Tuesday, July 18

Hans Eric was a weird kid. Molly used to tell me that she'd had his baby when she went to Florida for summer vacation. The fact that we were all nine years old and didn't actually know how babies were made didn't deter her at all. He was a baby boy named Jareth Luke, or Master Puke, or Dastard Mook, or something. Whatever the name was, it was suspiciously similar to Molly's Cabbage Patch Kid's name. She was obsessed with Hans Eric and especially obsessed with the thought of having his baby. I think it was a by-product of their mothers' friendship, itself a little weird, possibly because their mothers were two of the strangest people I've ever met.
Hans Eric's mom's name was Effi, and she was a solid, ruddy Austrian with a deep voice and an even deeper tan. She used to call him home for dinner by standing at the end of her driveway and bellowing, "Haaaans Ehhhhhhrrrrrrric!" in her guttural Bavarian growl. Her perpetual summer outfit consisted of a tube top or bikini top and terrycloth hot pants. I remember this uniform well. Effi spent Saturdays and Sundays weeding and planting her garden, her butt rising ostentatiously into the air whenever she sensed the presence of a male, like a cat in heat. I’m pretty sure it operated of its own accord, like it was equipped with testosterone-sensing radar. You could be in the middle of a conversation with her, and she’d suddenly bend down, forcing you to crouch to continue speaking to her. 30 seconds later, the guy across the street would come out of his house to get his mail. It was amazing. The ass never went up if it was a woman or a kid heading for the mailbox. It was the same with cars. She lived on the corner of a major neighborhood intersection, and the butt could sense a male driving a vehicle from at least a block away. The intersection she lived on was so busy, however, that on Saturdays, Sundays, and holiday Mondays she basically had to spend the whole day bent over. I don’t know how it didn’t kill her back.

Saturday, February 11

Sexy Songs

Recently, The Boise Weekly published their list of the sexiest songs. And I am now going to publish mine. I take issue with many of their choices, also, they have a list of songs that they think are "Surprisingly Sexy." Well, there is nothing surprising about the sex appeal of "Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing," by Chris Isaak. I mean, come on, Chris Isaak is basically sex personified. Also, I actually have made a CD of songs that I consider sexy, which is something they suggest in the Weekly article. It has gotten me laid before.

Also, "Stairway to Heaven?" Are you fucking kidding me? Possibly the most overrated song of all time? Only to longhaired, flannel and Birkenstock-with-socks wearing potheads. There are much better Led Zeppelin songs that are waaaaay sexier. Like "Kashmir," or "Dazed and Confused."

The biggest problem with this article is that they leave out the sexiest song of all time, "Time of The Season" by The Zombies, which basically = The Boise Weekly staff are a bunch of retards. No one can resist this song. Even if you don't think it's the sexiest song ever, you can't deny it's sexy. And it even has a cool video. How many bands made videos back then? I used to see it all the time on VH1 in 1988. It was the only cool thing ever shown on VH1 for years.

I definitely agree with the following choices: "Cowgirl in the Sand," Lay, Lady Lay," "I Put a Spell On You,"--all versions--"Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone," "Ballrooms On Mars," "At Last My Love Has Come Along," but by Etta James, not Ella Fitzgerald, "Soma"--I really loved this song in high school.

Here goes the rest of the list:

