Dinner was on the table. I called the kids to eat and looked to see what background music would go best with burritos.
"Here, Dad, let a real DJ do this," Collie said, waving me from the computer. I shrugged and left.
This song came on, loud. Jason leapt up and threw his hands in the air. "Nobody gonna take my car," he squealed. "I'm gonna race it to the ground! Nobody gonna beat my car, it's gonna break the speed of sound!"
Lillie covered her ears. "Ooh, what is that?"
"Guitar Hero," I said, chewing. "It means the boys get the same soundtrack to adolescence that I had."
while i was off not writing my sex blog, this annoying thing happened to me. this thing called love. it was doomed from the start. he was a co-worker and one of those fundamentalist ultra christians, the son of a preacher man. the more time we spent together, the more i tried to warn myself. but then at one particular happy hour that lasted well into the night (oh, how we liked our happy hours), he turned to me and said, "drinking dirty martinis always makes me want to kiss someone."
giddy from the shots of patron he'd been buying me, i told him, "well, i'm not gonna stop you."
let me just tell you—boy was a damn good kisser. i know this not from the quick kisses he snuck in as we sat at the bar next to a couple of our other coworkers, but because when he followed me out to my car to get a pack of cigarettes, we sat in the very back and made out long enough that said coworkers actually called his phone looking for us.
oops.
and then, that was that. well, as far as the kissing went anyway. but as school let out and summer began, we hung out more and more and the flirting and extra long hugs and the curling up on the couch together and him spending the night in my bed (without any sort of action) continued. one of my favorite memories with him is the night we went to see la vie en rose together in an old, grand theater, where we sat in the balcony and shared the arm rest between us as edith piaf's music and (rather embellished upon) life story tugged at our hearts. he had just made up his mind to go work in a country on the other side of the world for the next year (or possibly, two) and we were both feeling a little raw and vulnerable.
ok, so i was pretty much devastated.
a couple of weeks later, i hid it well as a group of coworkers came together at his place to wish him farewell, but i stayed after everyone had left and loaded the two-disc mix i had made for him onto his ipod for his flight. the first disc was devoted to our time together and all the music, both awesome and shamefully bad, we'd shared. for the second, i basically went with an "i'm so proud of you for taking this awesome step, but please don't leave me" theme with a few sappy love-esque songs thrown in for good measure. (of course, this song made the cut.)
as i gathered my things to leave that night, he pulled me into a tight hug and i cried on his shoulder. i whispered into his ear, "please don't stay for the second year."
he hugged me tighter and said, "take this with you."
yo frodo, what you doin' wearin' the ring? all powerful jewelry, is that your new thing? i know it's hard when you're little, more than three foot four, your little ass so close to the floor.
ok, so the majority of this clip is really weird and i am so not into the whole lord of the rings thing, but those four lines may very well be the very best words ever written and/or performed.
and for the record? i can't choose between the two of them, so don't even make me try. let me just say that given the opportunity, i would gladly have a "man-man lady threesome" with the two of them.
hands down one of the sexiest songs you will ever hear in your life.
i bought this album way back in two thousand. and, people—that was high school for me. spring of my senior year of high school. so, i bring this album home and already owning two of her previous albums, i know she's good. no, wait—i know she's fucking awesome. so, yeah—i get this album and i take it home and i start playing it from the beginning and it's fantastic. it's bigger than her previous albums, not quite as sparse and her voice is perfect and the harmonies are just awesome.
and then i get to track eleven. and i hear that beat. and then that simple little guitar line. and the crackly speaker sound to it all. but wait, it gets better. because then her voice comes in.
"if you want this."
oh, melissa, you know i want it. you know i'll ask you nicely.
pretty girls who write their own songs, sing kick ass harmonies, juggle, swallow swords, ride their bikes across the country, act out scenes involving pirates while playing songs in six/eight meter and play guitar, ukulele, washboards and fruit shakers while putting on one of the best live shows you'll ever see?
totally awesome.
girls who do most of the above (you know, aside from the bike riding) in old-fashioned corsets and tutus?
for the longest time, i couldn't listen to lush without thinking about alec. the first night i met him, we drunkenly stumbled back to my place after drinking our way through a favorite local bar's awesome beer selection. as we passed his car, he stopped to pull a cd out of the stereo and brought it back to my place. it was lush's spooky and as the music played, we made out like teenagers and fell asleep together on my tiny twin mattress in the house i shared with two other girls. we spent that summer drinking our way through his new film budget, going to wild, kinky parties that lasted into the wee hours of each night, fucking like crazy and hibernating in his house with his rather impressive movie collection. three months later, he told me he was in love with another woman. a couple months later, they were married.
(and then quickly divorced, or so i heard.)
my newfound fondness for lush was soon accompanied by bitter memories. but then during my spring break last year, i headed west to spend a few days with madeline, who on my last afternoon with her, put lush's split into her stereo, ordered me to strip and then climbed on top of me and had her way with me.
the first time i ever heard this song, i was tied up to a low table while a frenchman and his girlfriend had theirway with me. as we worked our way through a whole host of firsts for me (first time bound, first time with another girl, first time fisting anyone, first threesome and on and on), the album played through in its entirety and though i was definitely distracted, i'd heard enough to know i needed to own it.
i mean, come on—just try and tell me company segundo wasn't the cutest old man ever.
at my school, if you could get yourself into a certain professor's theory classes, you were very lucky indeed, for every friday, at the end of his class, he would plop himself down at the piano and play you an old standard or quirky little number you'd never heard before but would instantly fall in love with. it also didn't hurt that he was an older, adorably flamboyant gent who shared my loves for knitting and cats and moonlighted as a performer at a piano lounge in center city.
