Laughable Lyrics: Taylor Swift aka Overly Attached Psychopath

Warning: The following post is both inflammatory and extremely biased. [Also, it's meant to be silly, so take that stick out of your butt hole, you prude.]

Hi, there.

My name is Kate. I have a problem with sappy lyrics.

I'm not talking about sappy as in breakfast waffles with syrup. I'm talking sappier than Boston, Massachusetts on the day of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Don't think I'm serious?

Yeah, that's right. 

Buuut anyway.

There are just some songs that I cannot stand because the lyrics make me want to yank out my eardrums with fishhooks.

Of course, this is all a matter of personal taste. So really, my opinions should be thrown into the wind like a caped villain into a jet turbine.

But is that going to stop me from ranting?

HELL. NO.

My squishy, unfortunate target today is Taylor Swift, specifically her song "You Belong With Me."

I wanted to start with her song "Love Story," otherwise known as "Romeo and Juliet," because it's pretty sickening. However, that one is so over critiqued it would be like walking into a piñata party that ended weeks ago. The only thing left is a broken piñata whose guts had been spilled and eaten, leaving only papery remains. 

So, anyway.

"You Belong With Me" doesn't quite qualify as sappy, but it does sing "sentimental vomit" at the same decibel as Adele. 

Let us start with the first verse.

"You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset

She's going off about something that you said

'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do."

Why are you stalking their cellphone calls? More importantly, how? 

I dare say that sounds a mite bit stalkish. And by "a mite bit," I mean: 

Yikes.

And since when is his girlfriend not liking his humor a bad thing? 

You like his jokes?

If you think about the age group you're singing about, probably high school, boy's usually joke about three things:

1.) Sex

2.) Sex

3.) Wieners

So, either you must be very perverse or you're a dude, because, let's face it, high school boys don't really have a sense of humor at all.

Second verse:

"I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night

I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like

And she'll never know your story like I do."

Whatever, girl. The only reason you know anything about him is because you stalk him on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, 9gag, Memebase, and Fanfiction.net.

And, what makes your musical taste better than hers?

Just because she doesn't like it doesn't mean she's suddenly unworthy, you silly, self-involved creeper. 

Refrain time!

"But she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts

She's Cheer Captain and I'm on the bleachers

Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find

That what you're looking for has been here the whole time.

"If you could see that I'm the one who understands you

Been here all along, so why can't you see?

You, you belong with me, you belong with me."

Oh. My. Gosh.

I don't even know where to begin. 

Firstly, really? Short skirts, cheer captain? Are you going trifle with dumb things like that? 

I can see why short skirts could be a problem. It gives off the wrong vibe. 

But cheer captain? Really?!

What about being a cheer captain makes her lower than you? At least she does something with herself, rather than sit on her fat fanny and eat popcorn like you.

*a-HEM*

You could at least point out some real flaws, like she cheats on him, or she is a practicing Satanist.

But, no. You pick her clothes and her hobby.

Nice. Real mature.

Secondly, how do you know what he's looking for? 

You: Because I know him. We're soul mates. He sat with me once in an art class my Freshman year and he told me about the time he got a papercut. I know him.

Yep. That's love, right there. Plain and simple.

Just because you have a history and you know a lot about each other does not mean that you're meant to be together. 

Otherwise, we'd all be dating our siblings. 

Thirdly, "I'm the one who understands you."

You make him sound like some emo kid or exchange student. 

Hate to break it to you, honey. [Not really.] You're not the only one. If you were, I doubt he'd be ignoring you like this. 

Next verse. 

"Walking the streets with you and your worn-out jeans

I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be

Laughing on a park bench, thinking to myself

Hey, isn't this easy?"

What is with you and clothes, woman? Sheesh. Why can't you just leave it at "you?" 

Unless, of course, you're subtly hinting at the fact that you would like to be in those pants.

And what's easy? 

Laughing? Sitting on a bench? Murdering hobos? Getting into his pants?

Vagueness leaves room for interpretation, madam.

Not to mention, when we don't know what the hell you're talking about, the sweetness of the song is kinda negated.

