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.

Rant: Class of Who Cares.

Oh, dang, it's a rant.

Subject: High School Reunions.

I don't really understand the concept of reunions.

Firstly, 2008 was not that long ago. Therefore, no reunion is necessary. Nothing significant has happened in the last four years that would need sharing.

Secondly, what the hell is the point?

Idealists say: "Ooooh, it's for reuniting with your buddies from high school and sharing how much you've grown and how much you've accomplished!"

This is how I see it:

You leave each other for an indeterminate amount of time, usually about 5 to 10 years––something most people are almost crawling out of their skin to do, despite the tearful good-bye's at graduation.

Then, someone gets the idea of summoning you all back from remote corners of the world, only to have half the people show up. There are, also, the inevitable few who are forgotten, who find out about it after the fact. (These people end up being serial killers.)

After being badgered into going by high school "friends" who then leave you dry by not actually going, you don your semi-formal attire and meet in the smelly gymnasium to which fond memories of sweating like a pig are attached.

Then, when you're all drinking cheap wine and "socializing," meaning bragging about what you've accomplished (most of which are lies) or what you're going to do in the near future, you find out unsavory things about your classmates:

- Who has married who, which never really interested you anyway, since being married this early usually spells disaster.

- Who died. That's a really inspiring topic.

- Who's in jail or has gone off the deep end, the only topic of any interest at all, since you had bets on who would tank when you were still roped together as a unit.

- Who's made it in the world, which only makes you realize how little you've accomplished.

Then, after three hours of awkward half-conversations and way too much wine, you realize you hated all of these people anyway.

Of course, I didn't always think like this. 

When I was in high school, the thought of a high school reunion was a happy thing!

I would come back and everyone will have changed significantly, and they'd all be mature and more well-rounded.

You see, then I went to college, and I kept my F*cebook. After four years, I went back and browsed through the photos of those people I knew in high school.

Turns out, they haven't changed at all.

The drunks are even more drunk, the stoners are now hipster stoners, girls who were morally aligned are now skanks,  the skanks are wearing even less clothing and more spray on tan than they used to, and the geeks have leveled up into basement dwelling, blue-skinned WoW freaks who don't shower.

It's a crying shame. Well, not really. I'm not terribly surprised by this. Disappointed, but not surprised.

Of course, there are the select few who redeem the class, but those types generally avoid reunions or go for a short time to humor those who threw it.

Personally, I hope to end up in the "forgotten" category. I don't want the guilt of having to refuse a reunion of a class comprised of loathsome people.

So, if you hear a story about how a woman in Kansas snapped and there was a recent high school reunion followed by mass murder, then you know what happened.

Bleh. It seems like when I start these rants I know exactly where I'm going, but by the end, my brain shorts out, gets bored and whines about doing something else.

I'm going to go to bed now. This has been entirely too pointless and unnecessarily negative. But, a rant is a rant.

Peace off.

Rant: No, You're Not...

Recently, I've had this horrible fever... I think I've got a rant coming on.

Subject: Facebook Profile Pictures*
*Yes, this is totally relevant to life. 


All right.

I'm not sure if I'm the only one this happens to, but occasionally, I'll get random friend requests from people from other countries.

Never met or heard of any of these people in my life.

However, I don't mind this!

In fact, I think it's kinda cool that someone has gone out of their way to find me amid all the other 743 million other Kate's out there.

What I DO mind is when the people that find me are:

1.) 30 years older than I am.

2.) Send me creepy messages.

and, the most irritating, 3.) Don't have a real profile picture.

100% of the people who have found me on Facebook, who aren't directly linked to me through a friend or mutual educational facility the government calls "school," usually satisfy at least ONE of these three things.

Usually, the ones who fall under 1.) and 2.) slide quietly under the table.

I delete their message, pretending I never saw it, much like the way I react to seeing people making out in public or animals copulating with wild abandon.

It's the people who don't have real profile pictures that get me.

I can understand hiding your age on your profile or your important information.

You don't want people to know you're a 50 year old creeper with no wife or job. I get that.

But when you don't put up a photo of yourself?

That's just too much.

Why do you think they call it Facebook, you ignorant buffoon?

Who really cares if you're balding, overweight, and have a chinbeard?

That will just make the rejection process quicker, so you can go creep on other people!

....

Okay, okay.

If you choose not to put anything up as your photo and you keep it the blue and white person silhouette, that's all right.

There's hope there that you might one day pluck up the courage to show your hideous face.

HOWEVER.

There is one thing that will never be acceptable to me!

Cartoon/Animal. Profile. Pictures.

Daaaaaaaaaah!

...

I do understand that you don't want your identity known.

If you didn't want your identity known, then don't get a Facebook.

Troll: But Kaaaaate, what are we supposed to do when someone needs to get a hold of us.

Well, have you ever heard of:

~ Phones?

~ E-mail?

~ Letters?

~ Skype?

With the technology today, there is no lack of communication.

There are so many different ways that you can tell the person what they need to know.

Besides, how are the people going to know how to get a hold of you, if they don't know who you are?

Troll: But Kaaaate, how are our friends supposed to get our email/number if they have no way of contacting us?

Well, then they're not very good friends, now are they? 

Someone should have your information somewhere. 

There was communication before Facebook. 

I'm getting sidetracked! 

The point is: Animals/Characters as your profile picture is unacceptable. 

It's tacky. 

I mean, it not only makes you look shady, but it also gives an insight into your psyche, which sometimes is not the most savory information to be forcibly given. 

Listen up, N00b.

You're not a Disney Princess, you're not an assassin from a video game, you're not an Anime character, and you most certainly aren't a tiger's head photoshopped to a squirrel's body. 

-grumble-

You may disagree.

But, you know what? 

I don't care.

I'm done with this rant. 

Peace off.