Hey, have you guys seen that Rebecca Black music video on the Interwebz? Really? No? The “FRAIYYYYDAY FRAIYYYDAY FRAIYYYDAY” one? Oh, you have? Okay, cool. It’s so funny to watch, right, because it’s terrible? LOLOL.
But the other day, as my gazillionth friend sent me a “zomg you have to watch this haha” IM with a link to that YouTube awk-fest of lens flare and beaming preteens with braces, I decided to ponder some deeper matters as I dutifully clicked replay. Could Rebecca, at age 13, be imparting to us some valuable lessons about life and love and the travails of modern femininity? Yes.
1. It is better to be a ridiculous parody of yourself than to be boring or not famous.
You will never become a viral video sensation, or Miranda Priestly, if you keep things nuanced and profound. To stand out, be a joke version of yourself. Like Rebecca, if your voice is already nasal, then let them Autotune that shiz so you sing like a Wisconsinite with a sinus infection. Or say you want to get ahead by being the office bitch: rat people out for being late, but don’t stop there! Provoke coworkers to say insulting things about each other on Gchat and forward the transcripts around with a Machiavellian fervor. If you live in Williamsburg, drink some frickin’ PBR while riding your fixie. Embrace your absurd stereotype with total earnestness. What a timesaver!
2. Even if your friends try to peer pressure you into a certain seat in the car, or going to brunch, you still have a choice.
Madison may have a cousin whose friend’s math tutor knows Justin Bieber, but that does NOT mean you have to kick it in the back seat with that beyotch. You are the master of your fate and the captain of your soul, like that one dude from AP English said! Just because that girl you went to j-school with now works at Gawker and sends the perfect amount of witty, cosmopolitan tweets to her 3,000 followers while you’re interviewing championship hog breeders for the Wichita Sun does NOT mean you have to make up a fake Facebook boyfriend. Rebecca reminds us that it’s up to us: Kick it in the front seat (or the back) or anywhere you make your mind up. There are no wrong seats, girlfriend!
3. Your mom lied when she said your Glamour Shots makeup looked good.
4. Savor the magic of your youth.
Before time forced us all aboard the waking up early/crippling Starbucks addiction/I secretly love my friend-with-bennies adulthood crazy train, we were stoked like Rebecca, just “lookin’ forward to the weekend.” Remember when Friday meant listening to Hanson and logging onto sketchy AOL chatrooms with your bestie who had dial-up, instead of drowning your feelings in Yuengling at a midtown happy hour where everyone’s just texting anyway? Remember when your parents would pay for stuff, like your ridiculous lo-fi music video? When “gotta have my bowl” referred to cereal? Innocence was oh-so-sweet. We should have cherished it before we figured out that a middle-aged dude in a car rapping about a bunch of preteens was creepy, in a reverse “Macaulay Culkin in Michael Jackson’s ‘Black and White’” way.
5. Your real friends are the ones who will painstakingly gyrate next to you in a fake convertible in front of a green screen.
They're also the people who will drive you by your ex’s house at 3 a.m. to make sure there are no suspicious cars in the driveway. And the ones who will bravely try your homemade yogurt, or otherwise be your wingwoman in any of your whimsical vanity projects.
6. Look on the bright side/Clouds have silver linings/Etc.
It’s been a tough week. Lots of homework. Your crush didn’t talk to you in math class. Your boss loathes you. No one will ever pay that much for your shitty jewelry on Etsy. Sometimes as women, we get down on ourselves and feel like time is a slow drip of adult acne and OK Cupid dates that make us want to gouge out our eyes. But, ladies, put some positivity in the percolator: soon it will be Saturday and heck yeah, Sunday comes after that! Rebecca doesn’t judge. Even if your only plans are to braid your cat’s hair, it’s gonna be FUN FUN FUN FUN!
So, ladies, though you may be tempted to clock the next person who tries to play you that wretched song, which may not in fact have a good “melody” or “production value” or “shred of musical integrity,” I think you should instead pause and reflect on the sagacious life lessons Rebecca offers us. Oo-ooh-ooh, hoo yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah. Yeah-ah-ah. Yeah-ah-ah. We gonna have a ball today!
Jessica Misener lives in Brooklyn and writes about things. You can follow her on her relatively unannoying Twitter.