Three Things: Ghost Song

1. This is
2. The cutest effing thing
3. I've ever seen.

(Once you see the little one playing the saxophone, there's really not much else to say. Besides the song being painfully mediocre. But besides that, there's not much else to say.)

Three Things: The Ghost Inside.

1. You hire the curviest celebrity in existence to be in your music video — of which you have complete creative control — and you put her in a jumpsuit?! If we were playing Family Feud and the category was "shapeless clothing" and you guessed Hammer pants, moomoos, coveralls, overalls or a Halloween ghost costume comprised of a huge white sheet you would have LOST because everyone surveyed would have OBVIOUSLY gone with "jumpsuit". Come on!

2. Man, it costs an arm and a leg these days to fill up your car. (ba-dum ching!)

3. I'm not an expert in inflation, but I'm pretty sure regular highway tolls are, I don't know, about a dollar? And I'm not sure if money in the future is completely wacky and everything costs, oh, twenty times as much as it does today, but if so, wouldn't that mean that the prosthetic limbs are real bargain-basement cheap*? And if so, wouldn't she have some sparesies lying around?

(*I'm just really into futuristic economics, no big deal)

I love this video, though. I think.

Three Things: MGMT on SNL

1. I watched this with my parents. Try explaining that to your parents.

2. Hey, Googly Eyes McGee: no one thinks it's cute. You're not weeeeird and going out of your miiiiiiind on stage — you're performing in a television studio in front of an audience of nondescript adults who, if they're under 25, likely only know one, maybe two of your singles from hearing it at frat parties and blaring over the speakers at Forever 21. You should just keep your eyes in your sockets and just play the song.

(Side note — Do Date or Dump: eyeballs guy, weird facial hair drummer, plainfaced bassist. Go.)

3. The funny thing is, if this album was released by a totally different band called, like, GTMT, it would have gotten a ton of blog coverage, been linked to on Twitter all day long and everyone who says they hate it would be scooping up tickets to see them open for Fang Island on their hypothetical summer tour. I know, because I'd probably be one of them. They did a good job the first time around, which makes it impossible to listen to without going "meh". Well, win some, lose some.

Three Things: She & Him's "In The Sun"

1. I totally forgot this video happened. And this song. And the album. Remember how much fanfare there was the first time around when they partnered up? I don't know, their music has always made me want to go home to my one-floor suburban home and whip up a meatloaf and a bundt cake with melted icing on top for my husband who carries a tiny briefcase and calls me "honey" which is cool I guess, because I prefer high-waisted skirts and would probably have had the bombest floral wallpaper, but to have an entire repertoire of songs remind me of Pleasantville probably isn't the best thing for a band.

2. Girl, I know you're not actually supposed to be singing in your music video, but you're really not doing a good job of faking it. It's like Milli Vanilli with a big, fat fake smile, better hair and a whole hell of a lot more twee.

3. Are you sure that's not Robert Downey, Jr.?

Three Things: The Runaways.

1. No one actually stencils and spray paints words like "sex" across their chest like that. That doesn't happen in real life. Or, if it does, I'm going to be highly annoyed that people are walking around the world like that and I'm still getting glares whenever I wear heels or a skirt on the subway. (Literally, every time.)

2. Um, why WOULDN'T you want to work at the Pup n' Fries forever!? In 1975 the cheese dip probably wasn't made of plastic and chemical compounds, the hot dogs were fresh, and I bet you could have worn real live roller skates. Roller skates! Where else can you boogie on down in a cute outfit while catering to happy customers!? Well, stripping, actually. Fuck. But, uh, real cheese dip!

3. I just want to run a flat iron through this whole movie. The only way they can justify all of this terrible hair and sad eyeliner is with someone dying or bleeding or something as equally rock and roll as that, and as far as I know, there's no tragic 8-ball overdose. Unfortunately.