Rolling Stone
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Like A Virgin
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Madonna
Rating: ***1/2
By Debby Miller January 17, 1985
In the early Sixties, when girls were first carving their niche in rock & roll, the Crystals were singing about how it didn't matter that the boy they loved didn't drive a Cadillac car, wasn't some big movie star: he wasn't the boy they'd been dreaming of, but so what? Madonna is a more, well, practical girl. In her new song, "Material Girl," she claims, "the boy with the cold hard cash is always Mr. Right/'Cause we're living in a material world/And I am a material girl." When she finds a boy she likes, it's for his "satin sheets/And luxuries so fine" ("Dress You Up"). Despite her little-girl voice, there's an undercurrent of ambition that makes her more than the latest Betty Boop. When she chirps, "You made me feel/Shiny and new/Like a virgin," in her terrific new single, you know she's after something.
Nile Rodgers produced Like a Virgin, Madonna's second LP; he also played guitar on much of it and brought in ex-Chic partners Bernard Edwards on bass and Tony Thompson on drums. Rodgers wisely supplies the kind of muscle Madonna's sassy lyrics demand. Her light voice bobs over the heavy rhythm and synth tracks like a kid on a carnival ride. On the hit title song, Madonna is all squeals, bubbling over the bass line from the Four Tops' "I Can't Help Myself." She doesn't have the power or range of, say, Cyndi Lauper, but she knows what works on the dance floor.
Still, some of the new tracks don't add up. Her torchy ballad "Love Don't Live Here Anymore" is awful. The role of the rejected lover just doesn't suit her. Madonna's a lot more interesting as a conniving cookie, flirting her way to the top, than as a bummed-out adult.
From The Archives Issue 761: May 29, 1997
New York Times
MADONNA'S SIREN SONG
By STEPHEN HOLDEN
Published: January 6, 1985
No phenomenon illustrates more pointedly how pop music history seems to run in cycles than the overnight success of the 24-year-old pop siren known as Madonna. The month before Christmas, Madonna's second album, ''Like a Virgin'' (Sire 1-15157) sold more than two million copies. Teen-agers were lining up in stores to purchase the album the way their parents had lined up to buy the Beatles records in the late 60's. And the title song, a mildly titillating dance-rock ditty about how true love can make a girl feel ''shiny and new, like a virgin,'' is one of the fastest- selling singles in the history of Warner Bros. Records.
The singer, who was born Madonna Louise Ciccione in Bay City, Michigan, and who now lives in New York, has already become a symbol of the 50's-in-the-80's sensibility that is swamping contemporary pop culture. With a tough-cookie voice that's both coy and streetwise, Madonna's singing harks back to the rock-and-roll ''girl-group'' tradition that preceded the Beatles. But where girl groups, from the Shirelles to the Ronettes, worshipfully extolled their boyfriends' cars, haircuts and rebel poses, Madonna's point of view is decidedly more self-interested. In matters of love, she is a comparison shopper with a shrewd sense of her own market value.
The words ''shiny and new'' describe not only the way the love-smitten singer feels in the title song but the sound of the album, which was handsomely produced by Nile Rodgers, one of the masterminds of the late 70's disco group Chic. Mr. Rodgers has adapted some of the elements of Chic's sound - a scrubby guitar, glistening electric keyboards and light, strutting dance-pop rhythms - to enshrine Madonna's personality. Among other idioms, the songs gloss Philadelphia soul (''Love Don't Live Here Anymore''), orchestrated doowop (''Shoo-Bee-Doo''), frilly pop- soul (''Dress You Up,'' ''Angel''), and pop-reggae (''Material Girl''). The dance-floor fantasy, ''Pretender,'' is as elegant a piece of disco fluff as Chic at its airiest. The glittering unfussy arrangements are spun around Madonna's kewpie-doll voice like swirls of cotton candy with a skill that makes ''Like a Virgin'' this year's definitive model of danceable urban teen-pop.
Madonna is the brassiest star to emerge so far among the new breed of singing starlets that have been spawned by music-video. Wrinkling her pretty doll face into a provocative pout and exposing her bare midriff, she sometimes suggests a contemporary equivalent of blonde bombshells like Marilyn Monroe, Mamie Van Doren and Jayne Mansfield. Madonna's songs have an attitude to match. ''The boy with the cold hard cash is always Mister Right,'' she sings, in ''Material Girl,'' the song that opens her new album. Written by Peter Brown and Robert Rans, ''Material Girl'' is an 80's teen-pop version of ''Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend,'' with references to ''credit,'' ''interest'' and ''saving pennies.'' In ''Dress You Up,'' the singer pursues a man about whom we're told only two things - he sleeps on satin sheets and wears custom-made English suits.