"When Doves Cry," Prince. I used to hate this song as a child. I was a stupid child.
"Slum Beautiful," by Outkast.
"Human," by Elastica.
"Corpses in Her Mouth," by Ian Brown. Weird name, weird song, weird singer. Will make you want to take up bellydancing.
"I'm on Fire," Bruce Springsteen. I can't believe this wasn't on their list!!
"The Blood is Love," Queens of the Stone Age. Josh Homme? Should be Josh Hotte.
"Six-Blade Knife," Dire Straits.
"Dead," The Pixies.
Every song ever recorded by Polly Jean Harvey, she is like the female Barry White or Leonard Cohen.
Any and all versions of, "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You."
"Sweetest Perfection," Depeche Mode. It's funny how many songs about heroin are sexy. Actually, this song may not be about heroin, it may be about gay sex. Or both. I don't really want to think about it.
"Got Love to Kill," Juliette and the Licks. This song would be #1 if I made a list of "Songs that make me want to drive 150 mph or faster."
"Nickel to Roll," Jucifer.
"Creme Brulee," Sonic Youth. You and me burnin' in the summertime? Ok.
"My Favourite Game," The Cardigans. Raddest video ever, which of course puts it on my list of songs that make me drive fast. BTW, I think Nina Persson is a femmebot. If I had to cast an angel in a film, she would be it.
"Psychic Hearts," Thurston Moore.
That version of "Hanging on the Telephone," by Cat Power that they play on the Cingular commercial.
Many many Blondie songs, including, "Fade Away and Radiate," and "Will Anything Happen?" "One Way or Another," and "Call Me."
"Book of The Month," Lovage, aka Dan the Automator & various friends. You are the griddle, I am the meat.
"Hella Good," No Doubt.
"Brass in Pocket," The Pretenders. The best karaoke seduction song.
"Gypsy Eyes," "Red House," Jimi Hendrix.
"Caramel," Suzanne Vega.
"The Pink Room," David Lynch, from the Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me soundtrack. Sleazy.
"Theme," Cibo Matto.
"Mood Swing," Luscious Jackson.
"Where It's At" is probably banned from airplay for the next ten years due to it's being one of the most overplayed songs of all time, but the remix by John King on the Where It's At single has background music so cool you will cream your jeans.
"Feel Good Hit of the Fall," !!!
"Magic Stick," Lil' Kim.
"Wicked Ways," Garbage.
"A View to a Kill," Duran Duran. The song is better than the movie. Also, "Hungry Like the Wolf." I fucking love this song. Hole does a really good cover of it, too.
"Holy Roller Novacaine," "Wasted Time," Kings of Leon--Make me want to smoke.
"Dirge," "Soul Auctioneer," "Aisha," and "Broken Little Sister," Death in Vegas. This is one of those bands whose good songs totally kick ass, and whose bad songs totally suck ass and there is no in between.
"Seven Nation Army," The White Stripes.
"Shake That Ass" 50 Cent, remixed by The Lovemakers. Also, "We Should be Taking Our Clothes Off," obviously.
"Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space," Spiritualized. Also "Any Way You Want Me." I used to have a live album with this song on it and I could kick myself for selling it. It was awesome, because the music would swell to a huge crescendo, then stop completely when he sang, "I've been watching you, and I don't think that you're gay," or whatever the hell the words are.
"Everybody Knows," Concrete Blonde.
Every Blonde Redhead song.
Every Portishead song.
"So Alive," Love and Rockets.
"Animal Nitrate," and "My Dark Star," Suede.
"Do It Again," Tori Amos.
"Crimson and Clover," Joan Jett.
"Sugar on My Tongue," The Talking Heads.
"This Magic Moment," Lou Reed.
"Long Cool Woman (In a Black Dress)," The Hollies.
"Mambo Italiano," Dean martin.
"Rhiannon," Fleetwood Mac. I wish Elastica were still together so they could cover this song.
"Planet Queen," T Rex.
"Penelope Tree," Felt.
Every song on the Cat Power album You Are Free, except "Names." I read about this music critic on Amazon.com who "suggests the Universe was created for the sole purpose of producing [Jimi Hendrix album Are You Experienced?]." This is how I feel about You Are Free.
"Swamp Song," "I'm Just a Killer For Your Love," Blur.
"Overcome," "Vent," "Brand New You're Retro," "Christiansands," "Hell is Round the Corner," "Meditate," "Poems," "Pumpkin," Tricky.
"Remembrance," gus gus. if you are stoned, this song literally lasts your entire lifetime.
"Brand New Cadillac," "Guns of Brixton," The Clash.
"Bang Bang," Nancy Sinatra.
"Rich," Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs.
"Only Shallow," My Bloody Valentine.
"Hot Freaks," Guided by Voices.
"Arabian Nights," Siouxie and the Banshees.
"Black Metallic," Catherine Wheel.
"Season of the Witch," Donovan.
"Look for Me (I'll Be Around)," Neko Case.
"I am Pentagon," The Make-up.
"I Just Want to Make Love to You," Etta James
"Piece of My Heart," Janis Joplin
"Back in Black," ACDC
"Breathe," Prodigy. I hated this song until the scene with Justin Theroux in Charlies Angels Full Throttle.
"Barracuda," Heart.
"Dance Hall," Modest Mouse. Pretty any much song about dancing is a song I'm going to think is sexy.

