Looping the Hen

Queen of Jewels

Yay, Kaylee-blog. Her home here.

Some girls do...

I don't often pick up music on CD anymore (or even online), partially to protest the RIAA and their ridiculous stances and policies, as well as most music's ridiculous prices. More often I'll buy bargain bin or used CD's if something catches my fancy. Today, however, I just had to have a particular CD, mostly because I have a song stuck in my head.

Sawyer Brown has been one of my favorite country acts since I started listening to country music in 1999. His music is always good-natured, often spiritual, and sometimes downright funny. I've heard one particular song of his two or three times in the last week and it makes me grin from ear to ear every time I hear it, I think because it reminds me of me nowadays as I tool around in my baby and watch many of the well-groomed Mercedes SUV ladies refuse to even make eye contact.

I happened to be in luck, because the song I wanted was on a $7.99 greatest hits collection at Best Buy. (Picked up Leann Rimes's greatest hits also; BMG was always too stingy to give it to me free)

And thus, in honor of all the girls in the world who have ever dissed me, I give you 'Some Girls Do':

She turned up her nose as she walked by my cadillac From the corner of my eye I saw you and you laughed You were sittin' on the swing on your front porch Paintin' your nails like you were bored And you yelled "She was sure impressed with you"

Chorus:
Well I ain't first class
But I ain't white trash
I'm wild and a little crazy too
Some girls don't like boys like me
Aww but some girls do

I yelled and asked if you would like a ride
When we pulled out of your yard I balled a tire
You was laughing at me, I was doing James Dean
You was the prettiest girl I'd ever seen
When you rolled your eyes and twirled my pink fur dice

Chorus

Well good ole' boys don't get no breaks
And rich boys think they got what it takes
But there's someone for each of us they say

Chorus x2

I said some girls do
You know some girls do
Like boys like me
You know some girls do

Sawyer may be cute enough for the girls, but I'd rather drive around with Leann myself. And yes, I am feeling feeling very full of myself tonight.

Khabeli Nadahreh (I hope that says: You are welcome!)

'Gotcha' was one of the best geek movies of the 80's and I know G-Max and I must have watched it 10 or 20 times when we were growing up. One of the best exchanges:

Jonathan: Oh, Dad, I'm sorry. It was in my backpack when I jumped into the moat.

Maria: You, uh, jumped into a moat?

Al: You jumped in a moat with my Nikon?

Jonathan: Yeah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I had to... I... it's kind of a long story.

Al: I've got all night.

Also good was: 'Jonathan: You're right, I'm on drugs. I'm a junkie, you know, I mainline, I freebase, I put cocaine on my cornflakes...'

And 'mamnoon' as well. Of course I don't know what the above says, I'm only hoping it says what I think it says.

Okay, off to my race! Bonne chance to me!

They really don't lie...

I notice on some of the Livejournal and Xanga pages, people have the 'what they are listening to' icons. I wish MovableType had those!

Anyhoo, I'm currently listening to the lovely Shakira, and Hips Don't Lie.

Also listening to the omnipresent Kelly Clarkson, one of the few singers whose music doesn't seem obnoxious to me after the 7th gajillionth listen.

And lastly, I had in Meatloaf's Bat Out of Hell today, my vote for the #1 album of all time, because for some reason I am feeling vaguely like a 17-year old sneaking out of my mom's house. Maybe more on that later, but I doubt it.;) Sexiest song lyric ever (and the story of my life):

'You were licking your lips and your lipstick shined, and I was dying just to ask for a taste...'

A (C)catholic appeal...

Dad and Tom, you should probably skip this one...;) Racy content ahead, y'all are warned!

God bless 'em. Err, I mean, I was out tonight, when I was accosted by horrid sexist bigotry of the worst kind, proof of the evil patriarchical misogynistic society all around me!

I play poker at Bailey's, a local sports bar, most Wednesday nights. It's free (for the poker), and I get to hang out with friends, enjoy some food and drink, and play some cards. It is usually a fairly quiet affair, with the loudest ruckus caused by the folks watching Tennessee play football or the Pred's playing hockey.

I was having a great day; it was perfect outside, with all remnants of winter barricaded in a back room somewhere, hidden at least until the party guests leave. I washed and vacuumed Luna out for the first time in ages, removing too many layers of grime. (Definitely time for a detailing) So I had the top down and Fall Out Boy blaring on the radio when I drove into the parking lot; it seemed very quiet and I zipped into a front-row parking spot, something akin to some factory workers in Nebraska winning $366 millions dollars. (oh, wait...)

I vaguely remembered earlier in the day that it was Ash Wednesday and the first day of Lent. As usual, I didn't plan on giving anything up; willpower is not one of my stronger suits.

I have to admit I thought I had mistimed Oktoberfest or something when I walked in, as all of the waitresses were dressed to the nines in mini-skirts, stockings and little hot-tops, and many had little pigtails. I'll bet the Hooters' girls down the street looked like amateur pole-dancers compared to the ladies at Bailey's tonight. The waitstaff on poker nights has always been unnaturally attractive, but tonight, well, I thought maybe some terrorist had killed some folks and he was going to cruise by to pick up his virgins.

To be honest, it was vaguely unsettling, as I have a little crush on the waitress that waits on us poker players. I'd never mention it, of course, as she has a nice guy waiting at home. She is sweet, funny, and normally she is lithely attractive; however, today she was 5 feet nothing of pheremone-inducing Lolita. I had to force myself to keep my gaze either over her head or on my food and drink. I heard at least one of the girls was uncomfortable in the outfit, but I'd bet dimes to dollars their tips tonight easily top $200 each.

