A Whole Lotta Love!

The Best Mom Ever

Yup. That's my Mom! Forest Hills Teacher of the Year, Mother of 3 and now Grandmother, Debbie Malara.  Every time a new picture gets posted on Facebook I have to field questions of "Which ones your sister?" or "Geez, is she like 25?" or "Is she single?".  But looks aren't her only beautiful quality.  Smart, funny, caring, and great dance moves top a very long list.


I Love My Mom! Not just because she's a great lady, but because she's loved me since the day I was born!

Oh let me count the ways ...

She fed me, changed me, bathed me, burped me, and put up with my crying. She taught me how to eat, how to walk, how to talk, how to brush my teeth, how to clean my ears, and all of that was just last week!  She gave the best back scratches when we were kids and was always there to get us to sleep. "You're eyelids are getting very,very heavy" I guess she taught me hypnosis as well.  She's always the best when I'm sick! McDonald's french fries and milkshake is there standard remedy for anything!  Even now that I live 1,500 miles away, I have to give her a call every time I have the sniffles.  She's always the best listener when I have to vent and she's always the best talker when I need a friend.  (it's a good thing I have unlimited long distance) Sometimes, I know she loves me, simply because she hasn't killed me.  Like when I try to shave at 4 years old, cover the bathroom and myself in blood, and then attempt to blame it on her purse.  Or when she lets me drive home at 15 and take a 90 degree turn a 45 mph.  That's a list to long to continue.  She's always so happy to see me when I come home and she always cries when I leave.  (and if I've played my cards right to this point, she's crying right now)  I could go on and on, but the point is I know my mom loves me.  So today, I want to make sure she knows I love her!

Thanks Mom! For loving me! I Love You Too!

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Who is this ravishing young vixen you ask?

This is the one ... the only .. Gramma! 

This is the best baker, knitter, and finger contortionist this side of the Mississippi, Hazel Marconi!  Famous for her Cheesecake, Banana Bread, and Christmas Cookies!  And Pies? Don't get me started! Peanut Butter, Chocolate Chip, Pecan, Pumpkin, Apple, Strawberry Rhubarb, and even Zuchinni.

Gramma is so cool we wrote a book about her! 

She's gotta be a great Mom because she's My Mom's Mom.  She taught her everything she knows.  And she takes care of us kids too!  Best Baby Sitter Award for sure.  She's always gone out of her way to make sure I'm well fed and comfortable.  5 kids, 13 grand kids, and even more great-grand kids later and she's still got enough Love to share!  

Love Ya, Grams! Happy Mother's Day!

From the Mom with 60+ Mother's Days under her belt to the New Mommy on The Block!

This is former punk-rawker and new Mommy, Jessica Brown. ( I will admit I typed Malara and had to go back and correct it. )

Although she may only have months under her belt as a full fledged member of the Mom Club, she's got the best teaching staff any girl could hope for! And if her track record as Sister is a teller, Emma is one lucky baby!

Keep your eyes peeled for this future Mom of the Year in People Magazine!

Congradulations, Jess on your first Official Mother's Day!  

I really wish I could be there to share it with you!

Love Ya Sis!

Let's have a round of applause for this years finalists!

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL MOMS!

In Loving Memory of ...

Cinco de Mayo came and went this year.  There was no margarita or mariachi band.  (For a kid who grew up near Miami, that's hard to pull off.)  In their place was day of hard lament and emotion.

While having my morning espresso yesterday, I received a message from one of my elementary school art teachers.  His close friend and my music teacher, Tom Mullen, had passed away the night before. He had been battling health complication for a number of years.  My art teacher wanted me to know how proud Mr. Mullen was for my success in music.  Those are some of the most flattering and hard words I've ever read.

