Oh, for fuck's sake. This is a TOTALLY UNSUBSTANTIVE meme-tag post! (Yes, beware! TOTALLY UNSUBSTANTIVE! If you are looking for Method and Theory, stand back!) Properly light as bubbles, yet halfway depressing nonetheless! Way to go, Juniper! Way to go!
Look! Thankfully, Hermitage tagged me (a billionteen days ago in February) with one music meme, and Leigh with another. Yay! I could use a little blogorific musical levity.
I have shirked blogging. Again. I like blogging, but, for me, it remains an unwieldly enterprise. Unpleasant ruminations over "identity politics" combined with academic developments I can't yet publicly discuss and my growing desire to blog under my real name have scared me into blogging procrastination. This one weird dude I'm rather fond of has beenprovokingly tenderly counseling me to stay the fuckety-fuck on get back on the horse. This is what I think I am doing now.
Read more. . .
Oh, and, meanwhile, I've done this nonsense to my hair:
That's right. I cut off my hair. Specifically, I cut off the chemically straightened parts of my hair. Because I did chemically straighten my hair. I'd been doing it since 2005.
Pictured above is my unadulterated, ringletted hair. My real hair isn't nappy-- Mom's Korean genes won most of the turf here--so it straightens well; people think that it's growing in straight and they exclaim, "Oh, honey! You're so lucky you didn't get the black part!" Or some variation thereof. That's supposed to be a compliment. It represents the kind of unsolicited and grotesquely backhanded compliment that I've frequently received from impertinent strangers-- most of whom were white-- all of my life, and it ranks up there with, "Gosh, but you're so smart! That's got to be your mother-- Asians are really smart, you know." Yeah. 'Cause Lt. Col. Shoemaker is some kind of dumb ass. Right. That's how he got to be a decorated senior officer in the first place.
Last week, after I retreated to the park across the street from my parents' house to talk to DuWayne on my cell? For privacy? And I got interrupted by some young white male cop who didn't believe that I lived in my largely white, relatively upscale suburban neighborhood, and who yelled at me like a criminal and made me parrot, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I'm sorry, sir," before leaving me alone? I woke up the next morning and sliced off my straightened locks where they ended and the grow-out began. Because what the fuck was the point?
But. No. I refuse to blog about this now. I will get angry and write something unnuanced and unfair, and I do not have the heart to look at either others or myself through those lenses right now.
Recourse to humor! The last time I cut my hair this short, I was an ugly duckling in college. It took a year and a half to grow back past my shoulders. Now I feel ugly. I am extremely vain, and feeling ugly makes me sulky. It's possible that I'll sulk over it through 2010. In a wide world of ghastly problems, I am just that mature. I'll try to be covert about it, though. I cross my heart. I pinky swear.
Yeah. Like I said. I welcomed these tags, 'cause I could use a little joshin' around.
Here were the rules for Hermitage's tag (which the rest of you did a billionteen days ago):
a) Put your MP3 player, iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle
b) For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
c) YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS
Well, tonight, I complied all of my favorite playlists into "Hermitage's Meme Tag List", toggled on the "Shuffle" function and acceded. Good Golly. Maybe I should've left out "Radio Juniper's Teenhood of Angst". I even tried answering some of the questions with lyrics instead of song titles for comic effect, and, yet, I still generated a meme mostly as brooding as Jane Eyre:
1. IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAY?
Well, don’t you please make me real--
Fuck you!
Make me sick--
Fuck you!
Make me real--
Fuck you!
("Rock Star", by Hole. Blame it on high school.)
2. HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
"Endless Summer Nights".
(It is summer. And this limbo started feeling endless last summer.)
(Wait, Richard Marx? How did that get in there? Ahem.)
3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
"You Oughta Know"!
4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Why do I get cut no slack?
("Jurassitol", by Filter.)
5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
"Since U Been Gone", you mean? *goofy chortle*
6. WHAT'S YOUR MOTTO?
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back?
