This is probably going to be scattery. I’m in the midst of a project that is taking a bit of time and also brain power. It’s almost done, my little tater tots. Promise promise. I’ll be better early next week. Or maybe mid-April when tax season’s over. There’s an end in sight, I’m saying.
FRIDAY WAS THE DAY FROM HELL.
So in the clerical pool at work, there is me – full-time clerical drudge – and my co-worker K., part-time clerical drudge. K. had to take a vacation day yesterday, or she would stop accruing vacation time. I love K. Like bunches and tons. I don’t want her to stop accruing vacation time. I want her to have ALL the vacation time.
But when I got into work Friday, already KNOWING it was going to be complete and utter chaos with only me to deal with it, it was WORSE than that. Apparently, the tax elves had been busy overnight, so there were tax returns EVERYWHERE for me to work on. Plus all the typing. And filing. And the myriad other things I do in a day. Because I am VERY IMPORTANT. Like a junk drawer, where you put all the junk you don’t want but know you can’t get rid of? I’m where you junk all the jobs you don’t want, but know need to be done. Doesn’t that make me feel ever-so-fine? Sure does, bub.
So I worked and I toiled and I worked and I toiled and people came in and were mad I wasn’t working on THEIR job and they’d leave and ANOTHER person would come in and be all, “WHAT ABOUT MY JOB” and I just kept gesturing toward K.’s desk and muttering, “I’m doing the best I can.”
Then I started randomly humming “Totally Fucked” (sorry, did you need a cuss warning? Too tired to give one) under my breath (from Spring Awakening, because what better to help me out than a musical on the worst day of tax season yet?) because it entertained me that they just thought I was humming, possibly because I was mentally deranged, but really in my head, the lyrics “Yeah, you’re fucked all right, and all for spite, you can kiss your sorry ass goodbye, totally fucked, will they mess you up? Well you know they’re gonna try” were on repeat, LOUDLY, and it was AWESOME. Because they had NO IDEA. They thought I was humming a PRETTY LITTLE DITTY. Well, there you go, coworkers. THERE YOU GO. I was WELL-AWARE of my predicament, and I had the PERFECT SONG in my head to go with it, thank you very much.
Here’s the song. Starring my man Jonathan Groff. YOU ARE WELCOME. (Yes, I know it’s douchey some asshat filmed a live performance. But! GROFFFF!)
Also, I told one of my coworkers that I was pretty sure work had murdered my soul (this was after a billion other things went wrong and I was kind of chastised for something that wasn’t even WRONG and I was SO PISSED) and she was all, “Well, good, it’s about time, it’s a lot easier to work here if your soul is dead.”
I work at a place where it’s EASIER TO WORK IF YOUR SOUL HAS DIED.
I think maybe this is a huge old flashy warning sign, right?
Oh, and, there’s this thing where I have to sign up for a mentor, and I might have asked the lady in charge of it if my mentor would be able to help me with my career path of NOT LOSING MY SHIT. Probably that wasn’t wise as she’s in HR. I might be unemployed now. (If you’re interested, her answer was, in a soothing voice, “We may be able to find some resources to help you with that!” YOU GUYS I THINK MY OFFICE IS SENDING ME TO ANGER MANAGEMENT. Imagine the blogging potential there!)
Anyway. Then on my lunch break, I decided I had to get out or I would die, so I ran some errands, but one of the places I called to make sure that it would be open? Not open. Why would you be a liar? That’s disheartening. And also, every single person I got behind was driving SO SO SLOW and I was TOTALLY ROAD RAGEY and I wanted to punch everyone in the neck twice.
Yeah, so I had kind of a shit day.
But then things got better when I got home, and I had a package waiting for me in the mail which I will, once I have time, blog about in more detail, because it gave me such joy, and I got to talk to my dad (his solution for how much work sucks? “Record everything everyone says to you.” When I said, “What good would that do? Who would I give the recording to?” he didn’t have an answer. This doesn’t seem like much of a solution, to tell you the truth, but I love him for trying), and I learned that “doof” is German for “stupid” and that’s just a fun word to say, right? Apparently, you say it like “loaf” and not “roof.” You know, in case you wanted to call your cat that over and over. Not that anyone in THIS house would do that. And if they did, they did it in a loving VOICE, I mean, come ON.
