Hamburger Steak and Military Intelligence
Tuesday, Dec. 12, 2006 at 8:48 a.m.
On this day in 1980, "Whip It" earns Devo a gold record. It is the first distinction of its kind for any song about masturbation. Whip it good.
That is too what that song�s about. Has anyone told Disney and the A-Teens or the High School Musical group? No, and while I�d like to believe it�s because someone�s being really snarky and just not telling, I think it�s more probable that the people who choose these songs just don�t get it.
And even if the song wasn�t about masturbation, what the hell kind of song is �Whip It� anyway? Corporal punishment and Sado-Masochistic fantasies? Is that more appropriate for tweens to be singing about?
Speaking of S/M fantasies, I got a card mailed to my Mary Kay address inviting me to the opening of �Hustler Hollywood�, and adult superstore where the great Larry Flynt himself will appear!
Well, of course I�m going. In full MK regalia, too, because it�s right after my evening Chamber mixer . . . in fact, I think that the PR crew sent cards out to everyone in my local Chamber directory, hence why it came to me, Mary Kay Consultant. I expect it will be a scream. I wonder how much business I could score.
In other news, I got back home without too much incident and I was ecstatic to be in the Hubster�s arms again. I almost didn�t let him go for the rest of the weekend. While I was gone, he kept himself busy by putting up Christmas lights and working in the backyard, and then he moved some furniture.
I�m not sure how I feel about that.
Our den is rather limited in how we can arrange furniture � it�s long and narrow, and one corner is taken up by a fireplace, one part of a wall is the �breakfast bar�, and the opposite wall is the arcadia door. Well, we did have a couch, a mega-recliner, a side chair, a cat tree, and the television in there. Then we went to IKEA and Hubster fell in love with, and bought, a sleek chair of cherrywood and black leather (with a little ottoman). Well, we were trying to make it work by moving out the side chair, putting the cat tree where the side chair was, and putting the new Poang chair in the place of the cat tree. It was okay, but the feng shui was a bit off, especially since the Poang chair was at an angle to the TV, which made it awkward to watch, and then the remote controls ending going all over the room.
So, while I was gone, Hubster moved the couch into the guest bedroom, brought the other mega-recliner into the den, and arranged the chairs so that against the wall where the couch used to be, we now have two mega-ultra-big-huge-football-watchin�-recliners flanking (and dwarfing) this sleek wood and leather IKEA number. It looks like Jack Sprat, his wife, and her equally huge sister in there. So it isn�t so much like a jumbled feeling of feng shui as much as it seems that feng shui got drop-kicked over the backyard wall. Right now, it�s okay, because we also have the Christmas tree in there so a little clutter is okay � have to make room for tree and prezzies after all. But perhaps, when I get more . . . domestic I�ll do something about it. Right now I�m just itching to know what�s in that big squarish box that�s heavy and has my name on it!! Squee Squee!!
Oh, and speaking of drop-kicking feng shui:
GAH!
Okay, that picture has nothing to do with feng shui. I was trying to go for a segue that was better than by the way, what the fuck?
Well, okay, that segue works okay for this sign:
I mean, it�s obviously �don�t do� . . . something, but what? Really, this picture gives you a clear warning:
And that warning is: Don�t dive into the pool at the same time as Andre the Giant�s kid brother.
Seriously. Don�t. I�m warning you.