Thursday, February 9

Zen Book Shopping

I was at Borders today looking for Mil Millington's "Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About." I've tried to find it the last three times I was there, but always to no avail, even though the kiosk computer always says it is "in store." I searched the entire M section, but couldn't find it. Then I wondered over to check out the F. Scott Fitzgerald books. My dad recently got me a book of Fitzgerald's short stories, but "Berniece Bobs Her Hair" isn't in it, and I couldn't remember if he wrote it or not. He did. I thought to myself, "I want to see a picture of Zelda," because, really, she's much more interesting than he is. I went back over to the M section and sat down on the floor. The first book I rested my eyes on had a pink spine and a tiny picture of a pretty woman with shiny marcelled hair, and was called "Zelda" by Nancy Milford. I picked it up and studied the huge picture of Zelda on the cover before reading the description on the back. Sure enough, it was that Zelda--is there any other, not counting the video game? I went to put it back, and the next item I spied was one "Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About" by Mil Millington, on the shelf directly above where it should have been, and slightly to the left, in between authors with the last name of Miles. And, might I add, a place I'd looked for it a million times!

Wednesday, February 8

Today at Work

Today at work was interesting. I had little sleep and was pretty cranky. Then I'd run out of my allergy medicine and had to go pick up more at Fred Meyer before work. Luckily, Betty Jo was selling yummy candy bars. At one point, I got a call from this woman who was so crazy, she kept asking me to call her back to get the name of some woman at her bank that she wanted me to call for some reason. Every time I'd call her back at the interval she asked me to, I'd cause her crappy phone to lose the other line. It couldn't handle two lines, so while she was trying to get ahold of some supervisor at her bank so that I could call that supervisor and tell her the same thing that the crazy lady had just told her, I'd make her lose the line and she'd start screaming at me and yell at me to call her back in "10 minutes! No! 20 minutes!" because she'd have to call the bank back and go through 10 people to get to that supervisor again. Man, was she ever a screamer! The first thing she said when I first answered her call was, "DO NOT PUT ME ON HOLD!"

After 2 hours, which included an hour-late lunch, I was finally rid of her. But not before I spied one of the annoying, freaky-looking newbies watching Mr. And Mrs. Smith on his laptop that he had on his desk. I was always told that we can't bring our laptops to work. So I made sure to send an email to my supervisor asking if I too could bring my laptop to work. 'Cause if I'm not allowed to bring my laptop to work, ain't nobody gonna be allowed to bring their laptop to work! And even if they say I can bring it, you can't be on the internet, so it'd be pointless, anyway. Besides, I just think it's kind of unprofessional. Somehow it's worse than crocheting and knitting and making necklaces at work. Also, I'd be afraid of spilling on my nice little laptop.

Monday, February 6

Frank Fagg

I just wanted to say that today at work, I spoke to a customer named Frank Fagg. If this were your name, wouldn't you change it? Can you imagine going through childhood with this name? D'ya think you'd get beat up alot?

Sunday, February 5

I hate Sundays

I went to the gym for the first time today, and the first thing I did was to lock my keys, purse, and cell phone in my car. I had to call my parents to come unlock my car. The gym only has one steam room, near the pool, and it's for men and women. Gross. There's a sauna in the locker room, but dry heat is gross. Later, after I worked out, I tried to go to Pollo Rey downtown, and discovered I've completely lost all ability to parallel park. Pollo Rey was closed anyway.

Saturday, February 4

Simon Cowell and Polyanna, go to Hell!

