For the first time in my adult existence, I willingly skipped the MTV Video Music Awards. “I’m too old for that sort of thing!” I told myself while smugly watching the fourth episode of House of Cards and sipping my organic herbal tea. I was in bed by ten, pretentiously reading a book about disease prevention through diet while drifting away into my Sunday evening slumber.
Apparently, this is what twenty-nine looks like…?
When I awoke this morning, I immediately regretted my “mature” decision to skip the VMAs. Angry declarations towards Miley Cyrus ran rampant through Internetland. Words like ‘raunchy’, ‘vulgar’ and ‘twerking’ were used abundantly. It appeared there were teddy bears involved? And a manicured foam hand?
Why in the name of Maclemore did I voluntary miss such a spectacle in order to read how eating bread can give me Lupus?! I had blatantly ignored the platinum, diamond encrusted rule of YOLO. Shame on me.
Thank goodness MTV had me covered with on-demand clips of the entire show. I clicked on over to Miley’s performance video as fast as I could and pressed play. While her interpretation of ‘We Can’t Stop’ was tamer than I originally anticipated–all of the internet hype had me expecting something far worse–I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at a teddy bear (or a foam hand) the same way again.
Yet what perplexes me most is how Miley’s out of control twerkage has seemed to distract viewers from the real travesty at hand.
Robin Thicke’s unsightly leisure suit and terribly off-key singing.
You guys…please tell me I wasn’t the only one that noticed this? Homeboy was flat. Seriously flat. Like…flatter than those non-existent butt cheeks shaking violently in front of him. I don’t care how distracting Miss Cyrus’ dairy aire is — a VMA nominated artist should at least be able to carry a tune.
Alan must have been so ashamed.
And don’t even get me started on his fashion choices.
I mean…seriously? Who wears that?
Whatever. At least I can sing on-key.*
And don’t have to claim Kirk Cameron as a sitcom brother.
(Although I certainly wouldn’t mind a homeless Leonardo DiCaprio staying at my house from time to time…)
*Most of the time