By enthusiastically playing a gold digger, Madonna is diametrically opposed in spirit to the young pop music heroines of a decade ago. Carole King, Joni Mitchell and Carly Simon, the rock singer-songwriters who were at the peak of their popularity in the mid-70's, wrote probing confessional songs that tried to expand the vocabulary of adult pop music into an art form. But Madonna's music, like so much of the new wave and disco that reacted against such literary gentility in pop, revels in rock-and-roll basics and cartoon fantasies of self- gratification. Carole King, in particular, stood for an unglamorous socially concerned humanism. Madonna, by contrast, offers only impetuous romantic fantasy to those who can afford it. Like most of today's mainstream pop idols, the world outside of her own juvenile dreams barely exists. And when it does come into view, it's not a place to be understood but a jungle to be navigated.
Born out of punk and disco in the late 70's, the anti-intellectual, artifice-flaunting female pop traditon that Madonna represents found its first heroine in the sullen punk-rocker Debbie Harry of Blondie. Since then, more and more post-new wave pop stars have followed Miss Harry's example and rejected artistic goals for deadpan ironic attitudinizing. The new generation of MTV-bred pop stars have happily traded in their complicated real selves to become preening music-video products with self-christened brand names like Billy Idol, Prince, Duran Duran, Wham and Madonna. They are real- life cartoon figures who, instead of dealing in musical literature, find it easier to traffic in video iconography. Madonna, who has rarely performed in concert, is the best evidence yet that a strong live act is no longer a prequisite to pop stardom. A telegenic image is far more important.
Eventually, of course, the cycle will swing back. A younger generation will reject the selfishness and superficiality of the ''Material Girl,'' with her mirror, her schemes and her money, and demand something more substantial. But the pendulum can't be forced into reverse. Until it swings of its own accord, Madonna, the hottest female star in pop, will stand as a very revealing sign of the times.
Robert Christgau
Like a Virgin [Sire, 1984]
If a woman wants to sell herself as a sex fantasy I'll take a free ride--as long as the fantasy of it remains out front, so I don't start confusing image with everyday life. But already she's so sure of herself she's asking men and women both to get the hots for the calculating bitch who sells the fantasy even while she bids for the sincerity market where long-term superstars ply their trade. And to make the music less mechanical (just like Bowie, right?), she's hired Nile Rodgers, who I won't blame for making it less catchy. B
Slant Magazine
Madonna
Like a Virgin (Remaster)
Rating: ***
By Sal Cinquemani on September 8, 2001
Like a Virgin, the record that launched Madonna into unearthly super-stardom and went on to sell over 10 million copies domestically, defined a generation with hits like "Material Girl" and the now-classic title track. Though not as innovative as her debut, the album stands as one of the most definitive pop artifacts from the indulgent Reagan Era. The mid-tempo ballad "Shoo-Bee-Doo" and a soulful cover of Rose Royce's "Love Don't Live Here Anymore" proved Madonna could churn out more than just novelty hits, while the sugary "Angel" and the irresistible "Dress You Up" contributed to the singer's record-breaking list of consecutive Top 5 hits (16 in all). The retro-infused "Stay" and the percussive "Over and Over" are the album's hidden gems; a frenetic remix of the latter resurfaced on 1987's You Can Dance.
Label: Warner Bros. Release date: September 9, 1984
AllMusic
Madonna
Like a Virgin
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AllMusic Rating ****1/2 (9)
Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine
Madonna had hits with her first album, even reaching the Top Ten twice with "Borderline" and "Lucky Star," but she didn't become a superstar, an icon, until her second album, Like a Virgin. She saw the opening for this kind of explosion and seized it, bringing in former Chic guitarist Nile Rodgers in as a producer, to help her expand her sound, and then carefully constructed her image as an ironic, ferociously sexy Boy Toy; the Steven Meisel-shot cover, capturing her as a buxom bride with a Boy Toy belt buckle on the front, and dressing after a night of passion, was as key to her reinvention as the music itself. Yet, there's no discounting the best songs on the record, the moments when her grand concepts are married to music that transcends the mere classification of dance-pop. These, of course, are "Material Girl" and "Like a Virgin," the two songs that made her an icon, and the two songs that remain definitive statements. They overshadow the rest of the record, not just because they are a perfect match of theme and sound, but because the rest of the album vacillates wildly in terms of quality. The other two singles, "Angel" and "Dress You Up," are excellent standard-issue dance-pop, and there are other moments that work well ("Over and Over," "Stay," the earnest cover of Rose Royce's "Love Don't Live Here"), but overall, it adds up to less than the sum of its parts -- partially because the singles are so good, but also because on the first album, she stunned with style and a certain joy. Here, the calculation is apparent, and while that's part of Madonna's essence -- even something that makes her fun -- it throws the record's balance off a little too much for it to be consistent, even if it justifiably made her a star.
