Monday, February 12, 2007

You better move your feet if you don't wanna eat a meal that's called Fist City.

Here's a special thanks to my always loud-as-hell neighbor. For, if it weren't for her predilection toward having blaring sex entailing vocalizations so worthy of porn I have a difficult time believing there's any real pleasure involved, I wouldn't have been woken up from my first sound sleep of the week to bring you this post. But I must admit, despite once actually liking the band, I'd rather hear her moaning than have to endure the Cocteau Twins albums she constantly plays. Or the infernal monotonous whistling of her boyfriend. I'm really starting to hate this chick.

  • The Distants "She Sells Sanctuary" (The Cult cover)

  • Bow Wow Wow "Fools Rush In" (comp. Bloom/Mercer)

  • Jeronimo "J'ai Peur des Americains (I'm Afraid of Americans)" (David Bowie cover)

  • Pyeng Threadgill "Close to Me" (The Cure cover)

  • This Bike is a Pipe Bomb "John Henry" (Traditional)

  • The Meat Purveyors "Fist City" (Loretta Lynn cover)

  • Scrawl "Rocky Top" (comp. Bryant & Bryant)
    Quick story: When I was 15, I went with my best friend Julie (aka the artist responsible for one of my favorite works of art) dragged me along with her to her friend Sean's family Christmas party. It was weird enough being a jaded, big-haired weirdo in the presence of a bunch of moms and dads grandparents and aunts and uncles and kids we didn't know, but it only got weirder for us when one of said uncles pulled out his guitar and started playing and singing songs. We, of course, had been sneaking liquor into our drinks all night and, by the time the singing started, could barely control our outbursts. When he'd finish singing a song, he'd ask for requests, and ours was always the same: "Rocky Top." Every time we'd request it, he'd tell us he didn't know how to play it. Regardless, we requested it again and again to the point that he started yelling at us and we were asked to leave the basement. When we left the basement, we headed to Sean's room where a few of his young cousins were playing. One of the toys they had was a Santa Claus Pez dispenser. I picked it up, popped off the plastic beard and hat and happily displayed the bare, squinty old man beneath the disguise to all in the room. A few minutes later, when I was in the kitchen getting a soda, Sean's dad (who was a dead ringer for Captain Lou Albano sans rubberbands, BTW), pulled me aside and started berating me, saying, "Why in a million years would you think it's appropriate to unmask Santa in front of children?" I somehow stammered out an apology before running back to Sean's room and collapsing in giggles. And that delightful admonishment could not have occurred were it not for our bizarre "Rocky Top" fixation.
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