What’s Inside a Girl?
I had a difficult time enjoying any sort of rebellion when I was a teenager because my mom was always two steps ahead of me in terms of the trends that usually annoy parents. To wit: my mom was very much into punk rock while I was going through a stage of listening to The Sound of Music soundtrack ad nauseum (not that there’s anything wrong with that). She forced me to listen to bands like The Cramps, and God bless her for it, because now they are one of my favorite bands.
I still like show tunes, as evidenced by the off-key reenactments of Liza’s at the Palace that I perform daily in my shower, but every now and then I throw in a jazz-handed rendition of this song:
I always thought that if I were a rock star, I would be like the Cramps’ guitarist Poison Ivy, except without all the, you know, attitude, coolness, and sparkly bra tops. My punk rock act would consist of me standing demurely on stage in pearls and sensible pumps while drinking tea. Basically, despite my mom’s efforts, I am the least punk rock person to ever like punk rock. What’s inside this girl, apparently, is a 92 year-old woman.
Bonus song: You may know this if you watch Family Guy. It’s one big epileptic fit of a song, and this version is perhaps more seizure-inducing than the original.
