....it's a full moon. But it's not. It's just a fucked up week. And I don't even know why. Just one disasterous thing after another. And today is the kind of day one might enjoy sitting outside sipping a cool one - but nooooooo..... too many things to do tonight. Dammit the bad luck of that timing.
I'll try to make this breif - although I could draw it out into a VERY long saga - but I'll try to spare you.
But the day's gone something like this (and I'm leaving out anything work related - which would add a shit ton more drama to this day - but I'll bear that burden alone):
Get a call from the Prodigal Son:
PS: Wanna hear something funny?
Me: Um. I guess.
PS: Those fuckers got all drunked up and ate all my god damned chicken - 32 fucking pieces of chicken. GONE.
{The conversation continues from this point about the chicken and I'm reminded of the fuckers living in my house that ate an entire large pizza after I'd gone to bed one night and I'm not finding the humor in the story - but instead I'm again, pissed off}
About 1/2 hour later, I get a text from the PS: READ MY FB STATUS
So I do. And it says, "Dude. Where's my car?"
So I text back - are you using "car" in place of "chicken"?
NO. The fuckers took my car and I don't know where it is and I don't know where they are.
Whatever. I can't even deal with this at the moment because I'm dealing with work shit and I'm overwhelmed.
About 2 hours later, the PS calls again:
PS: They fucking used up 1/2 tank of gas and I was using that gas to come home tomorrow.
Me: WHAT? You're coming home TOMORROW?
PS: Yes.
Me: There's nowhere for you to sleep.
PS: I'll sleep on the fucking floor - whatever. They used up all my gas though. I had to get someone to drive me around town to look for my car and I finally found it at this one kid's house. And so I walked in and there they were - passed out with beer cans on their chests and I was like "WHICH ONE OF YOU MOTHER FUCKERS TOOK MY GOD DAMNED CAR LAST NIGHT?" And they were all like, "Dude - WTF? Where are we? How did we get here?" And I was all, "LOOK OUTSIDE YOU FUCKING GENIUS - YOU DROVE MY GOD DAMNED CAR WITHOUT MY FUCKING PERMISSION" And they were all just like sitting there staring at me like they were fucking stoned so I was all like, "I ASKED WHICH ONE OF YOU TOOK THE FUCKING CAR?" And this one kid I don't know was all like, "Dude, it was me." and I said, "REALLY? YOU BETTER RETHINK THAT RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I DON'T THINK YOU WANT TO BE THE MOTHER FUCKER THAT STOLE MY CAR BECAUSE I'M GOING TO FUCKING BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF WHOEVER DID IT RIGHT NOW AND RIGHT HERE." and the kid was all like, "Well actually I don't think it was me" and I was all like, "GOOD DECISION"
{I put spaces between words in the above paragraph so you could read it more easily, but rest assured, he did NOT pause once. Or even breathe. And finally he took a breath....}
Me: Well, someone needs to fill your car back up I guess. And buy you some chicken.
PS: I have to go. Love you.
No sooner do I hang up the phone and the Brunette sends me a text from school:
Brunette: Can I go to elmel with Joe?
Me: Joe Blow? NO. I do not like that kid at all.
Brunette: Why?
Brunette: Nevermind. I don't even want to go and was looking for an excuse to not go. Thank you.
Me: Glad I could be of assistance.
And it's only 1:30! I can hardly wait to see what comes up next.............
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Shittiest Day EVER
okay - maybe NOT the SHITTIEST - but most certainly ANNOYINGEST. Pain in the ass day from HELL.
Went to bed early, got up at a decent time - you know - 6:20 a.m. - it's not too early, it's not too late - just a nice rising time! Gonna be a GOOD DAY!!!!! Grab the ol' iPhone and head downstairs for coffee - somehow by the time I get to the kitchen (and this is not a big house people - we have ONE WING - it's the MESSY WING) - I HAVE A FUCKING CRICK IN MY NECK.
Well, you know a crick in my neck instantly pisses me off - because there is NO WAY to get rid of the damned thing so I know I can look forward to a day full of unwanted pain and irritation and limited mobility by this fucking CRICK. FUCK YOU CRICK! I hate you.
