Tuesday, December 11, 2018


It's too bad this song doesn't get more love. I remember it being a big hit on the radio and MTV, although according to Billboard it only peaked at #24 on the Hot 100. The problem may have been that "Dancing in the dark," (the song's refrain) happened to be the title of another song that was also in heavy rotation during the summer of '84. You know the one. I will say that Peter Wolf's dancing is--ahem--pretty much on par with Bruce's (i.e. not very good), but Peter gets points for at least throwing in a few spins.  

"Lights Out" has been on my mind a lot since John hooked up the Amazon Echo to our new living room lamp. See, now instead of reaching over to pull the chain, I have to say "Alexa, lights out" (or on) and the device complies. John loves it because it's all space age and he's a techie. I'm more of a tactile type, so I've had some trouble remembering to keep my hands off the chain in order for the lamp to stay in sync with the commands. But my learning curve has had the added bonus of reminding me of this song, because every time I talk to the lamp, I hear "Lights out! Uh huh! Blast, blast, blast!" playing in my head. Weirdly enough, when I try to get Alexa to play "Lights Out," she pleads ignorance, telling me she can't find it. Thankfully, YouTube usually comes through in situations like these.


Of course, Peter Wolf is better known as the lead singer of the J. Geils Band. I like their work, but it's a bummer that most people only seem to remember them for "Centerfold." Personally, I much prefer "Freeze Frame." It's way more fun, and I adore that wacky ass video, a shining example of early MTV at its finest. But most people only know "Centerfold." Tragic. 

During the past week that I've been listening to "Lights Out," I recalled a few odd facts about Peter Wolf that I had to Google to make sure I was remembering correctly. The first is that he was roommates with filmmaker David Lynch in college. David didn't care much for Peter, because he found him too weird. Seriously! I mean, what a freaky badge of honor to be too weird for David Lynch. 

Another awesome Peter Wolf factoid is that he was once married to Faye Dunaway. Yes, Peter Wolf and Mommie Dearest were married! 

Don't make her angry. You wouldn't like her when she's angry.

Actually, they looked surprisingly good together, like your typical kooky bohemian '70s celebrity couple. 

I'm kinda digging the facial hair.

But they were only married from 1974 to 1979, which means they'd split up by the time Faye starred in Mommie Dearest. However, that does mean they were together when Faye made the epic campfest The Eyes of Laura Mars in 1978. If you've never seen it, do yourself a favor, 'cause it's a real hoot. You got a bunch of generic disco-era fashion models getting all nekkid and murdered, you have Tommy Lee Jones sporting David Cassidy hair, Faye runs through a warehouse shrieking "Donaaaaaaaald!" about 75 times, and Raul Julia hams it up with lines like "Ah, but YOU! Instant star in the world of chic!"

No decade did camp quite like the '70s.

But this is about Peter, not his ex. And Peter's pretty awesome. This is another forgotten gem, the title track from his 1987 album, Come As You Are. The video is similar to Janet Jackson's "When I Think of You," made to look like one long continuous shot, peppered with a few disguised edits to maintain the flow. Also, Peter appears to be hopping through the set of The Truman Show, a film that wouldn't be released for another 11 years. He was ahead of his time, that Peter Wolf.


Tuesday, December 04, 2018


Well, at least he's not pretending to be Rod Stewart, but he's still a trolling POS. 

This one messaged me out of the blue under the pretext of "Nice Guy looking for love." If you haven't seen my Instagram--and there's not much reason for you to follow it unless you know me in real life--it's just photos of my cats, John and me, and whatever else I feel like posting. This guy obviously didn't look at my Instagram before messaging me, which is typical; I've deduced that most scammers just message several random women without looking at their profiles, then wait to see who bites. Lucky for robert_paul124, it was me. 

This is where I decided the theme for this one would be lyrics to John Mellencamp's Small Town, hence my name-checking Seymour, Indiana. 

It's pretty clear from my Instagram pics that I'm married. Lazy ass can't even be bothered to check. But whatever, I'll play along with some confusing responses. 

I think this asshat just copied and pasted a bunch of words. That's still no excuse for that hideous sentence structure.