______________________________

Thomas Mullen

1951 - 2011

Tom Mullen was an early inspiration for me.  Being that I was around 8 years old, I can only recall learning Hot Cross Buns on the xylophone in his class.  However, his passion for music inspired me more so as I grew up.  I was extremely lucky to keep in touch with him occasionally, being that he worked with my mother.  Any time I visited the school, I could stop in and talk about music and the industry.  He always had the utmost interest in what I was doing in music; even if it was some high school garage band.  His encouragement meant a lot.

One of the last times I had spoken with him, he was concerned with the County's downplaying of music in early education.  He loved to teach music and it was breaking his heart.  Over the passed few years the School Board has restructured and down-sized early Arts education; but, I can tell you personally that my life would not be the same with out Mr. Mullen, Mr. McDonald, Mrs. McMillan, Mr. Halladay, or Mr. Phillips.  I hope that his passion and devotion to the arts conveyed their importance to the School Board as much as it did to me.

______________________________

Not but a few hours later, I received a text informing me that Kaitlin Boyda had passed away, losing her battle with terminal cancer.

______________________________

 Kaitlin Boyda

1993 - 2011

Kaitlin Boyda was a recent inspiration to me.  She was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer a few years ago; but, she made the best of it.  She used the last years of her life raising money for wells in Africa, so people whom she had never met could have clean water. She selflessly donated her wish from the Make a Wish Foundation to support these projects and in time she has raised enough to build over 20 wells in Uganda.  It's estimated that over 40,000 people that have never met her will drink clean water and the efforts are still going.  

To be honest, I never had the pleasure of meeting Kaitlin; yet, her actions touched me too.  If a single Kaitlin can touch that many lives in her short time with us, what could 20 Kaitlins do in a life time?  In Kaitlin's memory, I urge everyone to do one nice thing for someone you've never met before today. 

______________________________

Now that you've gone through a box of tissues.  I'll leave you with something a little more light hearted. A video made long before YouTube.  My brother found a copy and uploaded it for me recently.  It spurred on some memories.

______________________________

Sean Chaney

1984 - 2005

Sean Chaney was a good friend to me and many of my best friends.  He passed away in January of  2005 but his sense of humor has never left.  In fact, one of my last memories of Sean was him trying to lick the roof of an IHOP.  The video below was made by Sean, Eric, Paul, Kyleen, and my brother Tony.  

It is legendary.

In Loving Memory of ...

Tom Mullen, Kaitlyn Boyda, and Sean Chaney

Ding-Dong, Osama's Dead

And so the news broke yesterday: Osama bin Laden Dies at the Hands of US Navy Seals

I'm day-dreaming in black and white of a little boy in Time Square yelling, "Extree, Extree, Read All About It! bin Laden Dead in Pakistan!".  Shortly after, the Lollipop Guild march by in parade formation singing "Ding Dong, Osama's Dead. Osama's Dead? Osama's Dead, Ding-Dong, bin Laden is Dead"







I'll have to give Matt Naylor credit for quoting this:

"I've never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure." - Mark Twain

It's very appropriate.  I think that his death resonates with everyone in North America in an awkwardly celebratory way.  (I'll spare you the "Where were you on 9/11?" spiel.  At least until I write a blog on 9/11.)  

Though, I think the idea that this will end Al Qaida's directive or the "War on Terror" is a complete fallacy. It's like beheading a chicken.  Yeah, It'll die ... eventually.  After it runs around blind and brainless for a couple minutes.  It's a scary analogy when you really think about it.  

However, I feel I have different reasons to celebrate. As an American living abroad, (yes, Canada counts as abroad), I do have to consistently field criticism towards the US, it's foreign policy, and sometimes even the president ...*gasp*!  It's frustrating!

Here are a few examples the American image I aim to defeat:

1) Guns - Yes, they are legal but there are strict laws on screening, registration, and licensing.  No, I don't like them either but again it's not like everyone in the US has a pistol tucked into their waist band.  That's only the NFL players (Thanks Plaxico Burress. Who name's their kid Plaxico?)  Yes, there is a higher percentage of gun crime in the US but, when you take out the variable of weaponry, violent crime rates in Canada and the US are identical per capita.  

