? Right.

Do you even stop to think about the song or the words or what they mean? Fuck no! What are you? Old? Impotent? Asexual?! Helena Christensen is half naked! With Chris Isaak! On a beach! In black and white! It was sexy, it was steamy and it hypnotized you to believe, "Hey! I could have smoldering sex like that too!" Hate to break it to you, but no-one could have sex that hot. Doing so would cause a global heatwave which would incinerate us all.

Anyway....

I managed to tear myself away from the visuals and actually sat down and paid attention to the song. Am I old, impotent or asexual? What are you, kidding?! I'm me. Anyway, you know what I discovered? Isaak wrote an amazing song. It's got this real sensual, languorous vibe to it. Slow and seductive. Like sonic foreplay. So, this got me thinking. Sex -- it's all rhythmic, right? I'm not talking the 'rhythm method' (which, by the way, is complete bullshit, so before doing construction, make sure you wear a hard-hat, fellas). I'm talking about a natural groove which you sort of fall into. The way two bodies move in perfect syncopation to feel every last touch and taste. Music creates motion; motion creates emotion and emotion creates a scream so loud, the neighbors down the street complain.

Can you imagine tapping into this rhythm? Transferring it over to big, fat bass strings? There's something real primal about the bass. The way its urgency kinda grabs you and resonates deep within the belly of your beast. It's a pretty incredible thing. Tapping into it might just unlock the mysteries of the universe....or create one helluva great track.

Lyrically, Wicked Game is real simple and real honest. It starts off with, "The world was on fire/No one could save me but you." We've all been in the throes of lust. You say you haven't, you're either lying or....yeah, you're just a dirty liar. It's a fire that nothing can extinguish. You can take a dozen cold showers and picture Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day as much as you want, but sooner or last -- the sparks are gonna ignite again. It's human nature. Don't even try to deny it.
The next line of the song, however, is what gets me. Hits me like a first kiss and a vicious left hook -- "It's strange what desire will make foolish people do." Forget fools -- it's strange what desire will make anyone do. Logic goes on hiatus and you can justify pretty much anything -- spending your entire paycheck on pink roses, getting their name tattooed somewhere a judge could see it or getting piss drunk, standing outside her home and serenading her with a personalized version of AC/DC's You Shook Me All Night Long. Desire makes you crazy...but being crazy isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes, it helps remind you that you're alive and that's a pretty incredible feeling.

All that being said, Miss Knowles --

I'm glad that Sony BMG slapped your ass with an injunction. I'm glad the track was pulled from your album and the video was pulled from rotation, but above all -- I really hope Des'ree covers one of your songs and sings the hell out of it. Just like Tina Turner did for CCR's Proud Mary and Aretha did for Otis Redding's Respect. Oh and in case there's any sort of confusion, I'm not comparing you to CCR or Redding. They're talented, you see.

And because I don't want to leave that nasty rehashed taste in your mouth, here's a sweet little pop gem courtesy of Gwen Stefani and Akon. I dig this track because it sounds like Stefani's finally going back to her No Doubt roots.

Live every week like it's shark week.

Today:

Free Spiderman 3 premiere tickets at the new IMAX at Pointe Orlando (Thank you J-School for finally returning on my investment). Earth, Wind and Fire, Augustana and Barry White. A sky white-washed with smoke and heat. Undeclared mini-marathon with The Best Friend. Craving frosty mango margaritas and making tentative plans for Cinco de Mayo ("You call this culture? Guacamole and a ghetto blaster in the middle of a desert?!" +10 to anyone who gets the reference). Lunch and summer optimism with Pepe. Books, books, books. A serious jones for lazy afternoons at the pool listening to G. Love and Sublime. Cleaning the bathroom in pink underwear while listening/dancing to Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. Strawberry sweet tea (Iced tea + frozen strawberries + lemon juice + ice + Magic Bullet = ♥) and finally, a fan.

Today was beautiful.

The rest of the week is laid out like a deck of cards and I think I might just have a winning hand.

Tuesday -- Gainesville with Paps to pick up Sparky. Move on up and move on out. Long drives + good mixes. Fresh, crunchy salads and birthday cake bakin.'

Wednesday -- Dan flies into town! Airport reunion scene. Long-lost kisses and Lost and lots and lots of kissing.

Thursday -- Graduation. The whole family. Black robe, black and white dress, black heels, gold tassel and a funny black hat. Spiderman 3 premiere at Pointe Orlando. Holding hands and watching movies.

