Yes: These Uncool Songs

Art by Matt Dixon. 

I am a music snob.  Every single song on my iPod is super cool.

Except these:

Ronny James Dio's "Rainbow in the Dark." I used to laugh at this song because the lyrics are sort of stupid. These days, however, I think this should be the anthem for anyone who's ever felt overlooked or under appreciated. Who hasn't felt like a rainbow in the dark at some point?  Also, you know what's free? Lightening.  You know what isn't free? You.

Meatloaf, various songs. I don't care what you say.  There is at least one Meatloaf song you like. But it shouldn't be "Paradise By the Dashboard Light" because that song sucks. Yet it seems a lot of people like that song.  What a waste.  Because even if you say you don't like Meatloaf, you have to admit you like Queen.  Queen is big and theatrical and sometimes even epic and guess what? So is Meatloaf.  But liking "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" is akin to liking the peel of a banana.  The peel is the part you're supposed to throw away and  so is "Paradise."  Better you should like "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad," "For Crying Out Loud," or even "I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That.)"  I'm betting you probably do.

Hanson, "MMMBop." This is probably the happiest song in the world. If you read the lyrics, you'll see the song is actually about a pretty serious subject. There's also a lot of lyrics all packed into single sentences in this song.  I don't know how those kids packed so many words into single sentences but they did.  You can't really understand most of the lyrics, except "It's a secret know one knows." Which is telling, isn't it? Michael Stipe murmured his way though a whole album and even though he did other enigmatic things like keeping his sexuality a mystery pretty much right up until today, he's not a secret to me. This is because I like R.E.M. so I've read a great deal about them.  But I don't know anything about the Hanson brothers at all and I've never heard any of their songs but this one.  It's probably safe to say that if I really gave a tin shit about Hanson other than "MMMBop" I could find a whole bunch of information on them also. Who knows? Maybe no one.

One Direction, "What Makes You Beautiful." I learned to play this on guitar a few years back. I thought, how whimsical and funny would this be to pull out of my repertoire someday, somewhere?  I even thought I might try this at Karaoke and that would be funny too. But what's not funny is you get to breath exactly twice during the chorus:

 "Baby you light up my world like nobody else they way that you flip your hair gets my overwhelmed but when you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell you don't know-oh-oh BREATHE you don't you're beautiful. 
If only you'd see what I can see you'd understand why I want you desperately right now you're looking at me like you can't believe you don't know-oh-oh BREATHE you don't know you're beautiful."

But if you're looking for a good way to impress your friends and maybe die trying, this is the song for you.

Matchbox 20, "How Far We've Come." I think, among music snobs, Matchbox 20 is like Nickelback in that you're supposed to hate them?  I don't really know. I like this song because I like to think about how far I've come.  I should probably write more here but I got nothing.  Which probably shows how crappy Matchbox 20 is.  Or maybe I have a long way to go?

Shaun Cassidy, "That's Rock and Roll."  The opening lyrics to this song are "When I was 16, and sick of school ..." When I was 16 and sick of school, I got plopped into a different high school.  I got sick of that school pretty quick too.  When I was 18 and sick of school, I didn't go back after summer vacation because I had rocked and rolled my way into a whole lot of F's and would have been 19 when I graduated. Instead, I got a GED and Bachelor's Degree.  That's not really rock and roll but it's okay. Shaun was really never rock and roll either.

10cc, "The Things We Do for Love."  In fourth grade, an older friend told me what "making out" was.  I don't think she got too specific as being only a year older than me, she didn't really know much. But tongue kissing was mentioned.  Which: shocking.  The first time I heard this song and the lyrics "You think she's gonna break up, when she says she want to make up," I though they said "make out." Which: shocking.  But then I heard it again and realized my error. That's a good enough reason to like this song.

Something Happens, "Parachute." Have you ever heard this song?

