Friday, March 02, 2012


Wednesday.  Driving to Sonic with MyPoolBoy in the Beemer because it was a gorgeous day and I needed to have the top down for more than the 7 blocks from school to the house.  As if I was not already a nervous wreck due to the abysmal reality that I sometimes refer to as MY DAYUM JOB, I had the added pressure of transporting a backseat driver in the passenger seat.  I was doing the best I could to keep the clutch-shift-gas rhythm going in my head to avoid hearing the sounds of his teeth grinding and his nails digging into the leather of the armrest -- I was doing completely fine with only the intermittent distractions of squirrel roadkill and turning up the volume for an appropriate cruising song, and he drops this on me:  Well, Davy Jones died today.


Ok.  Admittedly I was distracted by the dead squirrel in the road at this point and for a millisecond I thought he meant the pirate.

Then it hit me.


So he goes - "I SAID Davy Jones died today.  A heart attack.  So there will be no more Monkees reunions."

I HEARD you.  What kind of sadist are you?  Crap.  Don't do that to a woman -- don't just break the news to her that one of the cutest men on the planet is dead while she's trying to shift from second to third.  Are you trying to get us all killed?  I could have careened out of control at the breakneck speed of 21 mph and it would have been ALL YOUR FAULT.

To make matters worse - this morning, the GrandMarshal spearheaded a celebration of Dr. Seuss's birthday by getting the cafeteria to serve green eggs and ham for breakfast and he totally missed two other very important occasions - Texas Independence Day and Jon Bon Jovi's birthday.  No mention at all.  Not one whit.

Fast-forward to now - because the in-between is a h3llish blur that would drive most women and all men to drink. Being in the category of "most women" I have concocted a "sort-of-pina-colada" from remnants of various flavors of vodka and rum and a pitcher of frozen pineapple juice.  And some flavored syrup sh1t like you're supposed to put in coffee but coffee contains no alcohol so SCREW THAT.

So I'm cruising Facebook and mulling over the comments by a few of the Banned Camp girls, and I come across THIS phrase: geezer rock stars I'd still do.

It's like an even MORE inappropriate though thoroughly precise version of Do-able/Not Do-Able.
And so, I am inspired.  Here's my list.

Rick Springfield (obviously)

Bon Jovi (though I am not sure that he qualifies as a geezer because he's only 50, so technically he is not even old enough for the senior discount at Denny's)

Possibly Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees.

Davy Jones WAS on the list but he's not now that MyPoolBoy broke my heart with his insensitive announcement.

Elvis WOULD BE on the list, but I was like, 9 when he died so that kinda would've been statutory rape and besides at THAT point in my life I thought Leif Garrett was cute, so what did I know?

P.S. Add Leif Garrett because now I'm inebriated, and it's just funny!

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