The Tale of the Blue Stiffy

I'm just going to state this once. If you have not read the following posts, you will have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about. And, for the uninitiated, WWIT? stands for "What Was I Thinking?" and is sometimes accompanied with brisk slaps to my head (that's another post - about the Cream Puff Man and why he annoys me). So, in no particular order, here are the posts you might want to read to make sense of the story about to unfold:

A story of my former fiance (what you're looking for is at the very end and is blue), A poem written about a particular red-headed jackass, The story of my first kiss. Actually, you should probably read it in reverse order - kiss, poem, former fiance. It'll make more sense. Or just read on.

Okay. So (at the time of this incident, not now) I am 15. I have just received my first kiss the month before. I am going to sleep over at a friend's house. I have met said friend because my mother, for some odd reason, decided I needed the help of a psychologist and enrolled me in "group." I do not remember the names of the girls that I was in group with (Hmm, could it be because this was 23 years ago and I have a hard time remember what I did yesterday? Could be) so we will assign them names - Maddie (Raped repeatedly by her father, hated men, trying to date someone but it wasn't working so well with the whole hating men thing, plus she had trust issues because she went to the dentist and woke up and her shirt was unbuttoned...oh, did I mention she was 13?), Pam (didn't get along with her parents at all, may have possibly tried to kill either herself or her little sister) and some other girl I didn't like.

My dad comes to pick me up and drive me over to Maddie's apartment building. Oh, how lucky for me, it is 3 in the afternoon and Dad's been drinking. It is a fun ride while I pray very hard to not die. Fortunately, I do not.

Maddie's brother is in a full body cast due to some disease where he had to have an operation. He is allowed to have a friend spend the night. The friend's name is Dean. I don't remember the brother's name. Maybe it is Tony. And actually, Maddie's name is Trish (can't believe I remembered this). Okay. Dean (which I keep typing as Dead (Hmm, I might have issues), Tony, Trish. I do not remember the mother's name.

Are you lost yet? Sorry. Here's what I remember about the first night. Fried egg sandwiches. Listening to Chicago. Listening to Dean on the phone with a girlfriend and giggling while we were in the kitchen.

The second night:

Trish wasn't feeling good and went to bed. I am playing Scrabble with Tony and Dean. Dean keeps making comments I don't understand (or remember them now). Tony tells him to leave me alone. Dean makes another comment. I, feeling brave by the attention, indicate I would have no idea what he was talking about because I had received my first kiss a month ago. Tony says "Dean, leave her alone. I'm serious. She's just a kid."

We finish playing Scrabble and are watching baseball. Dean makes remarks about first base, second base, etc. I still have no real idea what he was talking about. I am very naive. I have never had a boyfriend, never had any guy show any interest in me before. I am flustered and have no idea how to flirt. Tony mentions to Dean to leave me alone again but then falls asleep.

Dean and I are still watching baseball. Dean says something, I look up and he runs his hand over my chest. I don't say anything. I don't know why. Maybe because I'm tired of never having anyone interested in me because I'm chubby, maybe because I want to go back to school with a tale of how a boy touched me to be cool for once (yes, because I so wanted to fit in with the snobby rich girls who were complete bitches to me. What was I thinking?).

Dean runs his hand over my chest again. I still don't react. What am I supposed to do? He takes my hand and leads me out to the living room. Trish's mom is there. He tells her he misplaced his keys out by the pool and needs to go look for them. He asks me to come with him.

We head out into the hallway. He leads me off to the first floor of the building. I say "Didn't you lose your keys?" He says "No. I used that as an excuse to spend some time with you." I am flattered by this. He brings me to the laundry room.

It is here (I think) that he finally kisses me. Twice. My first french kiss. My second. My first time kissing a boy who kisses like a Saint Bernard. This and the two passes across my chest seem to be all the foreplay I'm going to get. Suddenly I am being undressed. I stop and pull back. What's going on? It is here that changes the entire track of my life. It is here that Dean says "I love you."

Right now I am a fairly intelligent woman. I am a bit more cynical than I used to be where men are concerned, especially when they express attraction to me (please, I have a mirror), I (sometimes) spend a little bit more time making a decision. But here, back in 1981, I am 15, I am lonely, I am not so bright where men are concerned.

I allow him to continue undressing me. When he puts his hand on my zipper, I step back. He says and I quote "You would if you loved me." This is the first and last time you will ever see me swear like this. But Dean is a god-damned son of a fucking bitch and I hope he rots in hell (Sorry, God. Please don't smite me. You know I hate to use your name in vain). Okay, no, I don't, I have forgiven him but a part of me is always going to hate him for this. A part of me is always going to hate me for this. I looked at him, into his big brown eyes and fell for the oldest line in the book. I did not think "Hmm, Dana, you've known him for a little over 24 hours. How could you possibly love him? How could he possibly love you?" No. What I thought was "If I don't, he won't like me anymore."

If I don't, he won't like me anymore. Argh! Like I was ever going to see him again. Like I was ever going to see any of them again (the any of them would refer to the men following Dean, where I felt guilty because I let this jackass touch me and therefore, I must allow anyone who shows the slightest interest in me the same favors). As much as I have missed sex, as much as the seven years of celibacy have irritated me at times, I am so glad for it since it helped me break this cycle.

Now that I've completely depressed you, here is the time where it is okay to laugh because I laugh. I was a very naive little girl. I've grown up a lot since this night in the laundry room. So, seriously, go ahead and laugh during these next paragraphs. It's okay.

I am standing in the laundry room. I am naked. Dean is fully dressed. He tells me to hold on a second and disappears into the other room. When he comes back, he is completely naked. I am staring at him, puzzled. There is something about him that I just don't understand.

When I was 12, my mother provided me with a book and said "If you have any questions, come see me." It was a book about changes, puberty, etc. There were pictures of men and women naked. There were pictures of penises. However, none of the penises were ever erect. So, when Dean walked out of the other room, naked except for the condom he was wearing, I seriously thought that the penis would turn blue when erect. After all, I had heard about blue balls. This made complete sense to me. Erect = Blue.

Now, I am a short woman. I am 5'4". At 15, I was maybe 5'2". Does Dean take this into consideration? No. He tries to have sex with me against the wall. It doesn't work, he's a foot taller than me. What an idiot. This does not work at all, especially, since, hey, I'm a virgin! I have no idea what you're doing.

After a few minutes of his attempting to adjust things, he decides to have us lie on the floor. Oh, the romance of cold concrete. Oh, thank you so much, Dean, for making a pillow for my head out of your clothes. My, what a lover you are. Oh, baby, oh, baby, oh.

Dean lies on top of me. I have no idea what he is doing. There is some moving of the blue penis in the general vaginal area. I lie there and think about the really hot guy I work with and how it would be different if he was here. I remember thinking "Is this seriously what they write love songs about?"

Approximately 5 minutes pass. Dean shudders on top of me. I am still thinking of the hot guy and don't notice. Dean says "I'm done." I watch him remove the blue and realize that he was wearing a condom. We go back upstairs. The next day, I leave him a note with my phone number. I never hear from him. Two weeks later, after telling Trish about what happened, she calls me. "Yeah, I talked to Dean. He says he never touched you."

I am furious. I spent two entire weeks waiting for him to call (and also convinced that I am pregnant) and he lies about this? I tell her exactly what I am thinking "Oh, I cannot believe he would lie about this. What an ass. Well, that's fine. He was horrible and kissed like a Saint Bernard. A total slobberer."

I hear a sharp intake of breath. "You bitch!" I hear Dean say. The phone disconnects. Oh. I think I hurt his feelings. What a shame. Group disbanded shortly after that. I never saw Trish, Dean or Tony again.

An added note - 3 years later, my boyfriend and I are having sex for the first time in the backseat of his Omega (small, small hatchback car). Mark penetrates. There is pain. Pain I never believed would be possible. I scream "Damn you, Dean!" Mark is less than pleased and I have to explain to him all about how I lost my virginity in a laundry room and here it turns out that Dean's not just a bad kisser, he's bad at everything. Oh, and in case you're wondering, foreplay did consist of the two kisses and the two passes over my breasts. That's it. What a stud.

So, this is the story of, in the words of The Lioness, the tale of the blue stiffy. It sounds like a Nancy Drew mystery, doesn't it? Actually, I think I might change the title of this post to that. This was origionally called "The first departure of the WWIT? train."

Previous Comments:

At 10:52 PM, brooksba said...
Thank you for sharing this story Dana. I have to add something about Dean (forgive me), he was a dirty-faced, lying sack of shit, waste of flesh moron who was too stupid to ever deserve the wonderfulness that is my friend.

Now that you see the story of Dean pissed me off royally (big-big do ye ken? - Sorry, I'm on a break from The Dark Tower, couldn't resist), you may wonder why I thanked you for writing it. That's a fabulous question and I'm happy to answer it (oh no, can you just see Dark Tower and customer service coming together? That may be more frightening than anything Stephen King, Dean Koontz, etc. has ever written).

