EX-GIRLFRIENDS
LOW MILLIONS
Ex-Girlfriends could be the soundtrack for my next romantic comedy where I blindfold a teen flounder, and pretend she’s one of my own annoying anchovy-twatted ex-girlfriends, and give her the
Dawson’s Creek treatment. With a paring knife against her throat, I’ll make her scream higher than a humpback whale as I impale her repeatedly on my leather-and-spike-covered tool.
"I wish to hell I could cry," sings the talented, but unoriginal JOHN MAYER-sounding Canadian sap Adam Cohen on the title track— but in my case, I’ll nearly drown laughing, because after a pounding by me, this former gold-diggin’ tramp of the sea won’t be able to swim straight for a week.
The same reason I don’t name porn flicks after the hos I catch a wave or two with, is the same reason Adam should’ve avoided it on his debut album (which might as well have been a solo LP for all that the band of two behind him matters). Just like you don’t need plots or character development in my egg-annihilating underwater orgies, you could’ve dropped Jorgen Carlsson on bass and Eric Eldenius on drums, splurged for a Casio synthesizer, and done just as well.
Don’t get me wrong, I could see how tracks like "Low Millions" and "Eleanor" could hook in a pre-pubescent guppy who’s got undergrown gills and lips, but once some hornball squid gets his tentacles inside her, she’s gonna be picking up Trent Reznor’s latest in no time. The writing’s easy enough for one of my big-headed sperm to get: "Hey, Jane / I’m so alone / I wanna go out into the night and taste it" which made me think he wants some chlorine-smellin’ bag on his nose instead of the luscious cheerleader next door. Some rainbow puffers I know are into the whole gay porn racket, so maybe I’ll pass the silky-smooth voiced Adam along their numbers. With all his money and talent, and the fact he’s havin’ so many problems with the bitches – Eleanor, Julia, Jane, Nikki – dude’s gotta be a flamin’ red tackle-tickler. I mean, he did call a song "100 Blouses".
On that track, shockingly, there was a part I could relate to. It was about having 99 lovers to go on to. I got about 10 times that. Only other difference is that for me, at my most romantic, I don’t need no expensive dinners over exotic reefs and walking-on-the-sand-dunes mood music like this stuff. I just pack their bony mouths full of seaweed so they can’t say their "safe word" and go to town.