7:15 - head to the shower. Ever tried bending your head backwards to rinse your hairs with a crick in your neck? Yeh. It hurts, donut? But I managed to survive. And got dressed. And put on my mask and did up my hairs all nice. And painted my toenails a lovely shade of Pepto Bismal as it turns out. And tried on 7 pair of shoes with my outfit. And changed clothes. And changed clothes. And changed clothes AGAIN - this shit went on until 9:15 - I shit you not. The entire bedroom is DESTROYED. Fuck it. I'll deal with it tomorrow.
And these fucking toenails - why did I paint them this color pink? Seriously? It messes with my OCD because it matches the sum total of nothingness and ERGO (by the way that reminds me of that insurance commercial - you know the one with the falcon - ERGO - you bought me a falcon.... LOVE) - they are making me SICK and I can only go naked because THAT is the only thing they match - SKIN. I'm not even sure they match skin to be honest with you - I need to just go throw that stupid polish in the trash. Clearly someone on crack purchased it because along the lines of bad decisions - that was one.
Headed off to the office for a meeting - got about a mile away - realized I'd forgotten my cell phone when I went to text someone while driving (not really - but it sounds fitting for this fucked up day) - had to turn around. Plod BACK to the house, grab the phone and FINALLY head to the office.
About 15 minutes before the meeting, I email the other person - "Are you not coming in for the meeting?" 5 minutes later I got a response: "No. The meeting is on a conference call." Well fuckity doo dah day and all that other happy shit becuase GUESS THE FUCK WHAT? I don't have a phone at the office because I brought it home. I had the cell phone, but with this fucking crick in my neck I wasn't about to sit for two hours with the piece of shit not meant for talking on iPhone up to my ear. So I hopped in the ol' car and headed BACK HOME.
Had the meeting. That was interesting and all and I don't blog about that aspect of work so you can't hear it but my poor husband sure as hell did - because that's his job - listening to me prattle on about work.
Had to GO BACK TO THE OFFICE for another meeting. But got to work with the most delightful girl EVER - LOVE THAT GIRL - and we kicked that project's ass so it was a fruitful effort.
Drive home - car dealie majigger reads 108. 108. It's hot as fuck and I'm sick of the heat. I like summer and all but seriously - E.N.O.U.G.H. It's killing me. As is this wretched miserable crick in my neck.
This day is NOTHING like Sunday which was the BEST DAY EVER. And as soon as I'm done being pissed and hot and grumpy, I'll tell you all about it.
Until then - beware.
Went to bed early, got up at a decent time - you know - 6:20 a.m. - it's not too early, it's not too late - just a nice rising time! Gonna be a GOOD DAY!!!!! Grab the ol' iPhone and head downstairs for coffee - somehow by the time I get to the kitchen (and this is not a big house people - we have ONE WING - it's the MESSY WING) - I HAVE A FUCKING CRICK IN MY NECK.
Well, you know a crick in my neck instantly pisses me off - because there is NO WAY to get rid of the damned thing so I know I can look forward to a day full of unwanted pain and irritation and limited mobility by this fucking CRICK. FUCK YOU CRICK! I hate you.
7:15 - head to the shower. Ever tried bending your head backwards to rinse your hairs with a crick in your neck? Yeh. It hurts, donut? But I managed to survive. And got dressed. And put on my mask and did up my hairs all nice. And painted my toenails a lovely shade of Pepto Bismal as it turns out. And tried on 7 pair of shoes with my outfit. And changed clothes. And changed clothes. And changed clothes AGAIN - this shit went on until 9:15 - I shit you not. The entire bedroom is DESTROYED. Fuck it. I'll deal with it tomorrow.
And these fucking toenails - why did I paint them this color pink? Seriously? It messes with my OCD because it matches the sum total of nothingness and ERGO (by the way that reminds me of that insurance commercial - you know the one with the falcon - ERGO - you bought me a falcon.... LOVE) - they are making me SICK and I can only go naked because THAT is the only thing they match - SKIN. I'm not even sure they match skin to be honest with you - I need to just go throw that stupid polish in the trash. Clearly someone on crack purchased it because along the lines of bad decisions - that was one.
Headed off to the office for a meeting - got about a mile away - realized I'd forgotten my cell phone when I went to text someone while driving (not really - but it sounds fitting for this fucked up day) - had to turn around. Plod BACK to the house, grab the phone and FINALLY head to the office.