Porno Paparazzi Girl, I don’t wanna be a Stupid Girl.
("Stupid Girls", by Pink. Not bad, iTunes Jukebox!)
7. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
And if you want beautiful, pitiful—have me in a picture . . .
("Photograph", by the Verve Pipe. Jukebox is both sentient and catty, I see.)
8. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Maybe I’m just too demanding
Maybe I’m just like my father, too bold
Maybe I’m just like my mother—she’s never satisfied . . .
(“When Doves Cry” by Prince, covered by the Be Good Tanyas. This shuffle result disturbs me greatly. On multiple levels.)
9. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Looking out I want to know someone might care
Looking out I want a reason to be there
‘Cause I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you
And I don’t know what I’d do without you
("Nylon Smile", by Portishead)
10. WHAT IS 2 + 2?
"Today".
11. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
"The Man Who Sold The World".
(Um. Yeah, Jukebox. Except my best friend's a woman.)
12. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
ARRGH! I SWEAR I REALLY DID PUT THIS SHIT ON SHUFFLE!
Elliott Smith's "Angeles" happens to have been one of my secret "theme songs" for years. If anything, because this is what my depression feels/felt like:
Not to be a downer or anything . . . at least it's a beautiful song . . .
13. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
With eyes so dilated I become your pupil
You taught me everything about a poison apple
The water is so yellow
I’m a healthy student . . .
("Drain You", by Nirvana. When I grow up?! ITUNES FAIL.)
14. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
"Falling Man".
(Blonde Redhead. Whaa? Though this could be construed in a perfectly positive light.)
15. WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
“I Burn”, by the Toadies.
16. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Apparently, “Food”, by Nellie McKay. GROSS. Answers 15 and 16 are ass-backwards.
17. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
I’ve got Fergie’s “Fergalicious”. I’m up in the gym all working on my fitness . . .
18. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
“The Long Way Around”. (Dixie Chicks. Appropriate:)
19. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
“When I Come Around”. (Green Day.)
20. WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?
“Luck”. (Cesaria Evora. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Whatever that is.)
21. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
“Saving My Face”. (KT Tunstall. Neither lyrics nor song title will salvage this go-around into coherence. I think this meme came straight from the desks of starry-eyed middle-schoolers.)
22. WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
“Love Is a Losing Game”, by Amy Winehouse.
"Girl All The Bad Guys Want", by Bowling for Soup
Bite me, Jukebox.
Time for cover songs!
I love numerous covers of songs. It's so hard to choose "bests" from among them. My favorite "cover" at present is the Be Good Tanyas' rendition of "Lakes of Pontchartrain".
Know what else is good? Hole's cover of "Gold Dust Woman":
Know what else is good? Flunk's cover of "Blue Monday":
So, so bad, but irresistibly good? Halifax's punk cover of Paula Abdul's "Straight Up":
Admittedly silly, but candy sweet? INOJ's cover of "Time After Time":
Bad, bad, bad? Victoria Beckham:
Is this last a cover? No. However, it is the worst song in my Music Library. I thought you should know.
I'll be back, guys. I need breakfast.
Look! Thankfully, Hermitage tagged me (a billionteen days ago in February) with one music meme, and Leigh with another. Yay! I could use a little blogorific musical levity.
I have shirked blogging. Again. I like blogging, but, for me, it remains an unwieldly enterprise. Unpleasant ruminations over "identity politics" combined with academic developments I can't yet publicly discuss and my growing desire to blog under my real name have scared me into blogging procrastination. This one weird dude I'm rather fond of has been
Read more. . .
Oh, and, meanwhile, I've done this nonsense to my hair:
That's right. I cut off my hair. Specifically, I cut off the chemically straightened parts of my hair. Because I did chemically straighten my hair. I'd been doing it since 2005.
