They don't even MAKE music for how sexy I am.

Normally I listen to standup comedy while I get ready for work, but I noticed the entire notion of "morning," especially "rainy morning," offers much less "fuck this shit" when I have music on. So today I put my iPod on shuffle and heard:

1. An Amy Winehouse song called "Amy Amy Amy" about dolling oneself up for a workplace flirtation...while I examined a pair of jeans I pulled from the hamper to make sure they weren't the ones I dropped guacamole on the other day.

2. "The Thong Song," while wearing llama-print hipster briefs. 

3. "Hell on Heels," flip flops.

I am basically sex on a stick, you guys. I don't even know how y'all deal with me.

P.S. There was also "Shut Up and Drive" by Rihanna, which proclaims, "I got class like a '57 Cadillac," which...clearly with the guacamole and the llamas and the $2 Old Navy flip flops. But also, "got all the drive and a whole lotta boom in the back," which -- pfft -- is TOTALLY true. 

I don't know what you talk to YOUR friends about...

Discussing life with a very pregnant ladyfriend:

Her: "We still have 10 days to go. The baby seems content to stay there forever, so who knows. Someday, I won't be pregnant. So they tell me. It's weird. Everywhere I go I'm like, 'I could go into labor RIGHT NOW and that would be acceptable. Like, the baby would be fine.' Pregnancy is a total mindfuck (brought about by an actual fuck, I suppose, haha)."

Me: "That really IS a mindfuck, now that I think about it. 'Cause eventually the kid just decides,, 'Aaand my work in this womb is done. Comin' at ya, Ma! Wheeeeee!' And then she swims down like Nemo, and that 'Y'all Ready for This?' song plays like it's a sports game."

Her: "OMG, I wish 'Y'all Ready for This' would play whenever anyone went into labor. Vaginas should come equipped with that pre-recorded. Also could be useful during sex?"

Me: "I'm not sure how it would work, science-ly, but I would Kickstart the shit out of technology that would enable my vagina to welcome its visiting team with a jaunty tune. Vaginal Jock Jams. Yes. Shut up and take my money."

"Let me work it, put my thang down, flip it, and reverse it..."

Email to a male coworker: “I almost feel bad every time they bring a new male employee in, because my eyes automatically check his left hand for a wedding ring. But I DON’T feel bad, because at least I check.”

Then again, when I tell my other friend a man is married, he always asks, “Well, sure, but…happily?” But investigating that involves too many potential emotional landmines for me.

Another male coworker is married and just had a kid, and a female coworker (also married) told me earlier she thinks he’s “so sexy.” And I agree, I want to nibble his lower tummy — don’t judge me, that’s what comes to mind. And this woman said, “I’m married, not dead.” Damn straight, lady. Respect. Dude is STUPID good-looking — like, I don’t even understand how he’s walking among us mere mortals.

And there’s another guy who’s SO cute, and he has NO idea. Like, I met him and expected him to be a total pretty-boy douche, but he’s super nice. (And also probably below my age bracket, but… I mean, there are always exceptions… “And when I clock black hair, blue eyes, I drift off, I fantasize…”)

Stephen Colbert can report from my pants

I am so aroused by this that I'm blushing while watching it at work. I'm actually uncomfortable and a little squirmy.

Shut up.

Colbert doesn't get involved until about 3:10, but Jesus God, he's, like, gasping and breathing heavy and I might need to go take care of a few things...with a mop...

Judging by my reaction to hearing it through headphones, if he got breathy even remotely near my ear in person, I would lose my goddamn mind. #truthiness

Girls, I must warn you…

OMFG…

I can’t get this wet in the ocean.

(I stole that joke entirely out of context from Greg Behrendt, but it is thoroughly and blue-ballsingly appropriate on this occasion.)

Musical Masochism

I've heard this song a bunch of times since That Guy "made it like it never happened and that we were nothing," and I was perfectly fine. But it just came up on my Pandora playlist and suddenly I'm a weepy bitch over it?

Li'l early for PMS, isn't it, Body? Though I suppose that would explain the recent irritability, exhaustion, insatiable libido, and mass consumption of salty, cheesy Mexican food with Girl-Scout-cookie chasers. 

This is all fine. (It actually is. It's out of my hands. There's literally nothing I can do except "breathe and reboot." Plus I think I've proven I'm stronger than Weepy Bitch, even if on occasion she IS the one who knocks.)

Family rally cry? Family rally cry.

I know you guys aren't on my side with the country music, but I think we can all agree Pistol Annies have been reading my journal as we approach my family's Christmas dinner. This is my new favorite song to sing in the car. (Shut up, I am SUPER hot when I have twang.)

"Well, Daddy's reading propaganda
And he's talkin' 'bout the end of days
Well, cheers to the vodka Mama's been sneakin',
Let's all gather 'round and pray.

"So I snuck out behind the red barn
And I took myself a toke
Since everybody here hates everybody here
Hell, I might as well be their joke.

"I'm gonna dance up on the table
Singing 'This Little Light of Mine'
God gave it to me, what good's it gonna do me
If I don't, by God, let it shine?

"Hide your tattoo,
Put on your Sunday best,
Pretend you're not a mess,
Be the happy family in the front pew..."

"Hush hush, don't you dare say a word
Hush hush, don't you know the truth hurts
Hush hush, when push comes to shove,
It's best to keep it hush hush."

You have your Christmas carols, I have mine.

I was looking for a different Garfunkel & Oates video for a later post, but I saw this in the YouTube sidebar so I'm sharing it first. 