I have no idea if it's considered "bad" or not. It probably should be because it's kind of stupid.  I like it though, I especially like it when I'm running and I can pretend I'm flying.  Pretending to fly is AWESOME and if you've never tried it, you certainly should.

Shakira, "Empire."  Mostly, I hate this song.  There has never been a worse lyric, ever, than "And the stars make love to the universe." I do like, however, when Shakira sings "And I'm like, and I'm like, AND I'M LIKE!" I'm not really sure why. Maybe you do?

REO Speedwagon, various songs.  REO Speedwagon got real popular in the 80's.  I had a baseball t-shirt with their crazy winged logo on it and I wore it to the rollerskating rink. One time, this blond guy asked me to "couple skate." Toward the end of the song, we skated over to a dark corner by a bunch of mirrors and he kissed me. I had gum in my mouth at the time and do you know what? I saved that gum in plastic baggie.  But then I turned 19 and I threw that and a lot of other stupid shit out.

Ray Parker Jr., "I Still Can't Get Over Loving You." It's gonna get weird now.  I really, really, really like this song.  I like that guitar at  2:11, right after "'Cause every girl I date resembles you." The song gets super creepy at the end. Up until then, it's been all love and "it's not your fault" and what not. But then Ray whams you over the head with "Don't you ever try to leave, it'll be the last thing you ever do."  Still, this song gets me emotional when I play it on my guitar. You should come over my house someday and I'll play it for you.  It'll be great.

Lou Gramm,"Midnight Blue." Lou Gram is? Was? Is? Is Foreigner even still together? I don't know, but Lou was Foreigner's lead singer during their glory days -- which appear to be over. Good. Because "Waiting for a Girl Like You" is a horrible song. Foreigner had other songs that weren't bad, "Cold as Ice" notably, but just as "MMMBop"is the happiest song in the world, "Waiting for a Girl Like You" is the worst song in the world.

In the 80's, Lou released a solo record and even though it was on the list of albums we had to play when I worked at a record store, I can't remember fuck-all of the rest of the album.  I like this song though.  That guitar riff is super fun. I didn't and still don't get all the "cherry red" references but that's okay. I ain't got no regrets.

Blues Traveler, "Hook" and Hootie and the Blowfish, "Hold My Hand."  I joke about Blues Traveler a lot.  There's a lot to joke about with these guys.  I don't joke so much about Hootie because it seems after "Hand" there wasn't really a song that sounded like really, anything, so I have don't have any joke fodder. Blues Traveler, though, they're funny.  I have to lump Blues Traveler and Hootie together because they belong in the trio of bands that all go together for some reason.  The member of the trio that I left out is Dave Matthews Band because I hate them.

I remember the first time I realized "Hook" was actually the Pachelbel Canon.  I heard the melody clear as day while running. Afterwards, I went inside and Googled and sure enough, the song is basically the Canon.  I was prrrr-eeety proud of myself for picking that up.  "Hold My Hand" is not the Canon but I remember playing it in Record Revolution in DeKalb, Illinois after we closed. By myself.  Because we Rev employees joked about the Hootie-buying loser frat boys and I was a slick-as-shit recordstorepunkrocksomethingorother so I had to play it on the down low.

Barry Manilow, "Mandy." Is Barry cool these days? Like Neil Diamond cool? I don't know.  I like this song because it reminds me of my dead cat.  That's about enough of that one.

Billy Ocean, "Loverboy."  I love this song for no reason I can ascertain. Albeit, there's a key change at the end and I am a sucker for a key change. (Which is why I will sing Tommy Roe's "Dizzy" until I can't even see and momentarily lost every piece of my mind the first time I heard The Lyres' "She Pays The Rent.")  But the key change isn't that exciting, really, and so it doesn't explain why I love "Loverboy." The guitar in the beginning is pretty catchy but I've heard better. The lyrics in the chorus are abysmal and in fact, back in the day, if any guy told me he wanted to be my "loverboy" I would have laughed in his face. Ask anyone.  I don't like Billy Ocean either.  I don't like "Caribbean Queen." And while "Get Outta My Dreams Get Into My Car" is funny because a bad very way to win your the girl of your dreams is to yell "Get into my car!" at her, I don't like that song either.  I think these are probably the only three songs Billy Ocean ever sang in his life.  It's lucky that I really like one of them!

