I always feel weird when we talk about music because I have such schizophrenic tastes. I’m convinced I’m the only person in the world who has Bobby Goldboro’s “Honey” and Alice Cooper’s “Trash” on the same playlist. Throw in a little Dan Fogelberg, Kid Rock, David Allan Coe and Flo Rida and you start to get the picture.
So my choice of a theme song is a perhaps a bit obscure, but it’s pretty much been my theme song for…oh fifteen years now? I hesitate to share it because I’m afraid it makes me seem a little dark…but then I remember that I am a little dark, and I kinda treasure that side of me. J So here it is: Flagpole Sitta by Harvey Danger.
The lines I relate to the most:
“I was looking into the mirror, to see a little bit clearer, the rottenness and evil in me.” ßSpeaks to my secret smutty identity that I like to bring out to play.
“I wanna publish ‘zines and rage against machines.” ßHe has urges to write and to buck the system. Me too, brotha.
(I had never actually seen this video before! Though I’ve listened to his song maybe a thousand times…)
And when I get in the mood to write ‘zines and rage against machines, I write things like this: (excerpt from Bossing the Boss which you can buy from Ellora's Cave for only $2.49!)
[When we meet our hero and heroine, she currently has the sleeve of her dress caught in the ginormous shredder after the entire office has left for the Christmas party. Thank god her top salesman, Rob, has returned to get his bonus check and is working to rescue her.]
He put his hand on her back to steady himself. Had she ever noticed before how big his hands were? Or how strong? Taking a deep breath, she chided herself. He worked for her, not with her, and as his boss it was strictly forbidden for them to be involved, not to mention a really bad idea.
“Can you see the problem? Can you get me loose?” She had to get out of that helpless, humiliating position so she could give Rob his bonus check. Screw the talking points. In the state she was in now, she was going to get out of there as quickly as possible and go home to her weekend plans, which involved takeout and old movies on TV.
But Rob’s body felt so large and warm. How nice would it be to curl up next to him on her couch, his strong arm draped around her. Curl up. Ha. Her employees probably thought she went home and sat in a straight-backed chair in her free time, watching the clock until it was time to go back to work.
She exhaled silently, realizing she’d been holding her breath. It had just been so long since she’d enjoyed a man’s body spooned against hers. For many years now she’d been more of a “take care of me and then get out of my apartment” kind of a woman. What had happened to the girl she was in college? Ambitious but still fun, cheery. Had her drive to reach the top changed her that much?
“I can’t quite see it.” His voice sounded a bit hoarse and she wondered if it was only from the exertion. She could feel the tension in his body as he strained to peer over her. “I’m going to try to get a better angle, but I’m going to have to lean against you hard, Ms. Scott. Is that okay?”
“Yes!” she responded more quickly than she’d intended, and bit her lip, hoping he hadn’t noticed the near-pleading tone in her answer.
Rob hesitated and she could see his face in her peripheral vision, tilted toward her. Silent. She could only hear his breathing.
When he leaned this time, he not only molded his body hard against hers, but shifted around a bit to find a better angle. Soon she felt something enticing stiffen against her bottom…something big. Before she could even think to hide it, she let out a soft sigh, relishing the pressure of his growing erection against her ass. Rob jumped back from the chair as if electrocuted.
She gasped. How could she have done that? Her face burned and her heart felt as if it might pound out of her chest.
Maybe he didn’t hear it. Maybe he didn’t hear…