I thank you because I think it was healthy for you to cleanse yourself of the experience of this bastard. (Yes, I still am mad at him.)

I thank you for the funny image of a naked idiot with a blue penis. It's just humorous. I wonder if he ever realizes that he's the butt of the joke.

I thank you for your honesty, but I don't think you are to blame for anything. You follow a good life and you understand what happened now.

Knowing you, I would think you were the victor in that game of Scrabble. You're amazing with words. =)

You are wonderful person Dana and I think you deserve more in this world. Someday we're going to find that perfect "Big Kiss" for you. And the man who can actually deserve the joy of your company and heart.


At 10:49 AM, CarpeDM said...
Dammit, you made me cry. And laugh. And then cry again. Boy, this blogging thing sure gives the emotions a workout.

Yeah, I think you're right. I did have to write this down. It helped me remember where the cycle started and why I'm so glad that the cycle has ended.


At 1:39 PM, Matt said...
Dana-Thank you for sharing this story with the world. I know that it had to be hard to share this, but I also agree with Beth, I think that it healthy for you to cleanse yourself of this. I am also very, VERY happy to see you put an end to the unhealthy cycle.

I will add a few comments myself about Dean (forgive my tongue, it has a mind of it's own) Bastard! Bastard! As! Ass! Shithead, fucking fuck fucker! I f I ever see that son of a bitch on the street and you are in the car with me, you had better believe that you will think I ran over a speed bump, because he will bounce off of my car!

I also think it a funny image of a naked man, and a blue boner. That is hysterical.

Dana, I cannot wait for you to have that big kiss that you so deserve, the person that is going to get that and give that to you will be one of the luckiest people ever. Ever! They will be getting the wonderfulness of you, and you will be getting the wonderfulness of them, and if they are smart, they will never let you get away once they have found you.

Love,
Your Son (Ok, my name is really Matt-but I like the idea of beiNG YOUR SON)


At 1:56 PM, The Lioness said...
Oy what a fucking wanker! I think I need to take a small break before I sully your blog any further, that bloody motherf%!#$"%&$!#!


At 2:06 PM, CarpeDM said...
My. The emotions about this post. Amazing.

Well, I did try searching for him last night but no pops. At least in Minnesota. God, if only I could borrow a 21-22 year old and show up on his doorstep with "his kid."

That's so wrong. But wouldn't it be funny?


At 3:40 PM, The Lioness said...
This post has been removed by the author.

At 3:40 PM, The Lioness said...
I think you're lovely. And brave. And hilariously funny. And so worthy of a real, sane relationship instead of the crap you persisted on having for years. I haven't been reading you for a very long time but the person you describe in the past and the one you obviously are today - well, the water is wide. I read your posts today and I see someone who fully embraced all her shit and, not being able to change it into gold, is using it to create a fine, fine garden. From Dana to DM, Queen of the Universe you got a problem with that. (I was worried I might be getting too corny but then remembered you like NoraRoberts)(Stop hitting me!)

As for the post, dramatic as it is, it's one of the funniest things I've ever read and - oh, and it was named after me! Sort of. In a penile kind of way. I feel magnificent. I feel kind of proud.

Bright note: MF did wear a condom; the odds of it are slim indeed

Please do the son thing, please, please, please! You don't even need a 21-year-old, just get a really big cardboard Smurf.


At 1:49 AM, brooksba said...
Wow! I just have to say, to the Lioness, the image of a large cardboard Smurf made me laugh until I cried.

I'm just picturing DM carrying a large blue, one dimensional body wearing nothing from the waist up. Priceless. Just priceless.


At 2:26 PM, Firebear said...
I have know very few people who are brave enough to share so private a story. Thank you for sharing it with us.
larry


At 7:42 PM, BC said...
Ay, though ye may lose thine virginity in a laundry room, do not weep. Ay, though a mischevious wretch hast coveted thine body, tis not his. For ye are strong yet merciful, bold yet honest. I could not help but laugh at your retelling. Thank you for allowing me too. It's a harsh experience but a good story and the blue thing has some sense to it. Lionesse wrote it for you? I couldn't help but think of James Dean because of the name although this guy sounds like he has all the techniques of a common farm bucket. Anyways, loved it. Keep being yourself.

Song Title Dialouge - I and You

Okay, there is probably a reason why Beth and I are still single.* This is what we did for fun on Sunday, flip through the karaoke book and come up with different song titles to use as dialouge. It's really my fault, I was looking at page 24 of the older selections and thought "Hmm, this looks like it could be poetry. " I pointed it out to Beth and she said "Hmm, this looks like a conversation." So here goes. If this post goes over well, expect more. *That and the fact that the only men to show interest in us are usually drunk.

Male persona is #1, female persona is #2 or actually, since this is a gay friendly blog, first persona is #1, second persona is #2 and you can assign any gender to it that you want. Can't you just imagine this conversation taking place at a bar? There are certain pairings that I found either amusing or poignant or slightly bizarre. I will highlight them and leave a remark about those.

1: I think I love you.
2: You ain't seen nothing yet.

1: I think I love you too much.
2: You are my sunshine.

1: I think I'll just stay here and drink.
2: You are so beautiful.

1: I told you so.
2: You are the sunshine of my life.

1: I touch myself.
2: You beat me to the punch.
This one amused both Beth and I. Either #2 is saying "Hey, I was thinking about the same thing" or "Hey, I was thinking about touching you." They both work.

1: I walk the line.
2: You belong to me.

1: I wanna dance with somebody.
2: You can do magic.

1: I wanna dance with you.
2: You can't hurry love.
#2 - Hey, don't rush me, dude. I'll dance when I'm ready to dance.

1: I want to be your man.
2: You don't have to be a star, baby.

1: I want to know what love is.
2: You don't own me.

1: I want you back.
2: You give good love.

1: I want you, I need you, I love you.
2: You give love a bad name.

1: I want you to want me.
2: You got it.

1: I want your sex.
2: You got it all.

1: I was country when country wasn't cool.
2: You keep me hanging on.

1: I went to your wedding.
2: You light up my life.

1: I will always love you.
2: You made me love you.

1: I will survive.
2: You make loving fun.

1: I wish it would rain.
2: You make me feel brand new.
It makes me think of flowers somehow.

1: I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
2: You make me feel like dancing.

1: I write the songs.
2: You needed me.
This so would have worked better if You make me feel like dancing fell here but hey, I must remain true to my art and can't start mixing things up.

1: I'd do anything for love.
2: You ought to be with me.
Yeah, you ought to be with me if you'd do anything for love. I'm a romantic as well (and yes, I know it's the Meatloaf song and it's somewhat sardonic, I still like the song and this section).

1: I'd like to teach the world to sing.
2: You sexy thing.
It rhymes!

1: I'd love you to want me.
2: You should be dancing.

1: I'd really love to see you tonight.
2: You were on my mind.

What set this off was I saw the following song titles in order and I thought it was poetic.

I think I love you.
I think I love you too much.
I think I'll just stay here and drink.
I told you so.
I touch myself.
I wanna dance with somebody.
I wanna dance with you.

Isn't that beautiful?

If public response is good, there will be another post, this one will be answers to songs that start with when. Let me know what you think.

Previous Comments:
At 2:29 PM, DeAnn said...
OK, that is NOT a reason that you're single. That is the reason that people should want to be around you. Too funny.I think you're both single because you're just too picky! (That's the excuse I've always used when I'm single.)
At 4:54 PM, brooksba said...
Dana,Thank you. This was fun at karaoke and way fun to read here!This is about all my mind can handle right now. I think one of my favorites from the dialouge was:1: I want you, I need you, I love you.2: You give love a bad name.No reason why. I just found it amusing. I can't wait for the when post. If you want the songs I wrote down, let me know. They might help.
At 1:47 PM, Matt said...
If you ever wonder why I love to be around you, and why I love you like I do Dana, this is reason enough right here. That was so much fun to read. I am thinking about something though, this might be an intresting test to do to some people, Music Word Association. You give them a song title, and they have to respond with the first song title that pops into their mind. For instance, everytime I hear the title "I Touch Myself" I immediatley think of "Gonna Make You Sweat". I will talk to you later!Matt

I am protesting

I looked up Midnight at the Oasis. I slaved away at coming up with the appropriate vant. Blood and sweat and tears as I worked into the late hours. And no one comments. No one. Not even random strangers to tell me what a freak I am.

Sigh. All my hard work in vain.

Comments:
At 2:51 PM, brooksba said...
Dana,Don't protest. =( At least not over this. I posted two comments that day. I found five posts for you at the same time. I will work diligently now on my book report of Midnight at the Oasis. I'm sorry I didn't comment. I loved your vant on Midnight at the Oasis.A very sad Beth who is waiting for your post on song titles.
At 3:50 PM, Firebear said...
YEA, YOU'RE A FREAK.BUT HEY, AREN'T WE ALL!
At 4:29 PM, The Lioness said...
Er... I don't know the song or the singer but it sounds a bit frightening. I thought Midnight at the Oasis was about the grandkid. Sorry. Am immersed in trying to change sidebar code. I'm winning.
At 4:51 AM, DeAnn said...
In my defense, I had a busy, non-blog-reading weekend and got behind. And, since you have written so much of late, I wasn't commenting on any of it.Do we really have to tell you that you are a freak? Come on! You analyzed a song to show us how on crack it is.I love that! "Freak," in my world, is a compliment.

