Tag Archives: retro

Song Lyric Sunday: School

Out of Jim’s prompts for this week, I choose school. One of my favorite songs from Steely Dan is “My Old School,” which is what I’m sharing today. It was written by Donald Fagen and Walter Becker in 1973 for the album Countdown to Ecstasy. The lyrics are about a drug bust at Bard College (“Annandale”) and reference the local prosecutor at the time, Daddy Gee ~ better known as G. Gordon Liddy. (Wikipedia)

I remember the thirty-five sweet goodbyes
When you put me on the Wolverine up to Annandale
It was still September
When your daddy was quite surprised
To find you with the working girls in the county jail
I was smoking with the boys upstairs when I
Heard about the whole affair, I said oh no
William and Mary won’t do

Well, I did not think the girl
Could be so cruel
And I’m never going back
To my old school

Oleanders growing outside her door
Soon they’re gonna be in bloom up in Annandale
I can’t stand her
Doing what she did before
Living like a gypsy queen in a fairy tale
Well, I hear the whistle but I can’t go, I’m gonna
Take her down to Mexico, she said oh no
Guadalajara won’t do

Well, I did not think the girl
Could be so cruel
And I’m never going back
To my old school

California tumbles into the sea
That’ll be the day I go back to Annandale
Tried to warn you
About Chino and Daddy Gee
But I can’t seem to get to you through the U.S. Mail
Well I hear the whistle but I can’t go, I’m gonna
Take her down to Mexico, she said oh no
Guadalajara won’t do

Well, I did not think the girl
Could be so cruel
And I’m never going back
To my old school

Honestly Cosmopolitan FU

So, I’m reading about one of those scandal idiots, as you do, something something the dad is a major Trump supporter according to Tom Arnold… geez let’s dig him up out of the trash heap for a quote ๐Ÿคฎ… clicking along mindlessly like a good robot when whoa I see a link to the worst movie from the year I was born.

Now, here’s some news I can use! I flip out of that site and over to Cosmopolitan and guess what? The list starts at 1983.

Nineteen fricken eighty three! ๐Ÿ˜ณ๐Ÿ˜ณ๐Ÿ˜ณ

Granted, that was a pretty shitty year. First, I was fat, not gonna lie. Maybe not fat by current standards or some chart, but by my standards, for me. Second, there was that whole thing with Mark. Gahhh. After that, I thought why not move to California? Who wants to face another Chicago winter, this time with a broken heart? But third, as soon as I moved here my migraines got worse. ๐Ÿ˜ซ

Back to Cosmo, a magazine I religiously supported for decades, but now it can’t be bothered with women my age. Nope. We’re stuck with Good Housekeeping and AARP. Anyway, Cosmo says the worst movie of 1983 is Jaws 3-D, which is not hard to believe, since it sounds stupid on its face.

Confession: I only very recently saw the original Jaws, like in the last year, because my friends kept teasing me for having not seen it. Meh.

Okay, so now let’s go waaaaaay back (cue caveman music ๐ŸŽถ) to find the worst movie of my birth year, 1961.

Psych! I haven’t seen most of the movies from that year, so I can’t judge. I do note however that there are some gems: The Hustler, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, West Side Story, 101 Dalmatians, etc.

Game of Thrones returns in less than 30 days! ๐Ÿ‘‘๐Ÿ‰๐Ÿ”ฅโ„๏ธ๐Ÿ’ซ

Song Lyric Sunday: Animal

“The Unicorn Song” was written in 1968 by Shel Silverstein and originally recorded by the Irish Rovers. It’s an adorable song, and it’s chock full of animals as befitting Jim’s theme. It certainly explains why we don’t see any unicorns today.

Whatโ€™s Up With Cookies?

I went to Target tonight to get a head start on the weekend’s chores. I have a lot of things to do and am a bit stressed! Now, I assumed that everyone else would be out having fun on a Friday night and I could shop in peace. Wrong! The store was full of shoppers in my way. Annoying.

As I was crossing stuff off my list, I checked the cookie aisle for Game of Thrones Oreos. I read that they’re coming out with a special version for the final season and I want some. Didn’t find any. But! What the heck? There are like 18,000 kinds of Oreos now! When did this happen???

Previously I’ve blogged about trying some alternate Oreos, especially cookie dough which were delicious, but this is just crazy.

Not only that though. I found something else. Something absolutely wackadoo. You will not believe this! I wouldn’t either, so I had to take another photo and practically shove people out of my way. Yes, I am taking pictures of the cookies and what is your problem, buddy???

WHAT HAVE THE KEEBLER ELVES DONE TO MY DAD’S STRIPEY COOKIES!?!?