Amazon.com
Madonna's second album was her breakthrough, thanks principally to two gimmicky hits: the sinuous "Like a Virgin," with its taboo-busting metaphor for that fresh, clean new-love feeling, and the cutesy, Betty-Boopsy "Material Girl." Most of the rest of the album, although similarly frothy, is superior to those warhorses, notably the irresistible LP tracks "Over and Over," and "Pretender"--which adds a bit of gossamer delicacy to the mandatory bounciness. "Dress You Up" is a Madonna classic, an insubstantial dance-pop delight bedecked in synthesized bells and replete to the beat with kinky suggestions. And there's a sign of greater depth to come in her cover of Rose Royce's elegiac ballad "Love Don't Live Here Anymore," a heartfelt vocal supported by a subtle, gorgeous arrangement helmed by producer Nile Rodgers and his two key Chic instrumental compatriots, Bernard Edwards and Tony Thompson. --Ken Barnes
Entertainment Weekly
Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’ at 30: Classic Track-by-Track Album Review
By Kenneth Partridge | November 12, 2014 10:00 AM EST
On her self-titled 1983 debut, Madonna sang perky little tunes about going on vacation (“Holiday”) and falling in and out of love (“Lucky Star” and “Borderline”). These were ideas grandma and grandpa could get behind, and yet the 20-something Michigan native caused a minor sensation, setting the stage for a total pop-culture takeover. Clearly, music was only one of her weapons.
While Madonna offered Middle American mallrats a taste of underground NYC dance culture, what really got people talking was the singer herself. This spunky, self-assured club kid with the belly shirts and rubber bracelets liked being a topic of conversation, and with her second album, Like a Virgin, she endeavored to keep her name on everyone’s lips.
Released 30 years ago today (Nov. 12, 1984), Like a Virgin is sometimes thought of as Madonna’s artistic coming-out party, the moment she swapped frivolous bubblegum for more thoughtful examinations of female sexuality. Such praise stems mostly from what we now know about Madonna. However, for all its merits -- and it has many -- Like a Virgin isn’t exactly The Feminine Mystique set to music. In fact, it’s not all that different from its predecessor.
As with her first record, Madonna went into Like a Virgin wrestling Warner Bros. for more artistic control. After her negative experiences working with Reggie Lucas, she wanted to handle more of the production herself, and she found a winning collaborator in Chic guitarist Nile Rodgers, who’d just worked on David Bowie’s Let’s Dance.
Rodgers gave Madonna’s music some extra snap and sheen, and if he didn’t quite hand the singer her first classic album -- she’d have to wait another five years for that -- he did get her to the top of the Billboard 200. He also helped craft two of the decade’s most iconic singles.
The first, of course, is “Like a Virgin,” Madonna’s first No. 1 pop hit. It’s here that she most explicitly tackles sexual politics and explores that whole virgin-whore thing so central to her image. The other is “Material Girl,” a winking gold-digger anthem that can be taken a couple of different ways. The remaining seven songs range from fun-enough dance tunes to flat-out filler – but that was all it took to propel Madonna onto the same plain as Prince, Michael Jackson and Bruce Springsteen.
Read on to get our track-by-track take on this ‘80s landmark, an album that had young girls everywhere rocking lace tutus and fingerless gloves and bopping along to a cultural figure who could no longer be ignored.
“Material Girl”: Like so many ‘80s pop classics, this one is inextricably linked to its video, which features a pretty-in-pink Madonna paying homage to Marilyn Monroe. It’s also more clever than most people realize. She’s either making a sarcastic statement about the decade’s rampant materialism or promoting the kind of “I got mine, bitches” feminism that’s always been her guiding light. Either way, “Material Girl” is a stylish sign-of-the-times synth-funk jam she didn’t write but totally owned.