About 15 minutes before the meeting, I email the other person - "Are you not coming in for the meeting?" 5 minutes later I got a response: "No. The meeting is on a conference call." Well fuckity doo dah day and all that other happy shit becuase GUESS THE FUCK WHAT? I don't have a phone at the office because I brought it home. I had the cell phone, but with this fucking crick in my neck I wasn't about to sit for two hours with the piece of shit not meant for talking on iPhone up to my ear. So I hopped in the ol' car and headed BACK HOME.
Had the meeting. That was interesting and all and I don't blog about that aspect of work so you can't hear it but my poor husband sure as hell did - because that's his job - listening to me prattle on about work.
Had to GO BACK TO THE OFFICE for another meeting. But got to work with the most delightful girl EVER - LOVE THAT GIRL - and we kicked that project's ass so it was a fruitful effort.
Drive home - car dealie majigger reads 108. 108. It's hot as fuck and I'm sick of the heat. I like summer and all but seriously - E.N.O.U.G.H. It's killing me. As is this wretched miserable crick in my neck.
This day is NOTHING like Sunday which was the BEST DAY EVER. And as soon as I'm done being pissed and hot and grumpy, I'll tell you all about it.
Until then - beware.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Is this Normal Folks?
Actual text conversation between the husband and I last night:
Me: TV upstairs is not working
Him: check the remote batteries
Me: I have the box and the tv on. Brainiac. The TV says "no signal"
Him: Oh no work
Me: Yeh. El broko. This pisses me off. Fuck it. I'm throwing it out the window. And also moving my bed downstairs
Him: The tv is on but no signal then its the box or wrong channel
Me: How do I know what channel it's on?!
Me again (because I'm a electronical wizard): Oh. Well I'll be God damned. I hit the 3 on the black remote and the fucker works like a charm now! Thanks honey!!
Him: Thats why you keep me around. If I get too broken down you will be kickin me to the curb!
Me: LMAO! Out the window you go!
Him: Or that. But spend most time in garage so a kickin to the curb makes more sense
Me: True. Otherwise I'd have to drag you up the stairs and that just seems like an awful lot of work.
Him: Thats what I thought (It's a shame he doesn't have a smart phone so it corrects his punctuation)
Me: Maybe you could keep the trash bin on it's side so I could just shove u in there?!?
Him: You are givin this way too much thought.
I mean really people - is this a normal conversation? Please tell me it is!
Me: TV upstairs is not working
Him: check the remote batteries
Me: I have the box and the tv on. Brainiac. The TV says "no signal"
Him: Oh no work
Me: Yeh. El broko. This pisses me off. Fuck it. I'm throwing it out the window. And also moving my bed downstairs
Him: The tv is on but no signal then its the box or wrong channel
Me: How do I know what channel it's on?!
Me again (because I'm a electronical wizard): Oh. Well I'll be God damned. I hit the 3 on the black remote and the fucker works like a charm now! Thanks honey!!
Him: Thats why you keep me around. If I get too broken down you will be kickin me to the curb!
Me: LMAO! Out the window you go!
Him: Or that. But spend most time in garage so a kickin to the curb makes more sense
Me: True. Otherwise I'd have to drag you up the stairs and that just seems like an awful lot of work.
Him: Thats what I thought (It's a shame he doesn't have a smart phone so it corrects his punctuation)
Me: Maybe you could keep the trash bin on it's side so I could just shove u in there?!?
Him: You are givin this way too much thought.
I mean really people - is this a normal conversation? Please tell me it is!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Happy Birthday to ME!!!
Today is my birthday! I'm 45. HOLY HELL!!! How and when did that happen?!!! It causes me to pause and reflect on my 35th birthday and a conversation I had with my baby brother that year.
BB: What do you want for your birthday sis?
Me: I can't tell you specifically - but it's a song by Queen!!!
BB: You want a fat bottom girl?
Me: NO!!
BB: A bicycle?
Me: NO!!
BB: I give up - what is it?
Me: I WANT IT ALL!!! AND I WANT IT NOW!!!
I was a divorced mother of two. I'd lost my children to my ex-husband - well actually handed them over because I was totally fucked up in the head and couldn't get my shit together and give them the attention I knew they deserved. I had a job I despised. I was flat-assed broke, constantly running from bill collectors. And yearning to be loved and cherished.
