Oh, chocolate. I remember when they first invented it. Sweet, sweet chocolate. I always hated it!
Do you remember 1975? Great year, huh? There was the Watergate Scandal (oh, you bad boy Nixon). It was the year Spanish dictator Francisco Franco dies. Iron Maiden is formed (to all the fans). What a great time in our history.
Just kidding, I really wouldn't know; I googled all this shit because, hell, I wasn't born until 20 years later. But I'm not just talking about 1975. No homie, I'm talkin' about The 1975. You know, the one with a singer and a guitar and a drum set. A more recent one. Is that jogging your memory? "Noooiicceeee"-every college frat douche. I'm sorry to all the frat dudes, that was uncalled for. But the it's kind of dark and the backspace button on my laptop is just too far for my sausage fingers.
Anyway, back to the matter at hand. If ever you feel like you want to wallow in your pit of despair, whether you have been dumped, cheated on, or just feel in the Draking mood but not the Drake tunes, then jam out to "Robbers". It's got a 30 Seconds to Mars' Kings and Queens/ U2's With or Without You vibe. He must be channeling a bit of Keith Sweat's begging vocals because you can't help but to feel for the guy. If you're in the mood for some good pumped up vibe, "Chocolate" will be there to wake you up. If you're in the middle of making a questionable decision, probably pertaining to an immoral or criminal act, but find yourself not too worried about the consequences, then "Sex" or "Girls" will do the trick (No she can't be what you need if she's seventeen). And the follow it up with some hard hitting honesty in "Me" or "You" (I can't believe how these titles are just lining up so perfectly; do you think they did it on purpose, because I sure as hell did not intend this serendipitous juxtaposition) just to bring yourself back to a harmonious, melancholy place. The real world.
So when it's December 31st, end off your year with this spectacular album. In the words of Awkward's very own Sadie, "You're welcome".
Disclaimer: No drugs were used during this trip. For someone who has lived in SoCal for more than half her life, today was, shockingly, the first day I've ever made it outside the boundaries and cruised onto the beauty that is the Pacific Coast Highway. The spontaneous trip led for some laughs, some scares and some very shitty karaoke. And I cannot stress how much good company is for an adventure. The homies and I started our day by fulfilling our typical Basic White Girl needs with our Starbucks, then made our way to Encinitas for some long walks on the beach (while covertly sneaking peaks at the poor surfers..with their tight..wet..suits...PraiseCheezusHallelujah), tackled a grand staircase that rivals the ones from Harry Potter and overindulged in overpriced gelato. We did some shopping at some not so thrifty thrift stores (help us out Macklemore, we could not find one damn fur coat for $20 in a sea of Hawaiian Shirts) and got our fix of cheap books. But the highlight was the...
This has been such a glorious week, has it not? Despite my sinking grades, my complete lack of direction in life and my gloomy AF looking future, it has been a week of reawakening for my blasè playlists. Troye Sivan released his final video to complete his Blue Neighborhood trilogy with "TALK ME DOWN" as did Florence+Machine with part 6 (yasssss homie, SIX freakin' parts) of her Odyssey with "Delilah", both of which were so honest and rich and just goddamn sad (the latter I have to concur with one YouTuber's comment about it being a little American Horror story-ish). And to round off the Holy Trinity, Triple Threat, Three-Strike team, the Honourable Adele dropped her "Hello" single, which is now at 19+million in less that 24 hours. So excuse me as I board the feels bus because it's 1AM, my body is reacting to that large mocha frappe I had, I just finished pulling a paper about nuclear proliferation and it being a better method of mitigation tha...
And here we are. I tried to tap into my inner Samoan Betty Crocker skills and whip out a batch of delicious paifalas (half moon pies with a pineapple filling). A staple in my childhood diet, paifalas were a treat best served with a side of vanilla ice cream (but I try to be open-minded and allow all varieties of ice cream to join in the fun). My fondest memory of devouring one of these came during a muggy Samoan night when my Bobby Flay of an uncle, who had just gotten home from a laborious day, came into the kitchen and enlisted all of the cousins and I to help make them. Even though it was a hot summer night, that little kitchen churning out more heat than a sauna, we kept at it. Because we were children. And our sweet tooth didn't allow for breaks in case the paifalas would cease to exist the second we left to get some air. So on that wooden picnic table, fashioned as a dining table, in the kitchen we sat as our poor little 1950s oven made magic. In that cramped little r...
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