“Angel”: Madonna never made an “Angel” video, so there are no candy-colored MTV memories to taint this underrated single, which she co-wrote with ex-boyfriend Steve Bray. It plays like a straightforward dance-pop love song, but when this lapsed Catholic starts singing about angels, you know there’s some religious subtext. The laughter up front and midway through is a reminder that Madonna is no wretch incapable of saving herself. When heaven sends her an angel, it’s game respecting game.
“Like a Virgin”: Ask a hundred people what this song is about, and you’ll get a hundred interpretations -- none as hilariously vulgar as Quentin Tarantino’s in Reservoir Dogs, but each as valid. “Like a Virgin” was actually written by a couple of men (Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly), and that makes the finished Madonna product all the more ambiguous. Atop a bassline like the one heard in “Billie Jean” -- another complex song about purity and sex -- Madonna is coquettish yet knowing. “Like a Virgin” is about reconnecting with lost innocence through the act of lovemaking, a counterintuitive idea that was bound to confuse people. It didn’t exactly clarify things when she wore a wedding dress and humped the floor while performing the song at the inaugural MTV Video Music Awards.
“Over and Over”: The interplay between the shiny synths and clean, jangly guitar is reminiscent of what Prince was doing at the time, though the lyrics are pure Madonna. “You try to criticize my drive / If I lose I don't feel paralyzed,” she sings, managing to inject some of her go-getter personality into even a fairly skippable filler track.
“Love Don’t Live Here Anymore”: Originally a hit for Rose Royce in 1978, this ballad breaks the run of up-tempo tracks and puts the focus on raw emotion. Never known as a powerhouse vocalist, Madonna gives the soul-diva thing her best shot, and she powers through like she always does, making the most of her squeaky instrument and even affecting some growls toward the end, right before she breaks down crying.
“Dress You Up”: Fashion was obviously a big part of Madonna’s appeal, and here, she proves that clothing can be a good metaphor for sex. Writers Andrea LaRusso and Peggy Stanziale lay it on thick with “silky touch” and “velvet kisses” talk, but Rodgers skims away the cheese with his funky guitar tangles and that melodic solo, which could have come from Purple Rain.
“Shoo-Bee-Doo”: Madonna wasn’t the first female pop artist to merge strength and femininity. In the ‘60s, plenty of beehived girl groups paved the way, and here, Madonna gives thanks (sort of) with a retro experiment that doesn’t quite work. The stylized backing track and sax are straight out of a Malt Shop Memories revue, and the most interesting thing is the way Madonna nudges things into the present with a line that might not have worked 20 years earlier: “Well I can make it on my own, baby / But I'd rather share all the love that's there.”
“Pretender”: Even when she gets snookered, Madonna is no sucker. “I know all about your kind,” she tells the finagler that inspired this brisk synth-pop groover. Yeah, she went back to his place, let things move too fast, and set herself up for heartbreak, but there’s a sense she saw it all coming.
“Stay”:Like a Virgin ends with neither a triumph nor a trifle -- just another semi-memorable synth-pop love song. The coolest part comes at 2:15, when Madonna gets into the “scoop, scoop, scoop, scoodooly be-bop” spirit and makes like a Shangri-La with some spoken-word vocals: “Don’t’ be afraid / It’s gonna be alright.” She might as well have been talking to herself.
Spin
Madonna: The 1985 'Like a Virgin' Cover Story
Confessions of a Madonna: She's sleazy, trashy, cheap and completely out of your price range. Fans dress like her, confide in her, pray to her. She's our lady of rock 'n' roll. If you desire her, that's all right, she wants you to. Her nickname's "Squeeze." She's Marilyn Monroe and Joan Crawford reincarnate.
November 12 2014, 2:46 PM ET
(This bulleted interview was originally published in the May 1985 issue of SPIN.)
I like to look the way Ronnie Spector sounded: sexy, hungry, totally trashy. I admire her tonal quality. I don't have a deep, throaty voice or a womanish voice when I sing. I think my voice sounds innocent and sexual at the same time. That's what I try to tell people, anyway; but they always misconstrue what I mean when I say "sexual innocence." They look at me and go, "innocent, huh?" They think I'm trash.
Sexcess
I couldn't be a success without also being a sex symbol. I'm sexy. How can I avoid it? That's the essence of me. I would have to have a bag over my head and over my body; but then my voice would come across, and it's sexy.
