Which is to say that it's probably better that my addition to the holiday canon is unfindable (at least for now) — especially in the Internet age, making a Christmas song and disseminating it to the world is almost too easy. My good friend Jon Solomon has hosted a 24-hour holiday show on WPRB for the past 23 years, and I think he could probably fill out a second installment of the show just based on this year's slew of seasonally themed songs alone. (NB: I am not advising that he do this.) Here are four female-fronted songs that I hope crack his playlist.

The British dance-miserablists in Saint Etienne compiled their past holiday-themed tracks into the limited-edition album A Glimpse Of Stocking, which was only available last month. (Too bad I just found out about it, but hey, maybe a generous friend got me the £150 deluxe package that includes a personally dedicated holiday song sung by the icy cool Sarah Cracknell.) Saint Etienne's holiday songs of yore are packaged with seven brand-new songs; one of them is the upbeat, yet downcast "No Cure For the Common Christmas."

I spent a lot of this weekend trying to right my brain in front of an endless loop of cable, and as a result I saw a lot of perfume ads. The one where the still-under-conservatorship Britney Spears declared that she controlled her own destiny gave me a frowny face of the soul, but my spirits were quickly buoyed by the ads for Mariah Carey's suite of fragrances, which were soundtracked by "Oh Santa," a track from her just-released Christmas album Merry Christmas II You. (Yes, the play on "to" and "two" is intentional — it's her second holiday-themed record!) "Oh Santa" probably won't enter the Yuletide canon the way that the ebuillent "All I Want For Christmas Is You" did, but it has a nice dose of pep and a cheering section worthy of The Go! Team.

For those of you who feel like you're humbugging out (OK, sorry), the Washington, D.C. act Tuscadero wrote one of the greatest songs about seasonal anomie all the way back in 1994. "Holidays R Hell" is a punky, bratty rundown of the many ways that greetings bestowed during this season can go horribly awry. Here is a clip of the band performing the track during their July reunion show at the Bell House in Brooklyn. (They opened for Unrest, one of the greatest bands of all time.) Tuscadero also wrote the twitchy, wonderful "Angel In A Half Shirt," which might be the only justification in the history of the world for cutoff tees on the male form.

In a similar vein (although the gloom is more atmospheric than lyrical) is Mary Timony's 2006 track "Hapi Holidaze," which showcases her at her witchy best. Timony, former leader of Unrest's fellow GBAOT Helium, is a fantastic guitar player and will be touring the U.S. with Carrie Brownstein, Janet Weiss and Rebecca Cole next year as part of the jaw-dropping supergroup Wild Flag. The mere fact that the band's debut album is on the horizon (it'll be released by the fantastic folks at Merge) is more than enough reason to think that 2011 is going to be even better, music-wise, than the past 12 months were.

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"The Smartest Thing She Ever Said" is a Tumblr based digital storytelling art project featuring four teams of two-one artist and one story editor-between now and the end of the year. For three weeks each, the teams were asked to interpret the phrase, "The Smartest Thing She's Ever Said." The final team featured writer Sarah Pachelli and photographer Stephanie Gonot with support from project curator Alexis Hyde. ArtSheSaid.com and its artists are entirely supported by Ann Taylor in collaboration with Flavorpill.

Maura Johnston likes music.

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● ?uestlove
● Dr. Cornel West
● Naomi Campbell
● Tavis Smiley
● Jamie Foxx
● Whoopi Goldberg
● Spike Lee
● Sherri Shepherd
● Alicia Keys
● John Leguizamo
● Guy in Steelers jersey who was quite possibly a Steeler

People who danced in section 302: Maura Johnston, Seth Colter Walls.

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Right? BTW:

Let England Shake was recorded in a 19th Century church in Dorset with long time collaborator Flood who co-produced the album with PJ Harvey, John Parish and Mick Harvey. The record was also mixed by Flood.

[Stream via 17 dots]

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I can already hear my mother asking me why I don't like nice things. Take a look at this current ad for the mall jeweler Zales, and maybe you'll see what makes me squirm?

Those of you who (like me!) have been engaged and who are straight women have no doubt been asked "how he proposed" by inquiring acquaintances, and those of you who (also like me!) just decided to get married and told inquisitive types that have no doubt been met with a bit of disappointment. Which is why in this montage, the men are all smiling smugly while the women freak out at the sight of the gems proffered them, or even just their boxes. The man acts; the woman reacts. It sets a pattern — and maybe provides some foreshadowing for the wild-eyed craziness that occurs in Bridezilla mode. (Perhaps the element of surprise occasioned by the proposal causes that strand of behavior to hit the ground running?)

