Touch My Bum, This is Life

For any of you not familiar with the Cheeky Girls, “touch my bum, this is life” is the line of verse these Romanian sisters sing over the hook of their signature tune “Cheeky Song (Touch My Bum).” Needless to say, it’s pure, senseless cheese. But because it’s so random and nonsensical, it’s funny. And because it’s so random, nonsensical, and blatantly sexual, it’s immediately engrossing. It’s an old hit to be sure and was only big in Britain, but it was a hit nonetheless, and it speaks volumes of our media tastes (it topped the charts a few years back, earning this post a label far beyond the “so-five-minutes-ago” dismissive—and by the way, how so-five-minutes-ago is the term “so-five-minutes-ago”?).

While it’s true that people are dying in Darfur and blowing themselves up in Irak and getting pounded by hurricanes right here in Central America, the world needs an escape (a sweet escape?). A breather, a way out--even if it’s just pretend and even if it’s just for a second. I’m thinking that for the Brits, “The Cheeky Song” was probably just this (or at least I’m hoping so, because I can’t fathom someone taking this song semi-seriously). I certainly need an escape every now and then.

Sometimes I ponder on the meaning of life and peruse the headlines of “serious” news sites for analyses on current world affairs. I’m deeply interested in politics, economic development, and world events—more so than most I would say. But today I’ve found myself reading up on Tinsley Mortimer’s announcement that summer is “over” (she doesn’t have to rush back from the Hamptons every weekend anymore!) and on Olivia Palermo’s embarrassing e-mail disaster from back in March—now old news—pleading with the caste-conscious New York socialites-of-the-moment to accept her and love her. This adds absolutely no value whatsoever to my day and has no transcendence in my life at all. I don’t even live in New York right now. There is nothing I can do with this information that could possibly make me a better or more useful person, especially down here in Costa Rica where it rains eternally and the issue du jour is soccer and free trade. Nevertheless, I’m strangely drawn to it.

One high-profile blog back in spring, Park Avenue Peerage, deemed the Palermo story so important it penned a post entitled “Our Official Take on Olivia’s Letter.” I read the whole thing, down to the last comment. One struck a chord with me: “‘Our Official Take’ on some rich girl’s email. LMAO.” So true. Gawker and Page Six also covered the story. My verdict: The media is out of control. And I love it. Now blogs are issuing official statements on unconfirmed e-mails that no one cares about and that are chock-full of grammatical unforgivables. Awesome! More power to the people. “Touch my bum, this is life” all of a sudden makes perfect sense to me.