lickystickypickyme: Dolly Parton - 9 to 5
But I don’t even know what The Secret is all about. So I repeated “walk, walk, fashion baby” over and over in my head instead. It didn’t work. But I felt fierce.
My Life, Today’s Edition. love love love.
Several nights of unrest and the ache of wintry illness have left me desperate for the soothing comfort of deep, dreamless sleep. I find this elusive even in perfect health, so after so many years of staring down sunrises, I’ve come to cling to a few standard comforts:
1. Lullabyes. I find being an adult hasn’t excluded me from needing the gentle whisper of a nocturnal serenade. Quite the opposite, in fact, because now the night terrors have roots in reality, not just imagination. (I have a particular weakness for ‘Jenny Rose’ and ‘Kathy’s Song’.)
2. Bedtime stories. Second only to being sung something lovely, there is nothing so perfect as reading things aloud in bed. A friend of mine used to read to me in Hebrew until I fell asleep. I loved him for that.
3. Meryl Streep reading The Velveteen Rabbit, (accompanied by George Winston). True, I do own this on vhs and LP. Turns out it’s also available on youtube, in segments of course. (Also, check out Robin Williams take on Pecos Bill - brilliant). Without the luxury of #1 or #2 tonight, Meryl is essentially my saving grace and Holy Grail. Therefore…
To all, to each a fair good night…
And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
- Sir Walter Scott
‘Just before we departed from Louisville, we discovered that MP’s Dad had caught the flu — and unfortunately, we got it too, and got it bad. So, from Wed afternoon until this morning, we enjoyed our room, with emphasis on the bathroom and Mexican television. The room and the bathroom were the better of the three.
So, since Jim does not drink — and we have endured nearly 2.5 days without food — we are getting the worse end of this all-inclusive thing. But, we are getting the most from the toilet paper inventory.
For now, we stay close to the bathroom — but we hope to journey more than 100 yards from one tomorrow.’
[welcome to our family vacations. Dear God. The best.]
alwaysgreener: stalk: jessicat: funnyordie:gregrutter:theradness: fishing bloopers.
Reason #994872.4 Why Allison Is Not Invited To Kaby Lodge Fishing Camp
‘PULL UP! PULL UP, TAMMY!’/’DAGGUMIT!’/’I THOUGHT IT WAS IN REVERSE!’
sacrecoeur: pit-a-patwenttheheartofmissmouse:
I Don’t Want to Get Over You - The Magnetic Fields
I don’t want to get over you. I guess I could take a sleeping pill and sleep at will and not have to go through what I go through. I guess I should takeProzac, right, and just smile all night at somebody new,somebody not too bright but sweet and kind who would try to get you off my mind. I could leave this agony behind which is just what I’d do if I wanted to, but I don’t want to get over you, Cause I don’t want to get over love. I could listen to my therapist, pretend you don’t exist and not have to dream of what I dream of; I could listen to all my friends and go out again and pretend it’s enough, or I could make a career of being blue—I could dress in black and read Camus, smoke clove cigarettes and drink vermouth like I was 17 that would be a scream but I don’t want to get over you.
Home sick = drinking tea like there’s no tomorrow, listening to old sad bastard music, reading James Baldwin for the umpteenth time, and wishing my mama was here.
(Awesome Friday.)
The madness of citrus season. I cannot stop. Please sent grapefruit intervention committee at once.
That is a lot of books, I will take them and the grapefruits, please and thanks. But first, where are you getting good grapefruits, this is not happening here yet.
Jackpot discovery at local grocery, Marsh Fresh Market. On sale. Ba da bing, ba da boom… delicious. Like my father always says, better to be lucky than good.
As for the books… jesus. You think you know, but you have no idea. Considering mail-order lending service, whattyathink?
The madness of citrus season. I cannot stop. Please sent grapefruit intervention committee at once.
inothernews: dailyhuff: poobah:
3 Redneck Tenors do Beethoven
first thought: oh, dear, another reality ‘talent’ television exploitation masked as entertainment. What, oh, of course, with David Hasselhoff. It figures. Well, for heaven’s sake, why are my hometown neighbors on television? Oh, no, no… my mistake… it’s not really them, but with the requisite goatee/slaggy jeans/sordid lives physique, shit, it’s hard telling sometimes. Ahhhh… home.
But… just a moment… did someone say Beethoven? (gasp!)
SHAZAAM!
Close your eyes.
OMG.
Total nerdgasm.
Even though those wigs/droopy drawers are nothing short of disgraceful.
(Apparently redneck mimicry is the new cultural equivalent to the trojan horse?)
Sigh.
This might be the shameless little pickup-line-that-could (get-me-naked):
“Hey, I hear your ankles are having a party. You want to invite your pants down?”