A loaf of bread, a jug of Diet Coke (with a lime slice) and thou

I forgot to mention that Bobby (hot bartender Bobby, mentioned previously before here and here) and I had an ever so romantic conversation last Sunday. I am looking forward to tonight and seeing him again so that we may exchange fleeting glances, followed by whispered sweet nothings and then, consumating our love, quite possibly in the rain (stupid ex-boyfriends who refuse you when you say "Oh, it's a very warm rain, let's go outside and finish this." I was offering semi-public sex! Isn't that supposed to be a turn-on for guys? I cannot die until I have lived this fantasy (No, that is not an offer for volunteers)).

Anyway, for your reading pleasure, here is the conversation:

B (not Beth this time. Bobby): The usual?
DM: Yes. (Heart bursting with love) We missed you last Sunday.
B (still Bobby): I was out of town.
DM: Oh.
B: Were we busy?
DM: Yes.
B: I figured we would be.
DM (watching him put the finishing touches on my Diet Coke): Please marry me.

Okay. I didn't ask him to marry me. I told Beth about the conversation, including the part in my head. She said "I bet I could freak him out if I asked him why he hadn't answered your telepathic proposal yet." Or something like that.

Anyway, hopefully he will be at The Chalet tonight where I may gaze at his masterful hands as he makes my drink of choice. Sigh. Ah, Bobby, if you only knew how we were destined for each other. You pour Diet Coke, I drink Diet Coke. It's a match bottled in Heaven.

Comments:
At 5:00 PM, angelia said...
Ahh, the sweet, sweet wonders of life. You and Bobby...he pours diet coke, you drink diet coke....hot delivery boy and me, I make pizza's, he delivers pizzas. We could have a double wedding! LOL
At 10:05 AM, CarpeDM said...
Yes, that would be ever so romantic.The fun thing about this is I'm not secretly in love with him, I think he's a great guy and the whole providing me with a beverage is always important, but, for some reason, when I talk to him, I turn into this twittering school girl. He probably thinks I'm a total freak. Which, of course, I am.
At 3:39 PM, Firebear said...
THINGS TO DO IN THE RAIN:
SINGING
DANCING
MAKING OUT WITH DANA
CANOEING
GOLFING
At 12:01 PM, CarpeDM said...
Oh, Firebear, you're the perfect man. If only you weren't in Michigan with the perfect woman

Another journey on the What Was I Thinking train

My romantic life has never been what one would call stellar. When I was in my twenties and let alcohol be my guide, I had a tendency to end up in bed with men that I normally would not even have a conversation with if I had been sober.

In the summer before I moved to Madison (1989? 1990?), I was working two jobs, one at Major's and also at an Italian Restaurant (still around so we'll call it the Grape Vine). One night, after my shift ended at the Grape Vine, one of my coworkers talked me into going to Denny's with him. He mentioned that another employee, a line cook named Mitch, would be joining us. For some reason, Mitch and I hit it off.

At this point of my life, I am still in what I affectionately refer to as "The Needy Years" where I judged myself on my worthiness on whether a guy like me. And, as a reward for liking me, I would sleep with them. Because, as I said, I was needy. And extremely lonely.

So, as I said, Mitch and I hit it off. I'm not sure why. Maybe because he usually had a pretty good supply of pot on hand, maybe because he found me attractive, maybe because I was desperate. Probably all three.

Mitch didn't have a car. If we were going to go out, I would take a bus to the Maplewood Mall. He would meet me there. We walked everwhere. I remember telling my former friend Jake this as though it was a good thing. Which it probably was because I was getting a ton of exercise but still, I am not a walker.

So, let's list some of the charming things about Mitch.

1. He had once been in the army. So he would walk around wearing camoflauge outfits.
2. His idea of a good time was to pretend he was mentally and physically handicapped. I would be so embarrassed being with him when he would do this.
3. He asked me why I cried at movies. I told him I liked to cry. It was a catharsis for me. He didn't know what I meant and asked me to explain. I told him it meant an emotional release, one that usually makes the person feel better. He wanted to know why I couldn't just say that in the first place. Which, in itself is not so bad. I didn't mind that he didn't know what the word meant. What I didn't like was that he didn't understand my fascination with words. Oh, let's face it. He was stupid. He didn't get me at all.
4. He lived with his step-mother. And when she got evicted, he lived in the shed behind her house. I actually spent the night there with him. And almost died because it was so cold.
5. Always broke. Probably because of the drugs. So I ended up paying for everything.
6. Insane. Psychotic freak obsessed with two things - the army and me.

About two-three weeks into our relationship, he asked me to marry him. I said yes. I know. But I told you this was a ride on the WWIT? train at the very beginning of this post. Then, when we went to look at engagement rings, we started arguing over whether I should get a diamond ring. I don't like diamonds. I think they're boring. I wanted the black onyx heart. Which was probably an omen. We couldn't agree so I never got the ring. That's when I got the dog tags. Yep. Who says romance is dead?

Although many people hate Jake for a lot of the stuff that he did to me, one of the best things he said to me was "You should marry him now. Why let him get away?" when I said that Mitch and I were arguing over a wedding date. I started thinking really hard about what life with Mitch would be like. Fortunately, I came to my senses. I stopped answering the phone when he called and no longer worked at the Grape Vine. He stopped calling after about a week.

Our entire relationship lasted one month.

I was saying to Beth last night that if I knew then what I know now, I probably would still be a virgin. And that reminded me to blog about the time I thought penises became blue when they were erect. But that is a story for another day.

Comments:
At 9:59 PM, brooksba said...
Dana,You are a wonderful person and you deserve more in life than Mitch could give. I'm sure he wasn't an all bad guy, but you deserve the best guy ever. I'm glad to see you as you are today, a strong individual with hopes, dreams, and the guts to do what you want to do for yourself.
At 12:33 AM, Matt said...
I love you Dana. You are an awesome person, and one of the best friends a person could ever have. With that said, I am wondering, would you have had to wear a camoflauge wedding dress? Because if you did, how would we see you?Matt
At 1:59 AM, angelia said...
since you had to pay for everything...would you have had to pay for your ring too? Just wondering....
At 6:56 AM, The Lioness said...
This is what I think: we are awarded a few freaks during our lifetime. Good thing you got rid of one already. Saves space for the normal ones. See? Actually I think we atttract people according to the messages we send life. Happy to see yours have changed. Many women would have gone on and married the man, anything but being alone. So well done! Really. Not in any patronising way, just really well done.Now please pay attention: write blue stiffy story THIS MINUTE!!! Or I'll forever withold a really easy liver receipe - and hell if I can cook it so can you, you cannot possibly be a worse cook than I am. Teaser.
At 9:13 AM, CarpeDM said...
Answers:Beth, you rock and always make your day.Matt, I'm betting camoflauge would be extremely slimming but I don't know what color we would have chosen. We really weren't together long enough to make any wedding decisions.Angi, I don't remember. But probably. Which might be why I was so intrigued by the black onyx heart, it was only $149 (I can't believe I remember that).The Lioness, I'm working on it. Believe me when I say there will be laughter and tears.
At 11:52 AM, The Lioness said...
I've been meaning to elaborate ever since I commented but haven't yet because well you read my post so here it finally comes: it sounds condescending to write "glad to see yours changed", it's not meant like that, it's meant like "we're all daft at some point and hell could I tell you stories about sending off wrong messages and my stories aren't even THAT old". So thanks for not answering "Who do you think you are, b***!" (I'm behaving! ;D)
At 1:07 PM, CarpeDM said...
Actually, I am quite proud of the changes I have made in my life so I was thinking "Oh, how nice of her to notice and acknowledge me."I think you're cool.

Yet another reason to hate Rainbow

Those of you who have read my blog from the beginning may remember the two vants I had about Rainbow Foods, a grocery store in the Twin Cities area. Here, for your reading pleasure, is the experience I had when I ran in one day to get a pasta salad.

My friend Adam decided to have a dinner party to officially introduce us to his new boyfriend (it's been almost a year since they met! Congratulations to Adam and Rich). He invited Keem, Beth, Scott and Matt and me. I offered to bring something and he asked me to pick up a pasta salad. Keem stopped at Rainbow on our way. I ran inside to pick up the salad. Easy enough, right? Well, you obviously haven't spent enough time in my world to know that it's not easy.

I stand in line at the deli. There were several people behind the counter but I was ignored. Several customers are waited on and leave.

I stand there.

No one acknoweldges me. Which is, as we discovered in an earlier post, pretty much what I think Hell will be like for me.

