Posing for the Reverend
Alright, ladies and gentlemen, if you put your Chuck Taylors in the washing machine and turn it on, then they come out clean. It won't necessarily wash off the ink where you've etched Social D lyrics into the sole, but it does get the club-floor gunk off the tops (you know that black shit that just coats the floors where people dance? it's like, beer, sweat, and piss, I think.)
I feel like I have a new pair of shoes...
I'm going to wear brown this winter, and I never have before. I wear a lot of black, white, and red (like Alkaline Trio shirts), and brown never matches. So now I'm starting a new wing for my wardrobe.
I don't know where I'll put this new wing; my bedroom is the size of most mid-size bathrooms, and my closet is the size of a refridgerator. I'll just move into that Suburban they have me drive; it's roomier than my room.
Plus, in the Suburban, the seats heat up. In the morning when I take the kids to school, I flip a switch next to the door and my seat starts to get hot. It's similar to the feeling you get when you piss in your pants.
Speaking of pissing in your pants:
what things do you guys do when you're in your car alone? Put your answer in the guestbook for me.
I dance in the car a lot. I gesture like an orchestral conductor to Modest Mouse and Bad Religion and I turn Joni Mitchell into my own screaming, sensual, rock-video-on-the-road. I don't know what people think, because I've never looked around because when I'm wailing, "THE NEXT TIME I CREATE THE UNIVERSE I'LL MAKE SURE YOU PARTICIPATE!" I don't have time to wonder how I look. I rock out. I might even break a sweat. I'm not scared.
Today I was listening to this band Cornershop that came out in like 1996, or '97 -- the album I have did -- and maybe you know it. It's got that catchy "Brim fulla asha on the 45." I bought it because of this friend of mine who always listened to it when he got baked and he would dance and freak out to this loop in the background of one of the songs where a guy kinda keeps saying "turkey gravy."
"OH GAWD!" Pete would moan. "TURKEY GRAVY!!!" It was so much more than his lifted ass could handle.
Who doesn't love digression? Anyway, my point is I was listening to Cornershop today, and the eleventh track (I really wish I could upload mp3's on here) is about "It's good to be on the road back home" and it talks about all the places he's wandered, and now he's going home. The freaky part, which I didn't realize until today because I never listen to the whole cd, is that he says he was "Leaving Chattanooga, walking to New York City..." and the rest of his jounrey proceeded from there. How weird is that? I came from Chattanooga to New York City but, bless my soul, who the hell else would start in Chatty and make a song about it? I feel like this song is my personal fortune. I'm going to end up in Asia.
I pick my nose, too (did I just say that?!).
I like this job; the kids make me happy. Tylere told me to hold on to the feeling they give me. He's right. But when I become a mom, I'll get the credit for how I raise the kids (right now, I bust my ass for these children, and Mrs. C gets all the credit for having wonderful kids; after all, it was her intuition that knew to hire such a sweet-ass nanny as myself...), and when I'm married I'll have a husband to enjoy the kids with me.
Maybe tonight I'll meet a guy at the show. I'm going with my friend who lives here in the city, but that's just because he lives a few blocks from the venue and I felt obligated. He's not a scene person, but he won't keep me from spitting my game, if I have to. He didn't interfere at CBGB's (read this entry).
I'd like to have someone to call my "New York Boyfriend." I'd like to have a trophy boyfriend.
That's my new plan: only trophy-dating. I always date dorks, and cute-when-you-get-to-know-him guys. No more! I'm going for STATUS, MONEY, LOOKS, and REPUTATION now.
I'm going to be like Marilyn Monroe and get it on with a president, a writer, and a baseball player. Mark my words.
Well, I have to take the car to get it washed and put gas in it, and figure out what to fix for dinner.