Below: yes, I used "Nail Polish Tester" as my job title again. I pulled that out of my ass, thinking it couldn't possibly be a real job. Then I Googled it and turns out that it actually is, according to spammy clickbait site Mashable

ALSO, note that he claims to be a badass bomb disposal specialist in the army. What is it with these jackasses pretending to be in the military? 

Yes, I have a special man, you nipplehead. He's called MY HUSBAND and if you'd bothered to scroll down on my Insta, you'd see the evidence. And nice question about whether I rent or own. That's not obvious at all. 

Below: buckle up for the best part, "I invented Post-Its"! It's a reference to Romy and Michele's High School Reunion, because that movie is fabulous as all hell and I happen to love it. 

If you haven't seen it, a bit of background: Romy and Michele are two ditsy L.A. girls who travel to their hometown for their 10 year high school reunion. At the last minute, they decide their lives are not cool enough to impress the popular douchebags who harassed them back in the day, so they cook up a story about how they invented Post-It notes and (presumably) became multi-millionaires. No one at the reunion buys it, of course, but the girls still triumph in the end, and it's awesome. There's also some flashback scenes with everyone sporting hilarious '80s hair and clothes, an insane dream sequence, and a choreographed dance to Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time."





Word to the wise: never trust anyone who can't have fun watching Romy and Michele's High School Reunion

And now, back to our story.
And here are some more Mellencamp "Small Town" references. I love the notion of someone becoming hugely rich off their invention and choosing to stay in a cow town like Seymour, IN. "Welcome to my estate. It's so peaceful here, most days you can barely smell the hog farms! Would you like to see the tennis courts?" 

There are some quaint, picturesque towns in Indiana--Ferdinand, for example, and James Dean's hometown of Fairmount--but Seymour ain't one of them.

***BTW, that song is misleading, because Mellencamp didn't stay there as the lyrics imply. I know he's got a place outside Bloomington, Indiana, and probably Beverly Hills or somewhere, too, but not Seymour. But anyway....

"Dancing to the oldest music." Yeah, I don't know what the fuck he means by that, but it gave me something to riff on.

Re: "Shadow Chant" below--that was an autocorrect gaffe--the oldest known song is actually the "Shaduf Chant." I learned this from Duran Duran's "Planet Earth" video. (Everything I needed to know, I learned from Duran Duran.) 
Sure, Wayne Newton, Nine Inch Nails, and The Osmonds. I'm wasting all my smartass answers on this guy, he's not even reading them. 
Asking for a photo of me because, AGAIN, he hasn't looked at my photos on Instagram. That's really a good thing, though. I don't think I want him rooting around in there.

So I Googled "weird model photos" and found this meme:

I cropped out the poor girl's hair, trying to make it look like a "selfie" (although it still doesn't look like a selfie, the angle is all wrong). 

And here's where the story ends. He never replied after seeing this pic, like he's too good for Ballsack Girl? It's not her fault some asshole hairstylist decided to give her that nasty 'do for a runway show. I feel strangely protective of Ballsack Girl. Sure, her hair sucks but she's got nice skin and her bone structure is poppin'.

I got news for robert_paul124. Ballsack Girl wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. She is still miles out of your league, with or without ballsack hair. Besides, she heard from her sister's ex-boyfriend's brother that you have gross backne and your breath smells like French onion soup. 
So there. 

Oh yeah, this is also the point where I blocked this guy and reported him for spam, natch. 

***OMG, you guys, I just remembered that John Mellencamp is dating Meg Ryan. What a weird, random celebrity coupling that is, no? Although, I can see their '80s versions hooking up: 


Tuesday, November 06, 2018


John and I went to see Rod Stewart last Saturday night. I'm a huge Rod Stewart fan. John, not so much, but he took me and he endured it because he's an awesome husband.

Rod doing his thang at the Reno Events Center, 11/3/18
The next day while I was still buzzed on post-Rod concert vibes, I found out that Rod has an official Instagram account, so I followed him. 

FUN FACT: Apparently when you follow a celebrity's official account on Instagram, you might unwittingly become a target for fake accounts claiming to be said celebrity's "secret" Instagram. I wasn't aware of this phenomenon, because the only other famous people I follow on Instagram are Beth Stern (wife of Howard, whose Insta is dedicated to pics of cats and kittens that she fosters) and Lena Dunham. Well, there are a few other "famous, but not really that famous" people like Michael Des Barres and Apollonia Kotero and Kevin Allison that I follow just because they're fun. But none of them, in my experience, have been the type to attract scammer trolls who impersonate them and try to con their followers. 

