You might have noticed that I title blog posts with song lyrics. Why do I do this? Because I get songs stuck in my head and I am compelled to acknowledge them. And because I am not very original and I hate naming things.
Wait, that's not really true. I loved naming my kids. I'd do it every year if I didn't think it would damage them in some way. I love giving people Internet-o-nyms, just ask my friends Token Boy and Dances With Chickens. There's no reason, as adults, that they should be anonymous, or even pseudonymous, but I just liked giving them names.
So, I don't really know why I use song lyrics. And, um, who cares?
There's a new grill in town. Theme from Alice. Karaoke version on YouTube if you're really brave.
Big Chief standin on Magnolia Bridge. Wild Tchoupitoulas. I couldn't find the lyrics to this song anywhere on the Internet and I was beginning to think I'd imagined it. Turns out it was the recorded debut of the Neville brothers, who were not yet The Neville Brothers.
Eat it!. Yes, I quoted Weird Al Yankovic.
Just because we use cheats doesn't mean we're not smart. Moldy Peaches. A kid at Mao's school was playing this song on the guitar, and when I sang a line or two, she was AMAZED that someone as old as I am had heard of them. I would be laughing, except I heard them on NPR.
You can beat my brains, beat my brains, beat my brains but don't kiss me again - from Books on the Bonfire by The Bolshoi. Har har. I loved The Bolshoi in 1987. I think they are now completely lost to the sands of New Wave goth hair pop, but they were kind of creepy and clever at the time. I was thinking of a different song of theirs when I was writing this particular post, about a mean author.
Kingdom of rain. Yes, I know I go on and on about The The, but just ask my friend Constance. Whenever a The The song comes on my iPod, she stops what she's doing and sighs. Too.
Breaking the law, breaking the law. All I have to say is: that's not a wig.
Jose Jones told me alone his story. I must have been listening to this song at the time, because there's no other reason why this post should have this title.
The weekend at the college didn't turn out like you planned. Steely Dan, Reelin' in the Years.
Truckin', Grateful Dead.
Je suis une rock star. One of my all-time favorite songs: the Franglish, Bill Wyman's terrible, unassuming voice, his resemblance to George Harrison, and, god, that accent!
You're the right kind of sinner to release my inner fantasy. Pat Benatar, Heartbreaker. My caption for a novelty nutcracker in the shape of Hillary Clinton.
History shows again and again how nature points up the folly of man Blue Oyster Cult, Godzilla. Was it always in that key? Neighborhood children stomping my veg garden.
more graph humor and song chart memes
All my tubes and wires and careful notes. Thomas Dolby. She blinded me with science.
I feel so good I'm gonna break somebody's heart tonight, Richard Thompson.
Stop snivelin'!. Heh heh. This is a post about the Sharpie tattoos that I give all the kids, and I named it after Tattooed love boys by The Pretenders.
Abkadeffgee jekyll mnopquerstu wycksizz. I remember this. I was complaining about library patrons who don't know the alphabet and Big Bird's alphabet song from Sesame Street kept pounding in my mind.
I did it like this, I did it like that, I did it with a wiffle ball bat - Beastie Boys. Some dorkwad who keeps challenging the propriety of The Joy of Sex in the public library. Now, if you capitalized that differently, I would concede his point. Update. The guy just doesn't quit.
I'm already standin' on the ground. My brother racing to Alaska. I was sure that he had a Peaceful, Easy Feelin'. Eagles. Ugh.
Blowing through the jasmine of my mind. Seals. And. Crofts. And I thought The Eagles was embarrassing.
I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket. Token Boy informs me this is by Cake. It was on the soundtrack to Waitress, which I liked.
A nation turns its lonely eyes to you - Mrs. Robinson, Simon & Garfunkel. Politics.
Attention all planets of the Solar Federation. Rush. I saw a dermatologist yesterday, an affluent middle-aged Jewish doctor with very good eyeglass frames, and he asked about my hair. He had gone to a Rush concert the previous weekend, and his sons had almost convinced him to dye his hair purple for it. He didn't do it because he didn't think it would go over well Monday morning at the Johns Hopkins Cosmetic Dermatology Center. Sadly, I had to agree with him. But Rush, man, you just never know who's going to show up a Rush fan.
It ain't easy to be bold in an unknown city. The The, again. Un-Classic signs of depression.
We're on the road to paradise... here we go, here we go. Talking Heads. About getting my driver's license suspended in North Carolina 15 years ago.
I know a girl who reminds me of Cher. Every time I color my hair this song gets stuck in my head. So, like, that's a lot.
Bow down before the one you serve . The queen of filth! The queen of boo-trescence! No, no, it's Nine Inch Nails of course.
I was alone I took a ride I didn't know what I would find there - Beatles. Christmas.
Have you seen Junior's grades? - Van Halen
What else do the simple folk do? From Camelot. Rich people.
It starts with an earthquake. R.E.M. Plot points for your next sci-fi novel.
Shot right through with a bolt of blue Baseball, oddly enough. Not very bizarre.
You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer - Helter Skelter - Beatles. My Second Life moment.
Men who torture, murder and rob - Jazz Butcher vs. The Prime Minister (Thatcher). Jazz Butcher.