If food needed pleasing you'd suck all the seasoning off,
Suck it off!
Well treat me like the disease like the rats and the fleas,
A-ha-ha!
Bang your head like a gong 'cause its' filled with all wrong!
A-ha-ha!
If you think you know enough
to know you know you've had enough.
And if you think you don't you probably will.
Our tails wagged and then fell off, but we just turned back,
marched into the sea.
Well treat me like the sea oh so salty and mean,
Ah-ha-hah-ha!
Well treat me like the disease like the rats and the fleas, ah-ha-ha!
I'll be beating my heart's record for speeding.
I'll be beating the record for hearts skipping in the dark.
Our tails wagged and then fell off but we just turned back, marched into the sea, well we just turned back, marched into the sea.
Take all that you need like my sign says for free, till it's gone!
Till it's gone!
Well discard whom you please like the leaves off a tree,
A-ha-ha!
Let's shake hands if you want but soon both hands are gone, ha-ha-ha!
Well treat me like the sea oh so salty and mean, oh-ha-ha.
Oh treat me like the sea oh so salty and mean
oh-ha-ha. Treat me like the disease like the rats and the fleas.
Bang your head like a gong 'cause you call it all wrong, move your tongue.
Klang klang! Klang klang! Klang klang! Klang klang, klang klang!
Cut me down like a tree like the lumber or weeds, well discard who you please like the leaves off a tree. Drag me out of the sea and then teach me to breath. Give me forced health till I wish death on myself.
Ah! Ha! Ha!
Well we all stumbled round tangled up in the cords from our phones, V.C.R. and our wordly woes.
Ah! Ha! Ha!
March on!
March on!
(lyrics by modest mouse)
March on!
March on!
MARCH ON!
Monday, December 24, 2007
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Imagine this:
The house is warm, smelling of baking sugar cookies and cinnamon. A fire crackles in the fireplace and the Christmas lights on the tree emit a soft glow. The dogs are snuggled on the couch in tightly wound warm balls, jerking a paw or a leg as they are lost in their dreams. Favorite music is playing as my son and I sprinkle the last glistening of colored sugar on the perfectly thin cookies, still cooling on their pan.
This is how I imagined it to be.
Instead, the evening went something like this:
My son grabbed a chair and promptly pushed it into the counter where I was pouring the powdered cookie mix into the bowl, spilling it everywhere. As I was busy cleaning the sticky mess of egg from his hands, the dogs grabbed a piss diaper from the trash and began fighting over it, spilling the tiny beads that soak up the piss inside the diaper onto the rug. While I turned to peel the last vestiges of diaper off of the tongue of one of the dogs, I smelled something. My son had put two stone coasters into the toaster, and said that he was trying to make toast. The other dog jumped on the counter behind me, and my son kicked the chair out from under him and he was hanging precariously from the counter. I put the chair back under his legs, and noticed that a dog was shredding a Christmas ornament. I picked it up and the boy was reaching for the block of knives. The timer went off. The cookies were pale, ugly blobs. Where they done? Who knew? I took them out and placed them back on the counter as far as I could, and set up some huge snappy-traps around them that were supposed to keep dogs away. I took the boy up to wrap gifts. Somehow he got a wallpaper scraper (where the hell did that come from?) and began beating it against the wall, singing Frosty the Snowman. At that point, I grabbed him and ran downstairs: one dog had set off the snappy-trap in an attempt to get at the cookies, and the other was standing on two legs, scraping at the back door to go out. I opened the door and the dog ran out and I saw her take a cylinder of frozen dog shit in her mouth like some foul cigar.
This is how I imagined it to be.
Instead, the evening went something like this:
My son grabbed a chair and promptly pushed it into the counter where I was pouring the powdered cookie mix into the bowl, spilling it everywhere. As I was busy cleaning the sticky mess of egg from his hands, the dogs grabbed a piss diaper from the trash and began fighting over it, spilling the tiny beads that soak up the piss inside the diaper onto the rug. While I turned to peel the last vestiges of diaper off of the tongue of one of the dogs, I smelled something. My son had put two stone coasters into the toaster, and said that he was trying to make toast. The other dog jumped on the counter behind me, and my son kicked the chair out from under him and he was hanging precariously from the counter. I put the chair back under his legs, and noticed that a dog was shredding a Christmas ornament. I picked it up and the boy was reaching for the block of knives. The timer went off. The cookies were pale, ugly blobs. Where they done? Who knew? I took them out and placed them back on the counter as far as I could, and set up some huge snappy-traps around them that were supposed to keep dogs away. I took the boy up to wrap gifts. Somehow he got a wallpaper scraper (where the hell did that come from?) and began beating it against the wall, singing Frosty the Snowman. At that point, I grabbed him and ran downstairs: one dog had set off the snappy-trap in an attempt to get at the cookies, and the other was standing on two legs, scraping at the back door to go out. I opened the door and the dog ran out and I saw her take a cylinder of frozen dog shit in her mouth like some foul cigar.
Monday, December 17, 2007
rondevous then i'm through with you!
Still searching for yourself well into middle age, huh? Just like that Cake song : "How do you afford that rock-n-roll lifestyle?"
Not me. I know sure as shit who I am.
Not me. I know sure as shit who I am.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
musings
(1) I can't spell so don't be surprised when I make errors. I have a Master's plus, although I highly doubt I'll take anymore credit courses to get a doctorate, but I never learned to spell, and I really don't care. And usually, I'm too lazy to spell check.
(2) The Aberdeen Walmart Supercenter bears a striking resemblance to the cantina scene in Star Wars.
(3) I hate balloons.
(4) An oocupational hazard of mine is nasty paper cuts. Those fuckers really hurt. Yesterday, I had an entire ream of 80lb. paper slice me up the thumb, causing copius bleeding.
(5) I like to play the ukulele sometimes.
(2) The Aberdeen Walmart Supercenter bears a striking resemblance to the cantina scene in Star Wars.
(3) I hate balloons.
(4) An oocupational hazard of mine is nasty paper cuts. Those fuckers really hurt. Yesterday, I had an entire ream of 80lb. paper slice me up the thumb, causing copius bleeding.
(5) I like to play the ukulele sometimes.
I'm warning you.
This will be a pretty lame blog. Often, I will simply post song quotes to show my "mood" of the day. Some of my posts will be one sentence. And somedays I won't post at all because:
(1) I can't access this from the place where I work and
(2) I can't even turn my computer on at home because my soon-to-be 3 year old is driving a matchbox car over the keyboard.
(A disclaimer here is that I love my 3 year-old more than anything. Don't get me wrong.)
So that's it. That's me.
(1) I can't access this from the place where I work and
(2) I can't even turn my computer on at home because my soon-to-be 3 year old is driving a matchbox car over the keyboard.
(A disclaimer here is that I love my 3 year-old more than anything. Don't get me wrong.)
So that's it. That's me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)