Wind Beneath My Wings

I don't blog much on Sundays, not because it's Sunday and I'm a-fearin' the wrath of Jebus and Sunday is the day of rest or whatever, but because it is Sunday and I enjoy the fact that there is a day which makes it OK to blame it for your slack and laze. Damn you Sunday for being an enabler!

I do have just a few words to impart on you, my luscious little lieblings, and in list form, my favorite of things! Sweet. The artistic and creative sort generally run screaming in their vegan-leather fleece-lined clogs (AKA: The Dreaded Hippie Type) from lists and order and rules and all around anal-ness, however I must be at a standstill in my Right Vs. Left Brain Smackdown, for lists make me happier than a visit from Jack Daniels. I don't know what those crazy kids in the UK in the 70's were yammering on about. Anarchy would send me into a nervous breakdown followed by random rooftop snipering and anyway, rules are good, because in my Ideal World, rules would force everyone to do what I tell them to. Dictatorship In The USA.

1.) And now, another chapter in: Tales Of Extreme Violence Caused By Terrible Songs Stuck In Your Head That Have The Craptitude To Even Drown Out The Voices That Are Usually In There:
The last song I heard on the radio driving home was "Ironic" By Alanis Whateverthehell. Do not judge me, you sitting there listening to Fall Out Boy! I will cut you! This is what happens on AM radio and you only have a choice between Religion Hour and Sunday Morning Coffee Talk college radio. The 8 a.m college radio shift is generally saved for the 50 year mom who's going back to school after being a housewife for the past 30 years but wants to "get involved" with school activitites so she manages to nab a shift at the campus station but since she IS a 50 year old mom going back to school after being a housewife for the past 30 years, the school obliges, but gives her the worst on-air shift ever so she can play her early 90's chick rock. You will listen to Sophie B. Hawkins and you will like it!

I know it's been discussed before over the years, but since I am apparently in a stick-up-my-keister mood and have never expressed my literary uptightedness about the song before I shall say this unto thee: "It's a black fly in your Chardonnay" and "It's the good advice that you just didn't take" is not irony, you freaking chump. Wow. There. I said it. Thank God I finally have THAT off my chest. The demons have been ex-or-cised, I have the Spirit running all through me, all through me! Praise jee-sus, hallelujah, amen, hot damn and holy crap.

2.) Also, I heard "Barracuda" by Heart and while I was crappily singing my face off, I had an overwhelming desire to go rolling skating.

3.) A friend of mine recently sent me this creepy vintage bird, knowing my fear and loathing of birds, and thought I'd like a possessed bird. When I opened the box, it was a bit like the scene where Brad Pitt opens the Box-O-Gwyneth Paltrow-Head. How sweet! And I do love my angry bird, except that I can't walk past it without yelling at it, so that's a Dr. Phil show waiting to happen. What are YOU looking at, tough guy? I will fry you and serve you with cornbread. Take THAT. Please enjoy the night terrors you will endure for the rest of your life from the dead zombie bird that will watch you while you sleep. And probably eat you.

From faraway, it's not too disturbing...




But then...



OH MY GOD! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, strange and creepy plastic bird! Whatever I did to invoke your wrath, I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!

I love my demented and twisted friends.