Yes: Turning Medical Frowns Upside Down, Part One

One thing I like to do is take a medical experience and find the humor in it.  I've done this a lot. In 2012, I had some wacky spinal adventures and wrote about it.  Briefest of brief background: I had intermittent pain in my side for a decade, went on a bunch of CT scan and MRI rides that discovered hidden treasures. I next had a particulary unfun diagnosistic test called a myelogram which could be an essay it itself.  At present, doc says things are stable and may stay that way forever.  Forever, as Prince says, is a mighty long time and that's what I'm going with.

On that myelogram: I probably never will write an essay about that as involved a "lumber puncture," which is basically a spinal tap, It was as fuck-awful as you've heard. So you should probably not get meningitis as this could merit one of those and trust me, you'd just rather not.

Anyway, I wrote the below directly after my first visit with my own brand new personal neurosurgeon.  (Is it a little fucked up that I'm kind of proud that I can say "MY neurosurgeon?" Probably.) At this point, (MY) neurosurgeon had pretty much diagnosed me but there were still a lot of unknowns.

Anyway, have at it:

***

Click this: meningocele  Ain't that a ration of shit?

Here's a funny thing: no one, especially an adult, is supposed to have a secret meningocele. From what I've gleaned, if you were a meningocele, you would pretty much make your presence known as quickly as possible, as in the case of spina bifida.  

When I grow a deformity, I don't mess around. Bet you didn't know that about me. 

How I grew this thing is still all very mysterious. I could give you some of the doc's hypothesis but that sort of theoretical mumbo jumbo doesn't interest me.  For now, let's just say, I was born this way.

Here's another funny thing: when you say "meningocele," no one knows what the hell you're talking about.  In fact, when I say "meningocele," I can't.  Phonetically it's pronounced "men-nin-go-seal." I've said "menin-joe-sell" and "menin-go-selly" and "parasitic twin."

I find it's easier to stick with that last one.  One, it's much easier to say.  Two, everyone knows about parasitic twins. True, they're gross and freaky but hey: built-in friend!  But the best reason why I like to call my meningocele a parasitic twin is because it shares a similar trait: it's eating me.

Here's what MeningoTwin looks like:

Now would be a good time for me to pull out my CT Scan and MRI reports and type exactly the crazy-med speak transcribed there but I'd rather do it this way:

You know how the spine is labeled by cervical, thoracic and lumbar parts and with all those numbers, C1, T4, L3  and so on?  It's like a crazy anatomical Bingo game, isn't it?  When they called "Protruding sac at T11 and  T12," I yelled "BINGO!" I was pretty excited too -- first the nutty MeningoTwin and now this!

Then I had a visit with my neurosurgeon, who I shall call Dr. S. He told me to settle down.

"It ain't all good," said Dr. S.  "There's spinal fluid in MeningoTwin."

Dr. S began waxing analogous: "Think how river water flows over a rock. As years go by, that water will erode the rock.  And that, my friend, is what's happened to your vertebrae at  T11 and T12. The bone has eroded."

I couldn't fully process that at first.

When I was young, my father had a piece of petrified wood in his top dresser drawer.  The wood had turned to rock.  Even though Dr. S. was talking about eroded rock, for some reason I kept picturing that piece of petrified wood in my mind.  Which, you know, would have been okay: if my spine was turning from wood to rock, I'd be kind of like Pinocchio, wouldn't I? A real boy!

But also, I was a little starstruck. For the first time in my life, I was in the presence of a bonafide neurosurgeon: the only person I've ever knowingly met in my life who could answer "Um, yeah it is!" when told "Hurry up, it's not brain surgery."