Idols
My first pop idol was Nancy Sinatra. Go-go boots, miniskirt, blond hair, fake eyelashes — she was cool. My first movie idol was Marilyn Monroe. The movie character I identified most with, though, was Holly Golightly; because when I first came to New York, I was lonely, lived by myself, was going to parties and not fitting in. I loved Brigitte Bardot, especially in Contempt. She kept saying, "Do you love me? Tell me what is beautiful about me." I can relate to that totally because I really care abut the way I look. I wanted to look like Brigitte Bardot. I wanted to make my hair blonder and wear pointy bras and go out with Roger Vadim. I also wanted to look like Jean Seberg in Joan of Arc. I was religious, in a passionate, adolescent way. Jesus Christ was like a movie star, my favorite idol of all.
Look-Alikes
If I were a girl and knew me, I'd want to dress like me. If I were a guy, I'd dress either like Gregory Peck, when he was really young, or James Dean. I'd either wear ripped jeans and a T-shirt or a suit and tie.
Eating Out
At one point I was living in New York and eating out of garbage cans. Actually, it was not a garbage can on the street; it was the garbage can in the Music Building on Eighth Avenue where I lived with Steve Bray, the guy I write songs with. (He's Useful Male #2 or #3, depending upon which article you read.)
I had been squatting in a loft, living there illegally, but it burned down. There was no heat or hot water, so I had all these electric space heaters around this little piece of carpeting I slept on. I woke up in the middle of the night surrounded by a ring of fire. One of the heaters had set fire to the rug and it was spreading. I jumped up and dumped water on the fire, which made it spread more. Then my nightgown caught fire. So I took it off, got dressed, grabbed a few things, like underpants and stuff — all my important things like tapes and instruments were already over at the Music Building three blocks away — and I went over to the Music Building and started sleeping there.
I had a band at the time and was playing places like Max's and C.B.G.B.'s. All the money we made paid for the van that transported our equipment. We shared our rehearsal loft with another band, so they practically paid the rent for us, and all our equipment was in that one room. Steve and I slept between amplifiers. We budgeted what little money we had to about $1 a day. We had credit in all the Korean delis within a five-block radius of the Music Building and with our dollar we'd get some yogurt and peanuts. Then Steve and I would fight over whether we should mix the peanuts with the yogurt. He liked to eat them together and I liked to eat them separately. When we'd run out of money, I'd pass by the garbage can in the lobby of the Music Building, and if it smelled really good — like if there was a Burger King bag sitting on top that someone had just deposited — I'd open it up, and if I was lucky, there would be french fries that hadn't been eaten. I'm a vegetarian, which is why I didn't eat the burger.
Money
The first real money I ever got was $5,000 from Sire Records, and the first expensive thing I bought was a Roland synthesizer. The next big money I got was publishing money for writing songs. I would get $1,000 for every song I wrote. I wrote most of the songs on my first album, so I got what seemed like a lot of money at the time, and I moved to the East Village and got my first apartment. With the next money, I moved to a loft in Soho, which was triple the rent I was paying in the East Vil-lage. These were all necessary things. The most extravagant thing I ever bought — that I felt really guilty about buying — was a color TV. I never had a TV before in the seven years that I had lived in New York. When I grew up I didn't have a color TV. So I got a color TV, a VHS machine, and a push-button remote control.
Belly Buttons
My favorite button is my belly button. I have the most perfect belly button: an inny, and there's no lint in it. I never wore a jewel in my belly, but if I did it would be a ruby or an emerald, but not a diamond. When I sticky my finger in my belly button, I feel a nerve in the center of my body shoot up my spine. If 100 belly buttons were lined up agaisnt a wall, I could definitely pick out which one is mine.
Crucifixes
Crucifixes are sexy because there's a naked man on them. When I was a little girl, we had crucifixes all over the house, as a reminder that Jesus Christ died on the cross for us. Crucifixes are something left over from my childhood, like a security blanket. I liked the way they look and what they symbolized, even before they were fashionable. I buy mine in Spanish bodegas, where they have rosaries in lots of colors. I have a really long one that looks white in the light, but glows in the dark. Every new-wave designer has crucifixes in the their line. Calvin Klein doesn't, but he's Mr. Mainstream. Girls who buy Calvin Klein jeans don't wear crucifixes.
