The final countdown — it is on!

OK, I've officially made it to October so it's go time, baby! 

In honor of my last few days of pregnancy, I wrote this song. I thought I'd put forth some extra effort, especially since this might be the last post for a couple weeks. Please note my seesawing, hormonal affections towards my husband, mostly based on whether or not he's giving me food at the time, obviously. 

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On the final day of pregnancy, my jerk face husband gave to me an extra load of his laundry.

On the 2nd last day of pregnancy, my high blood pressure gave to me two puffy cankles.

And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 3rd last day of pregnancy, my doctor gave to me three Labetalols.

Two puffy cankles.

And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 4th last day of pregnancy, my true love gave to me four tubes of Pringles.

Three Labetalols.

Two puffy cankles.

And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 5th last day of pregnancy, my cravings gave to me five iced coffeeeeees.

Four tubes of Pringles.

Three Labetalols.

Two puffy cankles.

And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 6th last day of pregnancy, my baby gave to me six extra kilos.

Five iced coffeeeeees.

Four tubes of Pringles.

Three Labetalols.

Two puffy cankles.

And an extra load of his laundry. 

On the 7th last day of pregnancy, my doctor gave to me seven more goddamn days.

Six extra kilos.

Five iced coffeeeeees.

Four tubes of Pringles.

Three Labetalols.

Two puffy cankles.

And an extra load of his laundry. 

On the 8th last day of pregnancy, my whiny husband gave to me eight panicked texts.

Seven more goddamn days.

Six extra kilos.

Five iced coffeeeeees.

Four tubes of Pringles.

Three Labetalols.

Two puffy cankles.

And an extra load of his laundry. 

On the 9th last day of pregnancy, my baby gave to me nine toilet trips.

Eight panicked texts.

Seven more goddamn days.

Six extra kilos.

Five iced coffeeeeees.

Four tubes of Pringles.

Three Labetalols.

Two puffy cankles.

And an extra load of his laundry. 

On the 10th last day of pregnancy, my inner teenager gave to me ten throbbing zits.

Nine toilet trips.

Eight panicked texts.

Seven more goddamn days.

Six extra kilos.

Five iced coffeeeeees.

Four tubes of Pringles.

Three Labetalols.

Two puffy cankles.

And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 11th last day of pregnancy, my true love gave to me eleven bites of poutine.

Ten throbbing zits.

Nine toilet trips.

Eight panicked texts.

Seven more goddamn days.

Six extra kilos.

Five iced coffeeeeees.

Four tubes of Pringles.

Three Labetalols.

Two puffy cankles.

And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 12th last day of pregnancy, my fucking hormones gave to me twelve creepy skin tags.

Eleven bites of poutine.

Ten throbbing zits.

Nine toilet trips.

Eight panicked texts.

Seven more goddamn days.

Six extra kilos.

Five iced coffeeeeees.

Four tubes of Pringles.

Three Labetalols.

Two puffy cankles.

And an extra load of his laundry-eee-eee-eee.

Push it or not to push it

Here's a little song I've been singing to myself ever since I was told last week there's a good chance I could deliver this baby "naturally". I'm experiencing intense mixed emotions, for sure. Eik. Sing along, if you like -- I'm pretty sure you all know it :)

Ah, push it
Ah, push it

Oooh, baby, baby

A 9lb baby?!

The vaginal abyss!

Ow! Baby!

The decision's here!

[Now wait a minute, y'all

This pushin’ ain't for everybody

Only the flexi people

So all you fly mothers, get on out there and push

PUSH, I said!]

The decision's here, and the doc

Wants me to push it, babe

Always thought I’d get another C, so it’s a shock

The recovery time’s better, that we all know

But I didn’t overly want my hairy vaj to be put on show

To push it

Ah, push it - push it good

Ah, push it - push it real good

Hey! Ow!

Drugs are good!

Oooh, baby, baby

A 9lb baby?!

Yo, yo, yo, yo, baby-pop

Yeah, you -- don’t gimme a kiss

Better get me the drugs or else I'm gonna get pissed

Can't handle the thought of poopin’ too, like I know I could.

Don’t push it…

Or push it good

P-push it real good

Oh, shit.

The vaginal abyss!

Boy, you’re now gettin’ the snip

If I have to experience my lady bits rip.

