IF YOU SEEK AMY
Um, I have an issue. Well, I have multiple, but we are going to focus on one at a time today. My most current and pressing issue is with the song “If You Seek Amy” by Britney Spears.
Everyone has been muttering about the genius lyrics of the song because you have all clearly been huffing ReddiWhip cans. Rumor has it that when one says, “If you seek Amy” that it sounds very similar to saying, “if you fuck me.”
I understand a great deal many things, so I know it has to be all of you that are cognitively impaired because this one eludes me. I’ve listened to the song about four hundred and twenty-two times and you know what it sounds like to me? “If you seek Amy…” That’s what it sounds like, it sounds exactly like the words she’s saying.
So I googled it seeing if someone could help clarify my confusion, because we all know the internet is filled with brilliance. I found a message board where someone was saying anyone who didn’t understand this is clearly retarded. I’d like to meet this person face to face because I’d be willing to bet you diamonds for dirt they are missing teeth and sport a mullet. This person laid out the lyrics, as seen below, and I assume the upper case words are what one is supposed to emphasize.
Let’s all try together: “all of the boys and all of the girls are begging to if you SEEK AMY.” It ended with, “and if that doesn’t make sense, your a moron.”
Oh good sir, am I really? Am I really a moron? To me it would make a lot more sense if the word “seek” was replaced with “fuck” and “amy” with “me.” Yes, I think that is how it would make the most sense.
“all of the boys and all of the girls are begging to you if you fuck me.”
“Oh, yes, I get it now!”
The other problem I have with it is that even if it DOES mean “fuck me,” from a grammatical viewpoint, it makes little sense at best. All of the boys and girls are begging to…what? Begging to do what if you fuck her? They aren’t begging to fuck her, they are begging to do something else after they’ve fucked her, but what? (“all of the boys and all of the girls are begging to BLANK if you fuck me.”) Apparently in the mind of Britney we simply do not need to know. I thought perhaps they were begging to see Amy, since other verses of the song seem to allude to this character of Amy. But if Amy is Britney’s vah-jay and they just fucked it…then they already met Amy as their penis was just in it!
This song ticks me off more than “Everytime.” I loathed that song for such a long time because it bothered me that they put every and time together. Every and time do not go together. That is not a word. It’s every space time. Dammit.
I guess in this world of trying to make sense of things, one has to pick their battles lest they should lose their damn mind. I’m going to let this one go for a while, but if anyone can explain it to me it would be much appreciated. Maybe I have the volume up to loud, or perhaps to quiet? Regardless, I feel like someone that has been left out of an inside joke, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.
- Michael
SAD STATE
The financial aid office, aka the one place where the Nazi regime still has a stronghold on administrative policy, is where I spent two hours of my life. Two hours that I will regrettably never be able get back.
I have to imagine the application for employment in that particular department consists of two questions:
1.) Are you a complete bitch?
2.) Do you get off destroying the hopes and dreams of this nation’s youth by ripping the financial rug right out from underneath them?
I think this because every person that words in that office is an asshole. You walk in and the receptionist is a gigantic puckering sphincter, winking at you asking, “What the fuck do you want?” Because you’re clearly interrupting everyone with your pathetic, mindless concerns about paying for your degree.
Then they make you fill out a thirty-seven page form regarding the nature of your visit to the financial aid office, which they promptly throw away when you turn it back in. They must, they must throw it away because when you finally do make it to one of the advisors they ask you the same exact questions. It’s a very Nazi thing to do; it’s the clerical version of a forced labor camp.
After waiting several hours, they finally send an obese woman who is the poster child for “don’t give a fucking shit,” wearing an expression that implies she couldn’t really care less if you dropped dead. That’s when the ungodly mental abuse begins.
They sit you in a cubicle and answer your questions with questions.
“I’m a little curious, why did they decide to take back my financial aid?”
“Well, do you know why they took back your financial aid?”
“No, ma’am, I do not. That’s why I am here.” This is when they take a tone with you and act as if you are asking a question you should already know the answer to.
“If you would have read form 124.87B, section 22.3, paragraphs 89-2,300 you would see the policy and procedure that is in place for revoking financial aid.”
“I have no idea what form 124.87B, section 22.4, paragraphs 89-2,300, is.”
“Sir, this is not that complicated to understand.”
“Well, clearly it is that complicated otherwise they wouldn’t have dedicated 6,000 square feet of office space specifically for the sole purpose of explaining it. If it wasn’t that complicated this area would be a cafeteria, but alas, it is an office designed for explaining financial aid, so it must be that complicated.”
Today while my advisor was rambling on about some whatchamafuck form, all I could think was how both myself and the bolts in the chair she was sitting on are both under a great deal of stress; sooner or later, one of us is going to snap. Oh, but you can’t say that out loud, not on a college campus. Not with all the decapitating of fellow classmates and such that is going on these days. No, they would rather drive you silently to the brink of insanity, keep it to yourself, go home and down a bottle of pills and end your suffering in a quiet, dignified manner. It’s the proper way to do things. I’m sure there’s a form that explains all of it, but I haven’t been able to find that one either.
Her advice to me was that I could put the tuition payment on a credit card. That’s the same thing the woman at Macy’s told me. And Guess. And Gap. And H&M. Now Visa owns not only my mortal body but my soul in the afterlife. I have started selling off parts of my brain to help patients with brain damage to make minimum payments. It’s cool though, I clearly have more than enough brain to go around since her suggestion was one of the stupidest ideas I have ever heard in my life. Yes, let me charge this semester to my credit card with 300% interest, you dumb asshole. Maybe if I’m lucky that will earn me enough Reward Zone points to get a $5.00 Starbucks gift card so I can sip a macchiato and mull over the sad state of my financial affairs. I think that is exactly what I need.
- Michael
LET’S DISCUSS
My Intro to Prose Fiction teacher is really rubbing me the wrong way. Let’s talk about it, shall we?
I have not in the last 5 semesters gotten anything lower than an A- on a single test. Today she handed back my exam on The Awakening by Kate Chopin, the word’s most bland book, and I saw an unfamiliar letter on the top. She gave me a B. A fucking B. She gave me a B because in one of my essay questions she said that part of my answer was irrelevant to what was asked.
Not relevant? Let’s talk about irrelevant. Let’s talk about how irrelevant that knock off Burberry scarf she had draped around her neck like a loon was to her outfit, see EXHIBIT A below:
What? Why, why was it there. What purpose was it serving. The room was quite toasty, and it clearly matching NOTHING. Irrelevant my ass, clearly she doesn’t understand the concept of relevancy.
And fuck yes I take pictures of people when they aren’t looking. Why not? What’s the purpose of a camera phone if you don’t use it to take embarrassing pictures of people? Technology is of no value to anyone if we don’t use it to it’s fullest potential!
- Michael