![nedhepburn:
like a sinner before the gates of heaven, i’ll come crawling on back to you.
Went through a super-intense Meatloaf phase this year. Surely you remember… don’t you? No? The singing voicemails I sent everyone? The vodka-supersoaked karaoke nights? (note to self: kickass party idea). The flash-mob-of-one street scene? Still no? Shit, I introduced myself to people using song lyrics, ‘Hi, my name is Allison, and I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That).’ (The new version of ‘rush chairman, damn glad to meet ya.’)
Fine, I admit… I was a hot mess (capitalized, underlined, boldfaced, italicized, animated font) most of summer 2K9. In summary: ‘Unemployed SWF with OCD/insomnia/80’s rock ballad addiction undergoing epically cliche quarter-life/identity crisis, one bottle/road trip/family reunion/wedding reception/one night stand at a time.’ I was a goddamn catch, no doubt about it. Block it out if you want, but maybe, just maybe, this is what got me through it.
And you know something? Meatloaf? He really got me. I mean it, he was there. for. me. AND IT WAS AWESOME, JERKS.
_____________________________________
**Furthermore, to any and all who may be currently taking up residence in the Bell Jar, I highly recommend my other trusty favorites:**
It’s All Coming Back To Me (Celine Dion’s MASTERPIECE OF ALL TIME. Which I own on cassette. yes. as in TAPE. An awesome little ditty to play during long travels in confined spaces with others. On repeat. Believe me, this works. Exhibit A: the epic Ohio adventures of an anonymous trio of musically-inspired co-eds January 2K4.)
Right Here Waiting (Richard Marx, from the glorious bygone era when we all recognized and understood the sexual power implied by sporting the Harlequin-paperback-covermodel-variety mullet). Good times.
Come Sail Away (Styx, a band that solidifies my theory that anyone who spells their name with a ‘y’ is automatically 10x cooler. Don’t act like you can’t feel the magic… and god knows we rewound/fast-forwarded - again, cassette tapes, sigh - ourselves into a frenzy waiting for the killer uptake at 2:30… OH MY GOD. I WILL SAIL AWAY WITH YOU. IT’S NOT TOO LATE. BRING ON THAT STARSHIP.)
Honorable mentions, aka Coming To An Answering Machine Near You:
- Good Vibrations, Beach Boys- Fantastic Voyage, Coolio(I recommend blasting this near large bodies of water, preferably during the summer months.)- Song for the Dumped, Ben Folds Five(Basically anything from the Whatever and Ever, Amen album is going to be awesome. ’FUCK YOU TOO!’ = lyrical brilliance. Not to mention that this is a man who can tickle the ivories with his feet, goddamn.) - Callin’ Baton Rouge, Garth Brooks (Say what you will, I’d throw my underwear on-stage for the guy any day of the week. It takes major cajones to pull off those belt buckles/stetsons/nuthugging wranglers for this many years… and I like a man with confidence. Lots of confidence.)- Lime in the Coconut, Harry Nilsson- damn near anything Janis Joplin/Tina Turner/Aretha Franklin/Gladys Knight- Heaven on Their Minds, Jesus Christ Superstar(never said I was cool, get with it) - Empire Records Soundtrack (Raise your hand if you miss the early nineties. Because I do. Like, totally. [Note: both buzz words of that great era.] Back when we knew how to express angst and watch brilliant teen movies like Heathers and The Craft and wear doc marten combat boots and knee high socks and drool over Jordan Catalano. We were the motherfucking ‘swatch-dogs and diet coke heads,’ admit it.)- Tempted, Squeeze. (Speaking of 90’s magic, have you seen Reality Bites? Dear sweet Jesus… Troy Dyer, I wanted you so badly. Even though that love scene was awk-ward… at least it paled in comparison to the cringe-worthy Molly Ringwald/Andrew McCarthy Pretty in Pink makeout, oy vey.)- You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’, Righteous Brothers
and finally, Got To Give It Up by Marvin Gaye. Also known as the song I listen to on repeat every year on my birthday. Because birthdays fucking suck and it is the fucking best song out there. Period.](http://15.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kuenpi493m1qz7wfjo1_r1_500.jpg)
like a sinner before the gates of heaven, i’ll come crawling on back to you.
Went through a super-intense Meatloaf phase this year. Surely you remember… don’t you? No? The singing voicemails I sent everyone? The vodka-supersoaked karaoke nights? (note to self: kickass party idea). The flash-mob-of-one street scene? Still no? Shit, I introduced myself to people using song lyrics, ‘Hi, my name is Allison, and I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That).’ (The new version of ‘rush chairman, damn glad to meet ya.’)
