There was a suspicious poontz! poontz! poontz! beat coming from two cubes down at work the other day. So I just had to ask the former-intern-turned-full-time-employee, Andie, what she was listening to.
“Booty House Anthems”
With a totally straight face, she answers this.
Booty House Anthems?
Booty. House. Anthems. Are you kidding me?
Comedy gold on a slow Friday afternoon at work!
I totally want to live in the Booty House. Where they play ass-shaking anthems 24-7. The Booty House, if it were to be on a college campus, would of course have the letters Beta Omega Omega Theta! Y! tacked to its outside, just above the 24 Karat Gold Booty-Shaker’s balcony.
Booty House: the training ground for all of those who aspire to be in all of those MTV hot-tubbin’-hot-pants-ass-shaking videos.
You know where I am gong with this, don’t you?
Forget Boot Camp! This is Booty Camp!
Yeah, I know – it was a slow day at work. We all had plenty of time to riff on the Glory That is the Booty House.
Each and every booty on earth should have its own anthem. God Bless the Booty House.
Speaking of riffing at work. Last week we spent a lot of time picking out music for some of our upcoming projects. Our audio production people sent over a bunch of MP3s to peruse to see what was of our liking.
Keep in mind this music is strictly generic instrumental things from a licensed library from music publishing houses and not nearly as fun as Booty House Anthems (really, what could be?)
At any rate, we needed to find some “high energy” kind of rock and also som sort of techno music for some video projects.
And you know what that means, don’t you? Hours and hours of really bad and hilarious generic “hot licks” to sort through. Really, it’s like somebody catalogued all of the left over jam sessions and guitar riffs from like, Foreigner in 1982.
Most of the stuff could have been titled: Totally ZZ Top.
Or, The Hottest Guitar Solos That Never End.
Or, Totally Wants to Be Fire Starter When Firestarter Was All-Cool in 1996.
Are you getting just how hysterically bad all of this stuff was?
I hope so, ‘cause I swear to god, it was the kind of music your local radio station used in 1987, under your local morning shock-jock’s latest plug for the latest suburban strip-mall dance club.
Each time a new MP3 played, one of us would have to yell in our fake morning DJ voices things like, “it’s another 2-fer Tuesday! Another looooong set of Zeppelin! Yeeeooow!”
Or, “Don’t miss ladies’ night! Wear a skirt and heels and get in free!”
“Ladies! Come on down to O’Shenanigans for free Purple Hooter Shots and 2 dollar You Call Its!”
Which was all really very funny, until the most quite of all of our video editors walked by to unexpectedly yell the best lame DJ announcement of them all, the long forgotten but completely ubiquitous (at least in Chicagoland) Underage Juice/Bar radio promotion of the 1980’s:
“18 to party! 21 to drink!”
Okay, so maybe you’ve just got to hear Booty House Anthems. Maybe you have to hear all of this stuff, but really after that quiet little guy yelled, “18 to party! 21 to drink!” I lost my shit.
At any rate, I am sure this all explains my sudden urge to listen to REO Speedwagon and OutKast all week. Or at least I hope it does.
Thank you hot licks!
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