Monthly Archives: February 2013

I want a plebeian love song because you can’t prove that you would catch that grenade. Can you?

I was listening to my music at work today, as I usually do, when my soulmate decided to mention Ke$ha and cause me to switch my radio station from the mellow Mumford and Sons to the chaotic Ke$ha and everything that came with her.  Most of the music Ke$ha brings with her makes me want to dance, which isn’t the best idea in a work environment and poses a serious problem – you have to physically keep yourself from dancing. It is difficult and annoying.  Dancing is so much more fun than working and, technically, I would be working off calories so…that counts, right?  Anyway, one of the last songs that comes on before quitting time rolls around is “Grenade” by Bruno Mars and it made me wonder why those were things he chose to be construed as romantic.  Why?  Because what are the odds that he could actually prove that he would follow through with any of the over the top claims he states?

I mean, who catches grenades?  Wouldn’t you just duck?  Or bat it away?  Quite frankly I would find it more impressive that he would be able to catch it, regardless of whether or not he was doing it for someone.  Add that to the fact that very few women in the states have to dodge grenades on a regular basis – it just isn’t normal, so what does it prove that you would catch it for someone?

So you would catch a grenade AND you would take a bullet straight to the head?  Again, I do understand that this is probably a problem in several areas but it isn’t a common problem. Oh, and you would jump in front of a train.  Like? If someone asked you to?  You would just do it?  Because I feel like the proper way to state that would be that you would rescue your loved one from in front of the train.  Though if she is standing there she is probably asking for it so you might as well just stand next to her since you also say you will die for her.  Instead of for her die with her.  THAT’S love.

So after all this it made me wonder what true love was to us plebeian folks.  How about buying her tampons?  For example:

Bitch, I would buy tampons for you.
I would walk in the store and go straight to that aisle for you.
Surreptitiously walk down that aisle for you.
Hope I find the right ones for you.
Head over to the (self) checkout for you.
Bring home those damn feminine products for you.
Yeah I would buy tampons for you.

That would really show love especially since in all likelihood she was too lazy and forgetful to get them for herself.  Also, this is clearly a bad rap song because I am incapable of rhyming unless it is on accident.

Other possible additions to my new age rap song:

  1. I would let you have control over the remote and sit there and watch whatever you choose even though I doubt it will be able to hold my attention for very long and I would much rather be gauging my eyeballs out with blunt objects.
  2. I would go dancing with you even though, quite frankly, I would rather take the bullet to the head.
  3. I would see a terrible chick flick with you and not fall asleep or play on my phone for the duration.
  4. I would listen to you prattle on about drama among your friends that you are only perpetuating by constantly talking about it and act like I cared.
  5. I would bite my tongue when I am actually dying to ask how much all the bags of clothes cost that you just waltzed in with.

These are things I think would make a good love song.  Well…probably a really bad song, but it would be sincere and, more than likely, incredibly amusing to listen to.


It’s not a date!, Pinky and The Brain do Pizza, and Boy Band – no s

My week thus far has been interesting…ish.  On Sunday I met up with a guy I had met at the dog park during my week of dog sitting and I think I did something wrong.  See, when I met Mr. Dog Park it was at night and he was wearing a hat so I didn’t really pay much attention to what he looked like figuring I would never see him again but of course, at the end of the night, he asked for my number because he is semi new to the area and wanted me to show him around Dallas.  So we were going to the gun range and possibly food afterwards but come Sunday I didn’t feel like doing either so I reluctantly dragged myself to the range thinking shooting something might alter my mood.  I ended up walking in first and was about to text Dog Park when he walked in because I heard, “behind you.”  When I turned around I thought I was facing the doppleganger for Andre from The League.  A younger version of him but him none the less.  In all honesty he kind of talked like him too.  It was weird.