The girl behind the counter picks up a spray bottle and starts cleaning. She looks straight at me. Or through me because apparently I am now invisible.

A guy behind the fried food counter sees me. "Have you been helped?" "No," I reply. Does he come up to help me? No, he does not. He says something to the sulky girl who is ignoring me. She looks up and I now register on her radar. I'll have to talk to my doctor about that pesky fading in and out I seem to be doing.

"Did you want to order something?"

I am tempted to reply "No. I come to delis and stand around for fun." Instead I smile politely and say yes.

She ever so graciously packs my order for me. Yes, that is sarcasm. What she actually does is slam a whole bunch of things together and almost snarls at me in disgust for my very existence is obviously destroying her soul.

I get into the car. Keem wonders what took me so long. I blame Martin Lawrence for what comes out of my mouth. When the show "Martin" was on, there was a annoying character named Shenaynay. This woman at the deli reminded me of her.

"Well, I had to wait for Shenaynay to realise I existed."

"Dana!"

"Okay. Maybe her name was Shaniqua. I don't know or care. She was a bitch."

I am really, really sorry for calling her Shenaynay. I am not sorry for calling her a bitch.

Comments:
At 12:37 AM, Matt said...
YES!!! I love that story! That is just awesome! I have been waiting to read this! I don't know if you heard or not, but Rainbow has decided to turn their billboards into a weekly animated show for kids. Isn't that great?Matt
At 6:03 AM, CarpeDM said...
No. No, no, no. That is just wrong. Wrong! Oh, my God, how could they do this to me? Why? What are they going to do?You better be making this up to tweak me out. I'm serious. Or there is going to be smashed fruit and vegetable hell to pay with the powers that be at Rainbow.

Midnight at the Oasis - the vant

A note: I was going to try and do a line for line analysis of this song. Unfortunately, Blogger doesn't seem to like spaces. So I apologize that I am unable to do this. I will, in italics, add my personal comments at the predetermined breaks I have made (www.lyricsplanet.com doesn't show this broken up into stanzas (is that the right word? I can never remember).

Now. Please keep in mind that this is my own personal opinion. I do not really think that Maria Muldaur is on Crack for recording this song. But there are things about this song that scare me. Really scare me.

Maria Muldaur Midnight At The Oasis or (IMHO) Woman on Crack. Crack Song.

Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed
Shadows paintin' our faces
Traces of romance in our heads
Heaven's holdin' a half-moon
Shinin' just for us
Let's slip off to a sand dune, real soon
And kick up a little dust

It's midnight at the oasis and your camel is tired. What I'm wondering, is this a camel? Or is this actually your wife and I don't like her so I'm calling her a camel. Or is the camel your chaperone? Because, really, if it's an actual camel, then what does it care if we go running around in the shadows? It's probably just sitting there watching two adults play peek-a-boo as they figure out whether or not they're going to have sex. Because no matter how you pretty up the words, with the traces of romance and the half-moon that's just for us, the minute we start talking about kicking up some dust, you know that's what we want. We want sex. Unless we're talking about dancing. But I doubt it.

Come on, Cactus is our friend
He'll point out the way
Come on, till the evenin' ends
Till the evenin' ends
You don't have to answer
There's no need to speak
I'll be your belly dancer, prancer
And you can be my sheik

Okay, now that's just weird. Cactus is our friend. He's point out the way? I keep picturing this cactus with sunglasses and a sign that says "This way to the Oasis." Which is really kind of frightening, especially if you know me and how I feel about fruits and vegetables and now plants wearing faces. And then there's the whole you don't have to answer or speak so I'm figuring this guy is really pretty but stupid. So you don't want him to talk. And again, we're back to sex. Or dancing. And are you being a belly dancer and prancer or are you calling your sheik your prancer?

------ guitar solo ------

I have nothing against guitar solos. I enjoy them. Yay to the guitar solo.

I know your Daddy's a sultan
A nomad known to all
With fifty girls to attend him, they all send him
Jump at his beck and call

So your Dad is pretty famous. Gosh, I am all a-twitter with my brush with celebrity. And wow, what an entourage he has! Side note - I remember seeing this movie about Hercules once. And there was this Queen and she had a harem of these extremely buff men and whenever she would get tired of them, she would push them into a pool of plaster (or wax, can't remember) and had all of these statues. And then Hercules resisted her charms and she threw herself into the plaster (or wax) because of the unrequited love. Anyway, my point is, I wouldn't mind having her harem myself, except for the whole plaster part. That's kind of gross.

But you won't need no harem, honey
When I'm by your side
And you won't need no camel, no no
When I take you for a ride

Okay, so apparently, you are so full of yourself that you can exceed the charms of 50 women. 50 women! C'mon. Of course, if your sheik is your true love, well, then anything's possible. And here we go with the camel thing again. Is it a camel? Or is it his wife. I must know! And then, yes, here we go. We're thinking about sex again. How exciting.

Come on, Cactus is our friend
He'll point out the way
Come on, till the evenin' ends
Till the evenin' ends

Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed
Got shadows paintin' our faces
And traces of romance in our heads

Anyway, this is what goes through my head when I hear songs like this. One of the best versions of this song I've heard was in Waiting For Guffman. It is a great movie and anyone who appreciates the absurd will love this mockumentary. I hope you enjoyed the vant. I am trying to come up with movies that this song has been in and so far I know about Waiting For Guffman and American Pie. If anyone else knows about one I've missed, let me know.

Previous Comments:

At 3:10 PM, brooksba said...
First off, maybe I missed this. Why is Woman on Crack. Crack Song: IMHO? Are you saying the woman is a Ho? Maybe. I was trying to figure this out. Please explain to me. Thank you.

Now, for my book report on your post:

I read the post Midnight at the Oasis - The Vant. DM wrote the post. I would recommend the post to anyone looking for an enjoyable time.

The post works on a play by play of the popular (why is it popular???) song by Maria Muldaur. It's a shame that her last name is so close to wonderful character on the X-Files played by David Duchovny. Ah, David Duchovny... Oops, sorry, I should stick to the book report.

DM takes the first verse of the song which talks about putting the person's camel to bed because two adults want to kick up a little dust. DM explains how the lyrics sound like people wanting to have sex but they're afraid the camel (maybe wife of one of the people) will be watching or upset. Maybe they're putting the camel to bed because they feel icky having it watch. I think this would be like the people who make the dogs/cats sit outside the room while the bed springs creak.

The next verse discusses the cactus, the friend of the people wanting to get it on. The cactus seems to be pointing the way to the Oasis. DM uses this verse to go on a lovely vant about how fruits, vegetables, and plants should not be personified. It reminds me of her vants on Rainbow Foods and the scary billboards. Classic! It will be adored for ages!

The segment on the guitar solo is to the point and a perfect statement. Guitar solos are enjoyable.

When DM analyzes the section about the person's father being a sultan, she discusses a movie she once saw about a queen and her harem. DM discusses the possibilities of having a harem but not putting the men into plaster. This is something I also think would be gross. And what would you do with all those statues?

The next section of the song DM talks about is the ego of the woman singing the song. She appears to have the idea she is a good enough romp in the sack to have the man forget he has 50 women at his beck and call. I wonder how much she charges. DM also tells us about the camel again.

The final discussion from DM is about which movies DM has heard this song in. I agree that Waiting for Guffman had the best rendition of Midnight at the Oasis. I need to watch that movie again.

All in all, I enjoyed DM's post about Midnight at the Oasis - The Vant. I hope you enjoyed my book report.

DM - at least I posted a comment right? I hope you enjoyed.


At 11:40 AM, CarpeDM said...
Oh, this is great! I can't believe you actually did it. What a great book report.


At 1:55 AM, brooksba said...
You thought I wouldn't actually do it? Come on, it's like an assignment. I thought you understood my need for horrible tourture and textbooks.

=)

Love you. I'm glad you enjoyed the book report.

(In case you check the comments, I didn't get a chance to find out when your break is on Thursday. I didn't get much done at all. Please email me it. I'll be checking email when I get up. I'm expecting an important one but hoping for a better one from you.)

Just an update of random stuff

Okay, it's Friday night and I'm hanging out at the phone bank again. Going to IHOP with Beth later. Always fun.

I am working on a post for Midnight at the Oasis because of the requests. Believe me when I say it will be fun and sarcastic and a little bit scary all at once.

Beth wanted me to blog about the song I was singing when we were outside but I don't really remember it (notebooks were inside). It was something like this:

My feet are happy feet.
They like to sing and dance.
A tap of the foot from there to here
Means that I love you dear.
A kick and a shuffle
means that you're an asshole.

I stop with my happy feet song. Beth and I start laughing. I am, apparently, insane.

NABABNA was holding a dunk tank for a charity today. Management volunteered to be dunked and the Cream Puff Man was in the tank. I looked over and said to Adam and Beth "I'll donate 50 dollars if I can just hold his head under water for five minutes." Two minutes later, one of the bankers is throwing balls at the dunk tank thingy that releases the dunkee and keeps missing. She goes to pick up the balls and then, when he's not expecting it, hits the dunk tank thingy and he goes Splash! Completely made my day.

