Peaches  feat. Iggy Pop - ‘Kick it’

How do you do that cool dance?
Baby don’t split those hot pants
I got these moves that we can do to and sing
I don’t look too good in pink

I used to slash myself up
I like to play it tough
Cuts, bruises, blood oozes, bones breaking rough
You gotta handle that stuff

Yeah, yeah, tear it up, rip it up, kick it up
Yeah, yeah, tear it up, rip it up, kick it up
Yeah, yeah, kick it, kick it, kick it

I wanna be your cat
,Screw that!
I’m not sixteen but I got leather boots and suede
Ah, go fuck your pain away

I heard you like kinky shit
That just depends who I’m with
What is it S&M or some kind of toy?
Like you said search and destroy

Some people don’t like my crotch
Because it’s got fuzzy spots
But if you play moses you need burning bush baby
And that is just what I’ve got

Yeah, yeah, tear it up, rip it up, kick it up
Yeah, yeah, tear it up, rip it up, kick it up
Yeah, yeah, tear it up, rip it up, kick it up
Yeah, yeah, kick it, kick it, kick it

And if you leave there with sin
Escape the city I’m in
Come on a knocking where its rocking non-stop
And make your way to Berlin

When it comes to sex, I`m pretty sure I’ve lost it.

There’s a good chance if I showed my it to someone right now, they’d say, `That’s not it.’

There’s an equally good chance if I showed my it to someone right now, they’d say, ‘Hey!  Cousin Itt is here!’

It’s difficult to predict these things.

Most people have sex toys in their bedside drawer.  Here’s what’s in mine.

My life is magical.

I never tell them I’ve forgotten their name.  Instead I wave my hand nonchalantly and say “Oh, I don’t have to tell you your name, you already know it”.

I like to use humour to cover up my stupidity.

Me:  Hello, customer service? 

Him:  Yes, ma’am.  What can I do for you?

Me:  I have a question.  Why does your ice cream bar cost more than my entire University education?

Him:  Um….

Me:  I mean, if I’m measuring from a regular $7.00 carton, your bar has about $0.50 worth of ice cream in it.  Why does it cost more than 9 times that?

Him:  Well, we DO put cookies around it.

Me:  OH!  Well, yes, solid gold cookies certainly do…

Him:  Not gold.  Just cookies.

Me:  Platinum?  Wow!  That IS…

Him:  No Platinum.  Just cookies.

Me:  Diamond cookies?

Him:  *sigh*  Just cookies.

Me:  Cookies made by Queen Elizabeth?

Him:  JUST.COOKIES.

Me:  Feeling a bit stupid right now?

Him:  Yes

Me:  Good.  That’s how I felt when I realized I paid almost $5.00 for $0.50 worth of ice cream.  Have a nice day.

I’m here trying to get some boxes moved around and getting frustrated at one box in particular that I can’t seem to arrange so that it stays in place and still allows me to get by it with other packages.   So I start rearranging some of the earlier boxes in an effort to get the whole thing to work the way I need it to, only by now the rebellious box has got some of his little box friends all riled up and I’m dealing with what I’m sure will come to be known in the history books as “The Great Box Riot of 2011”.  Rather, I tried to deal with it, without success.  I finally decided this was a battle for another day, and went off to do something else.

As I left the room, I said “I’m not surprised, really.  Boxes have always had a problem with me.  It’s probably because you know I have a box of my own.  I don’t need you.”

They see me masturbatin’, and they hatin’.

I’ve lived at my current residence for about a decade now and since I moved in I’ve received a steady stream of mail addressed to someone I presume is a former resident.  After writing ‘no longer at this address’ several times each month over the course of 10 years I decided Canada Post wasn’t getting the message and perhaps it was time to try something different.

On the last envelope wrote ‘Ain’t nobody here but us chickens’. 

Wish me cluck.

I know this to be true because if I’d been able to see this life coming I would have clotheslined the fucker, force-fed it roofies while it was down, wrote “There is nothing you can do to me that I haven’t already done to your mom” in neon on the front of its shirt, and added ‘And at least twice to your sister” to the back, glued ‘I brake for Penis’ in glitter on its forehead, covered its body with “KKK” and ‘WHITE POWER’ tattoos, and left it stranded in the middle of Harlem.  

For example.

I always wondered what went on in that marketing meeting.  “Okay folks, our target audience is children and idiots.  What’ve you got for me?”  But then I thought perhaps I wasn’t considering the bigger picture.  Perhaps the implied question is the more general “How do we get it in?”  That’s something every guy wants to know.

Maybe they know what they’re doing after all.

Him: Hey, remember when…

Me:  That time when I was thirteen and you tried to get me and my best friend Patricia to have a threesome with you?

Him:  Um….no.    I was thinking of the time…

Me:  Oooh.  Was it when Jack paid you $5 to eat that dead fly then, after you swallowed, told you he’d found it on a pile of dog shit?

Him:  No!  Jeez.  I meant…

Me:  When we were roller skating and you tried to impress that girl from St. Mark’s but ended up slamming your balls into the siderail and bawling in front of everyone?

Him:  Never mind.

(Never play ‘remember when’ with anyone who remembers when.)

She must really like that table.  Either that or she should come away with dollar bills stuck to her fur.

Laid

There are stupid people all over the stupid park on Saturday.  I mean, I’m glad the stupid people are enjoying the stupid park but I wish they’d be somewhere else instead of in my stupid way, laying all over the stupid grass, zipping by me on their stupid bikes and throwing their stupid Frisbees in my stupid face. 

This has been a stupid post.

If anyone wants to break into my house and do all my laundry, I won’t call the cops.