I am going through some serious James Brown Therapy right now.
Yep, today was that bad. But don’t fret, it’s nothing James’ 20 Greatest Hits can’t take care of.
I mean, really. Have you ever listened, people?
Fuuuuuck, if “Hot Pants” doesn’t just make you want to giggle and move your ass and forget the 9 to 5 (or in my case the 9 to 8 and weekends) then I’m sorry - I would have sent flowers had I known you flatlined.
Sadly, this particular CD is on loan right now. You see, I went to that corporate book empire down the street for the past 2 weekends determined to spend the gift certificates my peoples bestowed upon me this holiday season. Because people who know me know if there’s one thing I am going to blow my money on – it’s books and music.
And I tried. I really did. But the one book I really wanted, they didn’t have. The other, they may have had but the girlie old behind the counter had a hard time with the name “Cintra”, then I was getting attitude from the pseudo-goth chick behind the counter and fuck if I am going to pay almost 20 bucks for any CD (unless it’s a double or maybe for charity or something).
So, I did what any respectable person would do. After I tripped on the escalator, I gathered the remaining dignity I had…. then ran to cough up $5.50 to finally clear my name at the local Public Library.
Which means I am free! Free to take as many books and CDs and things as I wish! Until I accrue more fines because I am such a slacker ass – hey stop that! There’s no judging in my diary. Ok, maybe a little. I am bad, I know.
Good. Gravy. Let me loose in the local PL and you best watch yourself. Greedy, greedy, greedy.
The only problem is now I want to read my books and listen to my music but I have to finish the selected book for … the book club.
Yes, yes. Against my better judgement I stuck with it. But at least there’s booze and finger foods and things.
This month’s selection is “The Prize Winner of Defiance Ohio How My Mother Raised 10 Kids on 25 Words or Less.” Which is just a nicey little tale about how a nice lady from you know, Defiance, Ohio kept winning corporate jingle contests back in the Burma Shave days, to feed and cloth her children.
You could do worse, I guess, but the real issue here, is bringing some food-type-thing to keep with the theme of the book. Which is something this estrogen brigade totally insists upon.
You know, if a character in the book’s name is even remotely Italian, say, ends with an “i” or something, they insist upon like, catering by Boyardee.
So, since we’re talking about 1950’s heartland cuisine - if I had time –I’d totally whip up my WT casserole. You know, generic frozen veggies topped with magerined-up-Ritz™ crackers and melty Velveeta™.
Or, I’d make some wicked Jello™ mold with miniature marshmallows and shredded carrots suspended in it like Paleolithic Wooly Mammoths waiting to be discovered in the tundra.
But considering I will be completely pressed for time and I will have to cut out of work early to even get there tomorrow evening – I’ll probably wind up swinging by the liquor store and picking up a couple of 6’ers of the Pabst Blue Ribbon - in recognition of the character in the book that is the distant and sometimes mean-spirited-alcoholic father and his $30 a week booze habit.
Oh no, you don’t need to tell me, man. I know I’m gonna burn.