Pictured above is my unadulterated, ringletted hair. My real hair isn't nappy-- Mom's Korean genes won most of the turf here--so it straightens well; people think that it's growing in straight and they exclaim, "Oh, honey! You're so lucky you didn't get the black part!" Or some variation thereof. That's supposed to be a compliment. It represents the kind of unsolicited and grotesquely backhanded compliment that I've frequently received from impertinent strangers-- most of whom were white-- all of my life, and it ranks up there with, "Gosh, but you're so smart! That's got to be your mother-- Asians are really smart, you know." Yeah. 'Cause Lt. Col. Shoemaker is some kind of dumb ass. Right. That's how he got to be a decorated senior officer in the first place.
Last week, after I retreated to the park across the street from my parents' house to talk to DuWayne on my cell? For privacy? And I got interrupted by some young white male cop who didn't believe that I lived in my largely white, relatively upscale suburban neighborhood, and who yelled at me like a criminal and made me parrot, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I'm sorry, sir," before leaving me alone? I woke up the next morning and sliced off my straightened locks where they ended and the grow-out began. Because what the fuck was the point?
But. No. I refuse to blog about this now. I will get angry and write something unnuanced and unfair, and I do not have the heart to look at either others or myself through those lenses right now.
Recourse to humor! The last time I cut my hair this short, I was an ugly duckling in college. It took a year and a half to grow back past my shoulders. Now I feel ugly. I am extremely vain, and feeling ugly makes me sulky. It's possible that I'll sulk over it through 2010. In a wide world of ghastly problems, I am just that mature. I'll try to be covert about it, though. I cross my heart. I pinky swear.
Yeah. Like I said. I welcomed these tags, 'cause I could use a little joshin' around.
Here were the rules for Hermitage's tag (which the rest of you did a billionteen days ago):
a) Put your MP3 player, iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle
b) For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
c) YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS
Well, tonight, I complied all of my favorite playlists into "Hermitage's Meme Tag List", toggled on the "Shuffle" function and acceded. Good Golly. Maybe I should've left out "Radio Juniper's Teenhood of Angst". I even tried answering some of the questions with lyrics instead of song titles for comic effect, and, yet, I still generated a meme mostly as brooding as Jane Eyre:
1. IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAY?
Well, don’t you please make me real--
Fuck you!
Make me sick--
Fuck you!
Make me real--
Fuck you!
("Rock Star", by Hole. Blame it on high school.)
2. HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
"Endless Summer Nights".
(It is summer. And this limbo started feeling endless last summer.)
(Wait, Richard Marx? How did that get in there? Ahem.)
3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
"You Oughta Know"!
4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Why do I get cut no slack?
("Jurassitol", by Filter.)
5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
"Since U Been Gone", you mean? *goofy chortle*
6. WHAT'S YOUR MOTTO?
Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back?
Porno Paparazzi Girl, I don’t wanna be a Stupid Girl.
("Stupid Girls", by Pink. Not bad, iTunes Jukebox!)
7. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
And if you want beautiful, pitiful—have me in a picture . . .
("Photograph", by the Verve Pipe. Jukebox is both sentient and catty, I see.)
8. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Maybe I’m just too demanding
Maybe I’m just like my father, too bold
Maybe I’m just like my mother—she’s never satisfied . . .
(“When Doves Cry” by Prince, covered by the Be Good Tanyas. This shuffle result disturbs me greatly. On multiple levels.)
9. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Looking out I want to know someone might care
Looking out I want a reason to be there
‘Cause I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you
And I don’t know what I’d do without you
("Nylon Smile", by Portishead)
10. WHAT IS 2 + 2?
"Today".
11. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
"The Man Who Sold The World".
(Um. Yeah, Jukebox. Except my best friend's a woman.)
12. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
ARRGH! I SWEAR I REALLY DID PUT THIS SHIT ON SHUFFLE!
Elliott Smith's "Angeles" happens to have been one of my secret "theme songs" for years. If anything, because this is what my depression feels/felt like:
Someone’s always coming ‘round here, trailing some new kill.
Bet I’ve seen your picture on a hundred dollar bill.
What’s a game of chance to you?
Here’s one with real skill.
So glad to meet you, angeles.