Ah, push it.

These zits are bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

I've gone and done another song for your listening/reading displeasure. This time around it's to the tune of Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani. Listen to this glorious ear worm of a song while you read along . . . if you feel so inclined. If you don't catch yourself humming about zits or bananas after reading this at some point day, I'll consider myself a goddamn failure.

Uh huh, there's another zit.
I need to stomp my feet like this

A few times I've been around this track
So I'm pissed it still happens like that
Because I ain't no dirty crack girl
I ain't no dirty crack girl

Ooooh ooh, squeeze my zit, pop my zit (x4)

I knew about this festive shit
And I thought maybe I could resist it
Families offer us chocolate crap, getting everybody fattened up
So I've gotta accept the flack, gonna pick this ack'
Gonna go to town, gonna squeeze it out
That's right, put those bon-bons down, getting everybody fattened up

A few times I've been around this track
So I'm pissed it still happens like that
Because I ain't no dirty crack girl
I ain't no dirty crack girl

Ooooh ooh, squeeze my zit, pop my zit (x4)

So that's right dude, check out this double feature
No Clearasil, no "healthy preachers"
Gotta have fun and be a sinner, cuz these holidays only come once
So my pants'll get tight, gonna drink 'til I crawl
Sure ain't no porcelain doll, gonna have a pallor hue
That's right I'll be expanding as I bite another pumpkin pie crust

A few times I've been around this track
So I'm pissed it still happens like that
Because I ain't no dirty crack girl
I ain't no dirty crack girl

Ooooh ooh, squeeze my zit, pop my zit (x4)

Let me hear you say these zits are bananas.

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

(These zits are bananas)
(B-A-N-A-N-A-S)
Again
These zits are bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
(These zits are bananas)
(B-A-N-A-N-A-S)

A few times I've been around this track
So I'm pissed it still happens like that
Because I ain't no dirty crack girl
I ain't no dirty crack girl

Ooooh ooh, squeeze my zit, pop my zit (x4)

Because who doesn't love dirty words?

I've only been home with the boys for one week . . . five damn days . . . and I'm already sinking deeper into my shameful, juvenile self-amusement to help pass the time. Don't get me wrong, it's been amazing not being in a RUSH to get anywhere, but of course, I have my moments.

Like this one - since apparently, I cannot be trusted with alphabet beads - I thought I might as well share my warped, yet satisfying word making joy with the rest of you! (And yes, Bearded Iris, I thought of you most of all. And that's why we're friends.)

So here's the deal: There are TEN dirty words in this jumble. THIS IS NOT A FUCKING WORD SEARCH. It's just all the letters of 10 words jumbled together in a hot mess; there are no extra decoy letters, I promise. Get it? Good.

I will give one hint: DOUCHEBAG is not one of the words.

The convenient thing is that just a short while ago, I received TWO copies of Michelle Rumball's new album with a personal "thank you" from her and I'd been meaning to figure out how I was going to give them away. Who's Michelle Rumball, you ask? Remember when I did that video a while back? That's the musician and yes, THAT song is on the album. She's pretty fantastic! If you enjoyed the video, you'll love the album!

So, those are the prizes; and I have twoooo. Enter your 10 word guesses in the comments -- two people who get them all right (or the closest to getting them all right) will get sent this fabulous CD.

Forgot the song? Oooh, here it is . . . (cough, cough, self promotion, cough, cough)

And yes, I was doing all this while the boys were making "I LOVE GRANDMA" bracelets. 

I realize I'm a horrible mother, whatever. 

They can't read yet! 

Ahem.

My Top 10 Soundtracks

I did my Top 10 Albums before, but there were a few that I purposely left out of the list and even from the honorable mentions because I believe they deserved an entirely different list: Soundtracks. They are usually an eclectic arrangement of songs that embody the movie; it is an art form all by itself. There are many that have one or two songs but the rest can be a bit vague, but some are simply brilliant, from beginning to end. Here are my favorites:

10. The Crow - It's dark but has some pretty awesome songs from The Cure, Stone Temple Pilots, NIN and Rage Against the Machine, to name just a few.