Paul Scheer

Turned out that shooting did nothing to change my mood.  Maybe because I hate indoor ranged or maybe because I prefer rifles but I was done after a few shots and ready to leave. When I told Dog Park I was done he seemed bemused and looked at me like I had just spoken in a different language.  I left the range and sat inside to wait for him to finish feeling only slightly bad that I had wasted his time.  Before I had left for the range Mr. Perfect told me that it was a date but I was quite adamant in informing him that it was most definitely not since we were just going to hang out.  But since Sunday I have not heard from Dog Park and I am thinking Mr. Perfect might have been right about the whole date thing.  In which case I am a complete bitch.  But whatever, I can’t ALWAYS be perfect.  Although, apparently Mr. Perfect is always right.  It’s fucking annoying.

So the rest of Sunday was spent relaxing and dreading work the next morning.  Unfortunately, upon getting up when I didn’t want to, making myself presentable when makeup seemed like a time-wasting enemy, and driving all the way there when I suddenly had a personal vendetta towards everyone on the road, I arrived in the parking lot only to find out that – lucky me – work was closed.  President’s Day and all that. If only someone had informed me of this, that would have been nice because I don’t know about you, but I absolutely live for getting up early when there is no need for it as well as wasting gas.  It is on my list of top ten favorite activities, right up there with getting paper cuts, ending a relationship, and having bacon grease pop in my eye.  Though I suppose if I am going to do all those things I don’t want to finding out that you have the day off is probably the best pot of gold you could find at the end of that shit rainbow.

After being completely lazy the rest of the day Brain invited me to come over for wine, pizza, and a movie where I got to have some seriously good girl talk with a girl that I am seriously glad I met! You know those people in your life that you meet almost by accident and, after a spell, realize that you aren’t quite sure how you have lived so long without them?  She is one of those people.  We are similar in all the right ways and always have something to talk about.  We both practice tolerance towards people with differing opinions and care about sports more than normal and it is pretty awesome, we should all have friends like this.

We chose to watch The Perks of Being a Wallflower which was better than I ever imagined.  I know I liked the book but the movie may have been better.  And when the movie was almost over and I was wondering what I would do after I got a message from a friend who I hadn’t seen in awhile asking if I wanted to hang out, which I most definitely did.  We met at my bar and my entrance was poetic.  Since it was my bar I knew several people there, most of whom I hadn’t seen in quite awhile so I went around and said hi and hugged everyone before making a proper greeting to the friend I had actually come to see.  I felt cool. But I am most decidedly not.  This made me happy.

So…my friend…He had boy band hair without even trying. It was beyond fantastic. I touched it and I promise you there was no product in it, or at least it didn’t feel like it. I wanted to take a picture with him and post it on Facebook and just caption it, “OMG! GUESS WHO I MET!” just to see how many people would try and guess some random person.  I wouldn’t admit it out loud but I have a love for boy bands because I was, after all, once a teeny-bopper and couldn’t help but be obsessed with NSYNC and Backstreet Boys. Even now I love/hate boy bands. Mostly hate because…well…they are boy bands and generally make me want to pierce my eardrums with blunt pencils…repeatedly. But I can’t help loving One Direction for the simple fact that when I was sad and felt unattractive post-breakup with HIM my soulmate would always randomly send me lyrics to “What Makes You Beautiful” and now every time I hear that song I have to turn it up and belt it out. No matter what mood I’m in it will instantly make me happy. If Boy Band had broke out into that song I would have taken him at the bar! I’m just kidding…I would have at least taken it out to the parking lot.  I’m classy like that.

I went onto YouTube just now to get the video and post it here for those of you unlucky people who have never experienced the horrifying greatness of this song and realized that I had never watched the video.  Now…there is so much fun to be made about the video but I won’t start.  I know you will do enough of that for yourself.  It is so bad that, had my soulmate not given me a reason to love it, I would completely hate it. There is one good thing that came from watching this, it reminded me that when I brought up One Direction to Boy Band that he mentioned their being English.  HE brought it up.  I had no idea.  Maybe we have a One Direction connection!

Until next time, remember to stay popular, always assume it’s a date, and never underestimate the power of your hair.  And may your week be stocked with liquor, filled with friends, and ended with madness.


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