Random Saturday Afternoon Lameness
So. The excitement of my Friday night was incredible. It never ends around here.
Seriously, the most exciting thing that happened was the kids went to bed. And I drank beer and listened to tunage. I dug up the old MaHa CDs that I have, listened to them, also listened to some more Jane�s, watched the video for �Mountain Song� a few times, even dug up Pearl Jam�s �Ten�. And I watched Hub sleep on the couch.
But as I sat here, I had a piece of scrap paper and jotted stuff down to write about here. Just shit that I�d think of and write down. This paper is everywhere. Kinda random stuff from my drunken mind.
First up, I wrote �Middle East�. Meaning the club in Boston. I don�t know why I wrote it, or what I wanted to share about it. The time we went to see the band there was kind of a lame night. Except, I was unemployed at the time and just finishing up my one whole night class and people I was meeting kept asking me what I do, and I felt like an idiot saying, �Duh. I�m unemployed and I live with my dad and kid�. So I just started telling people I was a shepherd. And then I would elaborate on the differences between a shepherd and a sheep herder, and I was most certainly a shepherd. I don�t know. Crazy shit just pops into my head sometimes and comes out of my mouth before I can stop it.
Then I wrote �FNX Best Music Poll--no tickets!�. Yeah. The guys invited us to the BMP at Avalon in Boston on short notice, and Gail and I were unable to obtain tickets. But Gail wanted to go really badly, so we drove down with a scheme in mind. We got to the place, and Gail whipped out her NH license and said, �See my address? That�s where my tickets are. Do I have to drive home to get them?�. Nope, they let us right in. We couldn�t believe it. Plan B involved tears, but we didn�t have to resort to them.
She was such a nut. I miss her. We lost touch about 7 years ago. I�ve been trying to look her up online, but her new married name is way common. Sometime at the end of our MaHa days, she started having this fling with this guy she worked with, a nice Jewish bachelor. It was �just sex� at first. For like a year, then the next thing I knew, they got married and had a baby! I went down to hang with them a few times, and it was always fun. They lived in Marblehead, which is right on the coast. We�d go to the beach with the boys during the day and get drunk at night. They invited me to have a threesome with them, but I couldn�t do it. Number one, I wasn�t drunk enough. Number two, it was Gail, my friend of 5 years. Looking back, I kinda regret turning it down. They were a wild couple. Wild, man, wild!
Then I wrote, �Pigs in Zen�. Why, I don�t know. I think because I really like that tune and was listening to it.
Somewhat related, I wrote �Porno For Pyros�. Smokey and I went to see them in 1993. Great show, great story, but I�m skipping it for now. It�s a long one. Funny though. Involving lost weed and poison ivy on someone�s coochy (not mine, I�m like wicked immune to poison ivy, even on my coochy), amongst other things!
Then I wrote, �Now I can�t see, I just stare��. More tunage. One of my favorite lines from a song ever, for no particular reason except I like how it sounds. And no, I�m not gonna say what song it is. Guess.
Then I wrote �Coked Up Personality�. This is all Beavis. He fucking cracks me up when I don�t want to murder him. He�s been playing a shit load of GTA San Andreas, which is supposed to take place in the early 90�s and has a soundtrack to it. He now loves that music and is constantly asking me about different songs on it. Yesterday he came up and said, �What�s the song where they�re singing about a coked-up personality?�. It took me a minute, but I figured it out. Living Color�s �Cult Of Personality�. Remember them? They rocked. Anyway, Beavis still insists on walking around singing about a coked up personality. (Which reminds me of Bill Cosby--not his recent problems, but his comedy skit from wayback. When he says, �Somebody said to me, �the thing about cocaine is, it intensifies your personality� and I said, �Yeah, but what if you�re an asshole?��. But I digress, as usual).
In a related matter, no sooner was I out of the shower this morning, still in towel being manhandled by Hub (bleeding like a stuck pig? Hub could give a shit less) then Beavis came to the bedroom door.
�Mom? Can you tell me if this song that�s on San Andreas is Pearl Jam or Stone Temple Pilots? Me and Butthead can�t decide�. I was like, �Geez, Beav, I�m like not even dressed�, but wanting to be the super cool mom hero with the answer, I went all the way downstairs, in my towel (not even a thong on) and �Plush� was playing. I was like, you guys need to brush up on your tunage. That�s STP, Plush. From their first album, �Core�. Glad I could be of assistance. (Oh, and after yesterday's entry, I switched the radio to FNX and have been listening ever since. I think I've switched back. "Listening to" ought to get interesting as I try to figure out all this new music that is so unfamiliar to me).
Then I have written �General Anesthesia�. This stems from my receiving the info packet from Boston Children�s regarding Mickey�s MRI yesterday. It�s gone from sedation with valium to general anesthesia, like if he was going to have an operation. This kinda freaks me out a little. Even though he had no problems with anesthesia with his surgery. It�s still serious business. I�m so nervous about this MRI shit. Not the procedure so much, even though it�s likely going to involve an IV line, which will just go over wonderfully with the boy, but it�s the results. Please don�t tell me he needs surgery. He can�t. He�s doing so well, no symptoms. Please don�t tell me he needs a cath. Please. Please tell me that he�s got a few more years before we need any invasive procedures. Pretty please?
Last I wrote this, purely for myself. �At this moment, you should be with us, feeling like we do, like you love to, but never will again��. Another line from another song that I love because it�s a great tune. Nope. Not telling again. Guess. The hints are all up in the second paragraph.
Ah, random lameness on a Saturday afternoon. I wanted to go sledding, but the snow is melting and turning all muddy and slushy. I went to the grocery store with Mickey to get supplies for tomorrow. Andrea, Willy, Rayanne, HotDaddy and kiddos will be coming over for Superbowl fun as well as snowmobiling, if we have any snow left. So, I got beer, wings, meatballs, veggies and dip and snack mix. Should be enough, no? Plus the guests are bringing stuff too.
Oh, and I made a bet with Butthead on the game too, because he�s being such a shithead about the Pats. He just can�t appreciate the fact that a NE team is actually good. Little shit. So we bet. If I win, he writes up a big sign about me being the best step mom ever and the Pats rule and we take his picture with it and hang it on the fridge. If he wins, which he won�t, I never get to fuck with his friends on IM ever again. HA! He is so going to lose.
Enough. I�m done. Time for a nap-nap. Nuh-night!