The Cultural Cringe: Dear Diary #1 – Taio Cruz

Dear Diary Header for The Cultural Cringe

Nick Mason is a music journalist. He lives his life by a collection of principles as dictated by pop music past and present. These are the digital incarnations his diary entries.

Tuesday, December 13th

I can distinctly recall my initial acquaintance with Taio Cruz’ ruthless dance floor anthem Hangover. It was only this morning that I happened upon the song, an innocuous online dalliance evolving into something much more serious. As if to mirror the experience of my very first beer, consumed at eighteen years of age, my distaste for Cruz’ pop-tastic abomination was immediate. Also similarly to beer, however, numerous samples ensured a slow and steady intoxication as I warmed to its subtle splendours. It is now 4pm and I currently account for 204 of the song’s 19,070,204 views on YouTube. The number, I suspect, will continue to rise as I introduce my friends and family to Cruz’ enthusiasm for liquor. For now though, overcome with a thirst for lager, I must frequent the bottle-shop before it shuts for the night.

Wednesday, December 14th

A quiet night in, wrapping Christmas gifts. Though opting to drink in front of Keeping Up With The Kardashians proved sensible enough, I discovered that such conditions were not akin to the sheer euphoria documented in Cruz’ Hangover song. I feel I must recruit others to my cause- those who share a similar penchant for partying and alcohol consumption. It will be important to select those most likely to unquestionably approve of my intended excess.

Saturday, December 17th

The staff Christmas party was last night. I joined a contingent of workmates in braving peak hour traffic for the sake of happy hour – each of whom have been successfully converted to Cruz’ masterclass in pop genius, thanks to yours truly. Naturally, one happy hour turned into two, then three. Before I knew it, the night had eventually dissolved into obscurity like a rufie in cola. We were delighted to follow Cruz’ extreme will towards inebriation and happier still when the club itself played the song. To the best of my recollection, the evening was spent in good spirits thereafter – namely vodka, tequila and absinthe.

I’m not sure where I am exactly or even whose roof I presently rest upon, or indeed why I should be in possession of my diary. That I was able to match Cruz’ keenness for the bottle, however, proves somewhat satisfying. I became both ‘trashed’ and ‘mashed’. Do I dare to ‘keep it going’ as per Cruz’ recommendation?

Monday, December 19th

I’m on the roof, if you don’t know. Well, now you know.

A backpacker named Sven kindly cooked up a batch of Belgian waffles for breakfast this morning, but I felt the feed might prove detrimental to my cause. I knew I couldn’t afford to soak up the residual alcohol in my bloodstream with empty carbs. Deep down, I knew I’d never catch Cruz sneaking a waffle between drinks.

Just as the man himself would have wanted, I soldiered on and began the day with three bourbons and a shandy before boldly inviting my drinking buddies to a Sunday session of my own design. To my dismay, my new-found friends politely declined. They explained they had work on Monday and, irrespective of their rigid adherence to the terms of their employment (i.e. attendance), they could not afford to purchase more alcohol. I assessed the financial viability of my venture and concluded that I could go at least another round or two, hangover be damned.

Wednesday, December 21st

I have spent the week coercing others to come out, if only for a one-night stand with my inebriated ways. Though I encountered much resistance from the likes of friends and colleagues, I hit up the club scene regardless, successfully network with their more attractive replacements. They reside in the sorts of venues I’d normally loathe, but that’s a small price to pay to mix with people who also like Taio Cruz. Speaking of, I have managed to take one thing away from my adventures. I have discovered a new song: Shots, by LMFAO. It even features Lil Jon. Two thumbs up.

In quiet moments alone, I had suspected that my increased tendency towards intoxication was cause for concern. I had begun to fear the condemnation of friends and family, their scathing judgment seemingly only a matter of time. My fears have been laid to rest, however, thanks to LMFAO and Lil Jon. Now, whenever I require validation for my behaviour, I have not one but two songs to turn to.

I suspect the remainder of the week will be spent party-rocking , at their behest. Lil Jon in particular seems especially enthusiastic concerning my continued intoxication. I’ve noticed he only ever yells at me. I’ve found that if I yell for an extended period of time, my throat becomes intolerably sore. I hope LMFAO offered Lil Jon some water. Or at the very least, shots.

Monday, December 26th

Like Taio, I know now that I’ve been drinking too much for sure. A homosexual man named Steve has kindly provided proof that it is Wednesday and not, in fact, Monday, as per my insistence. Even now I continue to gawk at the date printed upon the community newspaper, much like Marty McFly in Back To The Future 2, trying and failing to retrace my steps. I have spent much of the day drinking, piecing together the past few days and convincing Steve that our fling was purely a once-off occurrence.

My fondness for liquor has been anything but a flash in the pan, however, with my interest in cocktails taking flight. The main attraction behind creating cocktails is the idea that you can pass off even the most absurd, over-indulgent collision of ingredients as a legitimate beverage and escape judgment. I have just succeeded in designing and subsequently drinking my fifth concoction for the day. Deep down, I know I’m doing Taio proud. Meanwhile, Steve seems up for a drink, which I’d welcome more readily if it weren’t for his blatantly promiscuous agenda.

It occurs to me that I’ve missed Christmas entirely, which feels a little miserable. It’s the first time I’ve not seen friends or family for the occasion. I should stock up on Boxing Day bargains to drink the pain away. It has also occurred to me that I may also require a new diary very shortly.

Monday, January 2nd

I’ve stolen Steve’s desk diary. While my act of petty theft has effectively freed up more money for alcohol, the book itself is enormous and cumbersome. I need a canvas bag to carry it anywhere.

Speaking of financial affairs, I finally made my way home today, mostly to collect funds to perpetuate my party lifestyle. My family and friends were laying in wait, staging an intervention upon my return. They’ve locked me in my bedroom with Taio Cruz’ Hangover on repeat. They hope that I will eventually tire of my infatuation with not only the song but the alcohol-induced partying it encourages. I can safely say it that its repetition has resulted in the opposite effect and I desire a drink more than ever. I want to keep it going. If I can just break free of these bonds around my ankles and kick down the door, I’ll be in business.

Wednesday, January 4th

The inevitable has occurred: I have begun to build up a tolerance for alcohol. In addition, my tendency to sneak in a drink or ten throughout the day has effectively cleaned out my savings account. I just spent my last $1.69 on a digital copy of Taio Cruz’ single for my iPod, having accidentally bought seven remixes of the song hours earlier. I’m flat broke and require urgent medical attention. I hate Taio Cruz.

To be continued in Dear Diary #2…

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