Bad Reputation

Dangers of too much information

I know too many songs. I see a word or object that reminds me of a line of a song and BAM! I’m stuck with it in head all day.

Like just now.

I typed “stuck with it” and now my brain is singing Lionel Richie’s Stuck on You.

Noooooooooooooooooo!

I realized that’s the reason I keep sing Edie Fucking Brickell and the New Fucking Bohemians in the mornings – I use a body wash called Philosophy.

“Philosophy is walk on a slippery walk…”

 

Make it stop, make it stop!

One mystery solved

It always struck me that from the lyrics, Buckcherry's "Crazy Bitch" was actually pretty tame-sounding, and I thought, "He cannot be fucking the right girls, if he thinks that's all it takes to be a crazy bitch."

Having now seen them, I realize it's because their frontman so obviously fucks boys and not girls.

Papa Roach was awesome, though! And their frontman totally walked around through the crowd & seats, which I've never seen anyone do at Blossom.

Crue, was, welll....their video show was excellent. Mainly from a tech standpoint -- flawless -- but most of the content was good as well. The images for "Same Old Situation" were a disturbing mix of female dom porn juxtaposed with images of war & suffering. Disturbing, but well done. Otherwise, they gave away a LOT of porn for free that people pay good money for on the interwebs, though.

Sadly, their sound really sucked, and again, Vince decided to only sing every third word or so, starting with the first fucking song! But Mick didn't die, so I think the show has to be counted as a success. And I realized that no  matter what dumbfuck ridiculous stunt Tommy Lee does next, I still love him. He's like an unrepentant, rascally brother.

As always, the people-watching was top-notch. Satan was there. No really, I got my picture taken with him and everything. There was Mr. Choreography, who acted out all of the lyrics for Buckcherry's songs. It was like drunken, solo, third-rate Show Choir. The Yeti and his Bratz bride. The guy in the car in front of us, all alone, with Ontario plates...my guess was he was there to meet his 13-year-old MySpace pickup.

But the big tragedy of the evening was the treachery and betrayal of my shoes. My wonderful Mudd platform sandals, which I have had for nigh on 10 years, and which have never failed me before. I have worn them concert-going. I have worn them shopping. I have worn them to picnics and to do laundry. And they have always been there for me. But Wednesday night, they turned on me like an adder. I have 4 blisters, and only now, after 2 days, is the soreness finally starting to fade. By the end of the night, with the show not good enough to distract me, my entire world was feet.

Light in the darkness?

For the past few days I've been close to or into tears when reading the headlines about the baby whale that got confused and thought a yacht was its mother; so much so that I could not bring myself to actually read the article. Now the headlines tell me that the calf has been euthanized and what I feel overwhelmingly is...a sort of peaceful relief? Comfort?

Envy?

Yet another reason to love the Scots. And the Norwegians.

A penguin who was previously made a Colonel-in-Chief of the Norwegian Army has been knighted at Edinburgh Zoo.

Seriously, go watch the video. That penguin has more dignity than most people I know. Certainly more than I have.

Please check my math

I made and ate an entire pan of cinnamon rolls. But they were reduced fat, so that's OK, right?

To my little chasers

Dear Gussie & Nobby --

Mommy is very glad that you are both such brave hunters and are making our apartment safe from the many-legged creatures. I would, however, like to make 2 requests of you.

1. Please, please, please do not ever herd a live roach into Mommy's bedroom again. Ever. Inthenameofthebabyjesusamen. Because Mommy does not want to be up until 2AM changing & washing bedding, shaking out shoes, wondering if it touched her mattress and if it did can she burn it out behind the building and just sleep in the guest room.

2. When you catch and kill a fly (which Mommy is very proud of you for doing!) just eat the damn thing. It's small. Maybe you'll get some extra protein, which every growing kitty needs. Mommy is just tired of finding dead flies on the floor. It's always the same: "What's that?" <bends over to look> "Eeewwww, gross." <gets toilet paper and cleans up dead fly>

Mommy spoils you dreadfully and has so much love for you her heart hurts, but, please, for the love of FSM, work with me on this!

Let's play pretend

Imagine someone has shoved two white-hot railroad spikes through the sides and back of your head.

Unfortunately, you don't get to lose consciousness.

Imagine that any light is like slivers of glass piercing into your eyeballs.

Imagine any sound magnified 1000x.

Imagine that with all that, you feel so neausous that you can't stop vomiting, even when there's nothing to come up, not even your toes. And the vomiting is so violent your nose bleeds.

Imagine not knowing when this will strike. You go to bed feeling fine; 3:00AM you want to die.

It's this last part that gets me. I'm starting to almost be afraid to go to sleep.