Monday, July 31, 2006

111 Wussiest Songs of All Time

According to AOL Music, these are them.
Do you agree?
As for me, one asterisk denotes a song I like.
Two equals "I love this wussy song."
Three says,
"This is one of the most awesomest songs and I don't care
if it's wussy and fork you if you do."
Four tildes means, it might be stooopid but it's not really wussy.
Five pound signs means I totally agree: it's wusstastic.
Twelve ampersands means I was forced to sing this at a wedding.


111. Do I Make You Proud? - Taylor Hicks
110. Seasons In The Sun - Terry Jacks
109. Kiss Me - Sixpence None the Richer #####
108. Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton
107. What Hurts the Most - Rascal Flatts #####

106. Break Up to Make Up - The Stylistics
105. First Day of my Life - Bright Eyes
104. Dancing in the Dark - Bruce Springsteen
103. Daydream Believer - The Monkees
102. People are People - Depeche Mode
101. I'm Into Something Good - Herman's Hermits
100. (I Just) Died in your Arms Tonight - Cutting Crew
99. Don't Cry - Guns N' Roses **
98. Against All Odds - Phil Collins *
97. Butterfly - Weezer **
96. I'm Not in Love - 10 cc ***
95. Hero - Enrique Iglesias
94. Silly Love Songs - Paul McCartney *
93. Skyway - Replacements
92. Mandy - Barry Manilow
91. Angel - Shaggy
90. Oh L'Amour - Erasure
89. I Honestly Love You - Olivia Newton-John #####
88. I Knew I Loved You - Savage Garden
87. Open Arms - Journey
86. Don't Take the Girl - Tim McGraw #####
85. Hey There Lonely Girl - Eddie Holman
84. Crash - Dave Mathews Band *
83. You're the Inspiration - Chicago
82. I'm Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman - Britney Spears
81. On and On - Stephen Bishop *
80. Friday I'm in Love - The Cure **
79. The River - Garth Brooks
78. Lovin' You - Minnie Riverton
77. Scarborough Faire - Simon and Garfunkel ~~~~
76. To Be With You - Mr. Big *
75. I Need Love - LL Cool J
74. I Want to Know What Love Is - Foreigner ***
73. I Do (Cherish You) - 98 Degrees
72. I'll Make Love to You - Boyz II Men
71. Iris - Goo Goo Dolls ##### (I can't listen to this one anymore. It's too gooey.)
70. Crying in the Chapel - The Orioles
69. You Had Me from Hello - Kenny Chesney
68. Let Me Hold You - Bow Wow
67. Kites Are Fun - The Free Design
66. Bum - Usher
65. Our House - Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young *
64. I Just Called to Say I Love You - Stevie Wonder
63. Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want - The Smiths *
62. Time in a Bottle - Jim Croce *
61. Babe - Styx *
60. Too Shy - Kajagoogoo
59. Someone Saved My Life Tonight - Elton John *
58. Bad Day - Daniel Powter #####
57. She Believes in Me - Kenny Rogers
56. Vindicated - Dashboard Confessional
55. (Everything I Do) I Do It For You - Bryan Adams &&&&&&&&&&&&
54. Leaving on a Jet Plane - Peter, Paul and Mary *
53. 2 Become 1 - Spice Girls
52. How Deep Is Your Love - Bee Gees **
51. Tutti Fruitti - Pat Boone
50. I'm in You - Peter Frampton ***
49. Hero - Mariah Carey
48. Just the Way You Are - Billy Joel *
47. Puppy Love - Donny Osmond
46. Hip to be Square - Huey Lewis ~~~~
45. Don't Give Up On Us - David Soul *
44. Invisible - Clay Aiken
43. Annie's Song - John Denver
42. When I'm 64 - The Beatles ~~~~
41. You've Got a Friend - James Taylor
40. God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You - 'NSYNC
39. With Arms Wide Open - Creed
38. Alone Again (Naturally) - Gilbert O'Sullivan #####
37. So Sick - Ne-Yo
36. Beth - Kiss **
35. She's Like the Wind - Patrick Swayze
34. I'll Be Missing You - Puff Daddy

33. My Heart Will Go On - Celine Dion
32. Think of Laura - Christopher Cross
31. Let Her In - John Travolta
30. Walking on Sunshine - Katrina and the Waves **
29. Muskrat Love - America (and the Captain and Tennille) **
28. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go - Wham
27. More than Words - Extreme ***
26. Precious and Few - Climax