2) Texans - And by Texans I mean the stereo-typical American.  Why is it that anytime we have a Tornado in a populated area they find "Cletus" to do the live interview.  "That there house just done up and flew away.  I ain't ne'r seen nuttin' like dat before."  Thank you, Jed Clampett!  These are the same folk who give a sh*t about "the right to bear arms".  (Think we could convince them the "Four Fathers" wanted every one to have the arms of a bear?) Why don't we put a couple of these guys in the White House? ..... Oh wait!

3) Dick and Bush - Nuff Said

4) War - Throughout history we've kinda gone around pickin' fights.  Granted, but no one takes into consideration the amount of times we've gone to bat for the good guys.  Still, I'm sure it's not always a coincidence that the opposition has a powerful natural resource that we, in turn, have better access or control  to. On other hand, I do think that the US does hold a bit of responsibility to help those who need it. Do we always have to blow the place to kingdom come though?  Operation Shock and Awe? The only people shocked were Americans and the only people in awe were ... Americans.  It seemed for everyone else, it was par for the course.

That's why when I heard that we took out Osama bin Ladin with a team of Navy Seals and as little collateral damage as possible, I ran around in a circle with my hands in the air and then immediately changed my shorts!  Why don't we do that all the time!? Is it only because we don't have a VP tied financially to Halliburton? Is it because we want the spot-light?  Does Mommy not pay attention anymore? Is it because of airplane food?  I mean ... what's the deal?

My Idea: Coalition: Quiet Mercy

It's got a nice ring to it. Create a team of Special Ops. from the US, Israel, France, the Spetsnaz, and Bear Grylls to police the world, like "Mission Impossible" Ninjas?  Anytime someone starts a mass genocide, drop a team in, take out the leader and the top 10 and we are out in t-minus 2 hrs.  I'm sure it sounds easier than it is, but try it out for a while.  Save the epic death and destruction for a last resort please!?

Anywho ... I will give the US a "Go Team, Go!" for this one.  It seems we are attempting to turn things around extra-politically.  We elected a black president whose name can't be pronounced by the previous president and now this. What's next? ... Health Care?  ... Ya, When Pigs ... Just in case I'll hold that back.  I don't want to have catch a flying pig when guns are illegal.  I like bacon too much.

For the record: I had not watched a single news clip about bin Laden's death until they did a short piece on Daily Planet that caught me off guard.  Sometimes you just can't escape the media.

I pledge my allegiance, to the flags, of the United States and Canada ...

Domenicracy

The Little Dork that Could

Yup. That's me.  Over-sized dark-rimmed glasses, big ears, and all.

Some of you have seen this picture.  It'll suffice to say I wasn't the coolest kid in the 3rd grade.  It didn't help that I also left class early most days to go to "Enrichment" classes and that my undiagnosed ADD was running rampant through my personality.

Yet, the following is a story of triumph.  It will take you on a journey through the early life of a the quintessential dork and follow it through his transcendence into a late-blooming socialite. As with any good story, there is some character development, an ultimate turning point leading to the climax and then a resolution.  (If you aren't sold by this point, look at this as a list of things to make of me for.)

So, without further ado:
"The Little Dork That Could"
narrated by Morgan Freeman


Character Development (circa 1990)


So the picture speaks for itself in too many ways. i was a scrawny little know-it-all with every text book physical attribute.  Nicknames at the time included (but were not limited to): Dumbo, Four-Eyes, Ross Perot, Big Ears, etc.  To make it worse, I listened to Rap and was a sports fanatic.

In 5th grade, I took my first real stab at trying to fit in and bought one of those shirts with Bugs and Taz dressed like Kris Kross.  The first day that I wore it I was on the morning announcements.  The whole school saw how misplaced it looked on me and it ended up doing more harm than good.

Later that year, my sister and I (sorry Jess) decided we would go around to classes and dance to "Informer" by Snow.  For sure people would see how cool I was! ... Nope. Wrong again.