(I reread this post about 3 years after I stopped working with the woman mentioned below. Within a week, I saw her whilst lunching downtown. The universe is messing with me!)

I feel like complaining, but I'm not sure what I want to complain about. There are just so many things. I just finished watching Wonderfalls, which was a really good show. It only lived to see thirteen episodes, but it was so much better than most of the tripe on tv. I hate reality tv! All of it! I wish it would all just disappear. Arrested Development is going off the air, it's just not fair! American Idol is stupider than anything I could have ever dreamed up. So is America's Next Top Model, Survivor, Fear Factor, all of it!

Television ratings seem to be determined by the lowest common denominator. And Fox, though they air weird shows, don't give them much of a chance beyond that. Now I've discovered another show I like, Bones, which is sort of like CSI only better, partly because it stars David Boreanaz, a.k.a. Angel, and Zooey Deschanel's beautiful sister, Emily. But now they've put it up against Lost, which is one of the most popular shows on TV. I had to get a dual tuner DVR just to deal with this.

Are they stupid? I think they are stupid. I think anyone who watches American Idol and then discusses it at work the next day is stupid. I hate Simon Cowell, Paula Abdul, Ryan Seacrest, and that dude who had gastric bypass surgery. I also hate myself for knowing this much about any of them. But I can't escape it! My coworkers talk about it, my friends have forced me to watch it before, it's always on my MSN homepage, and it's all they ever want to talk about on Headline News in the morning! Fuck American Idol! Fuck it right in the ear! I realize I sound like my crazy, embittered grandma, but I don't care. Sometimes the simplest sentiments express things best. And spare me the crap about watching too much TV. All shows aren't crap. Being preachy is crappy, though.

Another thing that really annoys me but is unrelated, is this woman in my office. Her name is, approximately, Julie Anjeweirdo. She's one of those annoying Mormon ladies who thinks she knows better than everyone else, even though she's totally frumpy. Why on earth should anyone listen to a frump? And she seems to do even less work than I do.

Whenever I call her to ask her a question about the ever-changing rules, policies, and procedures of our corporation, she can't ever understand what I say the first time. Every conversation starts out with me telling her that I have a question about x, and whether x be simple or complex, she always, always, always answers me with, "What? What are you talking about? I don't understand what you're saying!" This is because she's not listening. She has the particular position she has because she doesn't really have to do much work.

But the thing that she does that annoys me the most, the thing that just makes me crazy, is that whenever I say something about how this or that policy is unclear or something unfair has been done to a customer, she always says, "Don't say that, be positive!"


I hate it when people say that! Stating a fact such as, "Mr. Jones doesn't understand why he's been double-charged for every package he's sent in the past month," is not "being negative." Sure, the subject of the sentence is negative--our company is ripping Mr. Jones off, but to be negative would be to say something like, "Our shitty company has been ripping Mr. Jones off for the past month! We suck!" What is the "positive" way to say this? "Mr. Jones wants to congratulate us for so cleverly ripping him off all month?" Idiot.

Or she'll bring out that rusty old adage, "Don't say 'hate.' You don't really 'hate' anything!" Yes, yes, in fact, I do "hate." And what I hate is when people talk to me like I'm five years old! Especially when I'm maybe a million times smarter than they are! Of course, if that's the only way she can ever feel superior to someone, I guess I really shouldn't take that away from her...

Tuesday, January 31

I am being driven to murder

I am being driven to murder. Against my will, but headed down that road just the same. Why? "This is Darwin, may I have your name please?"

Thursday, January 12

Laughing Myself Awake

I woke myself up laughing this morning. I don't think I've ever done that before. I was dreaming that Drew Quizenberry (or however you spell his stupid name) was going to be on a new local Sesame Street knockoff show for kids. His costars, aside from muppets, were a chick named Nancy Grape and a guy whose last name was Levine or something. The thing that made me laugh was because I was making fun of all this, and I said shouldn't the Levine guy's last name be Cherry or Lemon or something? Then I started laughing and woke myself up.