Bleeding Ears

We’ve been grabbing different Kidz Bop CDs from the library the past few weeks, and I’m continually amazed by a few things.

1. It’s a lot easier to figure out the lyrics of the real song, when you hear the Kidz Bop version.

And that is coming from someone who thought there was such a thing as being “blinded by the light and wrapped up like a douche”. If you don’t know what song I’m referring to, you are too young to be reading this blog.

2. What words and phrases Kidz Bop finds unacceptable.

Lady Gaga’s Telephone:
I cannot text you with a drink in my hand, see.

Kidz Bop:
I cannot text you when I am going to dancing.

Is that even proper grammar? Is dancing a place now? (I wish it was a dangling participle, because I could tear that shit apart.) Nowhere does it mention alcohol. Just a drink. Could be Kool-Aid. Could be a White Russian. Who knows. My kids sure don’t.

And they are usually such a stickler for grammar, replacing every “ain’t” with “isn’t”, but in Gaga’s case they let all the double negatives in the bridge slide.

The redeeming part of this song is that I finally know what she’s saying just before the bridge. “Cause I’m out in the club and I’m sippin’ that bubb.” Which they of course changed to “eatin’ that grub.” I’m not quite as insulted by this since I never knew what she was saying anyway, but it’s a pointless variation. Ginger ale is bubbly, is it not? Maybe my seven-year-old is drinking ginger ale at the club. Ever think of that, Kidz Bop?

Train’s Hey, Soul Sister:
My heart’s about to beat
Right out my untrimmed chest

Kidz Bop:
My heart’s about to beat
Right out my pounding chest

Take away the fact that the original lyric is kind of unappealing and makes me picture gorillas, it’s not like these kids would be lying. I’m fairly certain none of them are trimming anything on their chests.

3. Should they even be covering songs where it is necessary to change the lyrics?

Most of their song choices are actually fine, but really, Nicki Minaj’s Starships should be left off anything having to do with children. I don’t care how many words you change.

I find her entire existence offensive. And it should be illegal for a person of her caliber to make more money than carnies. In fact, maybe we should instate a MAXIMUM wage for people whose job seems to be centered on the fact that they are imbeciles.

I’ll stop there, because I think I could write a whole other post on why I believe Nicki Minaj is the anti-Christ.

Songs I Wish Kidz Bop Would Cover

Bitchin’ Camero (Dead Milkmen)
White Rabbit (Jefferson Airplane)
Welcome to the Jungle (Guns N Roses)
Comfortably Numb (Pink Floyd)
Cherry Pie (Warrant)
Birdhouse In Your Soul (They Might Be Giants) – that one is for real

Demented Voice In My Head

WARNING: Mom (and various minors that might be reading this), there are a LOT of f-bombs.

If you have a tendency to fat-finger your facebook posts on your phone, you should probably make sure you don’t have any links on your imaginary clip board that you can mistakenly “paste” and subsequently “post” at the MOST inappropriate moment possible.

Speaking from a person that constantly passive-aggressively cries for attention (like when I originally sent the linked photo in question to friends via facebook messaging just to get a laugh), this will be the moment that you hope everyone, without exception, is completely ignoring you. And it will go something like this.

Aloud: Oh. Frack.
Demented Voice In My Head (DVIMH): No. NO. NO! NOOO!! Delete, DELETE! Where is the fucking delete button!?

Because seriously, there was a time when I couldn’t touch my screen without this little “remove” button popping up. But probably someone like me kept bitching at facebook about it until they took it away and now I have no fucking delete button on my phone app.

Okay, obviously hitting the screen eight hundred and forty-seven times is not helping my situation.

(And here is where, if you are Joe Koval, you walk me through how, in fact, there IS a delete button on the iPhone if you just sweep your finger gently over your post to the right. FUCK ME!)

Of course our company has firewalls that prevent using facebook on their network, because we all know how much little work we would get done if they didn’t.

Fine, internet police, I’ll just grab my laptop and head over to the hotel lobby next door. All I have to do is wait ten years for the elevator to arrive and another ten years to stop on EVERY FUCKING FLOOR on the way to the lobby.

**Sigh** Finally.

Hmmm…no wireless signal. That’s funny, my phone is clearly picking one up.

DVIMH: I’m only trying to rectify a grievous violation of decorum, Karma! I’m only sitting here, trying to do the right thing, Universe!

Fine. My laptop is obviously confused by the many wireless signals floating around too close to my office. I will go to the library.

SHIT! Why is my fucking laptop not picking up a fucking wireless signal! Time to call the people that have no business answering questions about technology, otherwise known as the Help Desk.

Aloud: Hello, my laptop is not picking up a wireless signal.
Help Desk: Are you in your office?
Aloud: No, I’m in a public library.
Help Desk: Is your wireless enabled?
Aloud: Yes.
DVIMH: I would only make that mistake once, dude, and it happened like five years ago!
Help Desk continues to read questions off his script of “how big of an idiot is the person I’m talking to?”
DVIMH: GET ME MY FUCKING WIRELESS, NOW! Please.

Twenty-six minutes later, wireless enabled, proxy disabled, post deleted. That’s one hell of a lunch hour.

