Will I Ever Be A Lay-dee?

I do aspire to be lady-like and elegant in all my undertakings (arf! arf!), but somehow I don't think I'll ever attain true lay-dee-shipness when I love, love, LOOOOOOOVE lyrics such as these, by Rickie Lee Jones:

Eddie's got one crazy eye
that turns him into a cartoon
when a pretty girl comes by.
And there's nothin' here to do anymore
he sits on the stoop all day,
like there's something he's waiting for.

Cunt-finger Louie picks up Eddie in the alley,
he's got all those guys with him
from that town where they all look like Frankie Valli.
They speak fluently blonde
from her legs to her cigarette,
and Louie told Eddie that he'd fix him up
but he ain't come back yet

I have loved RLJ since 1979 when she sang Chuck E.'s in Love.

Oh, she can be so witty in her agony aunt advice:

Once you find yourself a better man
Treat him special all of the time.
Make him some catfish,
fry it up in bed,
don't leave him hanging on the telephone line

The achingly sweet nostalgia of

The air is talcum,
and my mama's eyes are blue

gets me weepy every time.

Anyone else's nasal, slurred, inarticulate singing would irritate me, but it fits her so perfectly. She sings without punctuation, and it simply flows like poetry.

Maybe I should be a music critic, instead of a lay-dee?