Posts Tagged ‘dead milkmen’

365-92: let’s get together in the bathroom stall

let's get together in a bathroom stall

Day 92 of 365: a year in songs and photos
Song: Dead Milkmen, I Hate Myself

There are rules of etiquette for using the bathroom at work. Rule #1, in my book, is


Seriously. What makes you think I want to hear about your daughter’s dance recital while I’m trying to pee? And I certainly don’t want to listen to your conspiracy theories about Hilary Clinton while I’m changing my tampon. And for the love of god, I really don’t want to have to hear you shout over the sound of your own pee stream while you are reciting a recipe for blueberry muffins.

The bathroom stall is a place of sanctity. It is not a living room parlor. It is not a coffeehouse. It is not a party room. It is a place where I perform the bodily function of elimination. It’s not a chat room. If you want to talk to me while I’m washing my hands, that’s all well and good. I’ll just go ahead and nod and mhhmm you as if this wasn’t the fourteenth time you were telling me the story about how your adorable little snowflake once saved the life of a cat who fell down a sewer. But I swear on my Star Wars figures that if you EVER again try to tell me that story while I am locked in the stall, I will wait until you get to the part where your kid gets a medal of honor from the town councilman and just as you start the phrase “standing ovation” I will let out the loudest fart you’ve ever heard in your life. It will leave you breathless and unable to finish your damn story.

I just want to pee in peace. Is that too much to ask?

Also: I don’t know if you try to shake off like a dog when you’re done or if you just have some weird aim thing going on with your hoo-ha, but if you get pee all over the seat, have the decency to wipe it off before the next person goes in there. Your new nickname around the office is Annie Sprinkles.

That said, I can’t believe I took a photo of a toilet bowl.

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i want some milk, my coffee grows cold

Day 23 of Art Every Day

Title: “I want some milk, my coffee’s gone cold”

Song: Milk, Stormtroopers of Death (SOD)

No long story for tonight’s photo. Too tired.

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66. Echo and The Bunnymen – The Cutter (This one is for Carin)
Not many people have a favorite Echo song. But I do. And so does Carin. Little trivia note: I saw Echo and the Bunnymen (for the fourth time) on my birthday in 1984. Billy Bragg opened for them.

I didn’t think this would be so hard. I’d say something nice about Killing Moon and move on. But then I remembered The Cutter. And Do It Clean. And Bring On The Dancing Horses. And Silver. So I listened to a few songs and watched a few videos and as soon as the opening notes on The Cutter started I knew. I love the way the song changes pace so often, the drop at the end of the chorus, the lyrics and how his voice reminds me of the those incredible days and nights right before we all became grownups.

67. Sublime – Waiting For My Ruca
40 oz to Freedom was one of those albums I went through an obsessive phase with (though I alway skipped Date Rape, I hate that song) and then it just dropped from my rotation for years. It’s a pretty good disc, thick with cover songs and filled with a slow, simmering funkiness.

As for Ruca, this is a car stereo song, the kind you turn up to 11 so right after he says “punk rock changed our lives” you can feel those opening bass lines in your stomach, in your ass and in your head as the rear view mirror shakes so hard you think you’re having a seizure. And it’s such a cool song to sing. *I just put the song on and that bass line still makes me smile.

68. The Clash – I’m So Bored With The USA
Ah, The Clash. I don’t think there’s another band that has such a strong “love them or hate them” line. There seems to be no in between. I have seen small wars waged between friends over the merits of London Calling. I’ll always love them – overrated or not – just because they were a huge part of the soundtrack of my misspent youth.

I watched a bloody riot in the parking lot of a row of clubs between some disco boys and a group of metalheads while someone blasted I’m So Bored With The USA from their car stereo.

I had my first major break-up with Clampdown playing in the background.

When I threw up that entire bottle of Boonesfarm wine, Brand New Cadillac was blasting from the speakers we had set up in the park that night, before the cops came, before we were chased through the woods by snarling dogs, smelling of puke and Miller Lite. Every time I hear that song, I can recall the taste of warm beer vomit.