9. Mallrats - I don't know what I like better, the songs or the dialogue segments in between them. They all consist of "deep and meaningful" observations from Jason Lee, JEREMY LONDON (cough, cough) or Jason Mewes taken from the movie.
"But they're engaged."
"Doesn't matter. It can't happen."
"Why not? It's bound to come up."
"It's impossible. Lois could never have Superman's baby. Do you think her fallopian tubes could handle his sperm? I guarantee she blows a lobe like a shotgun right through her back."

8. The Lion King - I had to put one in here, and although I have most of the Disney movies' soundtracks, if I had to choose just one, it would have to be this one. No contest. Hakuna Matata.

7. Dirty Dancing - The odd thing about this soundtrack is that practically all of the songs, on their own, I would NEVER have listened to, but since they're in this movie, all I can picture is Baby & Johnny and my heart melts. Sylvia? Yes Mickey!

6. Singles - Two words: Seattle grunge.

5. Pump Up The Volume - Wave of Mutilation. Picture it: It's the late 80s and Christian Slater is on top of the world.

4. Bram Stoker's Dracula - It seems as though I could never study with music that contains lyrics because I just start singing along and lose all concentration, so I used this soundtrack all throughout University as my study music . . . and for some sexy times, of course.

3. Pulp Fiction & Reservoir Dogs - Sorry, but these two go together; they always will.

2. William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet - Some pretty awesome songs on here - a really well put together, kick-ass album that pounds throughout the movie like hallucinogenic drugs screaming through your veins.

1. Moulin Rouge - I quote movies in my every day vocabulary... a lot. But this is a movie that recycles songs to express their feelings? Oh my lord, that's just taking it to a whole new level. Plus, Ewan McGregor is singing - I can't see anything else topping that; neither can Mr. Purple. AHEM.

Honorable Mentions:
If Lucy Fell - They used the entire album by Marry Me Jane as their soundtrack. If you like Alanis Morrisette and Sheryl Crow, Marry Me Jane is wedged nicely in between them. Fabulous!

Shine - If I'm ever in a Classical mood, I'll put in the soundtrack to this movie. I thought Geoffrey Rush was brilliant in this movie, and the piano solos took my breath away, especially the 'Flight of the Bumble Bee' scene in the restaurant.

Heathers - Yes, there is a soundtrack. It is all instrumental and completely consists of 80s synthesizer riffs. If you love the movie, as I do, (that especially means you, SAHMlovingit) you will laugh so hard at all the dramatic tsh-tsh-tsh...ka-ka-ka's throughout the arrangements. I must admit, I don't really listen to it, but it's one I'm glad that resides in my collection.


Which ones would make your list?

Vagina on Fire

(Alternate title: The Antibiotics Lament)
Please feel free to sing this to the tune of Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon. . . 

Ya know, if you want.

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It's like my vaj's dying

I hope no one's around

I shouldn't be scratchin' 

But I'm scratchin'

Applying the lotion

The hubs wants to play 

But I'm cock blockin' 

Blockin'

Yaa-ho

My vaj is on fire

In the darkness of my valley

There'll be no foreplay 

This yeast is thrivin' 

It's thrivin' 

I'm really hopin' 

That Vagisil's on sale. 

It feels like I'm dyin' 

I'm dyin'

Yaa-ho

My vaj is on fire

Consumed

With an itch that is dire 

Hot as a fever

Down in my zone

Don't taste it 

What the fuck is wrong with you? 

It's not forever 

It's just my current plight 

I just had the greatest, 
The greatest. . .
Scratch of my life. 

Yaa-ho

My vaj is on fire

Yaa-ho

My vaj is on fire

Yaa-ho

My vaj is on fire

Consumed

With an itch that is dire

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I have also posted over at In The Powder Room! It's about trying to find gawd damn Wall.E toys in NYC (or anywhere other than eBay for that matter). Let's just say that it was good motherfucking times.

Get Better

I don't think I've done a Music Monday for about 6 months, gah! Since I've been busy stuffing pocket rocket boxes with my business cards for BlogHer '12, I thought now is a good a time as any. Also? This may not be a new song, but it's new to me and it blew my gawd damn mind...

When music is used as a tool 

to share a vital message about the state of our society, 

(and not just about screwing hos or how much money you have), 

my heart swells with pride. 

And after hearing this, I'm bursting. 