Next verse!

"And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town

I haven't seen it in a while since she brought you down

You say you're fine, I know you better than that

Hey, what ya doing with a girl like that?"

How do you know it's the girlfriend making him sad? I feel like that's a little presumptive, my dear.

I don't see your facts or proof to back up this claim.  It wouldn't kill you to write a verse about how she's bringing him down, would it? It's easy.

She's got a knife she wants to plunge in your chest.

I haven't seen her change her underwear in days.

You say she's great, but I see the ligature marks on your neck.

Hey, what are you doing with a girl like that?

[Shut up. I'm not a poet.]

See? Simple.

Moving on:

"Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time how could you not know?

Baby, you belong with me, you belong with me."

Holy. Crap.

Absolutely terrifying. Maybe the reason, he's been down this whole time is because you're stalking his house and he hasn't been able to get any sleep for the past three months.

Lawdy.

Next:
Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night

I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry

And I know your favorite songs and you tell me 'bout your dreams

Think I know where you belong, think I know it's with me

You were five. You had a sleep overs until you were seven.

Brief, young friendship does not an undying, mutual love make.

NEXT:

Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time, how could you not know?

Baby, you belong with me, you belong with me

You belong with me

Have you ever thought just maybe

You belong with me?

You belong with me 

 

 

 

 

 LOVE ME, MY DARLING. WE ARE MEANT TO BE TOGETHERRRR.

Oh, my word, lady. Leave him alone. Jeez Louise. Let the poor boy make his own decisions. He's not a child.

Put down the chloroform and back away slowly.

Good Golly.

Is it any wonder that this woman has no boyfriend? She scares them all away by cross examining them and analyzing all their actions and emotions. And then stalking all their ex's and analyzing them too.

She's like a terrifying homicide investigator of creepy, obsessive love. Like if Bones or Homicide Hunter: Lt. Joe Kenda had a baby with any of the Twilight books.

Here's some advice, Taylor Swift. Rather than write songs about being a jealous stalker, go do a crossword. That should jump start the more logical side of your brain, which will then put down your screaming libido.

Maybe then you'll be able to write better lyrics.

Welp, that's about all I can say about this song. Until next time.

Peace off.

Tick Tock––Harley Style

Wake up in the morning feeling like J.Nichy,
Grab my mallet, I'm out the door, I'm going to smash this biddy,
Before I leave, I put on a suit of red and black
'Cause when I leave for the night, I ain't comin' back.

I'm talkin' facing off with the Bat-man,
Wreaking havoc on all of Go-tham,
Asking Joker what is our game plan
Bomb-dropping, shakin' it with his Har-ley
Dancing nutty in the debris
Tryin' to get a little bit crazy-y-y

Don't stop, make it drop,
Joker, blow this high school up
Tonight, I'mma fight
Till we see the sunlight
Tick Tock on the clock
But the bomb, it won't stop, no-o-O-o.

Original Song (c) to Ke$ha

Harley Version (c) Katie Immethun 

Yeah, I already posted this other places. 

So sue me. 

I'm putting it here for posterity's sake. So, when I'm bored and jobless in a month, I can come back here and admire something that brings me a quiet amount of pride. 

 

Yes, I have a bit of sad life, but at least I have insane villains and horrible songs to entertain me.

Peace off.

Buses aka Large Vehicular Caskets

It has come to my attention that I have very strange fears. So, I'm here to address the first of many.

Buses.

Most people would look at me and go, "What? They're not scary. They're just like big cars."

That is a common misconception.

They are actually couriers of death.

My opinion, predictably, comes from childhood trauma.

Little Kate, in all her wide eyed innocence,

[* NOT Kate]

Was sent to sit in the back of the bus.

Of course, the teachers of her grade school, having a momentary brain lapse, decided that physics and science were the Devil's play and those who believe in it were being fooled by Satan.

So, ignoring Boyle's law of volume, they packed enough students to fill four buses into one.

As one can imagine, Little Kate was crushed in the deluge of children.

[Dear God why...]

