This past Sunday, Angela and Colin ventured to Murray Hill for the first installment of “Murray Hell,” which aims to answer the question, “What is it I hate about this neighborhood so much?” but ultimately is just an opportunity for us to get drunk and criticize it openly for an afternoon.
I’ve been silent for over a day about this. I know this isn’t necessarily a forum for such a horrid, sad topic. I don’t mean to bring you all down. But I feel that my soul has been crushed and I’ve been a victim of a brutal crime. It happened right in one of the so-called “nice neighborhoods” in town. I was the victim of someone that I considered a friend. A caring, decent woman that I trusted.
Clear your weekend schedule, pick up a fresh razor, and slather on your finest Bath & Body Works scented lotion- because tonight Enrique Iglesias is fucking you, whether you want it or not.
What in God’s name was Enrique’s manager thinking when he gave him the go-ahead to record this song (very matter-of-factly titled, “Tonight (I’m Fucking You)”)? Furthermore, what type of songwriter would even think to write something like this? (I think we can safely assume that E.I. isn’t coming up with his own material…)
“Here’s the situation / Been to every nation / Nobody’s ever made me feel the way that you do
You know my motivation / Given my reputation / Please excuse me I don’t mean to be rude- But tonight I’m fucking you.”
I wouldn’t call it “rude” as much as I’d call it presumptuous. God, remove one mole from a guy’s face and he thinks he’s the next Fabio. Isn’t this the same person who once claimed to “be my hero, baby,” and promised to kiss away my pain?
I gave this CD a listen on my way back from Washington Heights to the Upper East Side after crashing at a friend’s house after a Phish show / staying up until 4:30 a.m. It’s about an hour and a half subway ride with two transfers, and I was extremely tired and looking pretty haggard from the previous night’s debauchery. I needed some music with a little punch.