6th Grade was the start of Middle School.  New school, fresh start ... Right?
Well, right off the bat I got jumped ... twice.  Thinking back, 1994 was probably the worst.  The Buffalo Bills had made it there fourth Superbowl in a row, but hadn't won any of them.  But, like every previous year, I got decked out in my Bills jersey, Zubaz, socks, sneakers, sunglasses, and more.  Sunday night I cried myself to sleep because I was so embarrassed to go back to school on Monday.

There are too many examples.  I wrote a song that year called "Cool is being Yourself" and rapped it, along with my sister (sorry again Jess), to Queen Latifa's "Unity".  I also expressed my "deep attraction to wolves" to my entire English class.  I don't know why I worded it that way or what the topic at hand was, but the damage was done. 

The next year, on the first day of summer vacation, I went to the movies with my cousin Josie to see Batman: Forever!  When we arrived, I noticed that the girl I liked was sitting about 10 rows in front of me with her friends.  So I went to say "Hi".  What I said was, "Hey! What are you doing here?" What she said was, "Umm ... seeing a movie".  I walked away head down and tail between my legs, only to hear my cousin's beautiful words of encouragement, "Smooth move Ex-lax".


The Turning Point (circa 1995)

I spent that summer helping out my Uncle Sal at his Pizza shop.  (Is that Italian or what?)  One afternoon there was a lull between answering phones and listening to Uncle Sal's "beebiddy boobiddy".  I was confiding in my cousin, Antonio, about my lack of a social life and how much I got picked on.  He said, "You know man, every time I see you walking around you are staring down at your feet.  You should pick your head up.  Look at people when they pass you in the hall.  It'll show you have confidence."

The Climax (circa after those words of advice)

Sorry to leave you hanging  there, but I was attempting to symbolize how simple it really was.  It didn't just make other people believe I was confident, I actually became more confident. By the end of the summer, my out look had changed.  Now add in the minor details that I got braces, contacts, started parting my hair down the middle, had a growth spurt, started picking out my own clothes, and decided to drop the "y" off the end of my name.  I was ready!

I will say it was almost instantaneous.  The next year I made friends with the cool kids (mostly because I had Pogs).  I even worked up the nerve to ask out that girl.  It only took me a literal 10 min of standing right next to her (in the wrong class) for me to get it out of my mouth.  She said "no" but at least I did it.  I had become somewhat socially accepted, but more importantly I had accepted myself socially.

The Resolution

I lied.  I guess "The Resolution" is a bad term because "The Climax" is the resolution in this story.  What it should be is a brief Epilogue. 

The first year of High School was the truly the first year of the rest of my life.  8th grade was only the training for what I was to become.  In 9th grade I was donned the nickname "SpAz".  Though you'd figure that would more suit the kid in the picture, it lacked malcontent.  It was a term of endearment.  "SpAz" was the craziest kid in the room, the class clown, the party animal (as it ended up).  My new outlook combined with Coca Cola's release of Surge (the fully loaded citrus soda) made a interesting combination to say the least. (So many stories for so many other blogs)


By the end of High School, no one remembered "Nicky"; only "SpAz".  I was Drum Captain, on the Student Council, a Student Representative to the School Board, and almost (along with my good friend Deanner) elected to Prom Court.  I had played football, ran cross country, and been in two rock bands, "Johnny on the Spot" and "2nd Shift".  I even dated!

My friend Heather calls me "The Little Dork that Could" (hence, the title) because she was on the drumline with me in Middle School.  She was one of the few to see that one awkward year of transition happen just in time to leave it behind and become the Don Juan Di Marco that the ladies drool over now.  (I can't help it if I have a sweet ass).  

Well, this concludes our little journey through my life.  I hope you've enjoyed our time together today. I know I did.  If I could leave you with one final lesson for today, it's "Thirty days have September, April, June and No wonder, all the rest eat peanut butter, except for grandma, she rides a tricycle."


