Paraskavedekatriaphobia and Echolalia
I woke up singing, and will have this song on an endless loop today, if I know my brain, and I think I do:
"I’m seeking girls
In sales and marketing
Let’s go make out
Up in the balcony"
It's from the new Mike Doughty cd, "Haughty Melodic". I dig the man's voice, people, it's one of those sounds that reaches down into my cooter and strokes it with feathered fingerstrokes. Lotta sounds do that for me...Barry White, green leaves rustling in summer trees, thunder, Led Zeppelin, a tablesaw (which I cannot explain so don't ask). We have hundreds and hundreds of cds, I can't go into all the voices and instruments and theremin waves that move me in such a way, it would take days.
"And I can
hear the bells are
It's Friday the 13th and I always have good luck on this particular day. Although that frikkin' movie scared the pee outta me, the girl in the canoe at the end and you think "Whew! Glad THAT'S over!", and then the hand comes out of the water and your sphincter tightens up thankfully so you don't squirt and you scream like a little girl who found a spider in her shoe.
I'm not usually superstitious, but I do revel in other folks behaviours. Like when there actually IS professional hockey being played, and it's playoff time, and my boys, my beautiful sweaty boys, the Detroit Red Wings, are playing. They refuse to shave, they insist on wearing the same pit-stained hockey sweater to every game, they eat the same dinner every game night, so they don't mess with their 'good luck'. Well, that's just insanely cute right there. Then I wanna line 'em up and have a little ice-rink orgy, see if they could fit that into their good luck charm. The big teases.
There's a game show on ESPN where two teammates are questioned about each other, a la 'Newlywed Game'. Last night they had Darren McCarty and my boyfriend, Brendan Shanahan, playing. No hockey this year. No teeth in McCarty's head. Shanny's touchable scar. Ooh man.... McCarty spilled the beans that Shanny apparently likes to stretch out naked. N-A-K-E-D. I got the impression he meant Shanny sleeps naked and stretches like a tripod when he wakes up on a game morning. Daaaaaamn. So of course last night I jumped in the shower and 'double-clicked my mouse' with visions of Shanny stretching in my head.
"Your business dress
So businesslike and I’m
Tossing the blouse
Over a chairback and"
Blogger just crapped out on me when I tried to publish and lost the last half of this post. And I must run to a meeting. Maybe it thought I was being too long-winded for my own good.
I probably was.
And we're getting an electrical storm as I type.
I wave to you from my Vespa and mouth 'Ciao'.