I know this might sound funny coming from a girl who thinks Jesus is the best thing ever, but –
Dear MTV’s Sucker-free Countdown:
I want to thank you. I know you did not intend to bless me with your sucker-freeness, but you did.
Let’s just say you helped me through a strange patch in my life.
When I got married, I moved to the hardcore burbs. I am not talking semi-suburban. I’m talking full-on, white-picket-fence, cupcake-baking, trimmed-lawn, freak-show suburban. I capital-H hate suburbs. They made my skin crawl, just visiting them. Ick. Ick, ick, ick. I would take the dog for a walk and I would feel square just walking down the damn tree-lined suburban block.
But sucker-free countdown, you were there for me. You brought me Chamillionaire, Kanye West, Fifty Cent, and the indefatigable Dre, Snoop and Eminem. And Gorilla Zoe, who acted out every adolescent angry UNsuburban thought I was having. “Get like you? NAW, get like ME.” Oh, preach it, Gorilla Zoe! I won’t let the burbs change me! But really, sir, such language! And you know, your MOTHER will hear what you are saying about how you get to sleep every night. That is VERY naughty, Gorilla Zoe. But I appreciate your being bad on my behalf. Because the burbs, sir, were getting me down.
I guess you could say I felt, at times, uber-wifey and uber-step-mommy. Don’t get me wrong. I love my husband. I love my step-kids. All three of them are amazing people. But I was having long discussions about why broccoli was important. I would find myself thinking in the car about how to have a conversation about the importance of not hiding your vitamin in the bookshelf (true story), and then lying about it.
Sucker-free, YOU would never hide your vitamin in the bookshelf.
You would chew it up, spit it out, drink some Courvoisier and go buy yourself some new 24s for your 64. You would tell me what I could do with that vitamin. Because that is HOW YOU ROLL. Or as Kanye would reassure me, “Excuse me, is you saying something? Cause you can’t tell me NOTHIN, right?”
There is something so awesome about how nakedly self-pleasing Kanye and Gorilla Zoe and Fifty Cent and all the rest are, lyrically speaking. Their only lyrical concerns are money, rims, cars, sex, jewelry, shoes, bragging rights, freedom and parties. Naughty, naughty, un-suburban frivolity. Half an hour pretending I had sucker-free values and I could go back to responsible living: praying instead of reaching for the champagne bottle, broccoli instead of caviar.
But you haven’t really lived until you’ve danced on the coffee table to “I’m in love with the bartender”** while your husband laughs from the couch.
**Yes, this is really a song, by T-Pain. It uses “drunk” as an adjective and a verb in one single line.