Fast forward 10 years: I have those two children back (although one pain in the ass grew up and moved off to college) PLUS a beautiful 8 year old daughter I never dreamed I'd have. A husband that loves me more than a man should love and cherish a woman. A job I absolutely adore (although it's the same job - I have a new outlook). My bills are paid and there is money left over each month. And people actually look at me as a mentor - so I am evidently either no longer fucked up in the head or have become a master of disguise!!
I HAVE IT ALL!!! AND I HAVE IT NOW!!!
So this year for my birthday - I want something else - also a song by Queen (because WHO DOESN'T FREAKIN' LOVE FREDDY??!!!!) - - - -
THE MIRACLE
The Miracle Lyrics
Every drop of rain that falls in Sahara Desert says it all
It's a miracle
All God's creations great and small
The Golden Gate and the Taj Mahal
That's a miracle
Test tube babies being born
Mothers,fathers dead and gone
It's a miracle
We're having a miracle on earth
Mother nature does it all for us
The wonders of this world go on
The hanging Gardens of Babylon
Captain Cook and Cain and Abel
Jimi Hendrix to the Tower of Babel
It's a miracle it's a miracle it's a miracle
It's a miracle
The one thing we're all waiting for is peace on earth - an end
to war
It's a miracle we need - the miracle
The miracle we're all waiting for today
If every leaf on every tree could tell a story that would be a
miracle
If every child on every street had clothes to wear and food to
eat
That's a miracle
If all God's people could be free to live in perfect harmony
It's a miracle
We're having a miracle on earth
Mother nature does it all for us
Open hearts and surgery
(wonders of this world go on)
Sunday mornings with a cup of tea
Super powers always fighting
But Mona Lisa just keeps on smiling
It's a miracle it's a miracle it's a miracle
(wonders of this world go on)
It's a miracle it's a miracle it's a miracle
It's a miracle
The one thing (the one thing) we're all waiting for (we're all
waiting for)
Is peace on earth (peace on earth) and an end to war (an end
to war)
It's a miracle we need - the miracle
The miracle peace on earth and end to war today
That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be
friends
That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be
friends
That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be
friends
That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be
friends
HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!!!
BB: What do you want for your birthday sis?
Me: I can't tell you specifically - but it's a song by Queen!!!
BB: You want a fat bottom girl?
Me: NO!!
BB: A bicycle?
Me: NO!!
BB: I give up - what is it?
Me: I WANT IT ALL!!! AND I WANT IT NOW!!!
I was a divorced mother of two. I'd lost my children to my ex-husband - well actually handed them over because I was totally fucked up in the head and couldn't get my shit together and give them the attention I knew they deserved. I had a job I despised. I was flat-assed broke, constantly running from bill collectors. And yearning to be loved and cherished.
Fast forward 10 years: I have those two children back (although one pain in the ass grew up and moved off to college) PLUS a beautiful 8 year old daughter I never dreamed I'd have. A husband that loves me more than a man should love and cherish a woman. A job I absolutely adore (although it's the same job - I have a new outlook). My bills are paid and there is money left over each month. And people actually look at me as a mentor - so I am evidently either no longer fucked up in the head or have become a master of disguise!!
I HAVE IT ALL!!! AND I HAVE IT NOW!!!
So this year for my birthday - I want something else - also a song by Queen (because WHO DOESN'T FREAKIN' LOVE FREDDY??!!!!) - - - -
THE MIRACLE
The Miracle Lyrics
Every drop of rain that falls in Sahara Desert says it all
It's a miracle
All God's creations great and small
The Golden Gate and the Taj Mahal
That's a miracle
Test tube babies being born
Mothers,fathers dead and gone
It's a miracle
We're having a miracle on earth
Mother nature does it all for us
The wonders of this world go on
The hanging Gardens of Babylon
Captain Cook and Cain and Abel
Jimi Hendrix to the Tower of Babel
It's a miracle it's a miracle it's a miracle
It's a miracle
The one thing we're all waiting for is peace on earth - an end
to war
It's a miracle we need - the miracle
The miracle we're all waiting for today
If every leaf on every tree could tell a story that would be a
miracle
If every child on every street had clothes to wear and food to
eat
That's a miracle
If all God's people could be free to live in perfect harmony
It's a miracle
We're having a miracle on earth
Mother nature does it all for us
Open hearts and surgery
(wonders of this world go on)
Sunday mornings with a cup of tea
Super powers always fighting
But Mona Lisa just keeps on smiling
It's a miracle it's a miracle it's a miracle
(wonders of this world go on)
It's a miracle it's a miracle it's a miracle
It's a miracle
The one thing (the one thing) we're all waiting for (we're all
waiting for)
Is peace on earth (peace on earth) and an end to war (an end
to war)
It's a miracle we need - the miracle
The miracle peace on earth and end to war today
That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be
friends
That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be
friends
That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be
friends
That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be
friends
HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!!!
