ANG YAYA NI ZUMA

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Somehow in the last three of the alphabet generations, a girl is never just a girl until she (even remotely) admires Gwen Stefani or, emulates Gwen Stefani, or wants to be like Gwen Stefani, or mentally befriends Gwen Stefani or, dye her hair pink like Gwen Stefani or, projects conjurations of girlish dreams acquired and evolved by the years, through Gwen Stefani. It is not Gwen Stefani's world that we happen to live in. It is a world where a girl wouldn't mind being Gwen Stefani. She is the every-girl Malkovich. This is further compounded by that gorgeous hubs of hers. Like who wouldn't do THAT? Even so after all these years, one can not help but be vicariously titillated by thought of her and Tony Kanal. There are Sid-and-Nancys, Cobains-and-Loves and Fleetwood Macs but Stefani and Kanal are the Julia & Richard, the Tom & Meg of rock--adorable in fantasy, but they're probably better off and far less dysfunctional as friends. 

After years of hits, personal anthems, pop forays, fashion spreads, fragrance lines and genetically endowed offsprings No Doubt of the Orange County is to reunite for a world tour. It is not the Beatles reunion, or the end of wars, or the splitting of the atom but it comes in really fierce heels.

So in honor, here's hoping they play this song. It is my personal soundtrack for all couple-ly buffoons who like to ram couple-dom and all its saccharine glory down my throat and such a manner couple-righteously so.