don’cha wish that song did not exist?
OK. I don’t know anything about the Pussycat Dolls. I’m sure that individually, they’re very nice women who have worked incredibly hard to get to where they’re at in their careers (or somewhat hard – or a little hard – maybe not that hard.) That said, I really fucking loathe them for their hit song “Dont’cha”, ie, “Dont’cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me” in which they ask a fellow if, upon looking at their triflin’ skanky butts, he doesn’t maybe wish his girlfriend was as good looking as a leopard imprinted, mall touring, glorified stripper. This is the most not-on-the-team bullshit ever. There was a period when this song was impossible to escape, but then it died down. Unfortunately it is now back as it figures prominantly in the “Norbert” (Norbit?) trailer, which is offensive for a million other reasons independent of that song (primarily, not funny – relies on making fun of obesity for hilarity. Waka waka.) But in any case – what the fuck? I guess I can understand why the PCD’s went along with recording this hateful crap ($$$) but how can any chick listen to it? How can you groove to some other chick basically lap sticking her tatas in your guy’s ears and saying you’re not as hot as she is? I’m not denying that some guys may actually secretly wish their lady was a little more PCD-esque, but why do I need some other chick encouraging that? Fuck you pussycat dolls. Don’cha wish you didn’t have to write a song about undermining other women to be successful?
I realize this comes off as a pretty strident, unfunny post, but I’ve been thinking about the song for awhile and then when I heard it today at the movies I just couldn’t take it anymore. The thing is, I don’t need the PCD’s to make me feel bad. I already wish I looked like one of them. It really started with Josie and the Pussycats, when I wanted to play drums in a shitty animated girl band and wear a slutty cat costume onstage. I wanted to look like the brunette one with the weird stripe in her hair.
When I was a little girl I dressed as a black cat for Halloween for seven straight years. I wore the same outfit every year – black leotard, black tights, black cat ears, drawn on whiskers, and the piece de resistance, a black cat tail that my mom would sew on to the butt of the leotard. I loved running around with that tail. Not intending to try to feel sexy, I felt sexy anyway. Unfortunately, as the years went by, all the stuffing in the tail slowly sunk to the bottom, so after a while the top was deflated and there was just a round little lump at the bottom. It actually kind of looked like a long black dick. When it finally was too dickalicious, I bailed on the black cat theme and became Groucho Marx, who was kind of my first hero. I got the glasses and the mustache and a cigar and I wore a blazer of my dad’s, and I went trick or treating in a local high rise. I did the Groucho stride down the hall, shoulders slumped, laciviously waggling my eyebrows and leering. I felt like a pervert. I liked it better than being a black cat.
November 5th, 2006 at 8:53 am
I’ve managed to avoid this horrible (I’ll take your word for it) song and other atrocities like it by avoiding commercial radio and most television. Unfortunately, doing what you do that can be hard to avoid.
Anyway, as titilating as singing strippers can be, there is nothing hotter for me than a girl saying something intelligent. It’s the perfect antidote to the continued commodification of skank. I’m living in TX right now, and that’s an even more elusive trait to find. On the other hand, I recently had a girl tell me her favourite authour was Faulkner which I thought was hot because
a) though I haven’t got around to Faulkner, he’s clearly A BIG DEAL and she seemed like someone who actually wasn’t just name-dropping plus…
b) Faulk – ner: it’s not exactly a homonym since the ‘n’ screws it up, but close enough. It felt like destiny was being pretty blatant.
Love your work. I hope you tour here sometime.
November 5th, 2006 at 7:45 pm
tatas always bring money. The “gurlz” don’t care, and the guys are just that easy for the honey. Most of them that is. Thank god for the other ones. And as much as i hate these kind of music… gawd, they always manage to make me feel bad about myself. Doesn’t that SUCK? Damn, i already have to bleeding wakup looking like barf everymorning. Come on. Great text. love your work. (No i’m curious about that Norbert .. movie thing… is it an U.S. actor oor what?) Cheers
November 6th, 2006 at 4:12 am
Ah, but isn’t it Mr. Buster Rhymes who sets the stage with his opening rap:”let me…give you a little situation…listen fellas?” He evokes the masculine and then sets out the fundamental problem of male psychology, for when, several lines later, Busta admits he must “prowl for the best chick” isn’t he setting in juxtaposition the evolutionary need to seek an ever better genetic coupling with the opposing but equally strong psychological need for commitment?
It is here that “the dolls” serve as a Greek chorus of sorts, giving song to Mr. Rhymes struggle with both commitment and possible debilitatingly oversized genitalia. It is telling then that Busta, as Everyman, ultimately attempts in vain to have both his “booty cake” and eat it too. He suggests a three-way between his supposed girlfriend of commitment and the evanescence of genetic perfection represented by the dolls. “Seems like shorty wanna little menage pop off or somethin’” and “I got a idea that’s dope for y’all /As y’all could get so I could hit the both of y’all.” but he is fatefully rebuffed by the lead singer lady with the Parkinson’s tremors in her neck (who obviously represents the devil): “Maybe next lifetime.” the sly reference to reincarnation only serves to underscore the existential nature of the dilemma.
November 6th, 2006 at 10:05 am
The irony is, Jessi, that deep down, I do wish my girlfriend was hot like you. And by girlfriend I mean this girl in accounting that I’m stalking.
For some reason, I can imagine you in a year of transition, wearing both the cat and Groucho Costumes together, with the moustache, glasses, cigar, blazer and the leotard and cocktastic tail. It would’ve been quite a hoot watching that thing kinda flop all around as you did the Groucho walk. Not saying you’d get any more candy that way, but it would be entertaining.
– James
November 6th, 2006 at 4:22 pm
I’m sorry to hear that there aren’t any intelligent women in Texas. Was Anne Richards the last one?
November 14th, 2006 at 7:34 pm
You’re super sweet. I don’t care how smart you are or how hot you look in glasses. I like that you’re offended on behalf of all the unhot women out there whose boyfriends have been purloined by rapping whores. But really, it’s a tiny demographic. Guys who have unhot girlfriends tend to either be, a) not so hot themselves, hence untempting to the hoochie-mama type or b) madly in love and thus whore/stripper proof.
December 21st, 2006 at 10:43 am
Looks like at least one man agrees with you:
http://www.idontlikeyouinthatway.com/2006/12/pussycat-dolls-are-terrifying.html
December 3rd, 2007 at 11:59 pm
i’ve always found the holloween parties where the big black dickalicious costumes are the norm to be far more worth going to than ones where it’s not appropriate.