Please watch if you haven't already - 

and if you have children in high school, 

watch it with them!

"..there are other choices --- if you want them, 
You don't have to tow the line and just float with the flotsam, 
You can build your time better when you find a passion, 
The Internet and public services give free education, 
So it really ain't a case of rich or poor, 
It's a case of self-motivation and nothing more, 
Like Billy says, whether you have or you have not wealth, 
The system might fail you, but don't fail yourself, 
Just get better."

Let Your Backbone Slide

Apparently, there's been a mini trend for celebs (like Justin Beeeaver and The Queen) to make an appearance at weddings. That's cool and all, blardy, bar, bar... but THEN... then I saw something pretty motherfucking fantastic on the news yesterday. ->>

That's right, y'all. It's thee one and only Maestro Fresh Wes walking in while the groom is busting away on his (ridiculously famous, if you're Canadian) song, Let Your Backbone Slide.

HOW WICKED IS THE LOOK ON THE GROOM'S FACE?!
(or the bride's, for that matter ;)

LOVE IT.

So, of course I had to spread the love around and tell other people. Then, this was my morning...

My mind? Melted.

I'm not sure why he's calling me Ma... must be a Toronto thing. I've been out of the city for a little while, but it's totally OK. Ya know why? Because he's the fucking Maestro - that's why!

It got me to thinking - what would be the top songs that I love to sing along to (even in public, usually at weddings) and that I would completely lose my shit in the best possible way if these performers made a coincidental appearance to show me how it's done. These are specifically the songs I haven't heard in forever and actually don't even own copies of them (honestly, I don't, except Shoop - I need to start building my back catalog for realzies) but when they come on? Holy shit! I bust it out and sing them word-for-word since I have no shame... and basically because I'm a bat crap crazy white girl like that.

10. Digital Underground

Humpty Dance

9. Young MC

Bust A Move

8. Sir Mix-A-Lot

Baby Got Back (I Like Big Butts)

7. Tone-Lōc

Wild Thing or Funky Cold Medina (They're pretty much the same song)

6. Naughty By Nature

O.P.P.

  

5. DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince

Parent's Just Don't Understand

4. Beastie Boys

So What Cha Want

3. Maestro Fresh Wes

Let Your Backbone Slide

2. House of Pain

Jump Around

And by a landslide, also currently the ONLY song I've ever done (sober) karaoke to...

1. Salt N Pepa

Shoop

So, I'll pass it on to you...

What old school songs make you lose your freaking mind when they come on?

Posthumous. Isn't that a dip?

Oh, Whitney, Whitney, Whitney.

I thought I was going to be able to hold my tongue and mourn in silent protest over the passing of my number one biggest role model from when I was a girl.

But the slander just keeps on rolling out. I really didn't want to see her coffin photo.
Or the crime scene photos either. But they are rammed down my throat at every turn. I couldn't even load my groceries on to the conveyor belt (with my children in tow) without seeing images of her sprawled out in the tub.

STOP THAT!

Why? Well, besides the fact that it's macabre and disturbing, it is completely fucking irrelevant.

It's the pettiness and judgmental douche bags that are making me ill. If she died quietly in her bed from a long battle with cancer, I'm sure we would be hearing an entirely different tune. It would be the Whitney Lament, not the Whitney Torment.

She's dead, mother fuckers. Let it go!

And it is nothing new. I'm not shocked in the slightest; I'm just annoyed.

I just wish people could focus on the amazing music that will live on as her legacy. That's how we remember her. It is how we SHOULD remember her. Everyone has their demons to bear, and whether it's because of their genius or because of their fame that magnifies it... it is tragic.

Michael Jackson.
Kurt Cobain.
Keith Haring.
Elvis.
Jimi Hendrix.
Karen Carpenter.
Oscar Wilde.

Imagine if Van Gogh cut his own ear off and sent it to a friend in today's "TMZ society"!
Or the fact that Gauguin likely gave a third of the native female adolescent population on Tahiti syphilis.
Or that Caravaggio was quite partial to young boys.

But time goes on. And when the paint is dry and the notes are written, that's all that is really important. All the extenuating circumstances surrounding how they lived and died are entirely inconsequential.

When they were alive, they created great art. Art that will live on long after they, and their children's children are gone.

