Da Goddess

Mine will be “Dirty Nogoodnik”

Heard a local reporter say it on air the other night. It wasn’t the first time I’d ever heard the phrase, but it was certainly the first time I’d heard a reporter say it during a newscast. I laughed. And then I had to ask my dad if I’d heard correctly.

Sigh.

An alternate title will be “The Car Killer” as I’ve now had car problems twice since I’ve been back. With my dad’s car. First time was the front left axle breaking. Not my fault. It just happened while I was in the car. On the freeway. In the rain. Stuck in the middle of the freakin’ freeway in the rain in a car that can’t move isn’t my favorite place to be. Then last night, LD and I got in the car to run to the store for my dad and it wouldn’t start. Battery was dead. DEAD. Not even a whistle*. The nice guy who fixed my dad’s broken axle, which was caused by a bad motor mount (long story) stopped by the house and got us up and running. We ran to my sister’s house, grabbed laundry, and other stuff, left the car running the whole time. Then off to the grocery store, left motor running again. Got home, thinking the car had likely recharged the battery enough and turned the car off. Tried to restart it again. Not even a whistle*.

* begins at 1:41 and goes until 4:02

My alternate alternate title will be “I Don’t Suffer Bastards and So Are You!”

It’s a naïve domestic Burgundy without any breeding, but I think you’ll be amused by its presumption.

James Thurber ~ Cartoon caption in New Yorker (March 27, 1937).

The Meehoo with an Exactlywatt by Shel Silverstein

Knock knock!
Who’s there?
Me!
Me who?

That’s right!
What’s right?
Meehoo!
That’s what I want to know!
What’s what you want to know?

Me, WHO?
Yes, exactly!
Exactly what?
Yes, I have an Exactlywatt on a chain!
Exactly what on a chain?

Yes!
Yes what?
No, Exactlywatt!

That’s what I want to know!
I told you – Exactlywatt!
Exactly WHAT?
Yes!
Yes what?

Yes, it’s with me!
What’s with you?
Exactlywatt – that’s what’s with me.
Me who?
Yes!

GO AWAY!

Knock knock…

Again, Shel Silverstein to the rescue!

Standing on my elbow
With my finger in my ear,
Biting on a dandelion
And humming kind of queer
While I watched a yellow caterpillar
Creeping up my wrist,
I leaned on a tree
And I said to me,
“Why am I doing this?”

And as the music surges forth, we begin our montage of my sisters and I moving furniture, cleaning, cutting back plants, hauling out trash, painting the house, etc.

In lieu of actual video of that, we have a video of Annie Lennox and Aretha Franklin singing the song that ran through my head for three days. Now it’s stuck in YOUR head. You may thank me later. Or actually, please thank me immediately in cash (paypal or direct credit payments) the amount of $29.75 for my storage unit that must be paid today, $14.95 + something for my domain renewal, $24+ for my Flickr renewal, $50 for my phone bill, and for anyone who contributes over $50, I will immediately give you a new, gentler song of mutual agreement to be stuck in your head.

Yeah, everything is due at once and I don’t get paid until November 15-ish.

We have let go the dream of contributing to the repair of my father’s car.

In the meantime, let’s get to the video!

Yep, I’ve run into this a million times. Before I left Cali and since I’ve returend. Doesn’t faze me anymore except when I see it fazes others.

“A friend that I think is interesting, smart, and not insane
has told me that her ex-boyfriend
has decided to give up vegetarianism
as per the advice
of a food psychic.

‘Food psychic.’

Sometimes, living in California
is a lot more like
living in a mockumentary about California
written by my father
and directed by my grandma.”

And that, my friends, is why I love Clayton‘s observations.

If anyone can find me a video clip of Bruce Baum’s answer, I’ll give you a bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbilllllllllliiiiiiiiiioooooooooooonnnn imaginary dollars.

(How the fuck am I the only result on Google for “Bruce Baum ‘how do you top a monkey act?'” It’s not like I was asking for his Babyman sketch [which is available in his ” Rickles Presents” act].)

How else would my life turn into a article like this?
(more…)

The subject of the email was constructed thusly:

Da Goddess, The Holy Grail of Sex

I’m going to believe these psychics know me and have determined I am, indeed, the Holy Grail of Sex.

Fair enough, don’t you think?

Just so you know, once you’ve caffeinated…only time can put that genie back in its bottle.

Lillian was gone. Dead. And that’s all there was to be said about that. At least, that’s what everyone thought. As the crowd slowly dispersed from around the grave, the attendants began to shovel dirt upon the coffin. Suddenly, there was a tremendous knocking coming from the ground. People turned…the gravediggers leapt back from the hole.

And then came the voice. It was Lillian. She was yelling, “_______________________________”

(You fill in the blank)

Flambe: a fancy, blazing lamb dish from McDonald’s.

You heard it here first.

Collected from various conversations. Spouters of such remain anonymous. I’m sure you can figure out why.

“Thanks. I’m flattered you’re interested in me, but I’m currently not involved with someone I could potentially be in love with.”

“I thought life was supposed to get easier as we got older and, presumably, wiser.”

“You’re not touching my doodle hole. I don’t care how many drinks you’re willing to buy me. No. And really really NO.”

“Well, you know, if you want, we can still see each other. Just because I decided to go back to my wife/husband doesn’t mean we can’t date.”

“Country music is the only music!” “What about western?” “Oh, yeah, there’s that, too.”

“Do you really think it’s wise to wear that shirt to a biker bar?” (Shirt depicts two stickmen…engaged in…a certain activity)

“Sno Balls are better.” “No, they’re not. Cupcakes are.” “No, Sno Balls rock because they have coconut.” “Which is why I prefer Hostess Cupcakes. I hate coconut. Although Sno Balls are better than none.”

“But…damn, I just…I turned southern and was internally exclaiming, “why, I nevah!”. I got the vapors and everything. I…I perspired!.”

“Springsteen: the sound of constipation since 1984.” (The year Born in the USA came out.)
“We’ve had a 25 year love affair…in my mind.”

“Curiosity didn’t kill the cat, it caused enlightenment.”

Okay, okay. That last one was mine. Fine, I’ll cop to the Springsteen quote, too.

I’ve turned into a Starbuckian. I have my large grande(?) ice water, the little rice crispie treat I bought for under two bucks, am bundled in my sweatshirt with scarf, and am sitting here in a corner with all my stuff plugged in so I can do a little internet work. All that’s missing are my funky glasses and a knit cap. Then I’d be just like everyone else here, except the cute gay boy in the corner who asked me to watch his stuff while he went to the bathroom.

This is wrong on so many levels for me. This isn’t my world. I should be in a scuzzy dive bar with music blaring, watching a killer band, laughing with friends, and doing my computer work at home. In due time. In due time. Until then, I will have to watch myself so that I don’t lapse into too many coffeehouse behaviors. Certainly, one must watch that one doesn’t wake up in the Coffee Bean down the street or Seattle. No, one must stick with one place and guard against creeping hipsterization.

I shall do my best to remain ever vigilant against such things. Wish me luck!

In the meantime, I’m going to try to get some photos posted!

I reached the end of the internet again today.

I hate when that happens.