Fully Retractable

It’s been a long time – since the good ol’ myspace days – since I last posted a copout lyrics post. But something about today’s first, fresh hint of the warm and sticky Ohio humidity to come is making this earworm irresistibly attractive. I wanted to wait until the eighth day of May to do it, but I already can’t stop hitting repeat.

Shooed out like a house fly
This house was half my mind
I don’t dispute the doubts you’ve outlined
But it’s my right to waste your time

These things
May come to be
and these things
won’t kill me
and these things
it stands to reason
these things
please tell me

throw out the la-la by the busload
Match the photo to the description
I do indeed and shall continue
Dispatch the shiftless man to points beyond

and spieling
so ceaselessly
is my grief
please spare me
your feelings
the spattering
it bores me
don’t test me

and half-masted
bass boosted
fully retractable

Burned in on the 8th of May
She was spectacular
I walk the halfmoon by the busstop
sliding cross the street to her

That’s hot.


GiST: Part 18 of 365 Plus Other Stuff

As you’ve probably surmised from my overuse of the word cocksucker of late, we’ve been catching up on Deadwood. I am really enjoying it. At first I was quite disturbed as it seemed to be nothing more than an excuse to abuse people of color, women, and the disabled at every chance and in every way, but after watching some of the actors’ commentary I see that it’s probably rather historically accurate. I do hope some exaggeration has been made to make it better TV, but then again….I’m very glad to live in this day and age rather than back then. I’d have made a very poor whore and likely would have been deemed “a grotesque” as well. My heart is breaking for Jane Cannary, I heart Doc and Mrs. Garret. Excellent, excellent television. I know most of the readers here aren’t big on TV, but this is one series worth the DVD rentals. I highly recommend it.

  1. Cracking up with Mike last night as he described the girl he was “dating” when we met as a hooplehead.
  2. Queen of Hearts syrah. I think last night was the first time we had an actual syrah rather than a shiraz, not that there’s probably much difference. But it felt fancy, and it was yum.
  3. The way an open pack of gum left in my car all day makes it smell minty-fresh when I get in to drive home.
  4. Finding Mike’s black lighter in my purse. I shouldn’t get so much amusement out of his OCD attachment to it, and I swear I didn’t take it on purpose, but I know he’ll feel better if I let him know that I have it. I do not understand the man sometimes.
  5. Tentative weekend plans to see some comedians for super-cheap and also have my brother & sister-not-quite-in-law (hee, I gotta start razzing him about this, I think) come meet Dexter when they drive through town.

In other less-than-graceful news, I still don’t know when to shut up regarding myspace drama. Seriously considering just deleting my whole profile. I don’t think the hooplehead cocksucker in question even realizes that he can blog on Facebook via the Notes application, so it might be to everyone’s benefit if I just bow out. I do hate to let him think he’s had the last word, but the temptation to keep on verbally eviscerating him is just too great, and there’s no real payoff, so I really should just STOP. I (not seriously) told Mike that if money were no object, I would have us start hanging out in the local dive bars until we crossed paths with him and let Mike beat the living crap out of him. He’s so not worth the effort, let alone the violence, but just saying that out loud helped a little bit.

Okay, I think this is progress. Three topics in one: TV, GiST, and my blossoming exasperation with my own immaturity. That’ll work. For now.

In my next 29 years

Facebook. Let’s discuss.

I didn’t really dig it at first. They sort of offended me, actually. I no longer had a university email address and was thus not eligible the first time I tried. I think I had only graduated about a year ago, so Facebook became to me the younger bitchy sorority girl of social media. I was all, back to myspace, if I’m too fucking old for you already. They’ve of course since widely expanded their membership or whatever you want to call it, and I do in fact like its simpler appearance and whatnot. At first it just seemed like a duplication of the people I’d run into on myspace, but last week I found a bunch of girls I met and shared a bathroom with during our freshman years at OU.

It really doesn’t seem like it’s been 10 whole years, which may be why I call them girls instead of women. Probably because I didn’t keep in touch with any of them. As much fun as we had on the top, un-air conditioned floor of the Virgin Vault (ha), as it was called for being the biggest female dormitory on campus, I only stayed two quarters before heading back to finish school closer to home. I felt like a goob for doing so, because it wasn’t academics that prompted me to do this. I had boy troubles, plus my grandmother passed away, plus my sister was ill. I was fucking depressed, even though my grades weren’t that bad. They weren’t great, but I wasn’t on academic probation or anything, just on the edge of getting weeded out from my first choice of major if I didn’t buckle down quickly. I hadn’t declared a major yet, and wasn’t anywhere near sure what I really wanted to study anyway, yada yada yada, so I came back home, worked a restaurant job for a quarter, and finally got my poop in enough of a group to go back to school at the local lower-cost university and resume distracting myself with a fresh new asshole boyfriend. It’s like they grew on trees or something.