So, to Whitney Houston, thank you for having lived, for having sung so beautifully, and for leaving us with your voice.
It was you that made me fall in love with music.

Hangover Square - Premiere!

It's here. It's finished. 

Hell yeah!

I am so proud to present the video that has been a long haul coming. I couldn't be happier with it! The first (second, third... eighth) time I viewed the first cuts, I totally may have wept. Oooh, yes. I really enjoyed directing and seeing what I had envisioned when I wrote this actually come into fruition. It's almost surreal and I love it.

When I first got the idea, I knew exactly what song I had in mind, and Kevin Quain (writer of the song) was utterly amazing to let me not only use it, but to take full creative rein over the production. Michelle Rumball's interpretation of Kevin's song is both heart-breaking and beautiful.

AJ Leitch, who shot and edited the majority of the video is a gawd damn genius. And my actors, Mara Finn and Nathan Kyght rocked my world and gave me lady wood, for real. Tina and The Cameron House were so gracious in allowing me to use their places. Everyone really came through for me and I'll be forever grateful for that.

And yes, look out for my shameless, yet highly strategic Lady E product placement. AHEM.

If you enjoyed it, PLEASE spread the word so it can get the exposure that I believe it deserves.

Without further adieu, I present Hangover Square, performed by Michelle Rumball.

 

Dementor of Heat

It is the most energy I've had for over a month, so guess what, darling... we're doing it! Got it?

Good.

A little bit of this, and a lot of sweating to that.
Yes, honey. THAT goes in right THERE... I know it's been a while. Ahem.

Excellent.

Need a third party processor? I just put in new batteries. Here you go...

Fabulous!

Afterwards, we're lying with our legs intertwined. Comfortable.

Hub: How is it that so soon after sex, you are cold already? You're the Ice Queen.

Me: This isn't anything new. You've been calling me that for years.

Hub: Well, it still amazes me. You are like.... a thief of my heat. No. A Dementor! But not of souls; of heat.

Me: It's a good thing I'm just as nerdy as you, so to appreciate the awesomeness of that.

Hub: Sure. It wasn't meant to please you though.

Me: How could it not? We just had sex and you call me a Dementor of Heat. You made a movie reference -- that's soooo romantic!

Hub: You're warped. You know that, right?

Then I started singing 'Canned Heat' by Jamiroquai.
He didn't appreciate it. He deep sighed, rolled over and cocooned himself into his sheets, covering his ears.
Gawd damn party pooper!

"Dance! Nothing left for me to do but dance off

these bad times I'm going through, just dance.

Got canned heat in my heals tonight baby, Whoooooo!"

UPDATE
Sorry! Perhaps I should have put THIS version instead. GOSH!
This is for you, Sarcasm Goddess :)

Dear Me, STFU!

This week was a monumental milestone for me on The Twitter -- I surpassed 20,000 tweets. For those of you that aren't on The Twitter, that means I've spewed out over 20,000 useless thoughts and opinions into the interwebisphere. It's both amusing and horrifying. What else would/should I have been doing during all that time? Working? Sleeping? Eating? ...Fucking? 

OK, so that last one is wishful hindsight, but still, you get the idea.

I told everyone I was going to make myself a 'Shut The Fuck Up' cake when I reaching this number, and I may be many things, but full of shit is NOT one of them. Here's my fabulous cake - it was pumpkin with cheesecake vanilla icing... and boobs.
Buddy Valastro? Eat your fucking heart out. Okay, maybe not; it's pretty ghetto. I should stick to graphic design.

The best part? My in-laws came over last minute. I smoothed over the writing and ate the nipples. And they were very impressed with its flavouring as I watched them chow down a slice of my boob cake sans nipples. Yummy!

Ooooooh! And speaking of STFU cakes... here is a song by CAKE: Shut The Fuck Up. 

See what I did just there? Oh, yeah!

CRANK IT!

(except if you're at work or have kids around)

Have a fabulous Monday, everyone!
xo

The X-Factor revealed!

WORLD EXCLUSIVE! 
Brace yourselves, people!
OK, so it was 4am and I had 7 pints of cider and long since lost my voice
from attempting to talk over the horrific 80s rock cover band. It took me 3 days to recover.
And, well... I'll let the rest speak, or rather, sing for itself. Ahem.