Extremely interesting and fun stuff on Dooce and Matt's blog today. I read these on my lunch and could not help but laugh, that insane laugh that makes people back away from you. Tears spurting from my eyes laughter.

I was trapped outside with Beth and Troy while they were talking about statistics. It was like watching Spock mindmeld with Spock. I was scared. At one point, I covered my ears and started singing "lalalala." Which might be where the happy feet song came from. Not sure.

Life is good in the green ducky universe. Hope everything's good in your universe. Oh, and before I forget, we're going to karaoke on Sunday again and you're always, always invited. I don't think there will be a red shirt involved though. Sorry.

Previous Comments:

At 9:55 PM, brooksba said...
Ah Dana,You are a freak. But I like freaks. Thank you for the fun of your feet song and dance at work. That made my nights. You will understand stats someday. I'll make you. And now I have an ally in Troy. Imagine evil laughter.Beth

Help!

What the heck happened? My blogrolling list has vanished. I need help. The script is there but nothing is happening. I hate this. My life is meaningless without access to other blogs. Meaningless!

Jay, if you read this, please help me. What am I doing wrong? I bow to your wisdom.

Update - After much, much cursing, I reloaded the template and put in all my links once again. It was a rough fight but I was the victor. It was frustrating as hell but I have triumphed. Somewhere, the theme from Rocky is playing.

Previous Comments:
At 4:44 PM, The Lioness said...
It's back. I can see it. I couldn't when I first read your post. Then I took another look and it was there. No blogrolling list would dare defy you, woman! You ARE the Queen of the Universe.

At 9:01 PM, The Lioness said...
I'm not totally barmy, your update was not there when I first wrote that!

At 10:59 PM, CarpeDM said...
No, it wasn't. I read your comment and then added the update.

Statistics, IHOP, Beth and I, 9/10/04

Those of you who know me (and those of you who don't should seriously realize that I am the Queen of the Universe and the sooner you realize that and start adoring me, the better) know that math and I do not get along. At all. In fact, math is that evil bitch that stole my boyfriend away in junior high, the one with the big boobs and the overbite, and I don't like her one bit (I think I may have surpassed myself in odd analogies but hey, the day is young). So, when Beth told me she was going to review her statistics book in preparation for her new class, I believe I said "Cool. I can read."

But no, that's not the way it works. Beth, who adores math, who does algebra for fun (yes, I know, she's a sick, sick woman), hates statistics. And she subscribes to the theory that if you are struggling with a subject, you should teach it to someone else. Possibly someone who hates all math and didn't memorize 8+5=13 until her first year of college is not the best person to inflict horrid, horrid statistics on but I don't think the other patrons of IHOP would have appreciated it if Beth started teaching it to them.

First we use the example about the tissue company. There is this sentence "Next time you pick up a box of tissues, look for the 800 number for complaints." My response was "Complaints? What the hell do you complain about tissues? They're not fluffy enough? " Beth calmly continues to read "Common complaints are about packaging - misleading or there is damage or the product is defective."

Meanwhile, our food comes. Here is more proof that Beth is extremely logical and possibly Spock's incarnation (if a fictional character can be reincarnated...actually, you know, this is my universe and I say that it can happen! Yes!) - "I always start with the hashbrowns. I have to eat in a specific order." What the hell is that? There's the fun of getting your eggs and hashbrowns mixed up together that she's missing out on.

Then the young ones decided to visit. These are not my young ones. No, thank the good Lord, I am child free. These are small children (well, small adults, maybe) who have decided to join the good people of IHOP and have loud conversations to annoy me. Which, of course, makes it easier for me to blog about them. And someday, they will realize that the entire internet is laughing at them. And then they will be sad and beg for my forgiveness and I will say "NO! You have annoyed me and must perish." Except I don't think I'd go through with the perishing part. I'm not good with the whole blood and destruction thing. I am a kind and peaceful ruler. Okay, anyway, moving along to the group of teenagers sitting behind us.

This is what I was thinking as a Cher song came on and one of the boys started nattering on about how he didn't like Cher and she was so stupid and blah, blah, blah. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! No one cares about how you feel about Cher! No one!" Listening to you blabber is not going to change whether I like Cher or not. I happen to think she's very talented, both as a singer and an actress. So shut up. Go listen to some angsty garage band and leave Cher alone.

Then one of the girls sitting behind us starts to giggle. I hate that. Well, let me rephrase that, there's nothing wrong with a giggle. I was young once. I'm sure I giggled on occasion. What I do hate is when the giggler cannot formulate a complete sentence because of the giggling and then the giggle becomes their actual words. Talk and then laugh or laugh and then talk, okay? People will stop thinking you're stupid if you stop doing them both at once.

Gigi (Giggling Girl): You're so (giggle), you're so (giggle), you're so (giggle).

You're so what? What? If you can't say two words without cracking up, there is a problem. Is there a cat licking a window (which hopefully Matt will write this story soon)? No. Then calm down and talk like a normal person.

More statistics:

B: What is the square root of 5 squared?
DM: Well, 5 squared is 25 (Beth nods. I only know this because we had to go over what a square root is because apparently you have to know how to do this if you want your world to function. Did I mention I hate math)? So then the square root is 5 (Pause while this sinks in). What?
B: Yes. It's a long way to say the number 5.
DM: It's like physics (I am frustrated and cranky at this point)!
B: It's nothing like physics (she is laughing at my frustration and crankiness).
DM: If we had ham, we could have ham and eggs, if we have eggs (Long story short, the physics teacher at my high school wrote this in the yearbook. I have no clue what it means). It's stupid and it makes no sense!
Beth laughs. At me. Again. I am a source of amusement for math lovers. Sigh.

Later.

B: Don't turn around (there is a horrified look on her face).
DM: Would I be scared?
B: Yes. Let's just say wearing a toilet sanitary seat cover is not something you should do in public. Look outside.

I turn. There is one of the young ones walking down the sidewalk with a seat cover around his neck.

DM: Well, it gives new meaning to the word sh*thead (note to The Lioness - I actually do swear. But if you do the asterisk thing you avoid those people who think it's funny to search the internet for swear words).

Beth wants to go back to statistics. Here's a little quiz on how well you know your Queen of the Universe. Multiple Choice. Do I

A: Smile and nod politely while weaving fantasies in my mind including the guy with the toilet seat cover around his neck?
B: Tap into my inner nerd and wow her with the math knowledge I've been keeping from her because I'm so much more knowledgeable about math than she is and it would crush her?
C: Start whining about how much I hate math and why, why, is she making me do this and this is what hell will be like for me?

Yeah, if you thought it was anything other than C, I'm a little frightened by what you think of me. No, I whined. I try to think of it as complaining creatively but it was whining.

Frog came up with a meme about what your room in hell would be like. This was the first time I'd ever been able to figure out what mine was. So, thank you, Frog.

My room in hell will be a class room with my annoying teacher from Lakewood (college, tested poorly in math (hah, big surprise) and had to take this stupid class on working with whole numbers, decimals and fractions) who, every time she wrote a problem on the board would sit there and say "Is that okay? Is that okay?" and I wanted to scream "You're the damn teacher, you should know!" and I'll be forced to do math and no one will acknowledge me. Hell will be statistics and no spotlight on me. Which would hopefully mean that in Heaven I'll get lots of attention and get to read all I want.

And our last conversation of the night.

B: I don't even think stat teachers like stats.
DM: Oh, you know they get into it. They're nerd crunching nerds.
B: Does that mean they eat the candy?
DM: Wait. Talk slow. Flipping (to a blank page in the blog notebook)

Gotta love Beth. She's whole bunches of entertainment. And is willing to drive me places.

Previous Comments:
At 9:52 PM, The Lioness said...
LOL! I love this! :DDD (And I got directly mentioned too, bloody hell! - oh speaking of which, why is it a bother if they find us? I mean, what do they do with their cursing knowledge?)

At 1:17 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...
I always thought of statistics as the English Major's Math... I loved the word problems, coming to understand the needs inherent in the problem and finding the equation that solved it. And there were usually two or three possible answers, none of this boring black-and-white yes-or-no nonphilosophical crap.Of course, I liked algebra, too, once it was presented to me as puzzles intead of as math. The practical applications of mathematics are so mind-numbingly dull to us creative types (all the functions of which can be done on a computer, so why bother?) that you have to divorce it from its practicality and make it frivolous. Quadratic equations are more fun than acrostics.

My room in hell would be filled with children and other stupid people talking and talking about things they didn't really understand, and I couldn't point out their errors of logic to them, or even say anything at all unless it was to agree with them. And they would all have Texas accents.

At 4:56 PM, CarpeDM said...
You know, that's a great question. I am not sure what they would do with the swearing knowledge. And it's not like I couldn't delete their comments in the first place. I would say it's because my mother raised me to be a lady (well, she tried) but you know that's not true. Maybe I'm just fond of asterisks? I don't know.

