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If You Wanna Be My Lover, Please Do Not Get With My Friends

February 24, 2010

Between one thing and another, I’m not in the greatest mental shape these days, which, it turns out, in no way impedes my ability to write blog post after blog post, thereby giving my three faithful readers a frivolous alternative to absorbing Aretaeus, sucking up to Statius, or searching the internet for the cheapest available copy of Jules Asner’s Whacked. Ascending tricolon, by the way. Therapy is as expensive as medications are useless, so I’ve developed my own DIY method of chasing away the Hump Day Blues (Note to self: you are an unforgivable waster of opportunities if you don’t write a poem with that title immediately after finishing this post). It’s free, and anyone with an iPod can do it. Read on!

STEP 1: Compile a playlist of 15 of the shittiest, most random tracks on your iPod. Nothing legitimate. If you have an entire album by the artist, or have paid for his/her/their music, leave him/her/them off this list. Dance music from the mid-’90s, ludicrous rap, LimeWire impulse downloads, and one-hit wonders are going to be especially effective, so don’t skimp on those. “Skimp”? Is that a word? Is that how you spell it? I think that’s the first time I’ve ever used it in writing. Weird.

STEP 2: Insert headphones as directed. Press play to kick out the jams. Watch the time as you listen to each track: the singer has only one minute to give you a useful piece of advice or offer you some encouragement or a thoughtful take on your life. You will often get what you need in less than one minute. But if you get nothing in 60 seconds, move on.

It’s just that simple. These are my results:

  • Just dance. Gonna be okay.
  • Boys call you sexy. And you don’t care what they say.
  • If the Scatman can do it, so can you.
  • Come and smile. Don’t be shy. Touch my bum. This is life.
  • When this whole world gets me down and there’s no love to be found, I close my eyes and soon I find I’m in a playground in my mind.
  • I know what I want, and I want it now.
  • When a problem comes along, you must whip it.
  • We gotta sink the Bismarck ’cause the world depends on us.
  • The party’s here on the west side.
  • It’s official: I survived what I been through. We all got drama. The saga continues.
  • This dance ain’t for everybody – only the sexy people.
  • There are several other very important differences between human beings and animals that you should know about.
  • Friendship never ends.
  • I’m bringing sexy back. Them other fuckers don’t know how to act.

A pretty good haul, I’d say. Should provide more than enough inspiration to hammer out yet another round of motherfucking pointless cover letters. But first, that hump day poem. A person without priorities is like a something without a something.

One Comment leave one →
  1. Alison permalink
    February 24, 2010 12:34 pm

    I think yours are better. Maybe I need a better class of music:
    1. I hear the drums echoing tonight
    2. Your love is like bad medicine. Bad medicine is what I need.
    3. Well kill the fatted calf tonight, so stick around, your gonna hear electric music
    4. You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life…
    5. Don’t think me unkind, words are hard to find
    6. I can go for miles if you know what I mean
    7. Autumn winds blowing outside my window as I look around the room and it makes me so depressed to see the gloom
    8. The chills that you spill up my back keep me filled with satisfaction when we’re done
    9. I’m every woman, it’s all in me
    10. This is a throw-down, a show-down, hell no, I can’t slow down. It’s gonna go.
    11. If you see a faded sign at the side of the road that says: Fifteen miles to the…LOVE SHACK! Love shack yea, yea.
    12. Roxanne, you don’t have to put on the red light. those days are over, you don’t have to sell you body to the night
    13. Super Trouper
 Beams are gonna blind me, but I won’t feel blue, like I always do, 
’cause somewhere in the crowd, there’s you.
    14. Baby, I would climb the Andes solely to count the freckles on your body.
    15. Humidity’s rising, barometer’s getting low, according to all sources, the street’s the place to go.

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