Say what??

Oh La La, That Woman is GAGA!

I have openly admitted that I’ve lost a fair amount of ‘cool’ since I became a mom. I think the last time I was considered hip and up to date on anything was in 2006, when my second daughter was born. That being said, I am not ashamed to admit that I did not know who Lady Gaga was until I saw her on Oprah a little over a year ago.

Apparently, she’s been around for a while.

It’s clearly very sad that I rely on a 58 year old Black woman to keep me up to speed with current pop culture. It was Oprah who explained the Justin Beiber phenomenon to me as well. That I could handle. He’s a cute Canadian boy with pink lips and pretty hair. I could see why moms and little girls alike just looove him. Oprah, however, did a poor job in preparing me for Ms. Gaga.

Arms out stretched and triceps wiggling unrepentantly, Oprah introduced her in that Oprah-esque manner that only she is capable of:

 “Ladeee Gagaaaaa!!!”

Sitting on stage is this pale wisp of a White woman with searching brown eyes, playing skillfully on the piano, murmuring something unintelligible. Suddenly, she ripped off part of her clothing and started hollering and screaming and carrying on, beating the windshield of an idle taxi cab with a spiked ball and chain, vainly trying to smash it in while fireworks erupted all around her and half naked men in leather undies  flanked her in circus-like synchronization.




Oprah, for her part just loved it, cheering and bobbing her head from the audience. I sat there staring at the TV in disbelief, 5 months pregnant and holding my son who wasn’t quite 1 yet. Should he be seeing this? Heck, should I be seeing this??

Last night, nearly a year later, I actually listened to the verses of that ‘Oh la la la, roma ah ah’ song (Bad Romance) while I was channel surfing in my car. I was incredulous, as I didn’t know whether to crack up laughing or cry. She’s so bloody scary.
I want your disease
I want your everything
As long as it’s free
I want your love
Love love love
I want your love


Later on in the song she busts out in French…just busts out in another language… for no apparent reason:

Je veux ton amour
Et je veux ta revenge
Je veux ton amour
I don’t wanna be friends
(Want your bad romance
I want your bad romance)
Want your bad romance!

If I were a guy and some pasty little girl clad in her meat dress, meat hat and meat boots commenced to  growling and snarling at me talkin’ ‘bout some “she don’t wanna be friends”, I’d run as fast as I could as far as the East is from the West.

*Yes. That dress, hat, boots (and a purse somewhere) are all made of MEAT

Oddly, I think I’m on the verge of becoming a fan. It’s like a train wreck that you’re compelled to watch. You know the carnage is coming. There will be dead bodies everywhere. You want to turn away, but you just can’t!