It has occurred to me that since Adele is currently suffering from vocal cord hemorrhaging
(which is truly a terrible thing), this rendition might actually be a lot more accurate than originally thought.
I'm going to hell, I'm aware of that. If anyone wants to join me down there, just know that I'll be the fucking headliner!
Owe, indeed.

PS. All of you bitching about me doing a vlog, you can now shut it, because this is the best you're going to get.

Dance, Dance, Dance

One of the writing prompts for Mama Kat's this week is to write about a slow dancing experience. Good gawd! Just one? Seriously? I can't do it -- but what I can do is a Top 10 of kerfuffles that I lived through at various dances and proms. In addition, I also can usually remember the song that surrounded any given said teenage train-wreck. Good. Fucking. Times.

10. Getting kicked in the face from some asshole that was crowd surfing... at a prom. I had a sexy L-shaped gash on my forehead which coordinated nicely with my wine-colored dress. (Smells Like Teen Spirit, Nirvana)

9. Leaving half way through the dance to give my boyfriend a blow job behind the balcony bleachers. (I Will Always Love You, Whitney Houston) There's humming music if I ever heard it. Ahem.

8. Getting together (Everything I Do, Bryan Adams) AND breaking up with Marcus during the same night. (My Prerogative, Bobby Brown) It's definitely a record for my shortest relationship... approximately 7 songs. I never even got to feel his junk.

7. Having Justin slow dance with me was bliss in itself, and then he started squeezing my ass. I was so excited, I almost passed out from the euphoria. I thought this was it... we were finally going to hook up. Oh my god, Stephanie! Keep your fucking cool! ... Ummm... nope. He was just ridiculously drunk and ended up with some random girl that resembled a Treasure Troll later that night. (End of the Road, Boyz II Men)

6. Making out with my first 'real' high school boyfriend during the entire length of Stairway to Heaven, which I recounted in a previous post, describing how we both looked at each other, smiled and then we partook in some rather shamelessly sloppy PDA in the middle of the dance floor... for the entire 8 minute epic. It was a long time not to come up for air! One of the senior girls from the basketball team slapped me hard on the ass while yelling really loudly, "Way to go, baby skank!"

5. I was asked to dance by one of the older guys from the basketball team. I couldn't really say no, politics and what not, so off I went to the middle of the dance floor with him. As soon as he brought me close I smelled it - his fucking putrid stale body odor. Holy shit, it was noxious. Oh yes... and his giant boner poking into my pelvic bone didn't help matters much either. And the song? Fucking November Rain by Guns N' Roses, which I should mention is NINE MINUTES LONG. I decided to NOT focus on the stinky penis burrowing into my stomach and rather on not vomiting instead.

4. Upon hearing Welcome to the Jungle at our Senior Formal after about 6 Bacardi and Cokes, I located a Mike's Hard Lemonade baseball cap (its origins is still a mystery) and squeezed it over my $80 up-do and proceeded to throw myself into a drunken mosh pit. The hat didn't exactly match my velvet and satin mermaid gown... which also ripped. Classy.
*I should also mention our year was the LAST year they "legally" allowed alcohol at the formal. Oops!

3. I did mushrooms at a MuchMusic video dance party and I-HAD-A-BAD-EXPERIENCE. Lasers, dry ice, crowds of people and Marilyn Mason's The Beautiful People video did NOT mix well when hallucinating. I'm chalking that one up to a hard-earned life lesson.

2. In grade 10, the first major public appearance of myself with my latest boyfriend was at a school dance. When we started making out on the dance floor, some people were aghast and noticeably offended. As it turned out, a majority of the student body assumed we were brother and sister because we had the same last name. Nope, just coincidence, people! Nothing to see here but two completely unrelated horny teenagers. Thanks. (With or Without You, U2)

1. Slow dancing with one of the older 'jocks' that I had an unhealthy fascination with. We had both been drinking and he started to put the moves on me. I was currently in a fight with a freshly ex-boyfriend, so I was also feeling all 90210ishly vengeful and slutty. I started making out with him, feeling his sweaty upper lip smear all over my face. I thought I would have enjoyed it, but I was disgusted with his 'over enthusiastic' tongue which was like a pointy slug having a seizure in my mouth. It's important to also note that he was only 5'1". It is most likely that this night marked the turning point that began my downward spiraling and paralyzing aversion to little people. (Closer, NIN) Ugh.