But then I followed Rod Stewart's official Instagram page, and within five minutes I had an account that called itself "sirrodstewart0fficial" following me. Then I got a message from, ahem, "Rod." 

Now, I may be a bit naive at times (see Reid, Simon), but I'm not brain dead, and I'm astute enough to know that Rod Stewart isn't going around following randoms like me on Instagram. In fact, it's likely Rod Stewart has never even seen his own Instagram and probably employs someone with an official title like Social Media Technician to maintain his account.

As I said, I'm no dummy, but I am a bit of a smartass. So I decided to have a little fun with "Rod."

A quick explanation: Rod Stewart suffered a soccer injury a few weeks back and performed his two-hour concert Saturday night with his foot in a cast (because he is a total badass), hence my question about his foot. 

That part about me being a Rod Stewart fan since I was 12 is 100% true. I wanted to maintain some authenticity.

And he really did grab my hand for a second after I saw him in 2007. So that's true, as well. There's also a nugget of truth in my answer about my favorite songs. It's a very short, simplified answer, though, because the long answer about my favorite Rod Stewart tracks would require a two hour PowerPoint presentation, followed by a lengthy Q and A, which is why the real Rod Stewart would probably never ask a fan about their favorite song(s). But, of course, this is not Rod I'm communicating with. This is Fake Rod, or "Fraud" Stewart. 

And here's the point in the conversation where I just start throwing out lyrics from Rod Stewart songs. The ones in the excerpt above are from his 1986 Top 40 hit, "Love Touch." More on that in a moment. (Oh, and the "it's me, Margaret" is a Judy Blume reference, but if you're an oldster like me, you already know that.)

More lyrics from "Love Touch." A bit of background....Rod Stewart famously hates that song and refuses to play it live. But it's a cute, fun little tune and I've never understood why he detests it so. In fact, my friend Marcus and I have had that very discussion. (Marcus hates "The Motown Song," so that's a shout-out to him. Hi, Marcus!)

So below I switch from quoting "Love Touch" to throwing out lyrics from "Do You Think I'm Sexy?" which is probably Rod's most well-known song, and this numb nuts has NO CLUE. You see, this is where the scammer's laziness really started to disgust me. I mean, do your fucking research before you start impersonating a celebrity, you assclown!

Gif above is of a girl fanning herself. I'm pretending to be flattered, you see. Also, notice how desperate he is to get me off of Instagram and onto a more private platform like email or text. I choose to ignore his requests. This eventually pisses him off, as you will see.

Also infuriating: he doesn't know "Maggie May." This guy is the absolute WORST.

Yeah, I had to throw the "knob polisher" joke in there, because I'm immature like that. 

Now I go back to more lyrics. The ones I quote below are from "Young Turks," a song I name dropped several posts ago.

Rod was photographed with his son Sean in L.A. on Sunday, the day after I saw him live. Apparently The Daily Mail thought it was an event worthy of an in-depth article. (The Daily Mail paid me cash for the Simon Reid story many moons ago, so I guess I shouldn't rip on them.)

Yes, Saturday night marked the ninth time I've seen Rod live. Again, just me keepin' it real.

Below: more lyrics. I quote Credence Clearwater's "Have You Ever Seen the Rain," which was recorded by Rod in 2006, thank you very much, you're welcome. And then, like a boss, I segue right into "Tonight I'm Yours." I'm unstoppable!

And then "My Heart Can't Tell You No," right back into "Maggie May." I'm on a roll!

Okay, below is where he starts to piss me off. I mean, sure, insult my intelligence by pretending to be Rod Stewart because that's the game and I've agreed to play it. But question my status as a Rod Stewart fan? I've only been obsessing over the man's music since 1986, which is probably several years before this dickhead's parents ever met and broke a condom together. EAT MY ENTIRE ASS, JUNIOR!

The lyrics quoted above are from the excellent "Farewell," from Rod's 1974 Smiler album. It's a beautiful song, very mandolin-y and reminiscent of "Maggie May" and "You Wear It Well." But since this guy didn't even recognize "Do You Think I'm Sexy," he sure as hell isn't going to know this one.