(if you skimmed that because you think you've read it before, read it again)






With my head held high,
Nic "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can" Malara

For Plot's Sake

I need to vent an ultimately trivial frustration.

During what has become a regular 3AM sneeze-fest over the past few weeks, I found myself searching for that perfect late night TV program.  Insomniacs know what I'm talking about.  That show that isn't intriguing enough to keep you awake, but not annoying enough to keep you from sleeping.  So I dialed in "Old Reliable", According to Jim.  It's good for a giggle or two and I'm rarely awake to see the second episode of the show back to back on CMT. 

But last night was different.  The episode had to do with Jim's brother-in-law, Andy, lying to his girlfriend about playing football.  Andy gets hurt and the rest of the episode revolves around the cover-up.  The problem I have is that the extent they go to cover up the lie is completely illogical.

Now, I'm not the guy who watches Transformers and then bitches about the realism.  Hollywood should have a fair dose of unbelievable.  However, I'm noticing a trend, especially in modern comedy, that builds a plot based on a set of horribly illogical decisions.  Not to say that the resulting events and antics are not funny, but I have a hard time dispelling my frustration in the methodology.  It's like drinking a refreshing glass of ice water while knowing it had to be distilled from someones urine.

My frustration originated with, arguably one of the best sitcoms of the 90s, Married with Children.  I'd watch it nightly, against my parents decree.  Yet, it's the same dysfunctional brilliance that would leave me almost angry by the time the credits rolled.  At times it was too dysfunctional.  Al Bundy's idiocy and Peg's gold-digging manipulation, though hilarious, didn't add up.  Why were they even together?  They hated each other, except for rare moments at the very end of an episode and those were always followed by a nagging quip from Peg.  ( BTW - 3 cheers for Katey Sagal! She will always be Leela (Futurama) to me and she did a great job on Lost)

The most recent, and probably most severe, example I can think of is Dinner for Schmucks.  I laughed my a$$ off at this movie! Steve Carell is becoming one of the most successful comedic actors ever.  But I left the theatre SO angry.  Paul Rudd's character Tim makes so many horribly illogical decisions!  The movie should have been over in 15 minutes.  The worst part is when Barry (Steve Carell) brings Tim's stalker to a very important business meeting and, instead of explaining the mistake to the client, Tim plays along in a moment of "desperation".

Again, I get it.  It's all for sake of the plot.  Maybe it would have been easier to swallow if Tim's character was more of an a$$hole, but he's not.  Other than his terrible decision making, he is by all standards a stand-up guy.  Nonetheless, the movie is a hit and for good reason.  It's very funny.

(My favorite part is when the blind fencer tells the guy next to him that he used to paint.  The guy asks him how good he was and the fencer responds, "I don't know". Just think about it for a while.  You'll get it.)

I don't claim to be a great screen writer.  I am by no means saying that I could do better.  It's just frustrating. Even The Office, one of my favorite current shows, does it from time to time.  Last night I found myself wondering, "Am I the only one? Does this bother most people or are they able to simply bypass it?"  Clearly there are people out there who express there distaste with Hollywood, but why is it always some Sci-Fi extremist angry about the realism of a fight scene in a movie based on time travel?  Maybe it's a difference in taste.  I'm admittedly in the minority during discussions about Napoleon Dynamite and  Oldschool.  Those are hours I want back.  Gooooooooooooosh.

Big Gulps eh?

Well ... See ya later

nic "hater" malara


PS. Anyone else think I look like Bud Bundy?

It Was All Yellow

So I've alluded to the fact that I have a ridiculous memory.  It's freakish.  Since nothing has sparked me into a mental rant recently, I figured I'd begin to showcase this awkward talent of recall by telling you a story.  So as not to lose you, the reader, I will start immediately.

** THE NAME IN THIS STORY HAS BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE INNOCENT **

(Also to protect my ass, cause I have her on facebook)

A long time ago, in the 20th century ....