Picking up the ticket shows there’s money to be made.
Go on, lose the gamble, that’s the history of the trade.
Did you add up all the cards left to play to zero?
Sign up with evil, angeles.
Don’t start me trying now
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
‘Cause I’m all over it, angeles
I can make you satisfied in everything you do.
All your secret wishes right now could be coming true.
Be forever with my poison arms around you—
No one’s gonna fool around with us,
No one’s gonna fool around with us,
I’m so glad to meet you, angeles.
Bet I’ve seen your picture on a hundred dollar bill.
What’s a game of chance to you?
Here’s one with real skill.
So glad to meet you, angeles.
Picking up the ticket shows there’s money to be made.
Go on, lose the gamble, that’s the history of the trade.
Did you add up all the cards left to play to zero?
Sign up with evil, angeles.
Don’t start me trying now
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
‘Cause I’m all over it, angeles
I can make you satisfied in everything you do.
All your secret wishes right now could be coming true.
Be forever with my poison arms around you—
No one’s gonna fool around with us,
No one’s gonna fool around with us,
I’m so glad to meet you, angeles.
Not to be a downer or anything . . . at least it's a beautiful song . . .
13. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
With eyes so dilated I become your pupil
You taught me everything about a poison apple
The water is so yellow
I’m a healthy student . . .
("Drain You", by Nirvana. When I grow up?! ITUNES FAIL.)
14. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
"Falling Man".
(Blonde Redhead. Whaa? Though this could be construed in a perfectly positive light.)
15. WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
“I Burn”, by the Toadies.
16. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Apparently, “Food”, by Nellie McKay. GROSS. Answers 15 and 16 are ass-backwards.
17. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
I’ve got Fergie’s “Fergalicious”. I’m up in the gym all working on my fitness . . .
18. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
“The Long Way Around”. (Dixie Chicks. Appropriate:)
Well I fought with a stranger and I met myself
I opened my mouth and I heard myself
It can get pretty lonely when you show yourself
Guess I could’ve made it easier on myself
But I could never follow
No I could never follow
Well, I never seem to do it like anybody else
Maybe someday I’m gonna settle down
If you ever want to find me I can still be found
Taking the long way
Taking the long way around
Taking the long way
Taking the long way around
I opened my mouth and I heard myself
It can get pretty lonely when you show yourself
Guess I could’ve made it easier on myself
But I could never follow
No I could never follow
Well, I never seem to do it like anybody else
Maybe someday I’m gonna settle down
If you ever want to find me I can still be found
Taking the long way
Taking the long way around
Taking the long way
Taking the long way around
19. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
“When I Come Around”. (Green Day.)
20. WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?
“Luck”. (Cesaria Evora. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Whatever that is.)
21. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
“Saving My Face”. (KT Tunstall. Neither lyrics nor song title will salvage this go-around into coherence. I think this meme came straight from the desks of starry-eyed middle-schoolers.)
22. WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Bite me, Jukebox.
Time for cover songs!
I love numerous covers of songs. It's so hard to choose "bests" from among them. My favorite "cover" at present is the Be Good Tanyas' rendition of "Lakes of Pontchartrain".
Know what else is good? Hole's cover of "Gold Dust Woman":
Know what else is good? Flunk's cover of "Blue Monday":
So, so bad, but irresistibly good? Halifax's punk cover of Paula Abdul's "Straight Up":
Admittedly silly, but candy sweet? INOJ's cover of "Time After Time":
Bad, bad, bad? Victoria Beckham:
Is this last a cover? No. However, it is the worst song in my Music Library. I thought you should know.
I'll be back, guys. I need breakfast.
8 comments:
As a huge New Order fan who loves, loves, LOVES Blue Monday, I was ready to stamp my feet and complain about yet another cover version of my beloved classic. But I have to admit, I really liked the Flunk version. You are forgiven :)
That was painful in places, but terribly amusing.
The first one is totally my sort of thing...Never heard the Be Good Tonyas...