Notice below (excuse the duplicate message, such is the nature of screenshots) that I chose to end my correspondence with a gif of the Dos Equis guy laughing his ass off. I thought it a fitting conclusion to this ridiculousness.

I didn't bother to block the guy after that point, because I was done playing and I figured it was the last I'd hear from him. But I made the following post on my Instagram of a Rod Stewart shirt design I found online, and guess who decided to chime in?

No, no, no, I didn't mean "You barely speak English" in a Deplorable Republican Trump kind of way. I am not one of those fascists. I was simply pointing out the obvious: that this asshole is sitting in some cyber cafe in Nigeria or Tajikistan or somewhere, purporting to be a world famous British rock star (for no apparent reason) when he can barely string a coherent sentence together. In short, he is a failure as a scammer and as a human being.

Then I blocked his ass and reported his account to Instagram as spam. Bye Felicia!

And finally, here's the video for "Farewell," because it's a damn good song and I love it.


Wednesday, April 04, 2018

Okay, I'm embarrassed that I didn't know about this sooner. I am probably one of the biggest fans of Clane Hayward's memoir The Hypocrisy of Disco and I just found out today that there is a movie adaptation that was released on the indie circuit last year. Totally passed me by.  At any rate, the film is now available on streaming. It's called Lane 1974 and I'm about to check it out.

According to IMDB, they've changed a lot of the character names for the adaptation. (Clane is now "Lane"? And Clane's mom went from H'lane in the book to "Hallelujah" in the film?) I suspect they did that to make it easier for viewers who haven't read the book, as a lot of the characters have names that are similar sounding and that would make it confusing on film. Clane's name itself is a mashup of her mom and dad's (H'lane and Claude) and her youngest sister is named Ki (Japanese for Chi, aka energy flow). But hopefully those are the only major changes. 

It will be wild to see Kate Moennig playing a radical 1970's earth mother. I realize she's an actress and she's been in a ton of movies playing different types, but I'll always picture her rocking this androgynous look as Shane on The L Word

My love for this book has raised my expectations unbelievably high, so I'm prepared to be somewhat disappointed in the movie adaptation. (Or not? Who knows?) Regardless, I appreciate that the people behind the movie obviously also loved the book and were passionate enough to get this made. 

Want to read an interview I did with Clane Hayward for 3am? Here ya go.


Saturday, February 24, 2018

Ooh, Heaven is a.....Psychedelic Furs song

You know how sometimes a certain song--in some cases maybe a song you haven't heard in years--just pops into your head and then you have to play it 75 times a day and then you go on YouTube and find the video (whoa, you didn't even know this song had a video, cool!) and you get completely obsessed with the song and you find yourself singing it in your head and out loud everywhere you happen to be....around the house, in the car, at the gym, to your friends and spouse and everyone who comes in contact with you....?

This week, this is the song that's been doing that to me.  

Apparently it's a song about nuclear war. But wasn't every song in 1984 about nuclear war? All the best songs were, anyway. 

"It's about planes flying over ready to drop bombs, nuclear bombs."

Is it me, or is Richard Butler giving off some serious Bowie vibes in this video?
I'm digging it.

Thursday, December 21, 2017

Rescued From Obscurity: That OTHER Mariah Carey Christmas song

Okay now, deep breath. You ready for this?

I'm coming out of the closet as a Mariah Carey fan. Not that I was keeping it a deep, dark secret, but I wasn't exactly shouting it from the rooftops either. And we're not talking about, like, huge fandom. I'm a pretty low-level Mariah enthusiast, in that I own a copy of her debut album, as well as her MTV Unplugged CD, (remember back in the nineties when every recording artist who ever cut a fart got their own MTV Unplugged special?) and I have a copy of Rainbow sitting in a box somewhere, but I only bought it for "Heartbreaker," because that song is one of my all-time jams--really, I'm not even being ironic--I adore it unashamedly. I even dig the Jay-Z rap interlude, and I normally can't stand that shit. I'll admit that the video is cringe-y, with all the dialogue and the, ahem, "acting". Mariah is not much of a thespian, as anyone who saw Glitter can attest. Seriously Mimi, when Da Brat out-acts you in your own movie, you might want to rethink your dramatic ambitions. (Although I have to say Glitter is quite an entertaining campfest, and I highly recommend the Rifftrax version, too.)