It's High School.  (I believe it was 10th grade but, funny enough, I can't remember that.)  It's the first day of class.  I walk into my Spanish class and pick a random seat near the back of the class.  I don't recognize anyone yet.  In walks a beautiful blond girl who grabs the seat right next to me.  My heart flutters a bit, but there is something familiar about her.  Senora Schnitzer introduces herself to the class:

"Buenos Dias Classe! Mi nombre es Senora Schni ... , Senora Shnixt ... , You can call me Senora Gomez"

Gomez was her maiden name, but she had recently wed a Jewish cop.  There is no easy way to say Schnitzer with a Colombian accent.   She begins calling roll.  "Carol Mayflower", said the teacher. That's when it all began.  (took long enough, eh?)

** FLASHBACK **

I couldn't have been much older than 8.  I remembered Carol used to live down the street.  Her and my sister

were friends and I would hang out with them from time to time.  I could remember their back yard as if I had been there five minutes ago (and still can for that matter).  One day in particular I could remember sitting on top of her bunk bed with her and my sister.  SHE KISSED ME! ( I probably had a little crush on her at the time, but I can vaguely remember also having crushes on two other girls on that street.  I went girl crazy really early. )  In my shock I rolled backwards on the bunk bed only to fall right off it and on to the unpadded carpeting below.  I thought I had broken my arm.  Her mom came in, put me on the couch and grabbed a frozen yellow washcloth from the freezer.  Eventually, my parents came and got me and I was fine.  End of Flashback

Back in High School Spanish class ... 

I was so excited that this pretty girl sitting next to me had kissed me once upon a time.  She had to remember!  What happened next will forever stand as an example of my overly optimistic and hopelessly romantic self and why I had a hard time with girls early on.  

During a break in class I looked over at Carol, mustered up the courage and said, "Hey!".  The look I got back was the equivalent of "I don't know you. Why are you talking to me?"  I should have stopped there. I may not have always been good with girls, but I've always been naively fearless.  So of course I kept trying, "Carol, It's Nic Malara. I used to live down the street from you".  "What?" she says, at least speaking this time. "My sister Jess and you used to be friends," I continue "You lived in the house on the corner."  Now she's interested in what I'm saying because I'm right, although I'm not winning any points.  That's when my Fight or Flight kicked in.  "You had a Siberian Husky with two different colored eyes" I asserted.  Now her head cocked to the side with a slightly disturbed expression.  I then described her back yard, the fact that she had a bunk bed and with every new piece of correct information her eyes widened.  The final blow was when I told her that I remember her mom kept a yellow wash cloth in the freezer.  Amidst nervous laughter she looked at me and said "Listen, I'm sorry I don't remember you at all, but you are really creeping me out".  

Epilogue

Now I don't remember exactly how the rest of the day went, but I'm pretty sure I just sat in my seat flushed red with embarrassment.  However, by the end of the year, Carol and I were friends along with the 3 other class clowns sitting with us.  I don't know if she ever remembered, but I think eventually she took my word for it.  

MY MEMORY

Now that you've heard the story, you have a better idea of how vividly I can picture past events.  That memory itself is 21 years old.  Yet, I can still picture all of it.  In fact, while speaking to my Dad a few weeks ago I described the entire interior of the house that I lived in at that time. Where the couch was, what the walls looked like, all from 20+ years ago.  My memory even scares my own father.  

I tend to believe that everything we experience in life is cataloged in our brains.  If you've seen Limitless, you have an idea of what I'm talking about.  Buried in our subconscious is everything we've ever seen, heard, smelled, touched, and tasted.  The difference is simply that I have the random ability to access some of that.  Never anything important, mind you.  It would have been nice to be able to recall all of text books I read in University.  It seems that I remember things that are nearly pointless in nature and have no real relevance to anyone but me.  Hence ... NICfinity.

I remember you, too.

~nic

Friday, Friday, BANG!

No, that BANG! wasn't a gun pointed at the computer screen.  That was my head hitting the coffee table after hearing another TV host talk about Rebecca Black.  (I swore to myself that I wouldn't write this blog, but here it is.)