Sure, a lot of how one views the decision to get married depends on how one views that old, weather-beaten institution. I have not been married but in my perhaps overly romanticized worldview I see an ideal marriage as a partnership, as a combining of two people who enjoy each other and respect each other and see each other as equals and who want to legally solidify that mutual love and admiration, and perhaps throw a party for a bunch of people they like as a celebration of that fact. But the whole notion of the "proposal" set forth by these ads, and other cultural artifacts celebrating it, is a more civilized/sparkly way of Tarzan forcibly throwing Jane over his shoulder. (Not to mention that in the current moment, the whole idea of the man in the heterosexual relationship being the only one who can afford a gemlike token of the sort offered by these shops is a luxury left to either the financially suicidal or the extremely rich. Although I should probably note that I'm also opposed to gross artifacts like that ring women are supposed to wear on their right hands to indicate that they are "available and happy," because, yuck.)

This is not to say that I'm begrudging the happiness of people who proposed and were proposed to and were happy. Hey, knock yourselves out! But I think that the three months' salary that would go toward a bauble would be put to better use when combined with the partner's income over that same timespan, and put toward something that both people could enjoy — a house, a trip to the south of France, or maybe even the marriage celebration itself. (Oh, how much extra money catering halls charge when you utter the word "wedding" ...) And the idea that said treat would be something mutually agreed-upon? Would make it only sweeter.

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Not only does the the lack of a receptionist mean the demolition of yet another rung on the entry level of the corporate world's ladder, it can cause some awkwardness on the part of visitors.

Yet, in a still-sputtering economy, and within a modernizing work culture that increasingly eschews the more hierarchical elements of traditional office life, employing a full-time receptionist whose sole job is to greet visitors and answer phones in a reception area that can cost more than $50 per square foot per year is going the way of two-window offices and three-martini lunches.

That means more workers are using key cards to enter their company's office space, and more hapless visitors, once greeted with a warm smile and beverage offers, now having to announce themselves over sometimes bewildering phone or intercom systems.

But those "hapless" types will just have to deal! Social Darwinism, baby! After all, just look at what the management consultant who tsk-tsked "nonproductive" workers reaped when he fired his front-office person!

Before moving to 1540 Broadway, MorrisAnderson had an office near Grand Central Terminal, where Miller employed a full-time receptionist complete with proper reception area. "Quite frankly, for the most part it was wasted space," says Mr. Miller.

Mr. Miller's trade-off saved him at least $10,000 a year. He now relies on a part-time administrative assistant who sits in the bullpen, with a good view of the entrance, and who, in between phone calls and visitors, keeps busy with other tasks.

"The money saved may not seem like a lot, but you know what, it's somebody else's bonus," says Mr. Miller's broker, Robert Stella, of CresaPartners.

Or health insurance for the part-time administrative assist–hahahaha, just kidding.

[Photo via Michael Pujals on Flickr.]

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The two tracks are being packaged as a 7-inch, and the A-side would appear to be "Spotlight (New Regrets)," a sinewy bit of synthpop that would fit quite nicely into whatever radio station calls itself The Beat Of [Insert Your City Here]:

Then there's "Spotlight (Oh Nostalgia)," which has a piano bit that reminds me of Billy Joel's "My Life" for a split-second and which has a bit more of a slow-burn build that I think works better with the chorus' lyrical sentiment:

(The outro is very Rocketship, no?)

Here is hoping that this means more is to come, but in the meantime, there's still Folie à Deux, the final Fall Out Boy record. It's two years old next month and I have been endlessly listening to/evangelizing it lately, because this time of year reminds me of replaying it while riding buses and subways during short-yet-long gray days that refused to stop blurring into one another. It's a really fantastic album that got lost in the end-of-year shuffle in '08, and recently it's served as an excellent palate cleanser for me when I've tried to engage in "keeping up" by listening to wobbly-cassette "hypnagogic" bullshit like Autre Ne Veut; in stark, refreshing contrast, Folie à Deux is pop on blast. Here is "27." It has the line "My body is an orphanage, we take everyone in," which has been ping-ponging around my head these past few days even though it has approximately 0% relevance to my own personal visitors' roster at this point in time:

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