Random Stuff

At Perkins with Beth, the night Matt fell asleep and didn't join us.

There are two girls sitting kitty-corner to us. The song "Jenny" comes on. It must have got stuck in the head of one of the girls because, for a good twenty minutes later, we keep hearing this. For those of you who don't know the song, it consists of the phone number 867-5309 being sung over and over again. Here is what brainiac is singing:

865-7309
876-5309
857-309 (Beth remarks "Phone numbers typically have 7 digits, not 6.")

She also, for some odd reason, maybe to ward off evil spirits, shouts out "I've got boobs!" Yeah, well, so do I.

Beth Wisdom

B: Do you remember those 'Choose Your Own Adventure' books?
DM: Affirmative sound
B: Linking on the internet is kind of like that.

She is right. If I read someone's blog and click, I am transported to a new adventure. Maybe it'll be a fun new website (you have found treasure), maybe the linked site is no more (dead end) or maybe you'll end up on a scary porn site (you have been eaten by a lion).

The internet is a vast and wonderful place.

Midnight At The Oasis (okay, no, it was IHOP but that was the song playing (which deserves a post all of its own about the oddness))

Beth was in an extremely logical mood. This is the night of the internet war, the night where she responded to Mr. Silver (see here and here for more information). A song is playing.

Turn the beat around. Turn it upside down.

I wonder if the music spills out when it is upside down. Beth actually tries to prove that turning the beat upside down will not actually change it. But she's not assuming that it won't (Seriously, check out the above links if you haven't already read it).

There is this girl sitting behind us and I feel so sorry for her. She is surrounded by what must be both sets of grandparents. The conversation starts out with one of her grandmothers saying "Oh, we're drinking decaffinated coffee. Dad wants to sleep tonight (for the interest of brevity, I will not list all the reasons why it annoys me when husbands and wives refer to each other as Mom and Dad. Except for this - Dammit, you have names! Names! Use them!)."

The grandaughter makes a comment about how she likes to mix chocolate and strawberry syrup into her milk. Apparently there are certain political ramifications that I was not aware of. This is obviously akin with saying that she supports slavery for the reaction she got. "Why do you do that?" "You can't have both! That's wrong." "Why can't you drink plain milk?" "We drink decaffinated coffee."

I'm just waiting. Waiting until I get old. Then I'll sit around and talk about how Dad and I like peas and beans. But not canned beans. Not because I just like the taste of fresh or frozen better. Oh, no. It'll be because they're a different color.

That poor girl. And grandparents wonder why their grandkids won't spend any time with them.

Previous Comments:
At 8:35 PM, The Lioness said...
"Midnight At The Oasis", love it. There's a writer in you, you have amazing turns of phrase. Don't ever try to eat a cheese and ham sandwich in Germany,BTW, very impolite. Very unheard of. (I'm glad to see you found Jay, isn't he fabulous?)

At 1:37 AM, DeAnn said...
OK, first, I always thought Tommy Tutone's song was called 867-5309. I'm a moron.

Sounds like a fun night, though.

At 2:47 AM, brooksba said...
Ahhh,I remember IHOP. Yum, IHOP... Oh, I lost track. I can't wait for the Midnight at the Oasis post. Please, please, please!!!Beth

At 10:44 AM, CarpeDM said...
Actually, DeAnn, I couldn't remember if it was "Jenny" or "867-5309" so I could be the moron. Either way, it's a great song.

At 8:10 PM, angelia said...
I would rather be dehydrated than drink decaffinated coffee. There is no point to no caffine in coffee....it is like...like...eating pretzels without having the sour cream/mustard mix.

Hearing Problems

At Perkins, after karaoke, Beth, Matt and I are having a good time playing cards, when a song comes on the Musak overhead. Beth and Matt start discussing how a line goes "Until your back is aching."

I look up. "Is that how it goes? I thought it was 'Until you're back with bacon.'"

They stare at me. I continue. "Hey, breakfast food or Kevin, you win either way."

We then start singing the next line "I miss you, I want you, I need some food."

For the record, the song is "Back Here" by BBMak (whatever the heck that is) and the lyrics go like this (although I think my version is better).

BBMak Back Here

Baby set me free from this misery
I can't take it no more
Since you went away nothing's been the same
Don't know what I'm living for
Here I am so alone
And there's nothing in this world I can do

Chorus
Until you're back here baby
Miss you want you need you so
Until you're back here baby yeah
There's a feeling inside I want you to know
You are the one and I can't let you go

So I told you lies even made you cry
Baby I was so wrong
Girl I promise you now my love is true
This is where my heart belongs
Cause here I am so alone
And there's nothing in this world I can do

Chorus

And I wonder, are you thinking of me
Cause I'm thinking of you
And I wonder
Are you ever coming back in my life?
Cause here I am so alone
And there's nothing in this world I can do

Chorus to fade

Words fail me. Pretty much, from what I gather, is that the singer is depressed because he told lies and let his baby go and now is sitting around wondering if she is thinking about him. I have just one little word for him. And that word is NO! Hopefully, she has a life now and is not waiting around for you to call her because you don't deserve her at all. Perhaps this song was written by the genius who came up with Picture.

Previous comments

At 12:08 PM, The Lioness said...

I linked your Moron's Mouth, that way all 3 sites are neatly available. I hope it's alright, let me know if it isn't. I have to get hold of a Picture.mp3 to understand all that hatred! :D

At 5:53 PM, DeAnn said...

I like the bacon line MUCH better, so you just keep on singing it that way!

At 10:22 AM, CarpeDM said...

I say "Link away! Link away! Link away, Dixie Land."Oh, God, I am so insane.

No, it's cool, Lioness. You go right ahead.

At 6:18 PM, Sara said...

Hi! New to your blog. I love to karaoke too. Where in MSP/St. Paul do you karaoke? I always have a hard time finding places?

Hauntings

Beth's post today reminded me of a few of my ghost stories.

Tale Number One
Back in the 8o's (I think I was 16 or 17?), my mother and sister were both out for the evening and I was home by myself. I was in my room, about ready to go bed.

Suddenly, my room becomes extremely cold. Freezing. And this coldness is emanating from the corner of my room. Now, this is during the summer, so that's a bit odd that it should be so cold and that I should be overwhelmed with this feeling of despair.

The phone rings. It's my mother. I tell her I am seriously freaked out. She asks me if I want her to come home. No. I am an adult (ha!), I can take care of myself. I do say "Can I bring the dogs and cats into the room with me?" We normally kept our two dogs kennelled at night. She says "If you can get them to stay with you without fighting, sure."

I herd the animals into my bedroom. There is Maime, the basset hound with a serious attitude problem (possibly beaten as a puppy, hates everyone but family), Muffin, the cocker spaniel/poodle mix (or cockapoo, which is probably the dumbest name for a dog breed. Almost as dumb as the name Muffin (and we didn't name either, they were adopted and came with the names). Then there are the cats, Kitty (also adopted, real name Buttons. But she loved to be called Kitty and she loved me and would lie there when I sobbed into her fur because of my life being so pathetic and miserable) and Clyde (followed Kari and I home from church one day. I used to get this subscription to Bread for Children, some religious magazine. The editor's husband, Clyde, had recently died so I named Clyde for him). Now, normally, the cats and dogs will fight like, well, cats and dogs. But they didn't this night.

Kitty lies at the top of the bed, on my pillow. Clyde curls up by my feet. Maime lies on my left, Muffin on my right. They all start staring off into the corner. It gets colder. Maime starts to growl. I am so scared and I don't know why. I start to say The Lord's Prayer and the 23rd Psalm over and over again. I was a recently confirmed Lutheran and might even have thrown in the Apostle's Creed and the Nicene Creed in there as well.

The air, once so cold, suddenly started to get warmer. It was like standing near a fireplace. I could feel the heat rush through the coldness. I look at Muffin. She had been hiding behind me and now, was standing up, staring into the corner. She turned and looked at me and I swear that she was smiling at me. Beaming. I know it sounds crazy.

I don't know what caused this, the cold and then the heat. I only know that the dogs and cats were still lying in the room when my mom came home the next morning. And I put my confirmation cross in that corner shortly after that. Nothing like this ever happened again at the house. Well, unless you count the scary woman in the basement.

Tale Number Two
My former roommate, Anya, and I shared an apartment in North Saint Paul. One night, after watching some movies, Anya decided she was tired and went off to her room. I stayed in the living room to watch another movie. About an hour into the movie I saw someone, out of the corner of my eye, walk across the hall and into the bathroom. Then I heard the water running. This happens a few more times. Each time, I would not turn around and look. I kept staring straight ahead, at the television. Normally, if my roommate would walk out of her room that many times, I would have said something to her. But I don't.

When I go off to my room, I notice that her door is shut. This is weird. I don't remember hearing her shut the door but chalk it up to being caught up in the movie.

The next morning, Anya asks me "Why did you shut my window last night?"