Anyway, when I found the Jeff Hall dorm girls on Facebook, I was not at all surprised that every single one of them finished school and went on to do some rather cool shit. Some have been married, at least one divorced, some single, some engaged, but what struck me is that not a single one of them have kids or even is pregnant yet. That’s the polar opposite of my high school reunion. I know of the link between education and postponing having kids, but it was still somewhat comforting to realize I’m truly not behind the curve on that, even though it usually feels like it. I keep getting told that you can never really be “ready” to have kids, but I am getting close to the age that if I want to have more than one and not have them one on top of the other, we should start soon. Ish. That’s from the medical standpoint. Chances are just better for things to go well sooner than later. I really psyched myself out after the miscarriage. We weren’t at all in a hurry then, weren’t “trying,” simply being naive newlyweds, that if it happened we’d be happy about it – not realizing that if and when it didn’t work out, just how unhappy a situation it would be. From the financial standpoint, there’s still plenty of reason to wait. We finally paid off the bill from the pointless ultrasound and the repeated blood draws. You know the healthcare system is fundamentally broken when people lose everything to fight an illness and soldiers come home from war to inadequate care, but it also shouldn’t cost a couple thousand dollars to lose a barely established pregnancy when you have relatively decent, employer-provided health insurance. It didn’t break us financially or anything, but it still broke my heart. I made Mike start paying the bills. If they hadn’t offered interest-free financing (woohoo) I’d have paid it off with a credit card to avoid either of us having to write that specific fucking check every month.

Hmm. I started this with a couple of ideas in mind. A logical conclusion still eludes me, though I’m obviously not still talking about Facebook. Insert segue to this awesome birthday cake (via cakewrecks):

Fraggle Rock!

I think 29 will be a good age for me.

I am not proud of this

But I just have to gloat.

I have somewhat recently engaged in a mind-numbingly immature blog war on meatspace. You may recall the whole “porch people” debacle. Speaking of being the bigger person…I was not. But that’s not what I’m gloating about. You can totally stop reading this now if you haven’t already, because I’m sure nobody cares. I just have to express my glee at the resolution, over which I had no control. Almost makes me believe in karma.

In a nutshell, one of my very best friends in the whole world has one of the craziest psycho exes on record. He put her in financial and emotional peril, cyberstalked her, plastered incredibly personal details all over myspace, and even engaged in physical violence with her current boyfriend. Nobody ‘wins’ a fistfight, but the ex was certainly more bruised and bloodied than the current. The really sick thing about the whole situation is that he also has a new girlfriend. She doesn’t seem to mind at all that her boyfriend is totally consumed with his ex-girlfriend. It boggles the mind, but…whatever.

His new girlfriend is pregnant. He took it upon himself to assume they were having a girl so that he could steal the rather original baby name that my friend had picked out and set her heart on since age 14 or so. She of course shared this with him while they were together, thinking optimistically that their problems would work themselves out and that they’d have kids together. Now, of course there is no law governing the possession or use of names for hypothetical children. But given that she has loved this name since adolescence, well before she met him, it was really an asshole thing for him to do. He was just trying to hurt her even more than he already had, and he almost succeeded.

But guess what. It’s a boy. I’ve been saving a cigar for just such an occasion.

I don’t know if it’s incredibly childish or fiercely loyal of me to hate that guy so much, but I really do. It started out with me just defending my friend and poking some fun at him and his friends, but at one point he actually stooped to making fun of my skin coloring. At that point something in my psyche reverted to the age when I last tolerated such ignorance, probably about second or third grade. The gloves came off and I decided that in dealing with him, there was no point in reserving a sense of respectful argument. I totally stooped to his level, but I think my friend would do the same for me if the shoe had been on the other foot. Of that part, I am proud.

A story I heard my newest myspace friend tell:

“Cody almost got his ass kicked by a drunken redneck last weekend. I was late in the evening so I had my beer muscles on. These rednecks were giving him shit for being a fag, so I got up in their faces and start talking smack. Fortunately, the bouncers come over at this point and save my ass. That redneck guy was huge. He woulda stomped me.”

Cody thanks you anyways. It’s definitely the thought that counts!