25. Superman (It's Not Easy) - Five for Fighting #####
24. All Outta Love - Air Supply
23. Your Body is a Wonderland - John Mayer ##### (HATE this guy.)
22. You Light Up My Life - Debbie Boone
21. True - Spandau Ballet *
20. Such Great Heights - Iron and Wine
19. Right Here Waiting - Richard Marx
18. I Believe I Can Fly - R. Kelly
17. Close To You - Carpenters *
16. All By Myself - Eric Carmen
15. Cry - Johnny Ray
14. Dear Mama - Tupac
13. You Don't Bring Me Flowers - Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand
12. I Want It That Way - Backstreet Boys
11. Hello - Lionel Richie
10. Fix You - Coldplay
9. If - Bread ***
8. Do You Really Want To Hurt Me - Culture Club
7. What's Left of Me - Nick Lachey
6. Longer - Dan Fogelberg **
5. Every Rose Has Its Thorn - Poison ***
4. You're Beautiful - James Blunt
3. Ben - Michael Jackson #####

2. Sometimes When We Touch - Dan Hill **
1. Shiny Happy People - R.E.M. ** (I like it better when I sing it as a sarcastic song.)

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Conundrums

(Warning: Cheese may be needed. Whine ahead.)

The trouble with anything online is, it's you but it's not you.
With predominantly online relationships, this is you but not you added to them but not them. This plus time equals an exponentially inaccurate virtual folly.

The most important stuff that happens in my life, I don't write about.

What's the line between "free spirited" and "skanky"?

How come the amount you want someone is inversely proportional to the amount they want you, and even if that ratio changes, between the same two people, it still applies?

Death: horrifying snuffer of sacred life force, or just welcome relief?

What if all the things I'm pretty sure God is ok with, He isn't?

Is it possible to never hear another depressing news story again?

As I age, my emotions rule me less, resulting in more days of relative calm and happiness.
As a tradeoff, I don't get as excited about as many things.

If you want something, give up on it completely.
If your letting go is not complete, the universe will sense this.

Is it better to be loyal or fascinating?

Is it better to be deep or amusing?

Is it better to be better, or does it just not matter?

Positive thinking: essential for serenity, or just a fortification of bullshit against the pain-soaked void?

Are Dante and Randal best friends because they really are the yin to each other's yang, or just because of proximity? Oh, but wait, that could apply to any relationship. Does it happen because cosmic forces conspire, or just because of the zip code in which we choose to exist?

I think this post may be the result of juxtaposing too much Sublime and Type O Negative in succession during the past several days.

That is all (for now).

Hasta proximo vez, vaya con Dios.

---------------------------------------------

"I hate everyone, and I think everything is stupid, but you've always been the counterbalance to that."
-- Randal Graves, Clerks II

Friday, July 14, 2006

Old Harlequins

On another trip to the Half Price Books store, I had to use the loo. They've cleverly used the covers from old Harlequin Romance novels from the 50's and 60's as a border atop the wainscoting, so they're at eye level as you wash your hands and such. There were bunches and bunches, but a few titles struck me as perhaps more... significant than others. Could our pre-Internet forebears have been more clued in to the variant stripes of sexuality than is commonly suspected?

Exhibit A: Gay Cavalier




Exhibit B: Master of Saramanca









Exhibit C: Citadel of Swallows








and finally, Exhibit D: A Night for Possums.


Monday, July 10, 2006

Tonight, a grill had to die.


Well, I guess it didn't HAVE to die. But nonetheless, I destroyed it with the weight of 12 bricks and my stupid, stupid stupidity.

See, the littlest dog I have has an amazing ability to dig holes under fences and squeeze her tiny self under. One morning, I woke up and SHE WAS GONE.

After I freaked out and papered the neighborhood with ugly yellow signs, a man called me. She was apparently having a good time helping him put down some paving stones in his back yard. I was so glad to see her, I cried. I told her then to always stay with the pack, and she has. Still, I feared losing her, so I went and got a bunch of bricks.


Bricks are heavy and scratchy. I had about 75 of them, over 2 trips. I could only take about 4 at a time. More were too heavy, because I had to carry them from the front of the house all the way around to the back, and I did not want to drop any of them on any metatarsals or the like.

On the 2nd carload, I got frustrated. I don't own a wheelbarrow or a dolly or anything that could logically be used to carry the bricks in greater quantities. Thinking I was being creative, I seized upon the only item in sight with wheels and a bowllike structure: the portable $20 grill that I had purchased last year and allowed to rust out considerably!!!

Carting it around to the front, I put in 8 bricks, more or less carefully. Then I added 4 more. I tilted the grill up onto the wheels. It began to lurch away from my hand. I jerked it upright. It grew heavier. The rickety frame, now bent from its bolts, lost shape and sagged towards the concrete like a drunken sailor. "Oh, well that's not working very well," I said aloud, by way of explanation to the 5 or 7 people who passed me by on their evening walks.