Monday, August 8, 2011
Tell Those Kids......
I am continually irritated and frustrated with the Grumpy Old Man's insistence that all communication and direcrtion to the children come through me. Our conversations around here generally look like this:
{Picture me in the garage, drinking, smoking, texting and dancing all at the same time because that's generally how you will find me}
{Enter Stage Left - Grumpy Old Man}
GOM: You need to tell those kids to stop opening that fucking basement window.
Me: Why?
GOM: Because the a/c is on and I'm seriously fucking fed up with it. Why do they open it anyway?
Me: Ummm - how the fuck should I know? They're 19? They're idiots? They're smoking pot in the basement - hey - can I smoke pot in the basement too?
GOM: Seriously! You need to tell them.
Me: You tell them - it's your deal - not mine.
OR
GOM: Why the hell does that kid park his car THERE?
Me: I don't know - why does that kid park his car there? Is this a riddle?
GOM: No it's not a fucking riddle - god dammit - you need to tell him to stop parking his car there.
Me: You can tell him.
This shit goes on and on - day in and day fucking out. Reporting TO ME the shit that needs to be told to these vagrant 19 year olds living in our home. Or ASKING me stupid fucking questions that I would NEVER know the answer to about why they do the shit they do. It's actually more exhausting than having the vagrants here. And because I'm super good at problem solving.....
SOLUTION
Get one of those intercom systems installed in the house. The main control board would be in the garage and the GOM could stand out there while he drinks and smokes or when he's just passing by and simply press the button to the room(s) to which he wants to blare his bitching and BAM! The task would be complete.
I suggested this to him the other night when he once again told me to tell them blah blah blah - something about rocks in the soles of their shoes or something - they are scratching the new kitchen floor or some other shit he's noticed. "Tell them to stop wearing their fucking shoes with boulders in the soles on the new floor!" You fucking tell them - they walk through the garage to get in the house and you see them first - so YOU tell them. I'm busy - watch me twirl to this song - watch! I'm super fucking good at it!!!
He pondered my suggestion for a bit and actually liked it - then he started acting out how he would stand and what his voice would sound like as he made his public addresses. But then pretty soon, he pulled up a chair and just sat, with his finger on the pretend talk button and rambled and vented for about 15 minutes, at which point he looked at me and said, "I'm going to need to tape down the talk button - my finger is getting tired and the blood is running out of my arms and they're falling asleep"
I could tell right then that if I actually installed such a public address system in this house - I would be eternally regretful- so I guess we'll just return to ME being the receiver of all information that needs to be relayed and I'll continue to just drink myself deaf in the garage, dancing and singing, as if the situation doesn't really exist. And who knows - maybe I'll solve some of these fucked up riddles he presents to me!
{Picture me in the garage, drinking, smoking, texting and dancing all at the same time because that's generally how you will find me}
{Enter Stage Left - Grumpy Old Man}
GOM: You need to tell those kids to stop opening that fucking basement window.
Me: Why?
GOM: Because the a/c is on and I'm seriously fucking fed up with it. Why do they open it anyway?
Me: Ummm - how the fuck should I know? They're 19? They're idiots? They're smoking pot in the basement - hey - can I smoke pot in the basement too?
GOM: Seriously! You need to tell them.
Me: You tell them - it's your deal - not mine.
OR
GOM: Why the hell does that kid park his car THERE?
Me: I don't know - why does that kid park his car there? Is this a riddle?
GOM: No it's not a fucking riddle - god dammit - you need to tell him to stop parking his car there.
Me: You can tell him.
This shit goes on and on - day in and day fucking out. Reporting TO ME the shit that needs to be told to these vagrant 19 year olds living in our home. Or ASKING me stupid fucking questions that I would NEVER know the answer to about why they do the shit they do. It's actually more exhausting than having the vagrants here. And because I'm super good at problem solving.....