Bras
I have to wear a bra. I'm the only one in my family with breasts. Bras that open in the front are the best, and torpedo bras are the sexiest. On my Like A Virgin record cover and in all my photographs, like when i did the MTV show, I'm in my bustier. Bustiers are very restricting.They have ribs that make you feel like you're suffocating and zip up the back. They're tight and squeeze you in. I wear them because they're very 19th centuryish. They have that really svelte look. I like the way it makes my body look. It's very sexual. I have about five of them. I go to a regular lingerie store and get the basic nylon bustier, with no frills, and have it customized with lace or tulle. I wish I was flat-chested and didn't have to wear a bra. It's one extra piece of clothing to worry about.
Returning Calls
I used to call different management companies, agencies, A&R people, club owners, you name it, and no one ever returned my calls. If someone did, ten-to-one it was some horny old man who was in charge of listening to tapes and when he'd hear my voice, he'd want me to come in and bring the tapes, and then he'd put the make on me. Now when I call people they come right to the phone. Everyone except John Peters, the big Hollywood producer who did Flashdance, and my movie Visionquest. He's a real schemer — wheeling and dealing all the time — and the only one who doesn't call me back.
Sister Madonna
If I wasn't doing what I'm doing, I would be a nun. The reason I'm not a nun is because you can't take your own name. How could I change my name? I have the most holy name a woman can have. But if I had to change my name, I'd use my confirmation name, Veronica. I chose her because she wiped the face of Jesus, which I thought was really dramatic.
Physical Attractions
I dig skin, lips and Latin men. I'm attracted to bums. When I went to Paris, I hung out with Algerians and Vietnamese guys who didn't have jobs, who just drove around on motorcycles and terrorized people. I've always been attracted to people like that, because they're rebels and they're irresponsible and challenge the norm. I try to rehabilitate them. I'm just trying to be the mother I never had.
Virginity
I wouldn't like to sleep with a guy who was a virgin. I'd have to teach him stuff and I don't have the patience. I'd rather deal with experience. When I say virgin, like in my song, I'm not thinking about sexual virgin. I mean newness. Even after I made love for the first time, I still felt like I was a virgin. I didn't lose my virginity until I knew what I was doing.
Monogamy
The longest monogamous relationship I've had was two-and-three-quarter years, right before Jellybean, with someone who never wants to see me again. He's the guy trying to run me over in my "Burning Up" video. It wasn't just because I was seeing someone else. Our relationship was deteriorating anyway. But I've had heart broken, too. All my boyfriends hurt me in their way, by lots of thing, but I'm not telling you.
Stepped-on Men
All those men I stepped all over to get to the top, everyone of them would take me back because they still love me and I still love them. I wish I was a million different people so I could stay with each boyfriend while moving on to another one. I learn more, want more, and suddenly — that person isn't enough. The problem is, after you start to love someone, you start to hurt them. I get interested in somebody else and I latch on to that interest to get me through the other one. It's awfully painful, but then I have this new guy to look forward to.
Records
The first song I remember hearing was "The Twist" by Chubby Checker. The first record I ever bought was either "Incense & Peppermint" or "Give Me a ticket for an Airplane." I don't remember if there was music playing when I lost my virginity, but the best music to make love to nowadays is anything funky or soulful, like the Gap Band, Prince or the Isley Brothers. The best music to wake up to is "Moments in Love" by Art of Noise and the best music at the moment to workout to is anything by Prince, Lime, Bronski Beat or Bruce Springsteen. My first album was a total aerobics records. I make records with aerobics in mind. When I'm mad or have a fight with my boyfriend, I work out.
Bad Press
I get so much bad press because people associate a girl who's successful with a bimbo or an airhead. Sexy boys never get bad press. Do you think they'd bug Prince if he pulled out his dick on stage? If I ever did something like that, I'm the slut of the year.
Fights
Most of the fight I have with boyfriends are how I'm not paying enough attention to them or I'm always off doing things for my career. Of course, I disagree. I have a lot of shit to do right now. I'm always surrounded by people. I have a very visible career. I got to go out West and audition guys to be in my videos and I got to kiss guys in my movies. But I always say it's the quality of time and not the quantity of time. If you spend the time that you do have together not fighting, you might enjoy each other.
Little Madonna
I was never a Girl Scout, but I was a Campfire Girl and a Brownie. Campfire Girls had the cooler uniform. I was never good at being part of an organization. When I was a Brownie, I ate all the cookies. When I was a Campfire Girl, I'd camp out with the boys and get into trouble.
Fantasy Photo
Of all the great photographs in history, I'd most like to have been in one of me having dinner with John Kennedy, with Marilyn Monroe sitting next to him, singing "Happy Birthday."