I've posted this before, but it's been a while, and it's always worth hearing again. But also, I HAVE in fact gotten that drunk text at 3 in the morning, and it was indeed "SO close, but not quite there."

"I forgot how good you taste..."

I never get tired of this song. 

"I'm not gonna tell you what it's about. You have to listen to the lyrics. And don't judge me." 💕

"I forgot how good you taste..."

I never get tired of this song.

"I'm not gonna tell you what it's about. You have to listen to the lyrics. And don't judge me." 💕

Pants-off dance-off?

What my office is really lacking is a piano for me to dance on. (Yes, Glee again -- whatever. I wouldn't knock the song until you've seen me dance on a piano.)

Toucha toucha toucha touch me

Don't judge me. I STILL wanna be all prim and proper and then give Mr. Schue a lap dance. 

UNF.

Damn, girl...

There's a Justin Timberlake song called "Damn, Girl" in which the first lyrics are just him repeating, "Damn, girl; damn, girl; damn, girl; damn, girl; damn..."

I'm not coveting her in a naked way, but... damn, girl.

She's my body-image hero. I want us to have amazing boobs and that sweet waist curve and go shoot arrows together.

A terrible feminist and probably an awful human being

I am a terrible feminist and probably an awful human being.

Everyone on board?

OK.

I definitely have my moments where I'm like, "Man, I'd kill to be built like Kerry Washington" or whoever.

But last night I watched Chicago again (for burlesque research!), and I realized, "Goddamn, I would much rather be built like me than like Super Thin Renée Zellweger any day."

I sincerely hope the most prominent feature of my chest is never the bones in it. (I can't even see those bones, I forgot there WERE bones there.)

I could floss with that woman. 

I know, I KNOW. I shouldn't judge another woman. There's room for all of us (ahem -- especially her, she's basically vapor), and we're all snowflakes, blah blah, bliddy blah, sisterhood, traveling pants, etc. FINE. I'm an asshole. We've established that.

Also, while she's tiny, I'm sure she does crazy yogalates-ninja-reformer class or something and could kill me with her pinky finger. Plus, she's a floppity-bajillionaire mega-star who can sing AND dance AND act (I'm told), and I live in a studio apartment and have 45 Facebook followers, so who the hell am I? She gives no fucks what I think, and rightly so. 

Now, don't get it twisted -- if you offered a trade of INCOME, I'd be on that shit like white on rice. (Not that she knows what rice is, but you get the idea.) But body-wise? I'm glad I'm me, is the point. Flat ass and all. I'm not a hater -- this was a self-esteem epiphany. So there.

A fun post to balance the feels...

When I did the burlesque class a couple weeks ago, apart from being just inherently rigid and prim, I also couldn't really get into any of the music. I'd never heard any of the songs before, and the instructor kept looking at me like, "Bitch, what music do you need to relax your stupid, uptight hips?"

THIS. I needed this. Bring me back that chair -- I'll make it my bitch. I could burlesque the shit out of this: 

"Run your fingers through my hair,
I want you to touch me there,
But I will not open up my thighs
When you've got bourbon in your eyes,
You're the one that makes me smile,
And I know you'd make it worth my while,
But she's waiting for you and I think she cries,
When you've got bourbon in your eyes."

Or, hey, if we're going for something more (incredibly) obvious, can I get a little Aguilera up in here?

"You've been a bad bad boy
I'm gonna take my time, so enjoy
There's no need to feel no shame
Relax and sip upon my champagne
'Cause I wanna give you a little taste
Of the sugar below my waist, you nasty boy..."

COME ON.

New plan for the evening: My own burlesque playlist and workout. I have Sex Kitten capacities, dammit. I am a WANTON, SULTRY STRUMPET! HMPH! (Just...you know, don't look at me or anything. Because then I just get awkward. And not in a cute, Deschnanelly way -- it's got a li'l Gollum on it, frankly.)

I would put a ring on her.

This is a shitty quality video, but Aisha Tyler dressed up as Beyoncé and lip synched "Single Ladies" and it's the only video I could find of the whole thing and I HATE that song, but regardless, I am slightly more in love with her now.

There are women who WANT a ring on it who don't love this as much as I do.

Carry on.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=c1J2uwvk6ZA

INXS "Kick" you right in the feels

Speaking of working past perfectly good elements of pop culture weighed down by the emotion I associate with them...

Last night I found myself caught off-guard when I saw this new Apple ad during Scandal, featuring an older song I'd been avoiding pretty successfully.

A million years ago, I teased a man in the most delicious way for the duration of this song after he told me it made him think of me.

"You gonna go your whole life scared of that song? It's just a song. Don't make it a monster."*

I'm playing it in full now, because suck it, fuckface -- it was my song first.

*Quote from Silver Linings Playbook

"If I get all down on paper..."

"2 a.m. and I'm still awake writing a song,
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to.
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd,
'Cause these words are my diary screaming out loud,
And I know that you'll use them however you want to."

Anna Nalick​.

TONIGHT.

SO.

EXCITED.

I'm gonna need more eye makeup. (Or, um, ANY eye makeup, because I usually don't bother -- that's some shit the Real Women do.)

“Not that it matters, not that I care, you see, just so you know…”

Getting SUPER excited to be seeing Anna Nalick TWICE this week. "Not that it matters. Just so you know."

Don't ask, don't tell

My running game is totally sexy until you learn my headphones are blaring Mandy Moore's "Candy."

Ssshhh...