SOLUTION
Get one of those intercom systems installed in the house. The main control board would be in the garage and the GOM could stand out there while he drinks and smokes or when he's just passing by and simply press the button to the room(s) to which he wants to blare his bitching and BAM! The task would be complete.
I suggested this to him the other night when he once again told me to tell them blah blah blah - something about rocks in the soles of their shoes or something - they are scratching the new kitchen floor or some other shit he's noticed. "Tell them to stop wearing their fucking shoes with boulders in the soles on the new floor!" You fucking tell them - they walk through the garage to get in the house and you see them first - so YOU tell them. I'm busy - watch me twirl to this song - watch! I'm super fucking good at it!!!
He pondered my suggestion for a bit and actually liked it - then he started acting out how he would stand and what his voice would sound like as he made his public addresses. But then pretty soon, he pulled up a chair and just sat, with his finger on the pretend talk button and rambled and vented for about 15 minutes, at which point he looked at me and said, "I'm going to need to tape down the talk button - my finger is getting tired and the blood is running out of my arms and they're falling asleep"
I could tell right then that if I actually installed such a public address system in this house - I would be eternally regretful- so I guess we'll just return to ME being the receiver of all information that needs to be relayed and I'll continue to just drink myself deaf in the garage, dancing and singing, as if the situation doesn't really exist. And who knows - maybe I'll solve some of these fucked up riddles he presents to me!
Friday, August 5, 2011
Bob Dylan Causes Bloody Noses
Remember that song that goes ...."Why does Joe Jackson have to be in all his videos?" Yeh. I can't remember who sings it - but it's old and I never understood the line in the song but always assumed Joe Jackson must be a scary fuck or something and that's why the singer asked the question. I just Googled him and sure enough - he is one ugly fucker. Anyway - this line came to mind the other day when I downloaded some Bob Dylan. But my question is this: Does Bob Dylan have to sing his songs?
See, I always wanted to be cool and like Bob Dylan. I even went to see him in concert once. And walked out. He sounded so fucked up that I couldn't understand a word he was singing and I figured he must be drunk out of his fucking mind that particular day - so I left. But recently, I heard someone else sing Bob Dylan and I totally loved it - so I was thinking, "HEY!!!! FINALLY!!! I AM COOL!!! I LIKE BOB DYLAN!" So I ran to my iPod and purchased ONE song. And thank GOD I listened to it BEFORE I purchased more - because IT FUCKING SUCKED. I was pretty sure I sounded better than that the night I drank 612 shots and then sang karaoke at a local bar.
As soon as the sound (I will NOT call it music) started coming out of the speakers - I was instantly sent reeling back to the most horrendous of ALL childhood memories: Being forced to eat canned asparagus.
I sat there at the table, refusing to eat the stinking assed slimy shit. And my dad force fed it to me and in the struggle, I got a bloody nose. Therefore, canned asparagus causes bloody noses and I would never touch it again in my life. Until I was in my 30's and tried FRESH asparagus and LOVED it! If you love fresh asparagus you must also therefore love canned asparagus. (I've always had an amazing ability for deducing). So like an alzheimer's patient, I bought a can of the asparagus and cooked it up. AND INSTANTLY GOT A GOD DAMNED BLOODY NOSE.
So when I was thinking of how much I loved the Bob Dylan songs I heard the other day sang by someone who was not Bob Dylan and ran to download it - and then when I heard the real Bob Dylan screeching and slurring through the speakers, it reminded me of canned asparagus. AND I GOT A GOD DAMNED BLOODY NOSE. I do not like canned asparagus just because I like fresh asparagus - they're not the same thing. I do not like Bob Dylan just because I like when someone else sings Bob Dylan songs - THEY'RE NOT THE SAME THING.
I like the idea of Bob Dylan - I like the lyrics - I like the beat. But I cannot fucking stand the sound of his shitty voice - all fucked up and stoned and drunk and brain damaged or all of the above. Therefore, that's where memory #2 came in - the song that says, "Why does Joe Jackson have to be in all his videos?" - EXACTLY!!! Why does Bob Dylan have to sing all his songs? WHY?
