Don't Let Your Son Go Down On Me.

Well, Sylvia asked for it.. so here it is, in all its "glory". I tweaked a few lines from last edit, and I think it flows better. A deeper story, if you will.

Just to pre-empt, these lyrics are about a secretly gay man, whose one-night stand gay love affair comes back into his life and tells his wife about everything. He thinks he can be bi at first, but then, no, he accepts he's gay. And the obsession with the gay man who came back into his life progresses from there. And in the melody, he's turning to the gay guy's parents and asking them to please stop their son from, you know, sucking him off. Because it only confuses him more, and breaks his heart! Ok, maybe minus the heart breaking thing. But... I've obviously put too much thought into this. Man, so this is what I actually do with my free time? Jesus.

Anyway, enjoy. Preferably with the original by George Michael and Elton John playing along in the background. It's funnier that way. And without further ado...


"Don't Let Your Son Go Down on Me"

I can't fight no more of your stalking
All my memories seem all hazy from that night
I'm growing tired, and still you stand before me
Ranting here, telling secrets to my wife

It's much too late to save myself from lying
I took a chance and changed my choice of life
But you misread my meaning when I sucked you
Closed the door, and took me in just one bite

Don't let your son go down on me
Although I touch myself, it's always someone else I see
I'd just allow an idea of a wife to wander free, oh
But learning how to swing involves your son going down on me

I can't find
Oh, the way to make a shrine
I'll see him once, and see the way I squeal
Don't give scars please, baby don't
Just because you think it makes me hard
Just because you think it makes me hard, oh
But these balls I have (balls I have)
They need rubs (they need rubs) to make me reel

Oh, don't let your son go down on me
Cause when I touch myself, it's only his face that I'll see
I'll just allow a fragment of his life to be on knees, oh
Cause losing lots of sperm involves your son going down on me

Don't let your son go down on me
Oh, although I touch myself, it's always that one face that I see, yeah
I can't allow the one love of my life to wander free, baby, oh
Cause blowing my whole load involves your son going down on me


*cough*

Eat me, Sonic. So I can eat you.

Does anyone else find it unfair that Sonic, the drive-in tasty delicousness of all fast food gorgeosity, advertises non-stop, yet the closest one around here is in fucking IOWA? It's a cock tease, I tell you! (Aforementioned metaphor only working correctly if I indeed had a cock, but you get the point.)

I'm going to write them a letter. I'm going to write them a nasty, ugly, persuasive letter outlining every reason why they are just being plain douches about their media buys, and should stop making us hate their lovely food by wagging it in front of us on a forever-unreachable fantasy stick. BRING ON THE SONIC CONEY DOGS BITCHES. You know how much business ONE of those freaking places would get over here? It's an injustice!

In other news, that kid dancing with the fake sheet cow on the Jell-O pudding wiggle commercials is going to be a goddamn celebrity one day. Mark my words. With moves and shorts like that, how can the CosmoGirl-reading generation resist? Wiggle.

The sort-of reunion.

So I went to Tennessee over the weekend for my nephew Wyatt's birthday party. Him putting out the candle with his finger was definitely the bright spot of the whole time there, hehe. Hung out with my sisters and other family and all that, and had a general good smashing time.

I drove into Knoxville on Saturday, courtesy of my mom's friend Gertrude's car. There was supposed to be a reunion with the old Root Beer Ranger gang, but half of them didn't show. Anyway, the lesson learned from the weekend is that I definitely can't rap when I'm drunk. I vaguely remember Baby Got Back going on the TV, and me not being able to read or remember any of the words and just laughing instead. That's what happens with ten Steel Reserves in me. Now that's class, ladies and gentlemen.