I forget sometimes how much our girl has changed since her 1990 debut. John and I were recently watching one of those flashback music video shows on VH-1 (a Sunday morning ritual) and I got nostalgic over Mariah's cover of the Jackson 5's "I'll Be There." Remember that one? I love, love, LOVE it.

I was getting all misty-eyed over the song, and I sighed and said to John,
"That was back when she still had her voice."

And John said, "I don't know who she is."

I was like, "Um, that's Mariah Carey."

John was taken aback. "Wow. She looks....different now."

Yep, she does.

I don't mind the plastic surgery--the nose and the implants and whatever else--I ain't mad at her, I think it looks good. But I so wish that she'd ditch the spray tan and the flat-ironed hair extensions and bring back her natural curls, dammit! Her hair circa 1990-1992 was fucking FABULOUS.

Work it, gurl.

And while I prefer her old look, I understand why she ditched the Mary Poppins squeaky-clean image and went all sex-pot in the mid-nineties. She'd just divorced old man Mottola, she was feeling her oats, and she probably saw herself in danger of becoming Celine Dion if she didn't give herself a complete career makeover. I get it. No one wants to be Celine Dion. 

But that's when she sort of lost me musically. I mean, although I love "Heartbreaker," most of Mariah's creative output post-1997 doesn't really speak to me. 

That said, I LOVE that she has fully embraced the inner bitchy drag-queen diva within, because her interviews and public appearances are often hilarious. 

There's that Jennifer Lopez "I don't know her" quote...


Her batshit insane appearance on MTV around the time she was promoting Glitter, "If you don't have ice cream in your life, sometimes you might go a little bit crazy," which totally sounds like a Tommy Wiseau line....

Her (alleged) "Miss, with all due respect, I have my own problems," response to a fan letter from a little blind girl, which--calm down!--turned out to be a hoax, but it cracks me up because it totally sounds like something she would say. I'm probably a horrible person for finding that funny, but for the record, I'm pretty confident that Mariah didn't write that, number one because I seriously can't see her sitting at a computer, replying to fan emails, and two, I don't think she'd mention her sister's medical issues to a stranger on the internet. In the end she made it up to the little blind girl and called her on the phone and gave her free concert tickets, and all was right with the world again. Still, it makes me laugh. (I'm probably going to hell.)

And then there was that New Year's Eve kerfuffle, where she got "caught" lip-syncing during a supposedly live performance. (Was that really a year ago? Sheesh...)


Although I wasn't at home watching the ball drop (heh) live on TV, I did see Mariah's lip syncing clips after the fact, and they were pretty embarrassing. If I remember right, I think she ended up blaming (New Year's Eve host) Ryan Seacrest for the whole fiasco. I'm not sure how it was his fault, but since Ryan Seacrest is the one responsible for putting the Kartrashian family on TV, I'm fine with him taking the fall for any and every major disaster that's happened in recent years. While we're at it, let's blame Ryan Seacrest for Hurricane Harvey, the California wildfires, the Trump presidency, and--hell--throw in 9/11 too. Fuck that guy. 

Yeah, Mariah's a bit difficult, but that's part of her charm. She's also an Aries, which makes so much sense. Aries people can be fun, but jeeeez, they're also exhausting.

Okay then, now that I've proclaimed my fondness for Mariah Carey and provided examples of both her awesomeness and her train-wreckery, it's time for the song, the whole reason for this rambling post.

It's called "Miss You Most (At Christmastime)." It's lovely and understated, sweet and heartfelt and sad, and it pretty well encapsulates my feelings for the people that I've lost over the years, particularly my Dad. 

Happy Holidays, y'all.

Friday, July 14, 2017

"And there's one more thing: Nancy and I are hooked on heroin." 

Oh there's so much I've been meaning to post lately....UK vacation pics, writing stuff, book stuff, reviews, useless crap, etc. but I'm constantly pressed for time since I started working from home, so I'm just posting something that adds nothing at all to anything, but I like it 'cause it's funny. And it's Night Flight, and if you weren't already aware, Night Flight rules.

I know this video is (brilliantly) edited and all, but Nancy's pupils are HUGE. I suspect she was just saying yes to something.  

