Inspired by Zach Braff and my recent bout at Wild Wings, I sang Alanis Morrisette's "Ironic" at karoake and thus have redeemed myself at the bar from last week's bad song choice.

Last week: You know, Jamie, I have to hand it to you: you sing every week, you get up on stage every week, and I really respect that about you.
-- anonymous girl who obviously attends every week

Tonight: Man, that was really good!
Good song choice!
Awesome job!
-- a collection of new raving fans of mine

I have achieved Rock Star status... no autographs please.

Self-love and masturbation

Craig and I decided to spend our Saturday night at our beloved Wild Wings for karaoke. Because it was held on an off night (fellow karaoke followers know it's on Tuesdays and Fridays), no one was there. Okay, maybe 6 people. The point is Craig and I could sing whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted, however many times we wanted. We pick out a table and just start drinking beer and flipping through the book. 3 songs each later, and an unknown consumption of beer, Patrick Lake begins to sing the hit, "Mr. Jones" by Counting Crows.

Zach Braff recently commented on Alanis Morrisette and the lyrics to "Ironic" and how "a traffic jam when you're already late" is not ironic. (I still think that the song as a whole is ironic because the lyrics aren't- blah, it's complicated) But the discussion has led me to examine and re-examine other lyrics of songs I listen to.

Doing this at karaoke is ideal because

1. The song lyrics are projected onto a giant screen in the bar where everybody can read them, and
2. I was drunk.

I start giggling after a proverbial light went off in my (at the time) vacated mind: Mr. Jones is code name for his penis! The singer is singing about sexuality and loneliness. Just replace "Mr. Jones" with "my penis:"

I was down at the New Amsterdam staring at this yellow-haired girl
Mr. Jones strikes up a conversation with this black-haired flamenco dancer
She dances while his father plays guitar
She's suddenly beautiful
We all want something beautiful
I wish I was beautiful
So come dance this silence down through the morning
Cut Maria! Show me some of them Spanish dances
Pass me a bottle, Mr. Jones
Believe in me
Help me believe in anything
I want to be someone who believes

Mr. Jones and me tell each other fairy tales
Stare at the beautiful women
"She's looking at you. Ah, no, no, she's looking at me."
Smiling in the bright lights
Coming through in stereo
When everybody loves you, you can never be lonely

I will paint my picture
Paint myself in blue and red and black and gray
All of the beautiful colors are very very meaningful
Grey is my favorite color
I felt so symbolic yesterday
If I knew Picasso
I would buy myself a gray guitar and play

Mr. Jones and me look into the future
Stare at the beautiful women
"She's looking at you.
Uh, I don't think so. She's looking at me."
Standing in the spotlight
I bought myself a gray guitar
When everybody loves me, I will never be lonely

I want to be a lion
Everybody wants to pass as cats
We all want to be big big stars, but we got different reasons for that Believe in me because I don't believe in anything
and I want to be someone to believe

Mr. Jones and me stumbling through the barrio
Yeah we stare at the beautiful women
"She's perfect for you, Man, there's got to be somebody for me."
I want to be Bob Dylan
Mr. Jones wishes he was someone just a little more funky
When everybody loves you, son, that's just about as funky as you can be

Mr. Jones and me staring at the video
When I look at the television, I want to see me staring right back at me
We all want to be big stars, but we don't know why and we don't know how
But when everybody loves me, I'm going to be just about as happy as can be
Mr. Jones and me, we're gonna be big stars..

Split personalities of lust and love...it's all there!

When Patrick begins singing the last stanza in which the protagonist (and his penis) watches television and wants to be a "star," I started laughing so hard that all 6 people, and Patrick, stare at me.

Porn and fame--check. Self-love and masturbation--check.

Watching TV tonight I saw that Capital One commercial where you apply for a credit card or use their credit card and you could win an island. I swear the fine print in the commercial read, "Actual prize will vary."

Trading Occupations

After watching an episode of Trading Spaces I decided I would be a much happier person if I were a carpenter. I would be creating something, besides, I would have the same occupation as Jesus. So I just "Googled" (I'm counting the days until "Google" is added to the Scrabble Dictionary as a verb) available carpentry jobs in my area.

One result appeared. With excitement, my trembling hand clicked the link:

US-GA-Atlanta-Mobile Home Skirter/Deck Builder
"Do you have experience in skirting mobile homes, carpentry, building decks and/or installing vinyl siding? If so, you may be qualified for an open position within our company."

Okay, maybe I should go to bed, I have to be at work early tomorrow.

A genuinely insensitive remark:

Did the thought cross anyone else's mind that Florida "had it coming" with the entire election fiasco almost 4 years ago to date?

Posted by Hello

Come to think of it...that may also explain God smiting California with fire for electing Arnold...

I was driving to work this morning and the radio advised all listeners to stay off the roads today. "Oh great," I muttered, "Who is going to test drive a car during Hurricane Ivan?" I was obviously right and no one showed up all day. Not even the lady who bought her car yesterday and was supposed to come today to pick it up. Apparently she called her insurance company and they refused to employ any new policies today. Smart business move, but weird nonetheless. At around 5:15 PM my boss (who was currently offering a $1,000 to anyone who could sell a car today) decided it would probably prove beneficial to close the store early. So I got to leave 45 minutes early while everyone else (who arrived at noon) closed until 6:00PM.

So what did I do all stinking day while stranded at work? My boss suggested pulling people out of the sky while they were flying around in the the tornadoes and selling them a car. However, I made the distinct decision to work on my blog. That's right folks! A profile, pictures, and a comment section that took 7 hours for me to figure out (note the time stamp). It's so lovely I can't neglect it any longer!

Hurricane Ivan taught me a lot about HTML format and the fact that my wind chime works.

My Boss

Henry: Jamie, I gave you a job. I give you a paycheck. I gave you an apartment, a new TV, a washer and dryer...I've been so good to you. Why did you do this to me?

Jamie: What did I do?

Henry: You bought me tea in a bottle. I don't drink tea in plastic!

he says that i'm a lush i'm a lush i'm a lush and i wonder if i will ever break through my typecast. why not i'm the lush of the century, part one. people used to tell me they want to be like me and that was so long ago, and the buzz has finally worn off, and she's not talking to me anymore and i wonder if she ever existed or did i say all those things to myself in a Vince Lombardi "back to basics" peptalk where you learn to love thyself.

maybe i'll just become the lush again because that's what they expect, that's what they want out of life. i had fun last week when i lost the doorknob, i lost my way, i lost reality. they talk about me and laugh and want to go home with me and i know i'm the third party in that bed, so at least i'm not the fool.

i'm tired and i want to go to bed but there is another party...there is always another party and that's what they want out of me and i gave myself all away and if i'm drunk i don't care. maybe one day i'll get myself mailed back to me and i'll become whole again but the post office is so damn slow.