Eventually my Disneyland fangirl cloud passed and I asked him what that meant.

"It means that your spine could collapse," he said.

"What does that mean," I asked.

"It means you'd be paralyzed," he replied.

Well, that just about took the cake.  I've been many parathings in my time: a paralegal, a paraprofessional, a Paregoric swallower, and most recently, right, the a parasitic twin. But never paralyzed.  Unless you count right then, when I was "paralyzed" by fear to ask anymore questions, ho ho!

***

This is where I ended writing about this particular medical experience, as shortly after came the aforementioned myelogram and a whole lotta grim.  I think I shall write about that after all because ya'll need to be in the know about some crazy things.  For starters, do you know what fixes a leaky hole in the spinal cord after a stupid needle goes barreling where it shouldn't be barreling? I bet you don't. The answer? Your own blood!  Too, do you know what can happen if you leak all kinds of spinal fluid for over a week?  What can happen is, your brain can start falling out of your head!

But more on that later. perchance.  Recall, I am just FINE so no need to worry about me. I have a built-in friend, recall.  Still, in case anyone is left feeling funny about this post, here's a nice picture of Florpy the Corn Gurner:

Yes: Oswald's World

One place I would really to live would be in Oswald's world.

Look at that picture above. There is not one bad thing happening there.  It looks like the snowman is about to plop himself into that trash can, but that's just the trippy 2D imaging.  He's not going into that trash. Because that would be sort of bad and nothing truly bad ever happens in Oswald's world.

Oswald was a show on Nick Jr that aired from 2001 to 2004 and starred a big blue octopus named Oswald.  During this time, my son was young and as such, I was exposed to a whole bunch of kid's shows.

There sure are a lot of shows out there now for kids. When I was young, it was Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood and The Electric Company.  I sat through the latter two but really only liked Sesame Street.  No kid actually likes Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood -- that show is more of an hipster adult jam, really. The Electric Company sucked.  At least that's how I remember it. Probably because I often watched these shows back-to-back when I was sick. By the time The Electric Company came on, late afternoon and when fevers tend to peak, I was delirious and miserable.  Plus, I think it was packed with bad 70's stuff like trippy fonts and crappy clothing. I don't like that stuff at all.

Oswald, by contrast, is blissfully narcotic.  His albeit crazy-ass world somehow manages to feel very uncrazy (and crazy can be bad, recall) but instead, soothing.  Next time you have a bout of insomnia or are feeling stressed, cue up an episode or two of Oswald on YouTube.  Could be you just saved yourself a month of co-pays for therapy and a Xanax prescription.

Enough to buy yourself, say, a tiny hat:

Here's more reasons why I would like to live in Oswald's world:

• Anthropomorphia.  Any time you can put a face and legs on something inanimate and make it talk, I say do it! In Oswald's world, there are talking flowers, talking trees, a pumpkin-headed guy who isn't scary at all and best, a set of identical twin eggs.  Twin eggs! 

• Soothing surrealism.  I like Salvador Dali as much as the next gal, but sometimes his images can be sort of jarring, can't they?  Oswald's world is packed with surreal images but all of the soothing variety.  In Oswald's world, a wiener dog can absolutely look like an actual hot dog. A baseball can be a house, a lemon can be a taxi and paper airplanes fly all day long. It's super great and never jarring.  And nobody cuts themselves all up and rolls around in the sand in an effort to impress their fiancee as Dali reportedly did.

• Ice cream.  Lots of it.  Everyone eats ice cream in this place. And there's no worrying about noxious farts from lactose intolerance or fat thighs packed into too-small jeans, ever.

• Coexisting.  In the episode "The Tomato Garden." snails eat Oswald's tomato plants. Do you think he sprays them dead with nasty chemicals?  Nope. He shares by giving the snails their very own plants while keeping some for himself.  He makes a tomato restaurant for the snails! You can "Coexist" with your bumper stickers of crosses, moons and stars all you like.  In Oswald's world, nobody needs that lofty shit.  