And in honor of this post, I couldn't resist!

She Once Believed

During my February is Music Month, I had reminisced on how Pearl Jam have been and will always be my favorite band of all time. I'll admit that I don't necessarily listen to them a lot these days, but when a goodie comes on the radio, I always have to crank it.

Such good music; 
such great memories forever intertwined with that music.

I had explained how seeing them perform live had me experiencing an uncontrollable reaction of breaking down into tears from a song. Black, to be more precise. A reaction I had previously thought was only experienced by crazed girls chasing after boy bands. I was wrong. I got it then -- I get it now.

So now it's come that time again that they are touring, but it's not just any tour - it's the 20th Anniversary of Ten. How fucking old do I feel? Well... as it turned out, about as old as everyone else at the concert! Not a single hormonal pre-teen in sight! It was bliss. (Especially after attempting to recover from the horrors experienced at the Katy Perry concert.)

I was looking forward to hearing all  the songs that make my lady bits reverberate, but once again, I was taken by surprise. The opening cords of Nothingman began to play. Out of nowhere, all the little hairs at the back of my neck prickled. Next, there was the pause... wait for it... and then he cried out...

She once believed...in every story he had to tell...

One day she stiffened...took the other side...

And I was done. Tears. Like a baby. Happy tears. Streaming down my face.
I was even doing bottom-of-the-lip quivers. What the hell, dammit!

What more can I say - except for that even after twenty years, that man's voice and words can touch me in places like no one else. I'd easily consider me and Eddie's relationship the best I've ever had :)

Because of All of You

Upon my arrival in Indianapolis, there was a tribute to the lost and the heroes of 9/11.

I stopped.

I prayed; I don't do that very often, but I did.

I took this photo.

I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you that left so many amazing comments on my last post. It definitely took me aback in the very best way possible. 

I promise I'll be back to my usual deviant self on Wednesday, but today? 

I thank all of you.

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Little Green Bag

Ahhh, the 70s. It's time to harken back to a time when things were simpler. OK, scratch that, they were pretty damn complicated, but nevertheless, whenever I hear George Baker Selection's Little Green Bag two things happen.

1. The heavy bass sets my dog into a complete fucking frenzie, which is equally annoying and entertaining.

And

2. I remember Jim. Yes, yes. I could easily make an entire compliation playlist of songs that remind me of him, by my gawd, this is one of the top. Whether it was the soundtrack to Reservoir Dogs, or the actual movie playing in the background, there was a lot of fun going on in the, umm, foreground. Tarantino? You rocked the early 90s!

"K-BILLY's Super Sounds Of The Seventies Weekend just keeps on coming with this little ditty,
that reached up to 21 in May, of 1970, The George Baker Selection, Little Green Bag..."



Upon further reseaching for this song, I discovered that Tom Jones covered this with The Barenaked Ladies.
How friggin' cool is that?! It's true that it lacks the bass that the GBS version has which vibrates my lady bits,
but it's still a not too shabby of a renditon. Plus, I love my 'Naked Ladies, so I'll show my support.



And to those who get today off, happy friggin' Labor Day party people!
I never experienced labor and I sit on my arse all day at my job, so the jokes on today, I think. Suck it!
Have a drink for me and take off those white slacks, not because it's Labor Day...
because they are white slacks. Eww.

I Haven't Had Enough

Yes! It's true - I survived last week's filming. It was fucking awesome, but I think I was running on adrenaline for the better part of the week because I completely crashed over the weekend. I edited three photos from the shoot and I needed to take a nap.

Photos will be going up on Wednesday, by the way, so... easy there, killers. I know you all cannot wait though! Or maybe it's just me thinking that you can't wait, when, in fact, it's just me. I enjoy the fantasy though - so I'm going to stick with that delusion.

At the same time as I was being a busy little music video director/producer on Friday, Marianas Trench released their latest grand production for their single Haven't Had Enough. It's so fucking camp; I love it. Josh is ridiculous - it needs to be said. He had me at the lame French 'stache in the first scene. Also? His over-dramatics when the silver mime lunges at him. Hi-larious.