It's a good thing I ended up going out early (on a horrible full house beat, with me holding 3 Aces), as I know my mind and eyes wander the later the evening gets.

Yes, it was a horrible insensitive sexist ploy to keep the guys drinking and buying. Of course it insults Catholic School Girls everywhere. Of course I am appalled, just appalled!

For some odd reason though...I find myself looking forward to next year. Maybe I'll have something to give up for 40 days by then.

(I just spent a fruitless 10 minutes trying to find a tasteful picture at Google Images to go with this post...but I'm not sure there is one, sorry!)

I rock!

I can't exactly say why I rock, as I'm not sure all ladies would be quite so forgiving being blogged about as some are...but I will ask for permission to tell you why I'm so cool! I can say the universe sent me my distraction, and it isn't a kitten (though that would have been fine too)!

Some days, I just love being me.

At least my car could get a date...

Got a kiss blown at me on my way home by cute blond teenybopper girl with mom in the car (who pointed the neat car out to the girl)...I'm not foolish enough to assume it was my new picture-taking haircut. The young woman who just cut my hair left me with exactly enough to prevent dew from settling on my skull.

I really wish hair grew faster, as getting it cut is one of my favorite things ever, it is both relaxing and somewhat intimate. A good stylist knows to not talk to me and I often get into that awake/sleep midzone that recharges my often-empty batteries.

Reminds me I still owe Jules a post; she's my psychoanalyst masseuse; I haven't forgotten you!

I used to not like Britney...

But now I have this thing where anti-establishment lady musicians who love this country make me very happy.

You're allowed to say that?

Once upon a time, I wouldn't be caught dead listening to 'popular' music. Aerosmith, Guns and Roses, Whitesnake were all huge when I was in high school; being the rebel (*cough*) that I was, I hated anything that sold more than 100,000 copies. To be honest, I guess that is why my album collection was all of 30 strong, mostly Rush and Billy Joel (who was hugely popular yes, but not right then).

The 90's to me was the worst decade of music; even more bland and inane than the 70's. That could also be because I was so hopped up on girl-troubles and nicotine I hardly noticed the 10 years fly by. (But looking back, I didn't miss a heckuva lot)

Something happened to me in the last year or so though; I have developed an addiction to certain styles of music that are definitely not the usual me. Nowadays, if a singer is female, under 20, and worth a gajillion dollars (which is 3 more digits than a gazillion), I can't get enough. Avril, Clarkson, Maria Mena (*swoon*), Ciara, Digarmo, Pink. Add just a little touch of back beat like the Black-Eye Peas, Nina Sky, Beyonce (as well as 20 or more others I don't even know their names) and I am ready to make myself look foolish by attempting to dance.

I guess instead of looking for meaning in every little thing like I did in my coffee-house philosopher days, now I just like liking things. Music, TV, books - if they touch me, I like them; I leave the negative musical or literary analysis to others more qualified than I. Half the songs I love I don't even know the lyrics other than perhaps a line or two of the chorus.

(Read on at own risk, racy content ahead)

There is one other category of music in the pop section I have grown to grin at...they are usually performed by (most likely) oversexed guy bands who probably learned to sing just to get the girls. What I Go To School For, Geeks Get the Girls, and my newest favorite, Sugar, We're Going Down.

I generally decide to love these songs on rhythm alone, as I rarely understand what they are saying. I'm convinced that these bands construct their music with neuro-stealth technology and in such a way that parents (or old people like me) tune out whole songs completely, or just barely catch the happy snappy parts of the chorus. Once in a while, I will Google up some lyrics and I am often amazed at the content. I'm no prude, but sometimes I feel a little taboo like I'm sneaking a peek at the latest Vicky's Secret catalogue. Stuck in the middle of that last song and barely recognizable unless you know what he's saying:

Is this more than you bargained for yet
Oh don't mind me I'm watching you two from the closet
Wishing to be the friction in your jeans
Isn't it messed up how I'm just dying to be him
I'm just a notch in your bedpost
But you're just a line in a song
(Notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a song)

Holy sexified lyrics Batman! Wishing to be the friction in your jeans?!? Not sure what that means exactly, but none of the possible connotations are particularly comforting when the target age group for the song is under 16.

It's not like this is anything new for those of us who remember Frankie Goes to Hollywood or The Knack, but it's still interesting what bands can get away with without the explicit song warning on their records. Remember My Sharona? I used to listen to that song hundreds of times, mostly at the skating rink, but then on every flashback program ever played. And I probably didn't get the 'Oh My God, he just said what??' moment until I had been listening to the song for 15 years. I have bought that album several times because it is such a hoot, and many of the songs are far worse.

My advice to those who think 'I can't believe those kids listen to that' should give them a listen some time. My current favorite? Anyone I work with should be able to guess, and this song is more like the Frederick's catalog than Vicky's.

Democracy and Sexy #1

Chely makes me very happy, and I wanted her to help make sure I got my political framework out there.

America is my country and my home, and I love her. Like my family, who so often forgive me my foibles and failings, America offers me a future, no matter my past.

For those who defend our freedoms every day, whether soldier, sailor, airman or marine, you will always have people who respect your diligence and sacrifice, who pray for your safety, and mourn your fallen.