Firstly, I want to say a big, huge, chocolate-filled thank you to my pal Val, aka the spiffy author/bard Cephalgia. She sent me an absolutely adorable Blue M&M t-shirt, which, as I may have mentioned, is absolutely adorable. Tango the Wonder Kitty gave his official seal of approval by curling up on its sleeve and bathing himself. Click on the picture at right to see the full version.

Secondly, let me say hi to Carla, who was concerned about the lack of rambles lately. She thought perhaps Tango had finally done something to me to prevent me from being able to ramble.

I'm here to report Tango has left me relatively in tact, although he did try to break my mother's neck the other day. She was standing on the piano bench, trying to untangle the Christmas lights I'd wrapped around the top of the piano. When she tried to step off the bench, Tango decided to jump onto it getting into Mom's way, which caused her to fall to the floor, flat on her back. She's very sore, but still alive. Tango was unharmed.

So Tango's working on the whole doing us in thing, but his plans have yet to see full fruition. Besides, who would give him catnip every single day of his life if we were unable to perform our duties?

Having an 80's Flashback

I'm on a quest.

I recently decided I needed to acquire every single song I ever liked from the 1980's. Ever since, I've been going through CDs and more CDs, not to mention tapes, trying to remember, with the aid of a very handy book called Top Pop Singles (1955-1993), which songs came from which decade. I now have enough MP3s to fill at least three CDs, and I'm not finished.

That has, of course, led to the start of a 90's collection, and even a 70's collection... although, I must say, that one includes absolutely no disco, with the exception of the occasional ABBA song. I do have some standards, such as they are.

All of this has really driven home a point, which is, of course, that I seriously need a life. But it's also reminded me of a different time, a time when I could turn on the radio to damned near any station and could recognize the song they were playing, by title and artist, in less than 3 seconds, almost without fail. I devoted a large portion of my brain to 80's music, and as I listen to it again now, I realize my brain is still steadfastly dedicated.

No wonder I can't remember my own name most of the time. Instead, I still remember the words to Wang Chang's "Dance Hall Days," a song I utterly despise, due to lyrics such as these:
Take your baby by the hair
And pull her close and there there there
Take your baby by the ears
And play upon her darkest fears
Those are the actual lyrics. I have no idea why. But it was a different time then. A time when a band could be called Bow Wow Wow or Oingo Boingo, or even Bananarama, and it was okay. We all did the "Safety Dance" with the Men Without Hats, and didn't stop to wonder why they had no hats. I was utterly in love with the song "I Wanna Be A Cowboy" by Boys Don't Cry (sample lyrics: "My name is Ted, and one day, I'll be dead, yo yo yo"), because it was cool and fun.

A man calling himself Taco was "Putting on the Ritz" in his tux and white gloves. It was scandalous when Quiet Riot spelled "Cum on Feel the Noize" the way they did.

Loverboy were cool. Def Leppard were cooler. Everybody knew what Frankie Goes to Hollywood meant when they said to "Relax, don't do it, when you want to come to it." They Might Be Giants waxed nostalgic about Istanbul once being Constantinople. I loved that song.

I was so proud I'd finally managed to record "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor off the radio with my little cassette recorder when I was eight. Both Journey and Air Supply were played frequently by my older sister, and I thus inherited her love of both groups. Rick Springfield churned out several hits, all of which I still adore, even though he rhymed 'cute' with 'moot' in "Jessie's Girl."

The first full-fledged concert I ever attended was Debbie Gibson. And it was good.

Even my 13-year-old nephew has acquired a taste for 80's rock. He called the other day and said he was given an gift certificate to Sam Goody, so he bought Hysteria by Def Leppard. Did I mention he's 13? I guess it doesn't hurt his mom, also an 80's lover, is friends with the present drummer for Journey. He's learning by osmosis.

*sigh* I won't even go into my everlasting love of the movie Dirty Dancing, and how I have two different editions of it on DVD, and am annoyed because they just issued a third which I will also have to acquire someday soon.

On that note, I'm going to go pilfer some more CDs for 80's goodness. Let me leave you with some timeless wisdom via the lyrics from "Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def Leppard:
"Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on
Livin' like a lover with a radar phone
Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp
Demolition woman, can I be your man?
Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light
Television lover, baby, go all night
Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet
Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah"
You just can't get deep meaning like that in music anymore.