I’ve previously blogged about stripey cookies too. Normal ones… you know, golden cookie-flavored cookies with fudge backs and stripes. But now they have all fudgey ones and these white ones? Whaaa? They look like those crayon things we did in school that we colored over again. But look!!! They have unicorn ones! Now, I die.

I really wanted to buy some unicorn stripey cookies. But I didn’t. Why not? Idk. I guess I just felt too silly. They weren’t on my list. It was all so disorienting.

I might go back again soon though.

For the unicorn ๐Ÿฆ„ cookies!

FPQ 17: Misty Memories

So, I decided to ask a question about human memory, which has been shown to be incredibly unreliable. With that in mind, here is this weekโ€™s provocative question:

โ€œHow do you know which of your memories are genuine and which have been altered over time or even made up?โ€

We don’t. We’ve all read a novel or three where it turns out that every memory the protagonist thought was real had been implanted for some nefarious purpose. Or in the case of The Key to Midnight, real memories were erased in order to save a person from being murdered. (Shock! When I looked up this book just now to make sure I remembered it accurately, it turned out that yes I did, but the author was using a ‘nym. It was actually written by the horror writer Dean Koontz!)

But in reality, most of us are not so special that gobblement operatives are screwing with our minds. More than, you know, shoveling subliminal political messages at us on Facebook and stuff obviously. I think we can rest assured that we’ve not been whisked off to a medical lab in the middle of the night by agents in black suits and our heads flooded full of fake thoughts.

Many of our so-called real memories can be at least somewhat verified by photographic evidence and the accounts of other people who were present. We can usually nail down dates and locations of events ~ though not always, as Fandango points out, which gave him the idea for his post. And there’s also the problem of many similar events blurring together over time. Or something that sounds so real it feels like it must have happened, but was only discussed vividly and repeatedly.

My parents are gone, so now I’m the only one to tell my daughters stories about the past. I hope they’re correct, but there really is no one around to check me. There are things I was told and never questioned, but sometimes I wonder about them now. It doesn’t really matter though… soon all this will be swept away like it never was.

Of course, there’s a world of difference in trying to be honest and accurate, but getting a few details wrong or even an entire setting because your memory went blip, and deliberately gaslighting or being deceptive with the goal of hurting a person for your own benefit, whatever that benefit may be, financial or otherwise. Those things have been done to me and I don’t forgive the people who did them.

Lauraโ€™s Song Challenge

Check out Laura’s choices! Here are mine.

1. A video that makes me smile…

2. A 1970s song about love…

3. Singer whose first name starts with N…

Opposites Attract: Challenge 1

When I was 14, I babysat for a sweet 5 year old girl whose mom was a super extrovert. She came over to our house to introduce herself, which is how we all met, and she jabbered on to my mom (somewhat social) for maybe 45 minutes. I was a bit surprised the first time I went to their home and met the dad, who was an introvert and barely said a word to me. And that’s how it went from then on: mom jabber, dad quiet. But they seemed happy, and the mom even joked about how they were opposites.

Not all introverts are quiet though. I’m not. I’m a gregarious introvert ~ with a catch. I dislike big crowds. If it’s a choice between a crowd and staying home, I’ll choose being reclusive. This can lead people to believe I’m antisocial, but I’m not; I simply enjoy smallish groups of 4-10 people, especially if we’re going to play board games. And if I’m comfortable with someone, I’ll talk a lot! Sometimes too much. I have no problem sharing with peeps. But a huge crowd? Ugh. I feel like my head is about to implode, and I just want to go home.

When I dated, I couldn’t stand quiet guys. They drove me nuts! There was nothing worse than a man who expected me to ask him questions like Lt. Columbo, or else he’d just sit there like a lump. Bleh! I like people who volunteer info without being tortured. Torture is so 2005.

Song Lyric Sunday: Occupation

The song I’m sharing for Jim’s challenge this week is “The Night Chicago Died” by Paper Lace. Two jobs are referenced: cops and gangsters, so take your pick. I’m on the cops’ side.

The songwriters, Peter Callander and Mitch Murray, were/are British, and wrote the lyrics in 1974 as a fictional shootout, but it got a bunch of Chicagoan panties in a wad, notably Mayor Daley’s, who believed lyrics must be historically accurate apparently. I wonder how he felt about The Unicorn Song? ๐Ÿ˜‚

My daddy was a cop on the east side of Chicago
Back in the U.S.A. back in the bad old days

In the heat of a summer night
In the land of the dollar bill
When the town of Chicago died
And they talk about it still
When a man named Al Capone
Tried to make that town his own
And he called his gang to war
With the forces of the law

I heard my mama cry
I heard her pray the night Chicago died
Brother what a night it really was
Brother what a fight it really was
Glory be!
I heard my mama cry
I heard her pray the night Chicago died
Brother what a night the people saw
Brother what a fight the people saw
Yes indeed!