"What? What are you talking about?" I reply.

She tells me that, right before she fell asleep, she saw someone standing in her doorway. She closed her eyes for some reason but just assumed it was me. Then she felt the person walk into her room and stand next to her bed. She still wouldn't open her eyes. The person, supposedly me, leans over her and closes the window directly over her bed, leaving only one window open.

"Huh," I say, ever so articulate. "I suppose you weren't walking back and forth from the bathroom last night?" I explain how I saw someone out of the corner of my eye but wouldn't look to confirm that it was Anya.

"No. I didn't. I closed my door and went to sleep."

"Well, I guess we have a ghost. One who likes to run water and make sure you don't catch a cold."

Previous comments

At 12:12 AM, The Lioness said...
My life is boring. BH!

At 10:29 PM, Anonymous said...
Katie

I have a couple of scary stories that I can bore you with. I love scary stories!

Conversations before, at and after Karaoke

Before Karaoke:

As Beth and I were driving to Catherine's, we were fortunate enough to see a gentleman (yes, sarcasm) walking down the sidewalk, attired in jeans. No shirt. Why do men think we want to see them shirtless? Okay, granted, there are some men that I find attractive and would enjoy seeing them shirtless, but these men are chiseled, muscular, attractive men. They are not the average man. Would you like to see me walk down the street shirtless? No, you would not. And therefore, I cover myself (that and the fact I don't want to get arrested). Guess who said this (Beth or myself so you have a 50/50 chance of being right) - "Dude, you are in public! Man boobs are so not sexy."

During Karaoke:

While Lisa Jo and unknown male came up to sing "Picture," she remarked to him "You're blue, I'm pink, we're yellow." It amused me for some odd reason. Random comments during the singing of the song (Have I mentioned that I hate this song?) pretty much circled around the fact that this song is not romantic and the characters portrayed in the song are wh*res. Yep. Drinking, drug-using wh*res who can't wait a day after they break up with each other before climbing into bed with someone else. Beth and I may have frightened Angi a little bit. I hate this song. Hate it! Argh! Gar (random pirate noises)! Although Lisa Jo is fabulous and did a good job singing it, it still is an awful song. What was the person who wrote this thinking?

"Put your hands together and then put your hands in your pants and if you're not wearing underwear and you were when you came in, they're by the front door," Bryan announces after someone has finished singing. I turned to Matt. "Y'know, that's a little crazier than I want my bar to be." Yes, apparently someone (male or female, no clue) decided to take their underwear off and leave it by the door. Why would you do that? Is it supposed to be sexy?

After Karaoke:

Leaving the bar.
DM: Boots are the devil.
Beth: You just need to break them in.
DM: Bras are the devil.

Slight pause.

DM: You know, I pretty much think all clothes are the devil. If it was up to me, we'd all walk around in large pink nightgowns.

Another slight pause.

DM: That's going to be my first act as president.

Then we began determining how people would reflect their sexuality in the large pink nightgowns. Beth suggested fluffy, pink bunnies for those who wanted to reflect their feminine side. Whiskers and other embellishments would be added for those who were more flamboyant. However, Matt and other more masculine people would have a whip added.

DM: And Matt will say "I may be pink but I ain't fluffy."

Beth and I are kind of weird sometimes.

Previous comments:

At 3:51 PM, The Lioness said...
:D make it men's pyjamas and i'm in. And men's boobs are... - the absolute pits. (I´n honour of your blog 'm trying to keep my language clean, I have a cursing streak that would probably cause you to code ;))

At 8:04 AM, Firebear said...
Fluffy Pink Bunny Slippers?

Let the mighty cry of Whoo fill the night!

Last night there was karaoke and it was good. There was singing and dancing and general merriment. There was fun and laughter and festive behavior. Beth and I had a great time.

There was no Bobby. I was sad. However, the fabulous Lisa Jo was our waitress and brought the Diet Coke with a lime slice directly to me so I was made happy again.

The red shirt experiment was not a failure but also, not quite a success. Beth and I journeyed to Northtown Mall on Sunday, only to find out that there is no longer a Lane Bryant there. We then drove to Catherine's, unfortunately, they closed at 5 and we didn't get there until 5:30 or so. Then it was off to Target. Target, among other problems, does not have the best plus size area. There seems to be the general consenus in most department stores that if you wear over a size 3X or 26/28, well, too dang bad. So you can either squeeze yourself into what they have to offer or wait until you can find a specialty shop that's open. I did manage to find a nice red shell (I'm assuming that's what it's called. I don't do fashion) and a black cardigan to wear over it. The shell had a scoop neck so there was some attention drawn to the chestal area. Of course, since I was spending the weekend over at Beth's, there I am in my red shirt, black cardigan, blue jeans and brown boots. My, I was stylin'. There will be pictures later.

I bought boots. Well, actually, Beth bought boots for me. I have not worn boots in over a year and a half because my calves are too big and the boots I owned won't zip up. Well, I thwarted them. We found a size 12 (I normally wear a size 10) and they do fit around my horrendously swollen legs. Of course, I forgot what it was like to walk in boots because it's not the same as flat shoes. I used muscles that have laid dormant for over a year and they are not pleased with me. Not pleased at all.

Anyway, back to the experiment. As you know, if you have read the previous posts about this, Beth and I were conducting and experiment to see if men, particularly drunken men, are drawn to the red shirt or the person in the red shirt. Since my "girls" have not been ogled in quite some time, it was my turn to see if it was possible to attract male attention.

The Red Shirt Experiment

1. Michael came over to join our table. Somehow the topic turned around to the red shirt. Michael said "Oh, that's right. This is the last night of the experiment." And I said "That's right. So, dammit, ogle them." He gave a piercing stare towards the vicinity of the afforementioned "girls."
2. Buddy stared blankly at me for a moment until I cleared up what Beth and I were talking about by saying "Stare at my chest, dammit." He laughed and obliged me with the two second glance. And it was actually at my neck so it doesn't really count.
3. Matt walks in, sits down next to me and says, with a leer "I like the shirt." No pressure but doesn't count because he's family.

What have we learned from this? Other than the fact that telling someone to stare at my chest probably destroys the whole experiment? Not much. Oh, well, it was fun. I need better "girls."

Some of the people who told me they would be there did not arrive, although they had good reasons. We were surprised to see Buddy, he read the open invitation and decided to come. Buddy is great. He is funny and smart and reminds me of Buddy Holly (hence the nickname) and oh, my God, the man can sing. Beth and I were quite impressed. Lady B, I apologize, I did tell Buddy that I loved him. But it is purely in a mortal to rock god way.

There was a man there that I was somewhat attracted to (Matt may differ with the somewhat since, when this guy came up to sing, I grabbed Matt's shoulder and may have put fingernail marks into it). He was scruffy and had dark hair and nerd glasses (oh, how I love the nerd glasses, you know the ones I'm talking about, the thick black ones that only make piercing blue eyes even more piercing) and a white t-shirt with no sleeves and was somewhat muscular. He sang Stuck In The Middle With You and then also sang Lola. It was during Lola that I became less smitten. He came up onto the stage, raised his arm over his head and then sniffed his armpit. Yes, you read that right. His armpit. It was then I became not so turned on as much as seriously grossed out.

Anyway, we're going up next Sunday as well. You're all invited again.

Previous comments

Let the mighty cry of whoo fill the night

At 5:29 PM, Matt said...
That was a fun night, a lot of fun. I however really enjoyed the announcement that Brian had made about the "under things" at the back, that was good. I think that I will mention the night after the Karoke, because that was filled with a rather amusing conversation if I remember correctly...........

Your Son

P.S. And what do you mean that I do not matter because I am family? I thought you loved me....I always knew that Beth was your favorite...............

At 7:27 AM, Firebear said...
Glad to hear Sunday was a good time. I for one beleave cleavage should be seen more. I haven't been able to sing Lola for years. When I try it comes out as Weird Al's version entitled Yoda.

"Meet him in a swamp down on Dagobah, where it bubbles all the time like a giant carbinated soda, S-O-D-A soda."

I'm not sure what glarkware is but I like it

Movie Courtesy Cards - Now this is an idea I can firmly get behind! Let's all buy them. Yes, all of us! And together we will rid this world of the chair thwackers and the penny throwers and the damn talkers during movies! And our cry will go out to the world!

"For the love of God, would you just shut up!"

Previous comments

At 1:11 PM, DeAnn said...
You don't know what Glarkware is?!

Oh my goodness!!

Well, here you go: Glark is one of the three creators of the best site on the Web:

www.televisionwithoutpity.com

And he also runs Uber interactive.

And he's one of the people behind Damn Hell Ass Kings.

He also offers Glarkware. It's awesome. I ordered two of the latest Now or Never shirts. I cannot wait to get them!!