So anyway, I was doing some stuff and driving around and two songs came on that bear note. One was happy; one was confusing because I finally listened to the lyrics.
The happy one first. I had never heard this before:
How much fun is THIS? Sorry, this is the live version, apparently there’s no video or something. But it’s like this adorable punk-looking British kid and he’s all swing-jivey! I kind of love this.
THEN, right after that, I was flipping around the channels because Bon Iver came on and I don’t allow that garbage in my earholes, and Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi” came on. I’m not putting in the video. I’m sure you’ve all heard this song. If you haven’t, you’re probably just old! Like me! Hi, old-timers like me!
Now listen, I totally enjoy the Gaga. I do. She’s nutty and a total attention hog but I like her music. It’s fun and it makes me want to dance around the house like a looney.
I think they might have done this song on Glee, which is why it sounded familiar to me. I only know a handful of Lady Gaga songs very well and this isn’t one of them. But I was all, oh, hey, I’m in the shittiest of shitty moods! I will listen to this!
I find this whole song very confusing.
I apparently am TOO OLD FOR LADY GAGA. Well, at least too old to pay attention to the lyrics. Maybe I could just nod and hum or something. Because these are confusing lyrics, you guys. Like, half of this is a weirdo acid trip and the other half is a sad-panda emo stalker movie.
OK, so we start with:
We are the crowd, we’re c-comin’ out
Got my flash on, it’s true
(I assume this is about, well, paparazzi. Easy enough. It’s in the title.)
Need that picture of you
It so magical, we’d be so fantastical
(Either the stupid lyric site I’m working with has a typo, or “it so magical” is a lyric. Either way, I hate it. This still seems to be about paparazzi, even though it’s kind of dumb.)
Leather and jeans, garage glamorous
Not sure what it means
(I’m not, either, Gaga. Is “garage glamorous” a thing? Then the guy at my auto body shop is FABULOUS!)
But this photo of us it don’t have a price
Ready for those flashing light
(Ugh, this has to be the lyrics site, right? It has to be “ready for those flashing lights.” Otherwise I’m sending Gaga to remedial grammar school. I can forgive the “don’t” in the line above, it’s a choice, but not the “light.” Also, this is the first sign we have that this is not just about paparazzi but about stalkers.)
Then we have the chorus. It’s totally boppy. I like it a lot.
I’m your biggest fan, I’ll follow you until you love me
(Um. “I’ll follow you until you love me” is a worrisome thing. Don’t be putting ideas into little kiddos heads, now.)
Baby, there’s no other superstar, you know that I’ll be
Your papa, paparazzi
(Confusing. Who’s the superstar? The paparazzi? Or the celebrity? OOH. Maybe that’s the POINT. Maybe they’re INTERCHANGEABLE. No, wait, probably I’m reading too much into this shit, right?)
Promise I’ll be kind
But I won’t stop until that boy is mine
(Please stop encouraging this behavior. Hey, teens? Please stop if the boy isn’t interested. There’s a fine line between stalking and crushing, ok?)
Baby, you’ll be famous, chase you down until you love me
(STOP THIS MADNESS GAGA)
Remember we talked about advice songs the other day? Gaga’s giving us advice. Advice about how if you don’t give up, YOU CAN HAVE THE MAN OF YOUR DREAMS. That’s not true, by the way. If it was, I’d be married about 47 times right now.
I’ll be your girl backstage at your show
Velvet ropes and guitars
Yeah, cause you’re my rock star in between the sets
Eyeliner and cigarettes
(So…did the stalker GET the guy, or is she like a backstage ho, or what’s happening? Also, I know guys in eyeliner are hotties, but they’re also usually douchebags. Let my experience be your guide, my little lost starshines.)
Shadow is burnt, yellow dance and we turn
My lashes are dry, purple teardrops I cry
(WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING. This is getting totally the most weird. It’s like the poems I used to write when I was in junior high: “My heart is a velvet balloon of sorrow…it expands, it explodes…confetti of your love like rain, doves of sorrow scream…”)
(Please note I never wrote anything like that in high school and my writing, much like my taste, has ALWAYS been EXQUISITE.)
