u s e y o u r h a n d s

Because I choose not to weep, I must laugh when recalling the arguing style of my parents. A loud and insulting couple, they regularly scrapped and in the process, developed a few verbal gems that have proved hilarious when told at parties. Because if I didn’t get a nurturing, peaceful home, at least I got some good cocktail party fodder out of it. And, really, sometimes I’ve just got to be okay with that.

To begin:

1) Why Don’t You Pack Your Shit and Leave? – This got trotted out generally in the middle of the argument, which you could rate on a scale similar to that for peppers or earthquakes. Some of their fights were jalapeno, some of them were San Francisco 1906. WDYPYSAL was most often used by my father, to which my mother would cleverly retort Why Don’t You Pack YOUR Shit and Leave? It’s this type of glittery badinage that I hope to work into my Great American Novel.

2) Go Flush Your Head Down the Toilet! – No, seriously. They really hurled this one at each other in all earnestness. And this came after most other expletives. Can you imagine? This always struck me as ridiculous, if simply for the visual. But why, after more potent invective, was this phrase trotted out? No idea. But try it — there’s no easier way to make your kids laugh even while cowering under the covers.

3) The C Word – That word. You know what I’m talking about. And I still wince when I hear this word, whether it’s used in British books or movies where it means something entirely different, or in the feminist book of the same name, where the etymology is examined and it’s supposed to be reclaimed. But to me, it will never be okay, and it will never be funny. The only humor I can recall from its use was the intensity with which it was said. Like hurling a verbal spear. Such energy in one word. I can’t help but laugh at how silly that was. Why not just throw the punch with your fist that you meant with that word? This taught me a lesson in being succinct, how one word can really mean “I’d hit you right now, but I find that somehow inappropriate, but if I could, I would.”

These are the three that really stick out. I’m sure there were others. But the first two are ones I share with friends and use solely in jest. The third one, though, that’s still verboten.

Anybody know about removing lead-based paint from woodwork? Heat gun okay?

The tile is down
LIKE THE DOLLAR OF MY HEART
What is next
Is not for ME to decide
But the corporations
The governments
The old, white, men.

That concludes today’s spoken word rant about the kitchen renovation fiasco.

For the past two nights, I have had two different dreams where I am murdered. These have been highly disturbing, not only for their content, but for their Law & Order-like details.

Dream One: Workplace Massacre

A disgruntled former employee is somehow enticed by a group of shadowy revolutionaries to shoot up my office. I narrowly escape being shot and am the sole survivor.

After I’m rescued, I offer to testify against the group on one condition — I can go into the witness protection program. The officer I’m talking with pulls out a video camera and shakes his head. He asks if I recognize him. I say no. He says he’s not a cop, but a criminal just a week out of prison. Then I recognize him as a man who assaulted and attempted to kill me. He draws out a gun and says, “I’m going to kill you four times over.”

How did he find me? The shadowy group of revolutionaries!

Dream Two: Similar, But Not Quite

In this dream, I get a knock at the door and man who recently got out of prison for assaulting me is there. Luckily, I push him out the door again. Before he comes back, to hack me to death, there’s all these weird scenes involving glitter-laden posters for a tranny-fronted rock band, blueberry pancakes, and a Jetsons-esque diner.

In both of these dreams, the part where I’m murdered loops and I try to make the action stop or change, but am unable. It is disturbing. I woke up after last night’s dream to find a cat curled between my knees sleeping so soundly I was convinced she was dead. I petted her hard until she woke up annoyed.

As I came up the walk into the house last night, I played a game where I only stepped on spots with no snow. Brian asked, “Step on a crack, break your mother’s back?” “No,” I said, “Step on the snow and forensic detectives will track the print back to you and tie you to that unsolved murder.”

For my friend Deanne, because it’s her birthday, and for all y’all because you’ll appreciate, here are the lyrics to my new favorite song, Eamon’s “Fuck It.” I will point out that this song is a ballad.

Whoa oh oh
Ooh hooh
No No No

See I don’t
Know why
I liked you so much
I gave you all, of my trust
I told you, I loved you
Now that’s all down the drain
Ya put me through pain
I wanna let u know that I feel

Fuck what I said
It don’t mean shit now
Fuck the presents
Might as well throw ‘em out
Fuck all those kisses
It didn’t mean jack
Fuck you, you ho
I don’t want you back

Fuck what I said
It don’t mean shit now
Fuck the presents
Might as well throw ‘em out
Fuck all those kisses
It didn’t mean jack
Fuck you, you ho
I don’t want you back

You thought
You could
Keep this shit from me, yeah
Ya burnt bitch
I heard the story
Ya played me
Ya even gave him head
Now ya askin’ for me back
Ya just another hag
Look elsewhere
Cuz ya done with me

Fuck what I said
It don’t mean shit now
Fuck the presents
Might as well throw ‘em out
Fuck all those kisses
It didn’t mean jack
Fuck you, you ho
I don’t want you back

Fuck what I said
It don’t mean shit now
Fuck the presents
Might as well throw ‘em out
Fuck all those kisses
It didn’t mean jack
Fuck you, you ho
I don’t want you back

Oh oh Oh oh
Uh hun yeah
Oh oh Oh oh
Uh hun yeah
Oh oh Oh oh
Uh hun yeah
Oh oh Oh oh
Uh hun yeah

Ya questioned
Did I care
You could ask anyone
I even said
Ya were my great one
Now it’s over
But I do admit I’m sad
It hurt real bad
I can’t sweat that
Cuz I loved a ho

Fuck what I said
It don’t mean shit now
Fuck the presents
Might as well throw ‘em out
Fuck all those kisses
It didn’t mean jack
Fuck you, you ho
I don’t want you back

Oh oh Oh oh
Uh hun yeah
Oh oh Oh oh
Uh hun yeah
Oh oh Oh oh
Uh hun yeah
Oh oh Oh oh
Uh hun yeah

Note: Please take special care to find where Eamon rhymes “one” with “one.”