This is a story all about how my life got twisted upside down. And I liked to take a minute and sit right there and tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air. In west Philadelphia born and raised, on the playground was where I spent most of my days.

Chillin’ out maxin’ relaxin’ all cool and all shootin’ some b-ball outside of the school. When a couple of guys who were up to no good. Started makin’ trouble in my neighborhood. I got in one lil fight and my mom got scared, she said your movin’ with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air.

I whistled for a cab and when it came near, the license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror. If anything I can say this cab is rare, but I thought naw forget it yo homes to Bel Air I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8, and I yelled to the cab, yo homes smell ya later. I looked at my kingdom I was finally there. To sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel Air.

Over at Howards blog (who is a very funny, relatively-recently-discovered-by-me, Denver blogger that you should bookmark as a favorite right now) we were discussing cheesy song lyrics. In the comments the discussion started to veer in the direction of: naughty lyrics = terrible lyrics = best lyrics ever! We were not talking about blantantly obscene lyrics. I mean more subtle but equally disturbing songs like Olivia Newtron Bomb’s “Physical“. Indeed, those are some of the naughtiest/horrible/most wonderful lyrics ever. And for some reason, I’m sure it had nothing to do with our age, we stuck mainly to songs of the 70’s and 80’s.

I racked my brain trying to think of the worlds most risqué/distressing/greatest lyrics ever. Then it hit me. It was 1984. I was only 11. My father, a friend of his, and myself were sitting on the couch watching TV after a long day of skiing. Music videos had been relatively new to my world at that point, so I probably forced them to watch MTV while they sipped their après ski gin & tonics and relaxed. Judging by the way they’re jaws dropped to the floor, they couldn’t have been happier with my decision. See, an incredibly sexy vixen named Sheena Easton popped up on the screen. She provocatively pranced around the stage singing her hit (#3 on the R&B singles charts in 1984) song “Sugar Walls”. I remember somehow, even at the tender young age of 11, I knew what this song was really about. The reactions of my father and his friend only reinforced what I had vaguely grasped.

These must be the hottest/most horrifying/impressivly fabulous lyrics ever!

My sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Where I come from there’s a place called heaven

That’s the place where all the good children go.
The houses are of silver
the streets of gold.
But there’s more where you come from - my sugar walls.

My sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Blood races to your private spots

let’s me know there’s a fire.
You can’t fight passion when passion is hot

Temperatures rise inside my sugar walls.

Let me take you somewhere you’ve never been

I could show you things you’ve never seen.
I could make you never wanna fall in love again

Come spend the night inside my sugar walls.

Take advantage
it’s alright

I feel so alive when I’m with you!
Come and feel my presence
it’s reigning tonight.
Heaven on earth inside my sugar walls.
Let me take you somewhere you’ve never been

I can tell you want me - my sugar walls -
it’s impossible to hide.
Your body’s on fire
admit it! Come inside.
My sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Come inside my sugar walls
my sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Come spend the night inside my sugar walls.

My sugar walls
my sugar walls.

And if those lyrics weren’t enough to make you tingle/puke/smile then you have to check out the videos below the fold.

The weekend officially started off over at my Bro’s new apartment. My family, (both parents even), the Bros Girlfriends mom (one of the best Gumbo chefs I know), Trouts family, and various other friends got all got together to party. The function of the party was three-fold - as a housewarming for my bro and his girlfriend, as chance for everyone to get to meet each other and to eat some of the best gumbo west of the Mississippi. In addition to the great company and excellent food, the evening included babies, dancing, beer, wine, gin & juice, drawing, impromptu jam sessions on pots, pans, air guitars, real guitars, vocal chords and any other instrument that could be found or invented, and tons of laughter. After the party was we all went to the bar. This was probably not a good idea. Some of us were not allowed in the bar for various reasons - those of us that made it were kicked out in less than 15 minutes. Apparently the owner/manager of The Park doesn’t take kindly to grown men dawning some of their girlfriends accessories and acting like they are picking up on him. Getting kicked out was totally worth seeing that grumpy old mans reaction though.