Hey there folks,
Yet another month has gone by and I'm still not back to my regular, bloggy self. I wish I could say everything's peachy, but why wouldn't I be telling you all about the peachiness if life were peachy right? I'm all about sharing the peaches.
Truth is: I'm kind of circling the bowl with no real desire to document it. And it seems kind of fake to pretend that nothing's wrong and just blog about other stuff.
Eventually I'll get back to it. I promise. I've enjoyed blogging way to much to give it up entirely. I just don't know when it will be.
In the meantime, (and on a lighter note) this is a frickin' music month for me! Among the releases: Jill Scott, Melissa Etheridge, Chaka Khan, and Queen Latifah! Thus far I only have Melissa Etheridge, and sadly I STILL haven't just sat down and listened to it. But I've also picked up the new BeeGees greatest hits double-album, and I have to say the Teddybears remix of "Stayin' Alive" just f**king rocks. Also, finally picked up the greatest hits by Garbage... "Absolute". Absolute garbage... get it? Well anyway... I love the band even if their name couldn't be further from the truth about their music.
Also... watched a really cool movie called "Next" that I didn't really have high expectations for. When Nicolas Cage is starring in something, you know it's hit and miss. But it was really clever, sci-fi, with only a few plot holes easily ignored in the name of entertainment. It's full of detail though, and jumps around a lot, so you have to give it some extra attention in order to keep up. (or at least I did.) Anyhow... I was pleasantly surprised and it wasn't predictable.
I hope everyone reading this is happy and well. Sorry I've checked-out on ya.
"Tell Me Where It Hurts" by Garbage
What is my day going to look like?
What will my tomorrow bring me?
If I had x-ray eyes, I could see inside
I wouldn’t have to predict the future
I wish that you would do with some talking
How else am I to know what you’re thinking?
If only people would say what it really was
What it really was
What it really was that they wanted
Tell me where it hurts
to hell with everybody else
All I care about is you and that's the truth
They don't love me; I can tell
But you do, so they can go to hell
Did they ever give you a reason
To believe in something different
If you’re looking for love, for what it's worth
I have plenty of it lying around here somewhere
If you are looking for disappointment
You can find it around any corner
In the middle of the night I hold on to you tight
So both of us can feel protected
Tell me where it hurts,
to hell with everybody else.
All I care about is you and that's the truth
they don't love me; yeah I can tell
but you do, so they can go to hell
I’ve been loved but I didn’t know how to feel it
And I’ve been adored but I don’t know if I ever believed it
I’ve been loved my whole life but I didn’t know how to take it
Until...
So tell me where it hurts
to hell with everybody else
All I care about is you and that's the truth
they don't love me, yeah I can tell
But you do, so they can go to hell
But you do, so they can go to hell
Tell me where it hurts
Tell me where it hurts
Tell me where it hurts now
Tell me where it hurts...
Showing posts with label Garbage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Garbage. Show all posts
Monday, October 01, 2007
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Please Mama Not the Curling Iron Again
Wow, Tuesday is on its way to expiry and this is my first blog entry of the week. I'm a slacker.
When last I posted I was in a very foul mood indeed, and the aftermath of my decision to "drop out" of that pointless course is still yet to be determined. My boss wants to have a serious talk with me about it tomorrow morning at 11am. Wish me luck, because it cost the station 550-bucks to enrol me and the bastards won't refund the station money. To which I say, "that ain't right". But if I have to pay for it with my own money, sobeit. I am not going to immerse myself in a time-consuming effort to increase my marketing skills and be a sales lap-dog when it's not-at-all what I want my future to hold. Perhaps I'm being unreasonable, but for now, I don't care. There's no extra money involved and no reward but more hard work and a title after my name that no one would understand or respect, and I'm not going to pursue unhappiness. I don't want door #3 Monty... I want what's in the box. ZONK
On to lighter things...
Riding the bus home from Kipling station every night I frequently see a woman with truly horrendous hair. There's a whole whack of equally appropriate adjectives to describe this poor lady's coif as long as it's synonymous with heinous And that's not for her lack of trying to make it absolutely perfect which makes me a jerk for documenting it... but anyhoo... yeah, her hair looks like "ass". She's this little bit of a woman who has mousy, stringy thin hair - which I wouldn't ordinarily comment about because you do the best with what genetics give you, right? Her hair wouldn't be so bad if she'd just embrace it as an unattainable goal and keep it neat, but since 1981 when her mama ceased burning her with the curling iron and allowed her to use it to create her own beastly bangs... she has been feathering the front and the sides of her washed-with-dish-soap-don't-know-what-conditioner-is hair, outwards from her head. BUT -and here's the kicker- doing absosmurfly nothing with the crown or back of her head. So thusly her "Ally McBeal in a wind-tunnel" look is incomplete and she looks like an unmade bed every time I see her. And strangely enough, growing up in a churchy environment around churchy people I always thought she looked conspicuously "christian-like" because as far as I can tell she usually seems pleasant enough, if ever-so out-dated in appearance. And I overheard her speaking with another lady on the bus a while back and they spoke of churchy things. So I know how to spot 'em.
---in the wild, the "gays" are prone to instinctively sensing the presence of their enemies, so as to blend-in and appear "less-gay" to avoid ignorant condemnation, split-second judgement and unwelcome "witnessing" with the intention of conversion and repentance. Surely I jest, 'cause I don't hide my rainbow-coloured man-purse from anyone.
