People. I have issues. Serious ones. And they all revolve around her:
Holy smokes, there, Lady Gaga. Where are your clothes?
This is a still shot from a video for the song Love Game, which, in my best estimation, can really only be described as soft core porn. This song is on her album, The Fame, and I totally dig it. I dig it to the point that sometimes, in the car, my 7-year-old will say, “Hey Mom, can you turn on that disco stick song?” And I think, “Wow, that is totally inappropriate” while I am popping the cd in at the same time.
Despite my brother Tommy’s erroneous assertion that Lady Gaga’s Poker Face is one of the most annoying songs on the radio (even though he later admitted that he cannot seem to turn off Paparazzi — he’s pretty old, you understand, he’s going senile), I cannot stop listening to this woman. I’m at the point where I am wondering when I can next take a long car ride, so I can listen to her music over and over and over all while singing into my thumb, which frankly is more embarrassing than getting caught picking a little snot out of your nose by the driver in the next car over.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, she went and did this to me:
What’s this? Awesome cover art you say?
Well, these are some of the pictures on her new album, The Fame Monster. Now, as far as albums go, it’s not much, as in, it’s only eight songs. It’s not so much a sophomore album as it is a few additional songs. But holy crap is it good. So so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so good. So good. Did I mention I like it?
The album came out on Monday, but I didn’t get a chance to go to the store. Later in the day, I mentioned to Jim, who was headed out to run a few errands, that if he happened to be somewhere where the album was on sale, go ahead and get it for me, you know, if you think of it. Jim is a smart man. He knew not to come home without that record, and he went to more than one store to find it.
The first song off the album is called Bad Romance, and the video for it is either one of two things: it is either as insanely upsetting as all get out, or it is amazingly cool.
Guess which one I think it is?
I have no idea what inspired my fascination with this woman. Listening to her newest album, it seemed that Lady Gaga is everything that Madonna would be if Madonna actually had, you know, talent. But while Madonna was all about shock and purposely acting sexual to illicit a response, Lady Gaga doesn’t seem to be acting. And damn, the woman can sing.
I admit it — I don’t necessarily “get” some of her stuff, particularly, her bizarre wardrobe that appears to be some kind of performance art. My co-worker Jerry, a 23-year-old who is already pretty afraid of me, practically shivered with fear when I marched into work last night with my new Lady Gaga cd in hand, ready to make every person at the Free Press fall in love with this woman the way I have. I do not think I was successful, but I did manage to listen to the new record twice.
But while I have no idea why this lady has a hold on me, I sure hope she sticks around, weird wardrobe and all.
I have this much to say though — I have a trip to Chicago tonight. So if you see a crazy woman in a red Civic singing at the top of her lungs on the Stevenson, that’s me.