Atomictumor

Setting: Living Room, on couch.
AT: Well, Sweet Lady Friday, I have a babysitter tonight since the kids wanted to stay over, which means I’m footloose and fancy free, what are we going to do with ourselves?

Sweet Lady Friday: Well, AT, I got shit all for you.  I see you’ve put yourself a Scissor Sisters album on, and you can finish up loading all that software up on MastaG’s computer like you wanted to.  I reckon you can drink yourself to a stupor with that unopened fifth of Crown up in the cabinet you’ve had since before Christmas, or those 4 or 5 six packs of good beer you’ve been collecting.

AT: Well, the album is a bit of a disappointment.  I mean, the Scissor Sisters put out the best gay funk this side of Elton John on their first record, but by and large this one, their second, is suffering from the same sophomore slump that plagued The Zutons, The Futureheads, and to a lesser extent Interpol in the last couple of years.  Its OK, and I do have it on vinyl, because BJ and I picked it out, but it doesn’t have the ass shakers like Laura or that Beegeeized cover of Comfortably Numb that their first record had.
As far as the booze goes, alcohol, sadly, has been giving me headaches lately.  I think that last hangover down at the BBF really kinda did it in for me, Sweet Lady Friday.
I was kinda looking forward to installing that software, but damn, its a Friday.  Don’t you have more in store for me?

SWF: Well, no, not really.  I suppose you could take a bath?

AT: Shit, now you’re not even trying.  I haven’t been able to fit in a bathtub since I was 12.  BJ and I tried it together, and gave up before I even made it in the tub.  I can’t even imagine the amount of water my sizable bulk would displace.

SWF: Damn.  Thats a good point.  You’re a big motherfucker.

AT: Shit dude, you don’t have to put it like that!  I’ll have you know that I was down to 240 today, and that I’ve had a pretty normal appetite the last week or so, so my oranges and sit-ups seem to be having a result.  Its also putting my belt into an uncomfortable “between holes” point.

SWF: Yeah, yeah, blah blah belt blah.  You know, this record really isn’t that bad.  This song has a bit of boogie to it.

AT: Yeah, it isn’t bad.  I’m just bad about new music.  I default to not liking a record the first time I hear it.  There have been some exceptions, but not many. I have to force myself to listen to it until I know how the songs go before I really like it.  Is that being a control freak?

SWF: Sugar, I’m Sweet Lady Friday, not your damn therapist.  You’re probably neurotic as hell, talking to yourself like this.

AT: Well, I wouldn’t BE talking to myself if you’d get your shit together and show me where the party is.

SWF: Honey child, you don’t want a party.  You want to be hanging out by yourself like you like to do.

AT: I do like to be by myself, but everybody tells me that I shouldn’t be.  Hell, I kinda enjoy it.  Hey, between you and me, I know where there are some Buckwilds hidden… have a cigar, just like Clint Eastwood.  BTW, ‘Honey Child’?  Seriously, we’re going there?

SWF: Damn son, you got some cigars?  Do you have any bourbon?

AT: You know damn well all I have is that Crown.  Is that bourbon?  I don’t really know my liquors.  (Gets up, flips record)

SWF: According to your sources, Crown Royal is a “Canadian whiskey”.

AT: Canadian whiskey?  Really?  Whats the difference between it and American whiskey?

SWF: You just want to set me up to make some lame Bob and Doug joke, and I’m not going to do that.  I’m too classy a lady.

AT: Suit yourself.  Damn.  I’m kinda bored.  Does this count as talking to oneself?  Am I losing it?

800 Pound Gorilla in Room: Hell if I know.  Pass the whiskey.

This entry was posted on Friday, December 29th, 2006 at 7:00 pm and is filed under Music, Rambling. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.