summer jams

Give Me My Sultry Summer from BitchTapes on 8tracks.

I've been here for less than a week, and this Pacific Northwest weather is not quite clicking with my system yet. I wake up in the morning, birds are chirping at my window, the sun is gleaming on my face, and it appears to be beautiful, then I step outside and it's cold. There's a giant grey cloud looming overhead, but it's sunny across the street, and just when you think the weather is going to be fine, it starts to rain? Someone tell me this changes soon. All I'm hearing is that summers here are the best, but I feel like I'm being lied to.

It's time to make the most of what's left of the summer. I'm thinking bike rides, swimming pools, a quick camping trip, or half napping/half reading a book in the park.  Let's say I was going to road trip out to the nearest water park (maybe!), this just might be my soundtrack. What's on yours?

In our monthly newsletter (sign up on in the sidebar on the right!) we poll Bitch staffers and readers on their top five picks in a given category, posting the results here on the blog. Help us out and give us five, or suggest your own answers in the comments after the jump!

Obviously, summer is the best time to be crushin'. But, the formula for the ultimate date is still incomplete. I've already concluded (using sound statistical data, of course) that soft-serve ice cream, bicycle rides, red & white checkered vinyl table cloths, and nightswimming (and/or drive-in movies) are necessary components. Now, if I could create a time machine out of something other than a hot tub full of sweaty, middle-aged men and take my dates back to the 90s, the formula would be finished! (Insert mad scientist cackle here.)

So I was riding in the car yesterday, fiddling with the radio dial, when I was blindsided by a gigantic bag of douchiness, masquerading itself in radio EP form. Coming through the speakers in my friend's Kia were these words (poorly sung, I might add):

Shush, girl! Shut your lips!/ Do the Helen Keller, and talk with your hips!

I'm sorry, what? Do the HELEN KELLER? Because the ideal woman is unable to hear, see, or speak and can only communicate through hip gyrations? Once I recovered from the severe case of douchelash these lyrics brought upon me, I was able to do a bit of investigative research. The song is called "Don't Trust Me," and the offenders performers are the Colorado-based duo 3oh!3. Apparently, this single and its creators are sweeping the nation this summer, delivering a message of doucherty and douchetice for all. Peep the video for further evidence of this:



More decency-defying douchebaggery after the jump!