It don’t have a price, loving you is cherry pie
(Whenever I hear “cherry pie” outside of mention of ACTUAL cherry pie I always think of that video with Tawny Kitaen on the roof of the car, you know? I can’t help it. It makes me laugh.)
Then the chorus again, more encouraging little girls to be stalky, etc.
Real good, we dance in the studio
Snap, snap to that shit on the radio
(Now we’re…dancing? In a studio? And cussing and snapping? I don’t know, what happened to the yellow dancing and the purple tears of sadness?)
Don’t stop for anyone
We’re plastic but we still have fun
(How are these people related to the stalkers, the stalkees, or the backstage hos? It’s like it’s a whole different song right now.)
Then more chorus. Then we’re done.
I liked this song a lot more when I thought it was about paparazzi and not encouraging young girls to go after their dream men and NEVER GIVE UP even if they get a restraining order against you or something.
Also, recently, a lovely young woman of my acquaintance posted the following on Facebook. I think it needs to be addressed.
“I was so afraid, now I realize, love is never wrong, and so it never dies.”
Google tells me this is from The Lion King 2. There was a Lion King 2? Huh. Learn something new and unneeded every day, I suppose.
Love is never wrong, so it never dies.
OK, listen. We all went through our sad little emo phases where we were all “HE/SHE COMPLETES ME” and “THIS IS FOREVER” and such. Is there a way to just shake this out of teenagers? I love this kid to distraction, by the way. She’s one of my jump-in-front-of-a-train-for people. I want to hide her under my bed and give her chocolate and not let anyone hurt her ever again; barring that, I want to find whatever asshat decided it was a good idea to mess with one of MY people, and I want to take a fireplace poker and stuff it up his nostril until it comes out the top of his head. Then I want to hit it with ANOTHER poker so it makes his whole body vibrate like a gong.
But here’s the thing, babe. Love is OFTEN wrong. Can I just tell you HOW wrong? The most. The most wrong. SO EFFING WRONG. And also? It TOTALLY dies. It turns into hate, sometimes; it dies right off so you don’t remember the person’s last name a couple years later, other times. Sometimes, it’s not even love! Sometimes, it’s lust, or infatuation, and it PRETENDS it’s love, but it’s not. It’s just slutty lust dressed in love’s ill-fitting party clothes, or goofy infatuation wearing love’s best shoes.
You’ll learn this, eventually. I promise. But maybe stop watching The Lion King 2. Because it’s obviously not teaching you the right things. Watch the first one, that one was all circle of life-y and shit, that was nice.
Also, I’m hoping she stays the hell away from Gaga. Otherwise, she’s going to start stalking the shit out of love-never-dies boy and that won’t be good times for anyone involved.
ALSO, just quickly, I told Dad about how I was totally going to go to Europe, once the rich people sponsored me? You know, because he was totally going to have to be gentled into this idea. Because my internet people are killers.
“That’ll be nice. You get so excited about things. You’d have a nice time.”
OK, so either he’s PRETENDING to agree because he does not believe in my rich-person plan (if so, BOO DAD, it’s TOTALLY going to work, you just have to give it TIME) or he really doesn’t care and maybe he believes the internet people are real.
This is all very perplexing.
Also, remember I was all excited about porridge? I told my mom about it and she said, “That’s just Cream of Wheat. You hate Cream of Wheat.”
I don’t know that I’ve ever TRIED Cream of Wheat, MOM, since when do you know all the foods I’ve tried in ever? But if you put it THAT way it SOUNDS totally unappealing. Porridge sounds EXOTIC and like FAIRY TALE FOOD. Cream of Wheat sounds like what Nana eats when her dentures stop fitting.
To end on a happy note, I found out about the BEST MEME EVER this week. Ready?
SOCIALLY AWKWARD PENGUIN.
You all probably know about this and are all “OLD NEWS AMY GAAAHHH” but it made me laugh so hard I snorted.
OK. Off I go. Planning. Scheming. Hoping. Wishing. Etcetera.
Happy Saturday. Hope your day is free of angstiness! And full of bubblegum!