Somebody Got Murdered was playing the night we decided to drive through the woods with no headlights (while stoned) and the car (duh) swerved off the road and into the woods and when we came to a screeching halt the only thing you could hear was Joe Strummer singing Somebody got murdered, his name cannot be found. A small stain on the pavement, they’ll scrub it off the ground.

Combat Rock got stuck in the tape deck of the my 77 Omega. Not only did it get stuck, but part of the tape got eaten so that the only part of the only song – Straight to Hell – that would playwas it ain’t Coca-Cola, it’s rice. And we listened to it. Over and over again as we drove to the Meadowlands one night on our way to see U2. Everything’s amusing when you’re young.

So why did I choose this song? Because it reminds me of being an obnoxious, punkass teenager who thought the world could be changed with just a few lyrics and a guitar.

69. Dead Kennedys – Holiday in Cambodia
I wanted to love DK, but Jello’s voice (and later, Jello himself) is so damn annoying that I could get only get through one or two songs before turning off the stereo. This was the first DK song I ever heard and at the time I thought it was brilliant.

Plus, I always love an opportunity to tell my DK story.

It was 1983. I was working in a record store, which just happened to be one of the busiest record stores in New York, in one of the busiest malls in New York, at the beginning of the Christmas shopping season.

So, here we were on the anniversary of Kennedy’s assassination and one of my co-workers remarked that, unlike most days of remembrance in the U.S., no one had yet declared Kennedy Assassination Day to be a holiday of sorts; the kind where you see store-wide sales and clearance items going for bargain prices! I mean, how would one advertise such a thing? Come to the JFK Clearance Sale, where you’ll get more bang for your bucks!

And then Mike, who was known for his dark, dark sense of humor, had an idea of how we could combine the death of JFK with the start of the Christmas shopping season – a way to commemorate Kennedy but bring the customers in as well.

So we put up a Dead Kennedys display on the carousel in front of the store. I think there were only two albums and an EP at the time, but we got as many copies as the store had in stock and put them up front. The carousel was just a few feet from the wide front door of the store, which people traveling through the mall passed by all day long.

Needless to say, the display was down within twenty minutes and we were reprimanded, with big, inky, black spots splattered on our permanent records. But I know damn well my boss laughed.

70. Dead Milkmen – Watching Scotty Die
1987. I was 25. 25! You would think I’d have matured by then. You’d be wrong.

I had gone to Uncle Phil’s record store with my sister to buy Big Lizard in My Backyard. (There really was an Uncle Phil. He was fat and dirty and reminded me a bit of Lou Albano, but he was very nice and we really did walk into the store and greet him with “Hey, Uncle Phil!”) Anyhow, that day I not only grabbed Big Lizard, but decided to pick up Bucky Fellini while I was there.

Sister and I get home, give the album a listen and come across Watching Scotty Die. Which, of course, is a parody of Watching Scotty Grow.

There is the field
Where Scotty used to play
Until Ortho Orange Number 42
Was dumped in it one day

We decided to do something we hadn’t done in ages. Not since the days of Billy Don’t Be a Hero and Run, Joey, Run had we acted out a song. Especially for an audience. But Lisa and I – 25 and 18 years old respectively, could not resist. And so, we put on some surreal pantomime to Watching Scotty Die. And performed it for our parents.

I’m sure the lock on the liquor cabinet appeared shortly after that incident.

71. B52’s – Dance This Mess Around
When you’re standing in a dark, dirty night club, drunk on cheap beer, sort of swaying to Dance This Mess Around and on the verge of tears and some guy in a mohawk and Mr. Bubbles t-shirt puts his arm around you and asks if maybe you’d like to go in his car and fuck for a while and you laugh so hard you can’t catch your breath, well that song worms its way into your heart.

Time to cook dinner. I may have more later. I’ll at least try to finish the bands I listed this morning.


(explanation of this thing here)

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