Ah, the good ol’ days. That’s what people say when they reflect upon their youth.
For my boss (and old friend) Paul and I, the good ol’ days in our Catholic grade school happened way before they were our good ol’ days, as evidenced by our textbooks. Most notably: our music class textbooks.
I know, I know… at least we had a music class. Nowadays, all of the arts are disappearing from our schools (for shame!), but that’s not what this post is about.
The fact of the matter was that we had crappy old text books and a music teacher that could barely play the one instrument she claimed to be able to play (the flute). Sure, it was unfortunate that she replaced the single greatest music teacher ever. (He played “Name That Tune” on the piano – and they were always theme songs!) The following list represents the worst of the songs we were taught… four oldies, one newie, and zero goodies.
Top 5 Songs Burned In Our Brains From Grade School
5. Little Boxes – Malvina Reynolds Paul doesn’t really remember this one, hence it being placed at the bottom spot. I couldn’t forget it, and Weeds wouldn’t let me… until season 4 at least.
4. Du, du liegst mir im Herzen– German folk song Paul refused to sing this song hence to him being xenophobic; but then again he refused to sing any of the songs. For me – it’s my 99 Luftballons.
3. Shortnin’ Bread – James Whitcome Riley
Paul despised (no, loathed!) this song. I didn’t remember it at first, but then it all came crashing back to me like a repressed memory.
2. God Bless the USA – Lee Greenwood
The only current-ish song on the list was also an exercise in irritation. We had to sing this at a recital, and as everyone knows – recitals blow. What’s worse is that we had to hold up signs that read Detroit when we sang that line. Because we lived in Detroit, oh say can you see.
1. Fender Bender– ?
This song presented a unique situation for us. For virtually nowhere on the TripleDoubleU, could we find ant reference to this song. The only proof that it ever existed arrived via a MySpace Forum. It the thread, a reference is made to the lyrics:
Fender bender, yeah yeah yeah!
The poster recalled the misspoken lyric:
Finger banger, yeah yeah yeah!
Which ceremoniously lead to the diddy being banned (band?) from music class. Thanks, Mack Danger, for the memory backup!
I wish we would have thought of "finger banger"...
I’m almost as hooked on the snooze bar as I am the booze bar, but as of late, I have not recalled many of my dreams. This morning – a whopper, a flopper, and a doozy.
SCENARIO UNO
Do not go Freudian on me.
I was the eldest lad in a family of seafarers. The brood’s Papa was a maritime cop, and he must have had it hard (who wants to have any job that begins with maritime?). Every night it seemed Mama would wait for him to get home to serve dinner, and every night he’d be late (you’d think Mama would have learned). I remember working on a crossword puzzle in a magazine. I also recall the entire decor looking retro 70’s, or maybe it took place in the 70’s. (Hello “Life on Mars.”) Anyway, when Papa would get home, the first thing he’d do was pour a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Then he’d dunk a banana in it. He called it the Cop-a-Cabanana.
SCENARIO DOS
Hot chocolate chips!
I don’t drink coffee. As I’ve stated before, my cup of tea is Mountain Dew. In my brain, I must live for Starbucks. For some reason, while in line to get my iced mochachino espressosaurus rex, the announcement was made that Starbucks was being bought out. That this shocked me in the dream shocks me now. The reason for the buyout: too many people that bought their coffee were losing their jobs, and thus poor Starbucks was going down. The purchaser: Mrs. Field’s Cookies. They also bought out Arby’s for who-know-why. My question was, “How could Mrs. Field’s succeed where Starbucks failed?” The answer: No matter what, everyone eats cookies.
SCENARIO TRES
No Photoshopping here.
This was by far one of the most disturbing – not in content, but in juxtaposition of content. Stitch (the alien experiment to the left) was boozing it up and chomping down cigars faster than George Burns, Bill Clinton, and Monica Lewinsky put together. (He kind of reminded me of the smoking chimp.) And that’s fine. It’s well within Stitch’s personality. But to note: this dream was in cartoon form, and this is where things spiraled into time for me to wake up. Across the room, Stitch spotted an inflatable doll. He stumbled towards it, placed his head between its legs, and bit. Pop!
Needless to say, I had it enough with the snooze bar.
…We’ll see about the regular bar.
INGREDIENTS: Cajun chicken sandwich, soggy bar fries, and mucho de boozo.
Check out this commercial (only watch first part or else your head may quite actually explode):
Now check out me:
In my pimping days
Unless all kids looked the same back in the day… I was pretty good friends with Marzon.
Now it’s not like I haven’t acted before. As I state in my Fact Sheet above, I was in Billy Crystal’s HBO meh-fest, “61*.” Here’s a couple shots of me acting my chops out:
I played Guy Happy to be at Game #154
Upstaged by Marzon first; Mickey Mantle's grandson second
An opportunity recently presented itself to me, here in Michigan. My talents are wanted yet again:
Hi,
We are looking for a Hand double for Adrien Brody’s hand.
If interested and available. please send a photo of your hand with your fingers spread apart on a flat surface.
Filming is in Howell, MI. Rate is $120.00 for 8 hours and overtime after 8.
Please include your name and phone number in your reply email. Please also provide your ring size if you know it.
Thanks.
All right… I’ll admit that it wasn’t sent directly to me, but I know my hands can do it. They’re very good actors – trust me. Hey, Marzon was a prima donna, and Mantle’s grandson forced me to feign excitement, like, six times.
How difficult would it be to play Adrien Brody’s hands? My hands can check the time. Flip the pages of a book. Type. Make a sandwich. Hold things. Drop things. Throw things. Flick things. Pet a co-star’s head. I guess they could even caress a co-star’s breast, if needed. *wink*wink* (Although, I should double-check who’s in it.) They can do anything! (Except gut a fish. Please don’t make them gut a fish. Or hook a worm. I have bad memories from my pimping days…)
monkeyBLOG monkeyDO 