Friday, May 05, 2017

I'm sick of thinking about politics. I'm sick of talking about politics. So instead of writing about politics, here's a photo that sums up my feelings:

Wednesday, March 29, 2017


Yes, I know, the real problem is her Antichrist husband. And yes, I'm also aware that between Damien and his boss Cheeto von Trumpsky, we'd be better off with Damien because at least he's less likely start a nuclear war when some "furriner" on Twitter insults his fat orange ass one time too many. (Just to make it perfectly clear, the idea that Mike Pence is preferable to anyone--even a walking scrotum like Donald Trump--hurts my head so goddamn much I can barely force my fingers to type out that execrable thought.) 

Back to my original point: Karen Pence is a homophobic, pig-ignorant, small-minded, Bible-humping bigot. I know, most people with a functioning cerebral cortex realize that. But have they read this gem of a letter she wrote to The Indianapolis Star in 1991? Probably not, since the Washington Post puff piece about our dear second lady linked to an image from newspapers.com, which requires Hawkeye-level vision to read the flyspeck-sized print. Lucky for you--after an hour of pressing my face to the laptop screen, then holding it at arms-length and squinting, then pressing my face to the screen again, ad nauseum--I was able to decipher the damn thing and have transcribed it here in all its glory: 

As an elementary school teacher,* I was disappointed in your July 29 Children’s Express. I have always participated in your Newspapers in Education program and encouraged my pupils to read Children’s Express.
After seeing a whole page encouraging young people to accept their homosexuality I have decided no longer to use the Indianapolis Star to teach newspaper education.

Your implication that an 11 year old having a crush on a teacher of the same sex means that child is gay or lesbian is absurd. Every child at some point in grade school has a teacher he or she admires or looks up to. Your story also unfortunately encourages children to think they’re gay or lesbian if they have a close relationship with a child of the same sex. No wonder our youth are confused.

I only pray that most parents were able to intercept your article before their children were encouraged to call the Gay/Lesbian Youth Hotline, which encourages them to “accept their homosexuality” instead of reassuring them they are not.

Karen Pence
At this risk of repeating myself.....ugh, THIS BITCH.

"Oh noes, we can't have young people who are experiencing same-sex attraction be allowed to think that their feelings are acceptable in any way, shape, or form, or that they are anything other than filthy hell-bound perverts if their sexuality leans towards something other than the Jesus-approved 'Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve' variety. And furthermore, what business do they have acknowledging sexual feelings of any kind before marriage, anyway? HEATHENS!"

The fact that Karen Pence wrote a letter criticizing one of the most conservative, right-leaning newspapers in the country for (essentially) being "too liberal" on their stance of "teh homosex" is so absurd I don't even know where to begin. I mean, I grew up in Indianapolis. I know the politics of The Star (back in 1991 it was known as The Star and News, because people still read newspapers and the industry could support a morning and an evening publication, which seems like an alien concept today) and am quite familiar with the political climate of my hometown, especially in the pre-Clinton, George Bush Sr. years. Still, it illustrates how out-of-step this Pence bitch was (and still is), that The Indianapolis fucking Star had a more socially liberal posture than the future first couple of Indiana and future (gag) second couple of the United States.

I know that the Pences, like good little Christian fundies, fulfilled their biological purpose and spawned some children (Wikipedia says it was three--a son and two daughters). Is it dickish of me to hope that one of them turns out to be totally, unapologetically, outspokenly GAY? I don't think so. I really, really, really hope that happens. And not so the Pences can be shamed into disowning the kid. I'm talking about a "come-to-Jesus" (heh) awakening on LGBT issues, like the turnaround Dick "Darth Vader" Cheney did when he reversed his stance on gay marriage because of his lesbian daughter Mary. (That happened well after he left office, but still.) I'm going to do a Frau Pence and "pray" for that kind of a miracle.

In the meantime, this is for Karen......




Looks like these kids might have read that Children's Express piece that got Karen's panties in such a wad, hmmmm?


*Incidentally, while perusing Karen Pence's wikipedia page, I discovered a little factoid that nearly stopped my heart cold. Apparently, she taught at John Strange Elementary, my alma mater. I'm not sure when she was employed there, but I'm guessing it was long after my time (I was a student from 1979-1985). Still, that makes me several degrees closer to her than I'd ever choose to be.  