That is where Little Kate was trapped for the hour long bus ride to scenic Topeka, Kansas to visit the capital building.

Might I just say that being trapped in a scorching hot pressure cooker of screaming, laughing, farting children with violent car sickness and claustrophobia for an hour is the definition of grisly, monstrous torment.

If I am sent to hell for blowing Westboro Baptist Church to the sky [a necessary evil], reliving this day is what I predict will follow my death.

For all eternity.

I wouldn't wish a grade school bus ride this on anyone. Not even you, Justin Beiber.

 

Well, one would think that after growing up, hitting high school and puberty, the fear would diminish.

This is also a misconception.

Buses are still large, Twinkie-shaped death traps.

Given, you don't have to deal with the same issues as the typical, unfortunate grade-schooler, public transportation is no less menacing.

Reason Number One: Passengers.

When you ride buses, you encounter people from all walks of life.

Hippies, hobos, prostitutes, lawn-care workers, plumbers, cheerleaders, dentists. All of them equally horrible.

However the worst are those people with the shifty eyes––the ones you suspect have just snorted as much crack as Charlie Sheen in the past four years.

The ones that look like they just got out of jail three hours ago.

The ones who look like

Joaquin Phoenix...

They inevitably sit right next to you, their unwashed stench rolling over you like poisonous gas.

Part of you hopes that your nostril hair will be singed off, so you can enjoy the smell of burning hair instead.

There are also the "loud talkers" who either come with an equally loud talking friend, or are on their cell phone.

I kinda want to run these people through the shredder.

Are you deaf? Can you not hear yourself?

If this were a perfect world, this:

 

 "LOL. OMG, Jennay! Didn't you hear about my totally awesome laser hair removal?!"

Would be shortly followed by this:

Not only would punching them shut them up, it would also turn them albino, so they will never be accepted in society and will have to live the rest of their life in shame.

Unless of course you're Johnny Winter, then you'll just be awesome and people will be pleased to hear you talk loudly on the bus, mostly because you're actually riding the bus.

Anyway... Another reason not to ride buses: Filthy.

Unless you're in a flippin' Greyhound bus, the quality is pretty grungy.

It might have to do with the people riding the bus, but still.

Cigarette butts, pissed on Scientology pamphlets, discarded Kleenexes.

Unsightly!

I'm a bit of a germaphobe, not like Monk, but I normally avoid going into places where one should probably wear a biohazard suit.

Last and most important reason buses make my insides feel like little crawling maggots: Emergency Exits.

How the hell are you supposed to get out of one of these things if it plunges into a lake or a turbulent storm swollen river?

Answer 1: The Roof Hatch

They're a good idea in theory, but does anyone but the bus driver really know how to work this thing?

If you're at 5'3", like me, you're going to wonder if you can even reach the damn thing, let alone know how to open it.

If the other two exits are submerged or damaged, and you're too short to reach the ceiling, should you just give up the ghost? Or hope a friendly water based life form comes to your rescue?

Frankly, that sort of uncertainty gives me the willies.

Answer 2: The Window Escape

 

Yeah, that'll work.

For how long has that window been in there? How many years of filth have crusted over both sides?

How strong do you have to be to break the Gorilla glue strength crap that has welded itself to the panel?

And if you do manage to get the window out, approximately how fat do you have to be to get stuck, trapping everyone else inside?

Optimists would say, "Fear not! There is always-

Answer 3: The Back Door!"

 

This door is the one I have the most hope in.

It's bigger, closer to the ground, and easily accessible for silly short weaklings like me.

BUT. It's at the back of the effing bus. 

Just thinking about that thing is bringing back horrific imagery of the grade school bus rides. 

The panicked pile up, the nervous sweating, the nauseating shift of human movement. 

I think, if I had to choose between paying for gas and driving myself somewhere or riding a bus. I'd probably just drive.

I would save myself the stress and the disgust. 

Judge me all you like. 

I'm a snob. I know it.

If you give me sparkling wine, I'll turn it down because it reminds me too much of Twilight vampires. 

It's because you ride the bus.

This post has officially worn out its welcome and so have I.

Peace off.