• Right: tiny hats. Bonus: jauntily placed!  

• The music:

That opening theme is like a narcotic drip all by itself.    

Too, you know when you watch Oswald that no one is gonna yell "HEY YOU GUYS!" at you just as your fever peaks and you lean over to puke into the Tupperware bowl that your mom placed next to you, just in case.

Yes: MRI Like it!

A happy time.

For a long time, I was afraid of the idea of getting an MRI. The thought of being crammed into a coffin-like tube appealed to me about as much as being crammed into a tube-like coffin. But then a wacky discovery in my spinal cord bought me a ticket for a whole bunch of these MRI rides.

The first of these took place in the winter months. Another thing I don't really like is winter. I'm always cold. But when I voiced my concerns about the upcoming MRI to my sister, she said "I bet it's warm in that tube. You are gonna love it!"

Encouraged, but still wary, I presented for my MRI.  Did you know if you have metal stuff inside your body like pacemakers, the MRI could kill you? Apparently, the magnetic pull of the MRI could rip that sucker right out of your chest cavity, like you were in Alien!  

Also, if you are a robot masquerading as a human, the MRI will find you out. Be warned.

As this MRI was for my spine, I didn't have to worry about the freaky head cage accessory you get to wear if you're having your head examined. (In later months, I did get to wear that and it was freaky alright.) I informed the technician that I was nervous and asked if she could slide me in and out of the tube before beginning the procedure. I knew I would be okay as long as I knew I could get out of that tube if I wanted.

After positioning myself on the MRI plank-like table, the tech slowly slid me in, stopping when all but my lower legs were inside. "This is where you'll be for the test," she told me.  I mentally tested: while tight in there, I deduced I could, in fact, shimmy myself out of there if I had to. I don't know why I would "have to," but I was comforted knowing I could escape.

"Oh, so I could get out if I wanted to," I spoke aloud.
"No!" said the tech. "Once we start, you can't move!"
"I know," I said. "I just mean, if I wanted to, I could get out."
"No, you can't move!" she said again.
"I know, it just makes me feel better knowing I could get out if I had to," I said.
"You can't move!"

I rolled my eyes at her in my tube. This action gave me my other piece of comfort: I saw when I crammed my eyes up in my skull, I could get of glimpse of the wall outside the tube. Barely, but yes, the wall outside the tube was visible. Another potential escape route. I decided not to share this info with the tech.

Test ride completed, the tech slid me out, fitted me with the IV that I would need later for an injection of dye for the last part of the test, gave me some earplugs and popped me back in. Earplugs because it's loud in there. Banging and beeping and clanging and chirping. Kind of like the sounds one used to hear when using AOL dial-up internet, but louder and more frenzied.

It wasn't all fun and games. Every now and then I would experience a brief but jarring feeling of "Help, I'm trapped in a tube!" I'm told many folks who fear MRIs keep their eyes closed the entire time. This doesn't work for me as being trapped in my head can be far scarier than being trapped in a tube. When those shocks of fear came over me, I'd center myself by counting the holes in the little speaker that was right over my face. If there had been something to read, that would have helped immensely. A little sticker or something placed where patients could read it without moving. Perhaps something like "If you think this is bad, be glad we didn't have to do an autopsy to get this information."  Anything with words would have helped.

In any case, I survived the procedure and came out none the worse for wear.  Also, I learned three things:

1. I don't have claustrophobia. What I had was a fear that I might have claustrophobia.  That's kind of funny.
2. You can request copies of those images to take to your doctor or for your own personal enjoyment.
3. I am filled with all kinds of fun things:

No: March of the Penguins

Not a good time

Remember when March of the Penguins was released in 2005 and everyone was going crazy over it?  I tell you what, the only good thing about that movie was baby penguins in grey sweaters: 

Granted, the good factor in that is huge, but every time I think about setting up residence with those penguins, I remind myself that they had the shittiest life imaginable.  All they did was make impossibly long treks in the snow or stand around on top of their babies, trying to keep them warm. Guess what? Half those babies died anyway.