Couldn't someone else who wasn't missing half his marbles do the singing? And ol' Bob Dylan could just stay in the background? I mean it's kind of like Dolly Parton. She's an amazing song writer, right? But her warbling, quivering voice is about enough to make you want to stab a knife in your ear to ensure the sound won't enter. (Well, except for a couple of songs - but you KNOW Whitney Houston's version of "I will always love you" is FAR better than Dolly's version - well except until Whitney also decided to fry her fucking brains out with drugs - but you get my point anyway).
So please - for the love of GOD - someone please tell Bob Dylan to Shut.The.Fuck.Up and let someone else sing his songs. They would be SO MUCH better if he just didn't get involved in the singing. He could stand up there - that's fine - just turn off his fucking microphone so I can't hear him.
See, I always wanted to be cool and like Bob Dylan. I even went to see him in concert once. And walked out. He sounded so fucked up that I couldn't understand a word he was singing and I figured he must be drunk out of his fucking mind that particular day - so I left. But recently, I heard someone else sing Bob Dylan and I totally loved it - so I was thinking, "HEY!!!! FINALLY!!! I AM COOL!!! I LIKE BOB DYLAN!" So I ran to my iPod and purchased ONE song. And thank GOD I listened to it BEFORE I purchased more - because IT FUCKING SUCKED. I was pretty sure I sounded better than that the night I drank 612 shots and then sang karaoke at a local bar.
As soon as the sound (I will NOT call it music) started coming out of the speakers - I was instantly sent reeling back to the most horrendous of ALL childhood memories: Being forced to eat canned asparagus.
I sat there at the table, refusing to eat the stinking assed slimy shit. And my dad force fed it to me and in the struggle, I got a bloody nose. Therefore, canned asparagus causes bloody noses and I would never touch it again in my life. Until I was in my 30's and tried FRESH asparagus and LOVED it! If you love fresh asparagus you must also therefore love canned asparagus. (I've always had an amazing ability for deducing). So like an alzheimer's patient, I bought a can of the asparagus and cooked it up. AND INSTANTLY GOT A GOD DAMNED BLOODY NOSE.
So when I was thinking of how much I loved the Bob Dylan songs I heard the other day sang by someone who was not Bob Dylan and ran to download it - and then when I heard the real Bob Dylan screeching and slurring through the speakers, it reminded me of canned asparagus. AND I GOT A GOD DAMNED BLOODY NOSE. I do not like canned asparagus just because I like fresh asparagus - they're not the same thing. I do not like Bob Dylan just because I like when someone else sings Bob Dylan songs - THEY'RE NOT THE SAME THING.
I like the idea of Bob Dylan - I like the lyrics - I like the beat. But I cannot fucking stand the sound of his shitty voice - all fucked up and stoned and drunk and brain damaged or all of the above. Therefore, that's where memory #2 came in - the song that says, "Why does Joe Jackson have to be in all his videos?" - EXACTLY!!! Why does Bob Dylan have to sing all his songs? WHY?
Couldn't someone else who wasn't missing half his marbles do the singing? And ol' Bob Dylan could just stay in the background? I mean it's kind of like Dolly Parton. She's an amazing song writer, right? But her warbling, quivering voice is about enough to make you want to stab a knife in your ear to ensure the sound won't enter. (Well, except for a couple of songs - but you KNOW Whitney Houston's version of "I will always love you" is FAR better than Dolly's version - well except until Whitney also decided to fry her fucking brains out with drugs - but you get my point anyway).
So please - for the love of GOD - someone please tell Bob Dylan to Shut.The.Fuck.Up and let someone else sing his songs. They would be SO MUCH better if he just didn't get involved in the singing. He could stand up there - that's fine - just turn off his fucking microphone so I can't hear him.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Confronting the Elephant
I recently acknowledged the elephant in the room and you know what? It wasn't that bad.
Sweet Funny Blonde (SFB): I know it's petty, but I have the elephant with me.
Me: Yes. I know. I heard the elephant was driving you home - tell the elephant thank you for doing that. (See normally you wouldn't be appreciative of an elephant driving, and you likely wouldn't think elephants could drive, what with their flat giant feet and shit - but this elephant drives pretty good and I knew my beloved family was in safe feet)
When I got to the house, I didn't see the elephant which is strange that you couldn't find an elephant in a house - but whatever - I wasn't really looking for the elephant and it was really not even relevant to the situation anyway. But later, the elephant came out from the corner and stood 5' from me. Fuck that. Here's the deal you pachyderm, this shit between us ends today.