Angered and embarrassed by the grill's collapse and my lack of any forethought as to how this would actually work, I yanked up on the handle in an effort to just haul the entire bowlful of bricks around to the back. CRASH! It hit the concrete again, the plastic handle snapping in twain. "Well, that's REALLY not working very well, is it?" I said, more angrily this time. I removed the bricks, tiny load by tiny load, from the shambles that was once a grill, then I took that crumpled hunk of black-enameled metal and shiny silver legs around the back and, just like I did with J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye, chunked it right across the yard.

My dogs are safe now, and I think that's worth more than the life of a rusty charcoal cooker.

The way I reckon it, I'm an artist, not an engineer.

-------------------------------------------

I can see what you mean. It just takes me a little longer.

-- Lee, Lifeson, Peart: Rush

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Updike Luck

Those who read this screed with any regularity
are already acquainted with my love of John Updike,
who, besides just possessing my esteemed enamorment,
has won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction not once but twice.
The day before yesterday I just happened to drop by the Half-Price Books
in my town, where I, on a whim, thought some new Updike might just be the thing.
So I picked this up.


Note its price: $4.98.


Well, the day went on, I continued shopping, visited with friends, and was waiting for my Independence Day Freedom Potato Salad spuds to finish boiling when I thought I might read a story or three while I was waiting. After all, there were 40 of them.


Oh, look at that, an inscription in a used book.

Let's see whose Great Aunt Margot gave this to them on which holiday...


Well, I'll declare.

That there says,

"for Mark

a rare volume

John Updike"


Being me, my first thought at any awesome event such as this is, "Nuh UH."

So of course I went and checked here and there on the Interweb to convince myself, and it seems to be authentic, and selling for anywhere from $59.00 to $899.00 depending on what it emblazons.

Now I suppose I could sell it and make a little soon-spent cash, but I think instead I might frame it and hang it on my office wall as a reminder of how the random regularity of the universe, in its oddly delightful way, is indeed looking out for little old me.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

It Never Ends


I pay $1000.00 per class to attend a prestigious private university.

I am midway through a Master's degree and have a 4.0 grade point average that I intend to keep for the duration.
I have over 17 years experience at adulthood and I own and operate my own house, car, career, and life.

Yet still, the other day, I felt mortified and 12 all over again.

In this particular class, there are those writing-surface-fused-to-an-uncomfortable-chair type desks that thin people don't think twice about sitting in.
I, however, have gone through a past period of hugeness where I could just barely wedge between the chair back and the writing surface edge. Happily, now I can fit without too much problem, though I still marvel at the 6 to 8 inches of gut-to-desk space that most people have in those.

Anyway, so the professor has this brilliant idea to play a game for an exam review (I know, wtf, it's grad school, I was thinking the very same thing). She decides that rather than raising our hands to answer, that we should leap from our seats, and that the leaping should rotate within teams. We also had various documents where we had to locate the answers to her questions, so if you held the right paper, it was your turn to leap.

Well, anyone would be hard pressed to find something I'd like less than leaping out of my God-blessed seat to answer a damned question like some ADHD kid on a Nickelodeon game show. Can I answer the question? Certainly. Give me parchment and quill and I shall craft you an essay of style and beauty. But vaulting from a desk meant for mere sitting and listening? Nay, madam, nay. For if I cavort in so wild a fashion from this imprisoning credenza, it shall fly in tandem with my quivering excess of flesh, and the both of us shall tumble and clatter in an unattractive heap to the flagstones.

So even though I knew a bunch of answers, by the time I passed it on to some other member of my team to do the fucking leaping, some other skinny bitch from another team had bounced up and gotten the point. So we lost. And we had a stupid fruity name (The Kiwis? Jesus.). AND the teacher taunted us further, saying she wanted "some other people" to stand up and answer (meaning you, fat girl).
I mean, fuck, why don't we just have the fucking pull-up contest again where I could only do one, EVER. Why don't we just all run a freakin' lap around the building so I can gulp air and be last? Or how about the President's Phucking Physical Phitness Test where my assigned "jr. personal trainer" partner is thinking, "Gawwd! Come onnnn!" because I do slow, sloppy, situps, slamming the small of my back to the stinky gym floor in an effort to lever my upper body off of it?
I thought by the time I got to the 17th or 18th grade, all this parade of physical embarrassment stuff would be over. I guess maybe it never is, until you get un-fat. It's discrimination, I tell you.
Still, I pulled an A in that class, so I guess my BRAIN weighs a lot TOO.
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