and so, one friday morning in late october of my sophomore year, my love for tom lehrer sealed with a deliciously naughty wink from said professor as he played his way through "the masochism tango," an annual halloween tradition of his. he growled his way through the best lines and put extra long pauses in all the right places as my classmates and i howled with laughter and exchanged thrilled looks.
of course for the next two years, my friends and i cut our classes the last friday before halloween just go to back and watch him do it again.
the first day i walked into my freshman dorm room back in my undergrad days, i found one small corner left untouched for me to do with as i pleased. the remaining space was already completely claimed and decorated and the beds? totally bunked. a few weeks earlier, during my first "hey, let's get to know each other" phone conversation with my new roommate, i'd told her the only thing i really didn't want was bunk beds. but when said new roomie is a member of the marching band and all band members are required to report two weeks early for band camp, you're pretty much screwed.
had i known better, i would have also said, "and i don't like being stared at constantly by pictures of freaky, sad clowns all over the walls or a giant cardboard cutout of mr. bean peeking into our window."
we ended the year not speaking to each other, but she also introduced me to belle & sebastian, so i guess i can't be too angry with her.
i grew up in a small town where 99.9999 percent of the population was white, christian and conservative. we had less than seven hundred people in my entire high school and there was nothing to do in town. ever. when aidan got his first car, we celebrated our newfound freedom by spending endless hours driving around south jersey, drinking giant bottles of iced tea from wawa (aidan was straight edge and i had no interest in alcohol) and listening to our favorite bands. he introduced me to ska, punk and hardcore. he played me less than jake, catch 22, operation ivy, the bouncing souls, kid dynamite, rainer maria, the dead kennedys and too many others to name. we played weezer's blue album on repeat (you know, back before they put out that horrible green album and began their downfall). he sang rivers' parts and i filled in all the harmonies. and we played his copy of "the best of the velvet underground: words and music of lou reed" so many times, we wore it out and had to buy another copy.
my favorite was (and still is) "sweet jane", but for lack of a decent video, i am sharing aidan's favorite.
in second grade, i was new at my school and quickly became friends with a girl named ramona. we bonded over being raised by hippie feminist mothers and i was in constant awe of her creativity, artistic talents and "i don't give a fuck what you think" attitude. at our 8th grade dance, she gave the dj a cassette tape on which she'd recorded "the time warp" from rocky horror picture show and together, we took over the dance floor and showed all our classmates how to do the dance. after my 15th birthday party, i went home with her and she bought me lobster tails and brownie mix. after we made and ate both, she took me into the woods, poked some holes into an old soda can and got me high for the first time. another random day in middle school, she decided to wallpaper her room in tinfoil for a school project. we took before and after pictures and played jane's addiction while we covered every exposed bit of wall and ceiling in multiple rolls of foil, having to stop at one point and go to the grocery store for more.
these days, she does nude/fesith modeling and lives in a part of brooklyn that made me fear for my life the one time i was there, about a year ago. after leaving me on her stoop, with my smaller valuables tucked into my bra while she climbed a fence to break into her apartment when her key wouldn't work, we smoked hash she'd gotten from some monk she met in the woods on a retreat (or something like that) and shared her tiny thin mattress while two of her roommates slept in the back room and a third slept on the kitchen floor.
love me, fear me, do as i say and i will be your slave.
my family was big on jim henson. so when labyrinth came out on video, we all huddled up together on my aunt's gigantic sectional couch for a much anticipated viewing. from the moment i saw david bowie come on screen, in all his big hair and tight pants glory, i was hooked. nevermind the riding crop he's casually tapping against his tall, black boots or the way his crotch is blatantly on display throughout most of the movie or the dance scene (oh, you know the one).
plus, if you really want to know how cool someone is? just go up to them, say, "you remind me of the babe!" and see how they react. trust me on this.
some mothers sing traditional lullabies to their babies. my mother? she sang "maneater" to me. sometimes, i wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that my longest "relationship" (which is a very generous label) to date lasted a mere three months.
This weekend’s Guest DJ is my pretty Meg—teacher, slut and pain slut extraordinaire. Oh wait, did I use the word “slut” twice in that sentence? Consider it appropriate added emphasis. Slut.
In deference to my submissive slut, I’ll keep intact her disavowal of upper-case letters. For more on Meg, take a peek at her slutty slut slut sex blog slut.
It's two thousand and I'm cooking dinner with my daughter Rachel. She stirs as I change the CD.
"So you know Travis?" I ask.
"No, never heard of them," she answers.
"Listen to this part," I say.
Because my inside is outside My right side's on the left side 'Cos I'm writing to reach you But I might never reach you I only long to teach you about you But that's not you
"Beautiful, huh?" I ask, joining Rachel at the stove.
"Sounds okay," she answers, looking over at me.
"That longing for a connection, to be able to write and reach someone, and being so mixed up . . . ," I begin.
"Really? 'Teach you about you?'" my wife interrupts. "Who teaches people about themselves? That's just, ugh, so wrong. Right?"
Rachel looked up at me. I bit my lip. "Nice melody, though," I said, thinking "But that's not you."
Force field, super shield, AA. Junior high love affair is OK. Jump on the big wagon 'cause I'm SoCal. I'm big in every way. I'm running as fast as I can.
She goes above and beyond her call of duty. She is a slut but her ex thinks it's sexy. Sex reminds her of eating spaghetti. I am wasted, but I'm ready.
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