So I took a deep breath, shotgunned a beer, took a swig of whiskey and marched right over to the elephant:
Me: ELEPHANT! How the hell are you?
Elephant: Psycho Bleach Blonde! It's good to see you!
And the elephant extended a leg and we hugged an awkward, fucked up, don't get too close to me kind of hug.
Me: Elephant - meet my husband - Grumpy Old Man (GOM) - this is the elephant we've been avoiding.
GOM: Hey elephant - nice to meet you - I guess.
And so it began - the transformation of the elephant into a human.
See. I've been mad at this elephant for a good god damned long time. Not just mad. Enraged. Bitter. Hateful. Disgusted. And I had played out in my mind that given the chance, I would punch this elephant square in the fucking trunk. But the strangest and least expected of all things happened when I finally came face to face with the elephant.
A wave of.... NOTHINGNESS came over me. No rage. No anger. No bitterness. Just complete non-emotion - the elephant was just another human in the room. And I felt 200 pounds lighter. The baggage and weight of being so fucking mad for so many years lifted from my shoulders. And I pulled up a bar stool and sat and chatted with the no-longer-an-elephant like an old friend. Which is what we really are. Old friends. In a new dynamic. And it's okay.
The grumpy old man actually hated the elephant more than me, despite the fact he'd never met the elephant. But I'd done a damned good job of painting an illusion of this wicked elephant and therefore the GOM despised him and had threatened to kill him if he ever saw him. But he didn't. He also sat and chatted with the elephant - for hours. And at the end of the night - they embraced. And that was weird. And I wondered why in the hell would they embrace? Are they lovers now?
Or was that a gesture of peace - letting each other silently know that all was good with the world now and pachyderm and man would now live as one?
Regardless. I'm glad I confronted that elephant. Go confront yours today - you'll be glad you did!
Sweet Funny Blonde (SFB): I know it's petty, but I have the elephant with me.
Me: Yes. I know. I heard the elephant was driving you home - tell the elephant thank you for doing that. (See normally you wouldn't be appreciative of an elephant driving, and you likely wouldn't think elephants could drive, what with their flat giant feet and shit - but this elephant drives pretty good and I knew my beloved family was in safe feet)
When I got to the house, I didn't see the elephant which is strange that you couldn't find an elephant in a house - but whatever - I wasn't really looking for the elephant and it was really not even relevant to the situation anyway. But later, the elephant came out from the corner and stood 5' from me. Fuck that. Here's the deal you pachyderm, this shit between us ends today.
So I took a deep breath, shotgunned a beer, took a swig of whiskey and marched right over to the elephant:
Me: ELEPHANT! How the hell are you?
Elephant: Psycho Bleach Blonde! It's good to see you!
And the elephant extended a leg and we hugged an awkward, fucked up, don't get too close to me kind of hug.
Me: Elephant - meet my husband - Grumpy Old Man (GOM) - this is the elephant we've been avoiding.
GOM: Hey elephant - nice to meet you - I guess.
And so it began - the transformation of the elephant into a human.
See. I've been mad at this elephant for a good god damned long time. Not just mad. Enraged. Bitter. Hateful. Disgusted. And I had played out in my mind that given the chance, I would punch this elephant square in the fucking trunk. But the strangest and least expected of all things happened when I finally came face to face with the elephant.
A wave of.... NOTHINGNESS came over me. No rage. No anger. No bitterness. Just complete non-emotion - the elephant was just another human in the room. And I felt 200 pounds lighter. The baggage and weight of being so fucking mad for so many years lifted from my shoulders. And I pulled up a bar stool and sat and chatted with the no-longer-an-elephant like an old friend. Which is what we really are. Old friends. In a new dynamic. And it's okay.
The grumpy old man actually hated the elephant more than me, despite the fact he'd never met the elephant. But I'd done a damned good job of painting an illusion of this wicked elephant and therefore the GOM despised him and had threatened to kill him if he ever saw him. But he didn't. He also sat and chatted with the elephant - for hours. And at the end of the night - they embraced. And that was weird. And I wondered why in the hell would they embrace? Are they lovers now?
Or was that a gesture of peace - letting each other silently know that all was good with the world now and pachyderm and man would now live as one?
Regardless. I'm glad I confronted that elephant. Go confront yours today - you'll be glad you did!
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