One of the things that the three of us have most in common has always been our love of terrible things. Did we name our blog after a line from Talledega Nights? Yep. Did we once take an 8 hour road trip with just one Mika CD to entertain us for the duration? Affirmative. Is there a Nic Cage film we don’t adore? Let’s just say, killing me won’t bring back your goddamn honey. As we’ve pitched story ideas for the blog, half ended up being a series of stories that each of us was genuinely interested in or affected by. The other half? Defenses of the terrible things we love.
Today, even though it’s outside our update schedule, I am kicking off a side column on our love of terrible things with a bit about why I cannot stop listening to Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe.” It’s on repeat now. It’s on my summer car mix. My co-worker popped into my office today to ask a question, but instead heard it blaring out of my tiny desk speakers — “Oh, yeah,” he said. “This is a classic song.”
Carly Rae Jepsen placed third on her season of Canadian Idol, and five years later has made her way into the deepest part of my heart with “Call Me Maybe.” It’s bubblegum pop at its best: Catchy, cheery, and adorable. The thing about this song is… it’s not about the words, or the beat, or the song itself. It’s about what it sets afire in me. The way Adele can bring me back to age 21 and my first real heartbreak, Carly Rae makes me 17.
The song starts, and I am not a lady in my mid-twenties working in emergency management, a field that is dominated by people in their mid-fifties and virtually unknown to my peers. Instead, it makes me want to roll down all the windows and drive around blasting the song through the dark, hot summer nights in Portland. It makes me want to road trip to the coast. To blow off work, drink sweet drinks on patios, float the river, ride a ferris wheel, lie in the grass in the dark whispering secrets to my best friend.
The best part about it is that it’s terrible. Terrible in a fun, catchy, enthralling way. It reminds me of the joy of being young, and at the same time reminds me that I am young — really young — and I can still have all those things. My recent nostalgia for the youth I still have aside, it is a solidly wonderful summer song, in its own ridiculous, poppy, terrible way.
Megan knows she just met you, and call her crazy, but here’s her handle, so tweet her maybe?