I loved the Hole cover, but now I am envisioning Stevie Nicks cooking up a shot of heroin with a silver spoon...
I liked that cover of Blue Monday too and though I wasn't ready to be rather cranky, I was skeptical...
The whole Paula Abdul goes punk thing was just too much fun. I must admit that I had a bit of a crush when I was a kid - I feel oddly violated.
The Time After Time was just screaming cheesy - the dancers were rather incongruous...Really...
Err, Umm - I love you?
Trust you to make an unsubstantive post substantive. :)
I echo the others on the "Blue Monday" cover, and I don't even like that kind of guitar playing as a rule.
And having seen pictures of you, I can't imagine how that hair on that face could look anything other than lovely.
I was about to sick the d-list monkress hounds on you Juniper! Way to finally get on that meme-train!
And now I will speak to you, as I would in real life, which is like 1000x horribler than my blogger persona indicates:
Bitch, you are fucking gorgeous. You are like, ridiculously fucking gorgeous and are probably gorgeous when you fucking wake up and I hate that shit. And your hair is mfing gorgeous and you had BETTER NOT BE UP HERE IN THE BLOGOSPHERE SAYING IT'S UGLY AGAIN. Or I will straight out shank you. Trust.
i love elliot smiths 'Twilight' - good to see you back again :)
glad i could contribute to prodding you back into posting :)
re: the police officer... sadly i have found the younger ones to be especially drunk on the supposed power they have over their constituents. i have no comment on the breadth of my experience with police officers.
thanks for participating in the meme. punk covers always amuse me. :)
When you want to write, I am here to read. Funny as always, hope you are well.
@PiT: I TOLD YOU SO.
Wrong about this "Blue Monday" cover. Wrong about socks.
Still supremely awesome. But still wrong.
*ducks and runs*
@DuWayne: Yay! I made you laugh.
And that Halifax cover is loads of fun. I first heard it while working overnight in the cold archy lab and listening to online radio, and I could not stop laughing.
Even if you do not like my cheesy INOJ "Time After Time" cover that came out during my first semester in college and therefore has this-reminds-me-of-my-dorm-room nostalgic value (ahem), I will still freely admit that I really love your "Helpless" cover and only refrained from posting it here because it is really lame when you're a Myers-Briggs INTJ and your science blog turns into excuses to talk about how much you love your boyfriend. That's only one small step from recording the naughtiest of certain phone conversations and posting them, you know. Or, anyway, it is in my nonsensical mind.
I love you, too, darling. By the way.
@Stephanie: ! You don't like way-acoustic guitar playing?! What's not to like?! Especially in a given mood . . .
I am deciding to ignore my hair. It's only the length that bothers me. In defiance of LA standards, I like hair with lots of volume. It's nice to have the curls back as well as to not have to flat-iron it to death because half of it's stick straight while half of it's decidedly not.
@Hermitage: *after emerging from hiding* O High Monktress, I am clever enough to heed a shanking warning when I ought to. . .
. . . even when I remain impertinent enough to protest that your description honestly, HONESTLY fits my annoyingly guy-magnety little sister better than I. But, no. I eye the shank and I quiet accordingly.
@leigh: I felt stupid and indignant because it took me a whole three minutes to figure out why that officer was screaming at me. I was just so astonished. I kept trying to answer his questions, and he kept cutting me off. I offered to show him my driver's license to prove where I lived; he literally screamed at me not to reach for anything and to keep my hands where I could see them. I tried to explain why I was talking on my cell phone in my car when I lived across the street; he angrily interrupted me because he didn't believe I owned my car in the first place. It was absurd. Especially because I'm a girly-girl who was raised to respect law enforcement and I automatically went into meek and submissive mode the moment he appeared at my door. (This last part just made me angrier at myself, later.)
Now that I think about it, I think you're right: young, bored and drunk on power. No further comment on the breadth of your past experience with police officers necessary. :)
Thanks for tagging me!
@Candid Engineer: :) I really adore having you for a reader.
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