If you have no clue what I'm talking about right now, STOP READING! Trust me you are better off and I envy you.

So the story goes, the parent's of this 14 year old girl pay thousands of dollars for a company to write a pop song and make a music video.  The thing goes viral over night and the rest is history in the making.

Maybe it's appropriate that I'm writing this blog on April Fool's because the first time you watch it, you think "It's gotta be a joke".  But no.


My beef is not with Rebecca.  In fact, props to her for taking a beating the last two weeks and still standing. Rumor has it she's working on an album!  Why not?  70 Million hits on YouTube makes you a boat load of moolah!  (Not that the Orange County family was hurting for it)

I've got 4 different bones to pick with this whole phenomenon: (Hold on tight. She's gonna be a bumpy ride.)

Numero Uno (Number One - for those who don't speak Spanish)
ARK MUSIC FACTORY (Vanity Music Label)

First off, the term Vanity Music Label should not exist, but Melodyne is a WMD when it gets in to the wrong hands.  Despite the refutes by founder, and most likely only employee until 2 weeks ago, Patrice Wilson, this was designed to make young girls think they were a recording star.  Kinda harmless really. But Patrice is quoted saying:

"I'm getting a lot of criticism saying I'm exploiting rich kids and their parents," says Wilson, "... I don't promise anyone fame. In fact, if someone approaches me with their only goal to ‘get famous,' I tell them they're not in this for the right reasons."

Smell that? That's Grade A Horse Sh*t. So why are all the kids from ritzy Orange County SoCal?  Why not bring hope and joy to inner city kids in LA?  oh that's why ..... $


Numero Dos (Baxter you know I don't speak Spanish)
THE PARENTS

How do they sleep at night knowing they've put there daughter through copious amounts of international humiliation?  I'm sure that wasn't the plan originally but now she's running the talk show circuit and then an album? Do they think that even if she records a legit album with songs that don't tell you what day comes next that she'll eventually out grow the shadow of "Friday"?  What could possibly make them want to ... oh wait ... $!

Numero Tres (You ate an entire wheel of cheese and took a dump in the refrigerator?)
THE MEDIA

If this song is "worst song ever", why is it everywhere?!  Conan, Jay Leno, Justin Beiber, Canada AM, CNN?  The viral video probably had 500,000 hits before the media got a hold of it and spawned another 69.5 million.  For her sake, for our sake, for your customer's sake, for you daughter's sake, in the tone of Chris Crocker, Leave Rebecca Alooone!



Numero Cuatro (I'm not even angry. That's amazing.)
Chicken and Biscuits

** CURVE BALL **

Ok, so, Chicken and Biscuits.  I was watching AFV before I went to bed and woke up to this music video in morning. How is "I can't get enough, kinda like chicken and biscuits" and better than "Sittin' in the front seat, kickin' in the back seat, which seat should I take" ?  Slap a cowboy hat and some twang on Rebecca and she's a legit country star!  So why does the fat guy get to sing about greasy southern food?

Commercial country music is simply conservative pop nowadays.  They stick to simplicity and conservative values instead the "sex sells" mentality.  Christina makes video's called "Dirty" and dresses in lingerie and Faith write "This Kiss" and wears flannel. So really, "Friday" should be a country song with out Patrice giving himself a shameless plug in the middle of it.  (BTW, if you check out arkmusicfactory.com, look at who the new "Coming Soon" artist is)

Too make a long story short ... (j/k)
It'll all be over soon.  Rebecca will spend the next few years hearing giggles behind her in the grocery store, but will have a savings account large enough to pay for therapy as an adult.  It's not her fault, but what's done is done.  The best advice I would give her is to get the best songwriter she can find and put out an album that at least blows Demi Lovato out of the water.

Happy Day That Comes After Thursday But Before Saturday And Sunday's After That!

"Chicken and Biscuits" Malara

** FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE **

( Tell me this doesn't sound like Beiber.  Baby, Baby, Baby)