And the sound of the battle rang
Through the streets of the old east side
‘Til the last of the hoodlum gang
Had surrendered up or died
There was shouting in the street
And the sound of running feet
And I asked someone who said
“‘Bout a hundred cops are dead!”

I heard my mama cry
I heard her pray the night Chicago died
Brother what a night it really was
Brother what a fight it really was
Glory be!
I heard my mama cry
I heard her pray the night Chicago died
Brother what a night the people saw
Brother what a fight the people saw
Yes indeed!

And ther was no sound at all
But the clock upon the wall
Then the door burst open wide
And my daddy stepped inside
And he kissed my mama’s face
And he brushed her tears away

The night Chicago died
Na-na na, na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na
The night Chicago died
Brother what a night the people saw
Brother what a fight the people saw
Yes indeed!

The night Chicago died
Na-na na, na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na
The night Chicago died
Brother what a night it really was
Brother what a fight it really was
Glory be!

The night Chicago died
Na-na na, na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na
The night Chicago died
Brother what a night the people saw
Brother what a fight the people saw
Yes indeed!

https://youtu.be/Gz0Q0uRWqps

Celery [SOCS]

Celery contained magical anti-calories, people thought. If you chomped on these stalks, the energy you expended chewing and digesting them would exceed the number of calories in the celery itself. So, all you had to do is eat celery all day and soon you would be celebrating your new trim and fit figure!

But of course if you kept eating pizza and nachos and milkshakes and candy bars with your stalks, the celery diet didn’t work, and you did not end up looking like your favorite celebrity, unless that celeb was President Taft. ๐Ÿ˜ณ

Many crazy diets have come and gone since I read about the magic of celery as a teen. Some girls in my high school went on the 3-3-3 diet: 3 bananas, 3 hot dogs, 3 carrots every day. Very phallic. Why doesn’t my phone know phallic? I must not be writing about enough dicks; I blame my DEXIT.

People have jumped on this keto thing, but we all did the Atkins’ fad way back when. It’s nothing new. We’d order bacon double cheeseburgers and throw away the buns, hon. Sure, you’d lose weight because meat is satisfying and pasta is not, ounce for ounce. Sorry, vegetarians. Also, how much cheese can you eat without barfing? ๐ŸคฎThat is rhetorical.

Then came the 1980s when people decided fat was bad and carbs were good. They threw away their butter and chowed down on bagels the size of dinner plates. Why are we getting so fat, they moaned over their vats of spaghetti.

In the 1990s, I watched other moms load up their kids with constant snacks and juices. I tried not to do that; I had my own ideas about nutrition. But kids grow up and have to make their own choices eventually. I did not like to be Dictator Mom, about food or any other thing, except education, and that philosophy worked out well imo.

One of the things now is to shun prepared foods. Oh, that’s the new boogeyman! ๐Ÿ™„ It’s not that we’ve all been stuffing our faces with way too much food for way too long… it’s that we’re not tra-la-la-ing for hours through farmers’ markets every Saturday for fresh produce, and then spending the rest of the weekend cooking from scratch. The heck with writing books or having hobbies! We’re fat because we haven’t been slaving over a hot stove.

Bullshit. I call BS on all ideas of overweight except one: too many calories nommed up. I don’t care if they come from salad or salami or pasta or papayas. Too many in over time leads to fat layers on our bodies. There’s no magic cure except to eat fewer calories over time.

Personally, I love packaged and prepared foods. For single people who don’t want to buy wastefully in bulk, and who don’t want to spend their free time cooking, they are fabulous. But so is celery ~ and it comes in a package too.

Double Shot ๐ŸŽถ

You probably noticed I missed the last two days of Bee’s music prompts. I’m sorry! But it would really have been cheating to share a favorite love song (or any song) from an opera or in a foreign language. I simply don’t listen to them and never have. It’s not like looking up oldies and remembering I liked one. Anyway, to make up for it, I’m going to share two (2) songs per day for the rest of the month in these prompts. Yay! ๐Ÿ’–

Today’s prompt is my favorite lurve song from a musical, and you’re gonna laugh (hope so), but I just adore “The Lonely Goatherd” from The Sound of Music (1958). And I love how Gwen Stefani mashed it up in her 2006 hit “Wind It Up.”

Enjoy!