Friday -- Dinner with the Crew. Paper tablecloths + perverse Picassos. Celebrating D's new job and Jerry/Kelly/My graduation with Sparkletinis. Looking over my right shoulder and seeing the boyfriend there. It's not a dream. It's not a dream.

Saturday -- Cinco de Mayo: cervezas, margaritas y mas besos.

Show me a woman who's not jealous of another woman, and I'll show you a man.

(Discussing the drinks-from-strangers-in-bars policy now that we're both no longer single)

Dan: If some frat guy bought you a drink, I'd be upset.
Jaime: Why? I get a free drink. I don't have to go home with him.
Dan: Well, how would you feel if some girl bought me a drink?
Jaime: I'd make a necklace out of the bitch's teeth.
Dan (laughing): That's sweet.

Happy anniversary, baby. I love you.

Thumbs Up/Thumbs Down

Thumbs Up: Chet Baker. I've been listening to more and more of his stuff lately and it makes me happy. Good Sunday morning music to soothe that killer hangover.
Thumbs Down: That killer hangover. An oddity considering the closest I came to an alcoholic beverage last night was a Diet Coke. I think this may be payback for all those nights I got merry and woke up the next morning feeling fantastic. In the words of the incomparable Riggs -- I'm getting too old for this shit.

Thumbs Up: The trailer for Rob Zombie's reimagining of Halloween. When I first heard about the project, I was weary. Having seen House of 1000 Corpses and knowing of Zombie's penchant for low-budget gore, I was worried that he'd turn one of my favorite movies into a Karo-swathed bloodbath with no correlation to the original except the name. But the trailer doesn't look too bad. Not a huge fan of the new mask (stitching? Really?) or the jump-cuts (MTV-style editing has ruined a generation of filmmakers....and this coming from a girl who counts Baz Luhrmann as one of her favorite directors), but hopefully, the picture will deliver. One of the scariest things about Halloween was Carpenter's use of light and shadow to terrify as opposed to visceral carnage. Hopefully, Zombie keeps this in mind.
Thumbs Down: Allergies. In addition to being allergic to crunchy peanut butter, excessive sunlight, pseudophedrine, caffeine, certain types of laundry detergent and fabric softener and orange juice -- I've discovered that I am allergic to clean cars. I have a rash on my foot due to car shampoo. Nice.

Thumbs Up: New episodes of The Sopranos and Entourage tonight. I've come to the very disturbing conclusion that if I was not with my ridiculously cute boyfriend, I would date Turtle (not Jerry Ferrara. Turtle). It would be the greatest relationship ever -- hang out in Los Angeles, play video games, smoke cheeba, drink and eat. Sometimes, it kind of worries me just how much like a 14-year-old boy I really am.
Thumbs Down: The United States Postal Service. They were supposed to deliver Dan's birthday present on Friday and he still hasn't gotten it. Apparently, my definition of 'Priority Mail' and USPS' vary greatly. Hopefully it gets there by Monday and if it doesn't....well, I have no idea what the hell I'm going to do.

Happy Birthday!