Incidentally, as a disclaimer, I would've ridiculed this woman's awful hair regardless of her spirituality or religious beliefs and no "gays" were harmed in the making of this blog entry.
Shut Your Mouth - by Garbage
Welcome we love you
We hate you
We love you
We want you
We need you
We wish we were like you
They say you're a saint
You're a whore
You're a sinner
That he had you
He made you
He can't live without you.
Would you confess
if we asked
That you nurture the urge
To declare that it's time
To settle down
With a man of your own
You want a baby
A family
A piece of security
Shut your mouth
Try not to panic
Just shut your mouth
If you can do it
What's your opinion on the dire situation
In our land here
Our guest here
Of course you'll be nice here
How do you feel about god and religion
Are you good people
Bad people
Guess it doesn't matter people.
Your place
My place
Make her bring that famous face
You got some
You want some
You wanna let me get you some
We know your music but of course we'd never buy it
It's too fake man
Right man!
We don't give a fucking damn.
I hear you say it
Play it smart girl
Win the game love
Give 'em what they want
What they want to see and you could be a big star
You could go far
Make a landmark
What have you been reading you smart girl?
Win the game love
Give 'em what they want
What they want to see and you could be a big star
You could go far
Make a landmark
Make a shit load.
And the world spins by
With everybody moaning
Pissing, bitching and everyone is shitting
On their friends
On their love
On their oaths
On their honour
On their graves
Out their mouths
And their words say nothing
I waited to say something Oh shut your mouth
I wanted to say something Just shut your mouth
I waited to say something Oh shut your mouth
I wanted to be something Just shut your mouth
When last I posted I was in a very foul mood indeed, and the aftermath of my decision to "drop out" of that pointless course is still yet to be determined. My boss wants to have a serious talk with me about it tomorrow morning at 11am. Wish me luck, because it cost the station 550-bucks to enrol me and the bastards won't refund the station money. To which I say, "that ain't right". But if I have to pay for it with my own money, sobeit. I am not going to immerse myself in a time-consuming effort to increase my marketing skills and be a sales lap-dog when it's not-at-all what I want my future to hold. Perhaps I'm being unreasonable, but for now, I don't care. There's no extra money involved and no reward but more hard work and a title after my name that no one would understand or respect, and I'm not going to pursue unhappiness. I don't want door #3 Monty... I want what's in the box. ZONK
On to lighter things...
Riding the bus home from Kipling station every night I frequently see a woman with truly horrendous hair. There's a whole whack of equally appropriate adjectives to describe this poor lady's coif as long as it's synonymous with heinous And that's not for her lack of trying to make it absolutely perfect which makes me a jerk for documenting it... but anyhoo... yeah, her hair looks like "ass". She's this little bit of a woman who has mousy, stringy thin hair - which I wouldn't ordinarily comment about because you do the best with what genetics give you, right? Her hair wouldn't be so bad if she'd just embrace it as an unattainable goal and keep it neat, but since 1981 when her mama ceased burning her with the curling iron and allowed her to use it to create her own beastly bangs... she has been feathering the front and the sides of her washed-with-dish-soap-don't-know-what-conditioner-is hair, outwards from her head. BUT -and here's the kicker- doing absosmurfly nothing with the crown or back of her head. So thusly her "Ally McBeal in a wind-tunnel" look is incomplete and she looks like an unmade bed every time I see her. And strangely enough, growing up in a churchy environment around churchy people I always thought she looked conspicuously "christian-like" because as far as I can tell she usually seems pleasant enough, if ever-so out-dated in appearance. And I overheard her speaking with another lady on the bus a while back and they spoke of churchy things. So I know how to spot 'em.
---in the wild, the "gays" are prone to instinctively sensing the presence of their enemies, so as to blend-in and appear "less-gay" to avoid ignorant condemnation, split-second judgement and unwelcome "witnessing" with the intention of conversion and repentance. Surely I jest, 'cause I don't hide my rainbow-coloured man-purse from anyone.
Incidentally, as a disclaimer, I would've ridiculed this woman's awful hair regardless of her spirituality or religious beliefs and no "gays" were harmed in the making of this blog entry.
Shut Your Mouth - by Garbage
Welcome we love you
We hate you
We love you
We want you
We need you
We wish we were like you
They say you're a saint
You're a whore
You're a sinner
That he had you
He made you
He can't live without you.
Would you confess
if we asked
That you nurture the urge
To declare that it's time
To settle down
With a man of your own
You want a baby
A family
A piece of security
Shut your mouth
Try not to panic
Just shut your mouth
If you can do it
What's your opinion on the dire situation
In our land here
Our guest here
Of course you'll be nice here
How do you feel about god and religion
Are you good people
Bad people
Guess it doesn't matter people.
Your place
My place
Make her bring that famous face
You got some
You want some
You wanna let me get you some
We know your music but of course we'd never buy it
It's too fake man
Right man!
We don't give a fucking damn.
I hear you say it
Play it smart girl
Win the game love
Give 'em what they want
What they want to see and you could be a big star
You could go far
Make a landmark
What have you been reading you smart girl?
Win the game love
Give 'em what they want
What they want to see and you could be a big star
You could go far
Make a landmark
Make a shit load.
And the world spins by
With everybody moaning
Pissing, bitching and everyone is shitting
On their friends
On their love
On their oaths
On their honour
On their graves
Out their mouths
And their words say nothing
I waited to say something Oh shut your mouth
I wanted to say something Just shut your mouth
I waited to say something Oh shut your mouth
I wanted to be something Just shut your mouth
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