But if you like watching fluffy babies weaken slowly, sitting around and walking forever then this is the place for you. 

No: Devil's Island

I would not like to live at Devil's Island.
Not from 1852 to 1951 anyway, when it was part of the whole French Guiana penal system.

Some guys, like Papillion and Rene Belbenoit, they managed to get lucky from Devil's Island by acquiring fame. Still, I don't think Devil's Island was a very good place.

Here's why:

• Guillotine
• Malaria
• Monkeys 
• 17 hours of forced labor
• 12 hours of forced standing 
• Risk of being coated with honey and left for the ants
• Hiding valuables in a little tube in my ass

No: Zeigler's Limeade

I'm not a fussy eater: I'll eat pretty much anything (including, maybe, you).  I microwave food from boxes clearly stating "Microwave not recommended." If I'm impatient, I'll eat these microwaved foods partially frozen and not much care. I had little trouble eating vegan some years back as soy "meat" products tasted just fine to me. I can tolerate all sorts of flavors, ranging from wasabi, which I'll happily eat in globs right off my chopsticks, to the aftertaste of the Sweet and Low I've been putting in my coffee for decades.

In fact, there are only 4 things I won't eat:

1. Watermelon
2. That spoiled mushroom I popped in my mouth back in 1997.  That mushroom had turned.
3. Once, craving something sweet but having nothing remotely satisfying in the house, I spread peanut butter on a piece of bread and plopped a generous pile of Nestle's Quik on top.  It was awful. It became even more awful when I threw it in the trash where it sat petulantly on a pile of scooped cat turds and urine-soaked litter.
4. Zeigler's Limeade

Zeigler's claim they are "Committed to satisfying your thirst all year long." "Natural" and "not from concentrate" and what not, it all sounds pretty great and why not try a bottle of Zeigler's Limeade?

I'll tell you why not: because you will rue the fucking day.

My (now ex but not because of the Zeiglar's) (well maybe because of the Zeiglar's) husband picked up a bottle of Zeigler's Limeade a few summers back while grocery shopping. He put it in the fridge, closed the door and that was apparently that. Except it wasn't. Apparently Zeigler's Limeade sat there in the dark, working itself into a rancid funk.

Sometime that evening, I opened the fridge and saw the Zeigler's Limeade.  I'm not a big lime fan, per say, but it looked pretty good. I poured a glass and took a large drink.

Right away, my mouth filled with a foul, bitter taste.  A second later, the taste turned from bitter to chemical. As in cleaning product or antifreeze.  As in something that does not belong in the human body because if it gets in there, you will most certainly die.  I spat that mouthful right into the sink.  There was no relief: the foulness remained on my taste buds as surely as if I had gargled with it.  I turned on the tap, filled my mouth with water, rinsed and spat.  And again. Still no relief. The Zeigler's Limeade's aftertaste would not budge.

After numerous rinse and spits, finally the taste began to fade. I poured the rest of that crap down the sink. For an hour or so afterward, I sat around waiting  to experience convulsions or maybe sudden blindness. When these didn't happen, I went to bed.

A few weeks later at the grocery store, I saw a young couple take a bottle of Zeigler's Limeade off the shelf and place it in their shopping cart.  I wanted to warn them.  I imagined this happy-looking couple planning a nice lunch or dinner and Zeigler's Limeade was going to fuck their plans right into next week.

I said nothing.  Because due to the fact the Zeigler's was (and is) still churning this stuff out, I had come to believe I must have a sampled tainted bottle. There is just no other explanation.

However, I will never buy another bottle to test my theory. I shall never again go gentle into that green shit.