Because yes, Virginia, there are people in this world that obsess over being inconsiderate on facebook - so much so that they scream obscenities in their head to innocent bystanders.

In a totally unrelated incident…

This Sunday, a lady that was stopped at the intersection that Scott’s race course went through rolled down her window and yelled (not in her head, mind you, out loud) “Come on! I’m going to CHURCH! And I’m going to be LATE!” And I mean she yelled at the volunteer and the police officer about being late to church.  Am I the only one that sees the irony in that?

An act that caused my seven year old to turn to me and ask, “Why is she being so mean?”

DVIMH: Oh, I don’t know, Morgan. Maybe her god is okay with running over cyclists with her minivan, but not so fond of tardiness.

I’m wondering when this woman bowed her head for silent prayer if it went something along the lines of, “Lord, forgive me for missing the opening hymn and church announcements. It was that damn volunteer. Please smite her down if you find the time.”

Maybe if you are so worried about being late you shouldn’t cut it so close that you can’t wait less than five minutes at an intersection.

In the end, I knew it wasn’t the hapless Help Desk employee’s fault, or even the app creators at facebook. (It’s a little bit Mark Zuckerberg’s fault, but that goes without saying.) I made the mistake, and that is why I was very careful to keep all my swearing internal.

So yeah, I’m okay with being the person that feels so guilty about posting a picture of ginger adorableness (it wasn’t even the NAKED one) with a post that was supposed to be a sincere remembrance of 9/11 that I take an entire lunch hour to remedy the situation (regardless of the fact that it should have taken me two seconds).

God Bless America and God Bless Prince Harry

You Peaked in High School: Reunion Edition

Listen, I’m not purposely avoiding my twenty year reunion. I had intentions of going. Then I made other plans. (Although technically still a reunion of sorts.) End of story.

The appeal of reunions is that they are one-stop shopping. You can get all your “catching up” done in one swoop. It’s almost like speed dating. This should be right up my lazy-ass alley – 50 conversations for the price of one night. On the other hand, that’s a lot of talking in one sitting for an anti-social cynic.

And here’s the other kicker…I have already friended most of you on facebook. I don’t have to catch up. I’m an open book. But just in case you are reading this and REALLY wishing you knew what I’d been up to all these years, here’s what I’m going to do for you…

My 1992 Senior Year Book “Where I Want To Be In 10 Years” submission was something along the lines of living in Washington, D.C. on Embassy Row. Maybe something about a Golden Retriever and 2.5 kids. Unfortunately, my senior year book is where all things go to die – my attic. I don’t go in my attic unless it is a life or death situation. So unless the person holding you at gun point really needs to know…I’m going to leave it at that.

Well, I did graduate Miami University with a Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs degree. But most of my diplomatic skills go towards keeping my co-workers from taking practical jokes a little too far and making sure I only slightly embarrass my family members in my blog. Oh, I have also managed to refrain from calling my nemesis a Dirty Trash Can Full of Poop to her face.

Relationship Status: Married almost 15 years to Scott, an attorney (anyone need a lawyer?) who, due to his constant triathlon training, makes me look even MORE lazy than what you may have assumed from the above. And yes, we are a Miami Merger but I have yet to get a god damn Valentine’s Day card from that place. What does a person have to do? Donate a building?

Dependents: 7-year-old Morgan loves beluga whales and making me look stupid. 4-year-old Zoe can walk in high heels better than me and tries my patience. 10-year-old St. Bernard with erratic bowel movements and no eyesight. A cat that adopted us a little over a year ago and sticks around despite the fact that I try to feed him dog food whenever I run out of cat food.

Location: Western Cleveland suburb known for its great schools and snobbish lakeside residents who send their kids to different schools. Family Circle’s #1 best town for families. Possibly paid for by snobbish lakeside residents who don’t let their kids go to school with my kids. All I know is I have a nice view and a pretty amazing circle of friends who feed me copious amounts of beer and wine and wonder why I spend so much time on facebook.

Current Occupation (official): Vice President, Financial Risk Governance Manager
Current Occupation (in actuality): Force people to do all the things they don’t want to do because it takes time away from doing the things they were hired to do in the first place but if they don’t do these things we will be in a big pile of shit waiting to hit the proverbial fan. It’s also very much like being a kindergarten teacher with really big kids.

Hobbies: If this isn’t your first time reading my blog you can probably guess the answer just based on past topics. Too much television; divulging families eccentricities; books written about post-apocalyptic worlds featuring impossible love triangles; making fun of my little brother; super hero movies; ranting about my “fence” neighbors; the usual.

So there you have it, whether you wanted it or not.

Though I didn’t have a particularly rough high school career compared to some, there really isn’t much I actually miss. If someone told me I could go back and relive it, I would probably rather stab myself in the eye repeatedly. However, there’s still a bit of nostalgia in that general feeling of youth that only comes when you are freezing your ass off at a Friday night football game or begging Coach Dodd to let you watch a movie in History class.

So this is what I’m writing in our 20th reunion yearbook to the Class of ’92. It was great getting to know you. I wish I had known some of you better (others not so much). You were sweet/smart/funny/cute/insert your own superlative here. Don’t forget all those kick ass times we spent (fill in the blank). Stay cool and “kiss my class”.