It's time to talk about it

*Update - After two people read this and told me that this came across as sad, I just wanted to state that sadness is not my intention here. It's just coming to grips with the fact that I'm fat and I need to do something about it. It's supposed to be funny. Well, in a pathetic, my life was hell, kind of way. Anyway, I'm not looking for pity. I'm not looking for someone to say "You're not fat, Dana, you're just (insert politically correct word)." This is just what I need to do to actually do something about my weight, again. Maybe this time I can stick to something. I'm looking for support from my friends. I think we can do anything with a little help from our friends. Thanks.

Okay, obviously, from the title, this is something that I don't talk about. I don't address this and it's eating me up inside. I am overweight. And those of you who know me or have seen my picture are probably thinking "Well, yeah, we knew that. So?"

I started gaining weight in 3rd or 4th grade. I trace this back to when I first got glasses and I, the least trendiest person in the world, chose a pair of glasses that were shaped like octagons (the first in many, many stops aboard the "What Were You Thinking" Train) which both my mother and the eye doctor tried to convince me to not choose. I, however, was secure in my belief that I looked cool. Alas, I did not.

Now, I was somewhat popular in 3rd grade. I had friends amongst the cool kids and went to sleepover parties at the home of some of the rich and popular girls. So I was secure in my reflected coolness when I went to school, wearing my octagon glasses. I was about to learn my first lesson about how cruel kids can be. Suddenly people who I thought were my friends were denying that they had ever spent any time with me outside of school. Do you have any idea how disconcerting that is for someone? To say "Hey, do you remember that movie we watched when I spent the night at your house?" And have them reply "What are you talking about? You never stayed over." I sat there, staring at her, thinking "Am I insane? Did I make this all up? I swear, it happened. We watched 'What's Up, Doc.' I remember this."

For whatever reason, I couldn't handle the rejection. And I started to eat. I'm not condoning it, I'm not saying "Oh, look at poor Dana, she's a victim. It wasn't her, it was all those bad kids that forced her to gain weight" because that's not what happened. I could give you all of the factors of what contributed to my weight gain, I could line them up for you. Oh, let's do it for fun. Okay? Shall we list the reasons of misery? Yes! Let's do it!

1. I was rejected by my classmates and made a figure of fun every frickin' day of my life in school (I think they made a movie about it, called "Carrie" (okay, it wasn't that bad and, luckily for the friendly and wondrous rich bitches of my childhood, I do not have the psychic powers I joke about)
2. I may or may not have been molested by a teacher (I have a tendency to block out a lot from my past, there are certain memories, however, that validate this theory) in 3rd grade
3. My father was an alcoholic so addiction runs in the family (hey, why do you think I don't drink anymore?)
4. My father may or may not have molested me (actually, I'm leaning towards probably not. A former friend, may he rot in a fiery, fiery burning hell of hellfire, said he hypnotized me one night and I had memories of this happening that, conveniently, I don't really remember. But he was my friend and friends sometimes have to tell you bad things, right? (And sometimes your friends will turn to a waitress and say "We're moving. We have to get a new apartment because Dana's ass is too big for the one we're in." And sometimes friends will use you as a free nanny service and take everything you make from your crummy job and allow you to dig through the ashtray for cigarette butts because you don't make enough money for you to actually buy your own cigarettes because you're giving all your money to him. Okay, I seem to have been sidetracked. Sorry) Anyway, I think he lied to me about my Dad because it was just one more thing he could do to alienate me from my family and fall more under his spell. Dad was a lush, yes, probably not a child molester)
5. I seem to encourage people to, hmm, I was going to say mock but I think the word I really want is "Crush my spirit under their heel until I can do nothing more than sob myself to sleep and eat, eat, eat to fill the empty hole in my empty soul."
6. I fell for the oldest line in the book when I was 15. The "I love you" line. 17 year old who broke my heart (okay, bent it. A lot) and then, of course, I felt guilty. So I slept with every guy who ever showed interest in me because I was a slut and deserved to be treated like dirt and then I ate more because I was depressed and then I slept with different guys because the other ones, of course, took what they want and left and now, I am very fat and very much alone and I kind of like it because I don't have to worry about guys coming on to me because, let's face it, I am so very fat and I don't have to worry about whether or not I should sleep with them because they are paying attention to me but, on the other hand, I am still waiting for the big kiss and seven years of non-kissing really kind of sucks. Which, according to a recurring dream I have had for many years, the big kiss will not be happening until I am 900 years old and in a nursing home (seriously. I'll tell you about the dream someday).
7. My God, isn't this enough?

Anyway, it's no longer 3rd/4th grade, I walked up the stairs carrying a fairly light box and almost died from the asthma attack last night, I haven't seen my feet since I don't know when, I am so very sick and tired of breaking into a sweat by walking to the phone, I have had a very persistent visitor for the last year (that's all the detail you get. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about) and, well, you know, I'd like to wear a size 18 again. Please God, once before I die, okay?

And, since I don't have the psychic powers or a magic wand or a fairy godmother, ain't nobody going to lose this weight for me. I have to do it myself. So, I'm going to give it another shot. But this time, I'm going to go public with it. Starting Tuesday, I'm going to see if there is life without Mountain Dew.

I'm really thinking there isn't. I know it's good for me, but water, not so tasty, you know? Anyway, join me on my fun filled trip. God knows, I can use the support because I am so very, very weak.

Previous comments
At 6:56 PM, angelia said...
You can do it Dana! I believe in you, and your strength, and your will, and your incredible determination. I am rooting for you!

At 6:02 PM, DeAnn said...
I'm with you in many ways. I can't bring myself to discuss my weight on my blog because, well, you're braver than I am. But I'm in need of the weight loss, too. And I am trying.

At 2:38 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...
Good for you! I know how hard it will be, but I know it can be done. I'm rooting for you! More than that, I'll help any way I can from here.

At 11:56 PM, Matt said...
Father,

This is coming from someone that has been there and done it, and is still fighting it, but you can do it. You took the first step and admitting it, and being braver than I could be when I was there by sharing it with so many people. I know you can do it Dana, because I believe in you. I always have. You do know that I have two shoulders you can always lean on if you need them, so don't be afraid to do that. As for the people that have not approached you because of what they see, they are missing out on one of the most wonderful, loving, fun people I have ever known. You have always been, and will always be one of the most beautiful people I know, screw them if they can't see that. I believe in you, I really do. I love you Dana, and that will never change.

Love,

Your (No Matter How Hard You Try To Deny It) Son-Matt

An Open Invitation to the World

Dear World,

Sunday night, the 5th, Beth and I cordially invite you to join us at The Chalet (apparently their website is not up anymore. Dang it!). The 6th is Labor Day and pretty much everybody has the day off (well, we do at NABABNA). There will be singing and dancing (it's happened in the past) and much festivities. And, if you choose to drink, go for it, just don't be surprised if I post about you later (well, if you get drunk). Here is a link to Mapquest where you can get driving instructions. We go up there at about 9:30-10 but, if that changes, I will update. Update! We have decided to up at 9:00 and get a table or two or three. We're expecting it to be somewhat busy.

Here's what you can expect if you join us:

1. A hot bartender named Bobby (I think I have a thing for bartenders. There is something so sexy about a man who is in control of my diet Coke and can provide me with lime slices).
2. A jovial karaoke host named Bryan McDonald.
3. A discussion on the proper usage of the word "Whoo!"
4. A discussion on the Rules of Karaoke.
5. Threats of mayhem if anyone sings the song "Picture."
6. Odd little conversations and moments like this.
7. Lots of fun!
8. No, you don't have to sing.
9. You can be a part of history as Beth and I have embarked on a case study to determine the "Cause and Effect of Red Shirt When Perceived By Drunken Males." It is a much scientific study and will result in my purchasing a low-cut red shirt. For the results of our previous findings, please click here and here (Beer Goggles - Part One and Two). And also here (The New Scent For Men to Drive Women Wild). We are trying to determine if it's the shirt or the shirtee which causes the reaction. Be there for the finale of our fact-finding mission!

Personal pleadings to people who have not said whether or not they will be there (in no particular order but the bullets button doesn't work which annoys me. Dang it):

1. To my team at NABABNA, please, please, please come! I want you all there! It'll be great. You will get to witness me do silly things!
2. Luke, I swear, if you don't show, I may be forced to call you a slacker for eternity.
3. Kelly, I'm going to sing "Fever." As promised.
4. Troy, you must be there. You are manly and strong and will be needed to protect me from those who are drawn to the red shirt. Plus, Katie really wants to go and I like you guys and it would make me happy and do you seriously want an unhappy Dana?

Anyway, dear World, won't you please join us? It'll be very fun.

Previous comments
At 11:37 PM, DeAnn said...
Oh, how I wish I could join you. However, I don't think a visit to St. Paul is in the cards.

At 3:19 PM, Firebear said...
Dang it! I hate that I will miss the red shirt! Have a blast! Take pictures! Be safe!

At 4:59 PM, Anonymous said...
Yay DM I have talked Troy into coming, he was honored to be included in your personal invitations.

At 1:45 PM, The Lioness said...
Question: once you leave Europe, which exit shall you take?