Friday, February 24, 2017

Samantha Fox - "I Only Wanna Be With You"

Okay, I'm not even embarrassed by how much I love this one. 

Samantha Fox was more of a household name in the UK and Europe, but she managed a few Top 10 hits in the US during the late '80s. She started out as a topless Page 3 girl in 1983 at the age of 16 (okay, that's gross--but the age of consent in England is 16, so 16 in the UK = 18 in the US). At age 20 she "retired" from modeling and released her first record in 1986, Touch Me (I Want Your Body), an experimental, high-concept album that explored existential angst in the Reagan/Thatcher era (just kidding! It was bubblegum pop, of course). The title track shot to #3 in the UK charts and reached #4 in the US, which surprises me to learn--as I don't remember hearing it on the radio all that much--although MTV played the shit out of the video. 

Sam Fox in the "Touch Me (I Want Your Body)" video
I recall liking the song okay, but Sammy herself just didn't resonate with me at the time. Maybe because with her hair, the rhinestones, and all that denim, she looked more like a long-lost slutty Mandrell sister than a hip MTV starlet.

Who will get this reference?
Nobody born after 1980, that's for damn sure.

So then Sam came back in 1987 with a self-titled album and a new single, "Naughty Girls (Need Love Too)" (the girl liked parenthesis even more than I do). That song hit #3 in the US and the album itself was big in other markets--again, mostly in Europe and the UK, as well as Japan--they love blondes there, apparently. I had a French pen pal around that time and he and I would send each other mix tapes and magazine clippings; I remember he sent me a French fanzine and Samantha Fox was all over it, along with a cute 14-year-old gap-toothed pop singer called Vanessa Paradis, who became famous years later as the longtime paramour of Johnny Depp. Anyhoo, I found Sam's "Naughty Girls" song amusing, but not enough to buy the single or the album. I was happy to see that she'd hired a new stylist and was no longer dressing like a wayward Mandrell sister, though.

A subtle difference perhaps, but a big improvement.

Then in 1988, when I was 15 years old and entering my freshman year at boarding school, Samantha Fox came out with her third album. This time, I broke down and bought the thing because of this fucking song. It was a guilty pleasure and I couldn't get enough.

Not gonna lie, I still adore this.  

It wasn't an original, of course; Dusty Springfield recorded it first in 1963, then the Bay City Rollers did it in the '70s, along with a ton of other artists over the years (it's one of those old pop songs that tends to get covered a lot). But I have to say, I dig Sam's version the most.  

Looking at the video today, I'm struck by how, well, mature she appears. Samantha Fox was only 22 years old here, but in a lot of these shots she looks like someone's 40-year-old mom. She'd be the "cool" mom, though, the one who reads Jackie Collins novels and buys four-packs of Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers for her teen daughter and her friends, "as long as you drink it here at the house, girls. And don't get too tipsy, now--I don't want to get in trouble with your parents! Haha!"

Come on, I can't be the only one who sees it, right?
I also liked the title track, "I Wanna Have Some Fun," even though it hasn't aged as well as "IOWBWY". (In fact, it's a bit terrible.) Still, I have vivid memories of getting my groove on to that one at The Victory,* dancing in a circle with my friends, doing the white girl thing: feet planted, lots of hip swaying, elbow and shoulder action, along with the occasional hair toss. It's how we rolled in '88.

Samantha Fox is still a public figure, although she hasn't recorded an album in several years. Nowadays she mostly pops up as a guest host on Loose Women (basically a UK version of The View) and reality shows like Celebrity Big Brother and I'm a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here. Although she was romantically linked to KISS's Paul Stanley (!) in the '80s, since 2003 she has been an out-and-proud lesbian and was in a long-term romantic relationship with her manager, Myra Stratton, who sadly passed away from cancer in 2015. Sam is apparently dating again, however, and has been pictured with new girlfriend Linda Olsen in recent months. 

Yay, I love a happy ending! :-)

*An under-21 nightclub in Evansville, IN. Do underage nightclubs still exist? I think they must be a relic of the '70s and '80s, since I can't imagine today's helicopter parents allowing their teens to shake their asses to raunchy club tunes til the wee hours of the night in a dark warehouse, with no adult supervision.