Fine, I admit… I was a hot mess (capitalized, underlined, boldfaced, italicized, animated font) most of summer 2K9. In summary: ‘Unemployed SWF with OCD/insomnia/80’s rock ballad addiction undergoing epically cliche quarter-life/identity crisis, one bottle/road trip/family reunion/wedding reception/one night stand at a time.’ I was a goddamn catch, no doubt about it. Block it out if you want, but maybe, just maybe, this is what got me through it.
And you know something? Meatloaf? He really got me. I mean it, he was there. for. me. AND IT WAS AWESOME, JERKS.
_____________________________________
**Furthermore, to any and all who may be currently taking up residence in the Bell Jar, I highly recommend my other trusty favorites:**
It’s All Coming Back To Me
(Celine Dion’s MASTERPIECE OF ALL TIME. Which I own on cassette. yes. as in TAPE. An awesome little ditty to play during long travels in confined spaces with others. On repeat. Believe me, this works. Exhibit A: the epic Ohio adventures of an anonymous trio of musically-inspired co-eds January 2K4.)
Right Here Waiting
(Richard Marx, from the glorious bygone era when we all recognized and understood the sexual power implied by sporting the Harlequin-paperback-covermodel-variety mullet). Good times.
Come Sail Away
(Styx, a band that solidifies my theory that anyone who spells their name with a ‘y’ is automatically 10x cooler. Don’t act like you can’t feel the magic… and god knows we rewound/fast-forwarded - again, cassette tapes, sigh - ourselves into a frenzy waiting for the killer uptake at 2:30… OH MY GOD. I WILL SAIL AWAY WITH YOU. IT’S NOT TOO LATE. BRING ON THAT STARSHIP.)
Honorable mentions, aka Coming To An Answering Machine Near You:
- Good Vibrations, Beach Boys
- Fantastic Voyage, Coolio
(I recommend blasting this near large bodies of water, preferably during the summer months.)
- Song for the Dumped, Ben Folds Five
(Basically anything from the Whatever and Ever, Amen album is going to be awesome. ’FUCK YOU TOO!’ = lyrical brilliance. Not to mention that this is a man who can tickle the ivories with his feet, goddamn.)
- Callin’ Baton Rouge, Garth Brooks
(Say what you will, I’d throw my underwear on-stage for the guy any day of the week. It takes major cajones to pull off those belt buckles/stetsons/nuthugging wranglers for this many years… and I like a man with confidence. Lots of confidence.)
- Lime in the Coconut, Harry Nilsson
- damn near anything Janis Joplin/Tina Turner/Aretha Franklin/Gladys Knight
- Heaven on Their Minds, Jesus Christ Superstar
(never said I was cool, get with it)
- Empire Records Soundtrack
(Raise your hand if you miss the early nineties. Because I do. Like, totally. [Note: both buzz words of that great era.] Back when we knew how to express angst and watch brilliant teen movies like Heathers and The Craft and wear doc marten combat boots and knee high socks and drool over Jordan Catalano. We were the motherfucking ‘swatch-dogs and diet coke heads,’ admit it.)
- Tempted, Squeeze.
(Speaking of 90’s magic, have you seen Reality Bites? Dear sweet Jesus… Troy Dyer, I wanted you so badly. Even though that love scene was awk-ward… at least it paled in comparison to the cringe-worthy Molly Ringwald/Andrew McCarthy Pretty in Pink makeout, oy vey.)
- You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’, Righteous Brothers
and finally, Got To Give It Up by Marvin Gaye. Also known as the song I listen to on repeat every year on my birthday. Because birthdays fucking suck and it is the fucking best song out there. Period.
tktc:
Julia Child on Letterman. Thanks, Eat Me Daily.
This is the best thing ever. I laughed so hard, I cried. “its nourishing!” “its chic” Oh gosh, I love Julia.
add this to my insomnia-fueled food-blog reading/watching obsession/rotation.
I’m not a huge OK Go fan, but the behind the scenes look at their new music video is really rad.
excerpts from online discussion with best friend re: this/college/Cleveland, OH/road trips/sex/general geekery/other questionable decisions:
me: what the condom commercials forget to tell you - kindof like the nike shoe commercials, in fact - is that good equipment/attire DOESN’T MAKE YOU AN ATHLETE
and wearing a designer condom doesn’t make you good in bed
fuckwads
me: SPEAKING OF COLLEGE AAAAAHHHHHHH
C: OMG
I FUCKING LOVE THIS
me: yeah, flashbacks
C: that boy bought me a heineken
when i was 20
me: HAHAHAHAHA
you should
make
a tshirt
C: haha wear it to a concert? if only
although.. tim might remember me
me: oh, i dunno
he walked you to your car
that was pretty special
…
C: haha yeah
me: whatever
probably dreams about you at night
reaches out in the dark and calls your name in his sleep, Miss Saigon style
FO SHO