I have a new found appreciation for these productions now. When I saw this on Friday, aside from the comedy, all I could think of was how much effort and planning it must have took to produce this grand spectacle. A whole fucking lot, that's how much. I got tired just thinking about it.

If I get more opportunities to do other directing and/or producing, I'll have to find a way to get a better quality of sleep somehow...
or start drinking more.

That Beautiful Insanity

It's about that time that I need to do one of my not at all famous triple run-down of shit that's been going on and also this time, it's to spill a little bit of beans about a project I have been working frantically on.

Firstly, the last Monday Music Moves Me that I did was 2 weeks ago. It was for Mary Me Jane, and it was a song called Twenty-one. Then, last week, I got a giant comment to which I first scanned through quickly as I was a bit confused but then I calmed down and re-read it, realizing it was actually from Amanda Kravat, the lead singer from Mary Me Jane. Holy Mutha Fucking Shit! It was awesome and a real honor to have her check out what I had to say and for HER to actually thank ME for posting it. She's so lovely! No, Amanda. Thank YOU for writing such powerful lyrics and incredible songs that I have loved for so many years. I cannot wait to hear your new material, truly!

Secondly, although I have been dropping hints every now and then about actors, filming, and vague references to videos on The Twitter, I am, in fact directing and producing a music video this week, starting tomorrow! More importantly, the concept of the video is based on my story of Jim - our past and the 'alternate ending' I had written. It's all so very exciting and also ridiculously over-whelming. If I ever post again after today, you'll know I've remotely survived this experience.

Thirdly, this week's theme is School. I'm sure there are others that I'm not thinking of at the moment. My mind has pretty much been on a single track until this week is over, so after thinking of this song almost immediately, I was done. Not only is it another song from my Canadian boys, Hedley (whom I've mentioned before here) but this song is about how we grow up too fast. It reminisces on when we were young and 'how cavalier we use to be, that beautiful insanity'. I think considering the content I will be immersing myself into for the next 4 days, I believe it's perfect.

I just hope I remember to breathe!

Marry Me, Jane

This week's theme for Monday Music Moves Me is bands that start with M. Well, two of my favorite band begin with M, so I thought it was going to be a no-brainer - Machine Gun Fellatio and Marianas Trench. The problem is that I didn't want to be a broken record, since I have used both of them in past features already.

I can be repetitive in my day-to-day life so I am making an extra effort not to be repetitive on this site. So, I dug a littler deeper.

Then I remembered Mary Me Jane.

Their album was used as the soundtrack for If Lucy Fell, which is probably one of my favorite video store rental discoveries, ever. It came out in 1996 with a cast of Sarah Jessica Parker, Eric Schaeffer, Ben Stiller, Elle Macpherson, and even a 12 year old Scarlett Johansson makes a minor appearance.

"It's not symbolic. It's pretty spelled out!"
Another awesome scene between SJP and Ben Stiller
[credit: Movie-Roulette.com]

The dialogue is funny and honest and although the story line is rather transparent and predictable, it is a great romantic comedy. It also emits many pre-Sex in the City vibes. Every time I listen to my Mary Me Jane soundtrack, I think of the parts in the movie that used those songs and I fall in love all over again.

Oh, and it's about artists. Bonus points right there.

Joe (Eric Schaeffer) is infatuated with Jane (Elle Macpherson) who lives in the adjacent building. He can see her through his window and he stalks paints her enough times that he holds an entire art show with all these paintings of her - just so he can invite and finally meet her after 5 years of supposedly being "in love" with her.

He is dorky and awkward and I absolutely love him in this movie –
he is the perfection of an antihero.

One of my favorite conversations from the movie:

Jane: I love your paintings.
Joe:  Really?
Jane: Yeah, really.
Joe:  Can I ask you something?
Jane: Yeah.
Joe:  Are you involved with anyone?
Jane: Yes.
Joe:  Who?
Jane: Him. (She gestures to the man in the painting entitled 'Limp Dick Man')
Joe:  Really?
Jane: He does have quite a limp dick. But he gives the best damn head ever.

And then Joe gives THEE best shocked/turned on/recoiled expression that I cannot even describe accurately.
Just watch the movie... and of course, enjoy the music as well.