Sunday, November 14, 2010


I was listening to Jon Bon Jovi's hit power ballad, 'Always' just before as I was zipping around the place, and I got a little too into it as it just really went with the weather and the faux 80s pain in his voice just made me identify with the brunette leggy babe who just bailed on him, leaving him shirtless in some light blue jeans.

Its a song that makes you want to tease the hair on your head and kiss some babe who has red lippie on just to get it all over your face, then walk in slow motion down some form of grassy hill with her running behind you in despair in a navy blue dress that would be seen on a 90s version of winona ryder.

Thats if your a man, or so inclined to the woman I described above.

Power ballads from the 1980s and early 90s are like the nutella in a ferrero rocher.

Creamy and surprising.

(much like something else I know).

They describe so much sorrow and pain but with a killer guitar solo slung somewhere at the 7 minutes 43 seconds mark to satisfy the air guitar niggle you get whilst listening to this in your car.

They fucking rule and one day I want to, i dont know, make up some I phone app that allows you to set a soundtrack to a day in your life, because 'Always' by Bon Jovi will definetly have a spot on the list.

Speaking of lists, here are my top 5 power ballads & accompanying favourite lyric from the song:

1. Always- Bon Jovi (obviously).

[I wish I was him with those words of mine/

to say to you til the end of time/

that I will love you/

Baby, Always/

& Ill be there forever and a day/ Always.]

2. Purple Rain- Prince

[I never wanted 2 be your weekend lover/

I only wanted 2 be some kind of friend/

Baby I could never steal u from another/

It's such a shame our friendship had 2 end]

3. November Rain- Guns n Roses.

[And when your fears subside and shadows still remain,/

oh yeah/

I know that you can love me when there's no one left to blame/

So never mind the darkness we still can find a way/

Nothin' lasts forever even cold November rain]

4. Home Sweet Home- Motley Crue.

[You know that I've seen/

Too many romantic dreams/

Up in lights, fallin' off the silver screen]

5. Every Rose Has Its Thorn- Poison.

[Though it's been a while now/

I can still feel so much pain/

Like a knife that cuts you the wound heals/

but the scar, that scar will remain]

All with poignant and melancholic lyrics and killer guitar solos.

Not to mention, if you youtube most of their original videos you will feel like you lost your virginity all over again due to seeing some of the hard nuts of hair rock gyrating around the place but with pain in their eyes (due to love lost or their dealer being out of town- we are still not sure).


Sealed sections in magazines make me laugh and be pissed off at the same time.

Do the chicks who write about how to give gobbies and hand jobs seriously expect people to memorise this shit and perform it at the right time?

Because I can barely imagine the look on a guys face if you suddenly pull out your cosmo mag and tell him to "hold on" while you flick to page 56 and study a well drawn diagram with your hands around his cock and your eyes set on the glossy pages trying with all your might to concentrate on the "orange juice technique".

If I see one more sealed section telling me to juice him, I am going to set up and FB event everyone to a massive sealed section bonfire (with free lamingtons and cordial provided- NO orange juice).

But what I really love to hate is the drawings. Imagine spending four years at graphic design or art school and having to end up drawing some robot looking chick licking the tip of a well endowed mannequin.

Even better are the bogan looking couples they get to pose semi nude (you know, with the lady covering his dick tattoo with her elbow and the like) and tell all about their disgusting love life.

If I wanted to know what you two do with a box of popcorn in Greater Union, Id wrangle myself a student ticket and sit behind you.

But No I dont want to know, and I dont want to see awkward questions that are sent in (or more likely made up by the staff) about 'How do I go down on my man if we are at his nanna's 85th birthday party, but Im really up for the nookie?'

To be met with some generic answer such as,

"Well thats a bit inappropriate, you could just wait to get home at 2pm because Nan needs to be changed and put to bed around that time. Or you could get set to it in her coffee table room that no one is allowed in, but be careful to place the doilies back in their original position."

I suppose the only advice Ill be taking is from Bret Michaels or Vince Neil before I ever take the advice that comes with the tearing of a strip of paper.

Every magazine has it's thorn.

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