24 Reasons I Adore My Boyfriend:

24. The fact that this will probably mortify him. As similar as we are, in some ways -- we are very different people.
23. His encyclopedic knowledge of minutae. Especially film and TV minutae. It's mind-bogglingly amazing. The guy's a pub quiz champ for a reason.
22. He always opens the car door for me. In the end, it's the little things that really matter.
21. He is gorgeous. When we finally met in person, my first impression of him was, "Wow....he is really good-looking." This was of course, followed by the inevitable, "Oh. This isn't good. This isn't good at all."
20. He makes the world's best grilled cheese sandwiches and french toast. I'd date him based on this alone.
19. He believes in me and thinks I'm a great writer. Coming from a writer I respect so much, that's high praise.
18. He serenades me with everything from Motown Philly by Boyz II Men to The Doors to completely retooled versions of Disney songs (I could be wrong, but I'm fairly sure that A Whole New World from Aladdin never featured lyrics about DJ's boyfriend, Steve).
17. Because even though we've been together for almost nine months, I still get butterflies whenever he calls and thinking about him will still make me smile and blush.
16. He has great taste in music and makes me the best-best-best mix CDs. I have mixes entitled, 'Dear God! Ten Volumes!', 'Eye On Springfield' and 'Now! That's What Dan Calls Christmas.' Tell me that doesn't rule all.
15. He shares his food and lets me eat off his plate (You'd be surprised at how annoying this is to some people).
14. He thinks I'm beautiful. How can you not love a guy who says things like this and actually means them? I've been called cute before. Ditto adorable and precious. Actually, think of any adjective you'd assign to a Labrador Retriever and odds are, I've heard it in reference to me, but beautiful? Never. I've never been told that. Not in a genuine sense, anyway. More in a slap-the-ass-get-me-another-beer-wouldya-thanks-beautiful way. Everyone should feel beautiful at least once in their life and because of Dan, I now know what that feels like.
13. He drives stick. No, that's not a God-awful euphemism. He's got a stick-shift car and according to numerous sources on manliness (primarily Maxim, Esquire and my dad) -- real men drive stick.
12. Despite the fact that driving stick and holding your girlfriend's hand is damn near impossible, he manages it anyway.
11. He always smells great.
10. He inspires me -- to write, to be a better person, to see the ever-evolving beauty this world possesses. Being with him, I'm reminded of how optimistic I was at sixteen. Somewhere along the way, that unabashed optimism got submerged, but now? It's starting to come back and that is a beautiful thing.
9. He indulges my spectacularly crap taste in music. Not many men would put up with their girlfriend belting out off-key versions of old-school Mariah Carey at ear-splitting volumes.
8. He's a great uncle and his niece adores him (His niece, by the way? Smartest child ever. But in a cute way. Not in that pretentious and scary Dakota Fanning way)
7. He's got a huge....wit. What? The kid's funny. He can make me laugh harder with one noise than most comedians can with an HBO special. (Come on now -- did you really think I was going to be so lewd? Ahh, I don't blame you. I would have expected it from myself too)
6. Dating Dan means almost unlimited access to his grey American Eagle hoodie which might just be the most comfortable article of clothing in this world. Ladies, back me up here. No matter how many sweaters and hoodies you own -- the most comfy one always belongs to your boyfriend, right?
5. He introduced Lost, Wawa Iced Tea, Bruce Springsteen's Atlantic City, Black-and-White cookies, Before Sunrise and Before Sunset into my life, thus making it ultimately better.
4. Best. Conversations. Ever. He's intelligent, eloquent, passionate and opinionated. That's why I love this picture of us so much. It perfectly captures exactly how we are together.
3. His 'Gatsby' smile. He's got this amazing smile that reminds me of a line from F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby -- "...and then, his face broke into that radiant and understanding smile, as if we'd been in ecstatic cahoots on that fact all the time."
2. When we kiss, I get weak at the knees and a little dizzy. I used to think that was a myth promulgated by Hollywood and romance novelists to sell tickets and books. I thought wrong.
1. He took the risk, flew 1000 miles and met the Internet Girl. And they'll live happily ever after.

I loved you then. I love you now. I'll love you always.

Your reason and your passion are your rudder and sails of your seafaring soul

What does your soul look like? Assuming it was a material, tangible quality. Something you could reach out and touch.

Mine would be bright and glossy. Like those metallic candy paint colors. Shiny like chrome. And sunny. Definitely sunsplashed. Lots and lots of colors – Superman blue, Bing cherry red, juicy tangerine, buzzing neon pink, sour lemon yellow, summer grass green – shimmery. It would be constantly percolating – drip-drip-dripping with ideas and thoughts and queries and philosophies and explanations and theories.

Noisy. Chattering away like a five-year-old. Flashed with fragments of songs, scenes from movies, TV and cartoons, classic quotes from books and memories and daydreams. Lots and lots of images, but lots of words too ‘cause I think in a mixture of both.

How would my soul feel?

Like squelching your toes in wet, brown-sugar sand. Like summer’s first really juicy, really sweet peach. Like those butterflies you get when you’re thisclose to kissing someone you love.

What would my soul taste like, smell like?

Easy. Well, not really, but I think it would smell like a starkissed suburban night – like gardenia and laundry and barbecue. Comforting – like you know you’re home and everything’s going to be alright. As for the taste? Probably picture show popcorn – hot, fresh and buttery. Yeah. Moviehouse popcorn and an ice-cold Coke clinking with lots of chipped ice.

However, to all this, there is a flip side because every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

So, as well as the kaleidoscopic glimmer, I’d have a darker side. Not quite Jackson Pollock, but something more black-and-white film noir…with a faulty projector which keeps snapping and slipping. It would feel cold. Like hands that just won’t warm up. Frost-bitten. It would be snarled and knotted, like tangled bedhead. It would taste like bitter espresso, making you grimace and cast it aside. It would smell like after 4th of July when the last firecracker has popped and all have deserted the streets except hazy dragons of smoke.