playlist

Tits And Bits, July Edition

Remember, Tits and Bits is where I post random shit which may or may not be entitled to an entire blog post.  You will not see pictures of my tits or bits unless I accidentally post those selfies I sent to E last week.  Stop celebrating.  I can hear you.  As usual, we’ll do this old school, OCD bullet style.

  • The kids go back to school a week from tomorrow.  It’s going to hurt like a mother fucker, getting back on a schedule. There have been lots of times this summer I’ve looked at a clock while the kids and I were watching an Avengers movie, completely shocked that it was 3 a.m.  I was mortally offended when two different people called me the other morning before 9 a.m.  I’d barely even been asleep!
  • Fantasia, Sylvia, and I were embarking on an experiment/review for my blog while I was in Texas which involved purchasing this:

funnelI still haven’t finished unpacking from my Texas trip. Most of it’s done but there are a couple bags left.  Gracie was looking for her sea salt hair styling spray.  Apparently, if it’s not sea salt your hair is fucked.  Do NOT try that shit with regular table salt.  You will rue the day.  I’m only here to help, y’all.  Anyway, she found her sea salt spray, came back to the bedroom, and said, “I saw the funnel in your bag.  I didn’t touch it.”, then she visibly shuddered.  I attempted to explain that neither Fantasia or myself used the oil change funnel for the purposes we bought it for so it was unused and new but Gracie cut me off with a raised hand and said, “Mom, I don’t want to know!”  Oh, the teen years are going to be so fun – for me.

  • E and I were driving through Wendy’s one night a few weeks ago.  The customer in front of us was taking her sweet ass time.  E asked me, “How long does it take to order a Hot ‘N Juicy?”  I replied, “Maybe she’s in the wrong drive through and isn’t it called a Big ‘N Juicy?”  E laughed at me, which is his usual response to most things I say.  I then asked sincerely, “Is it Hot ‘N Juicy or Big ‘N Juicy?”, to which he just continued laughing.  Next time, I’m ordering the Hot ‘N Big ‘N Juicy.  I ain’t gonna miss any of those descriptive adjectives.
  • This goes way back to Christmas, when we were in Texas.  I never travel without my Poo Pourri.  It is priceless when you’re on the road for over two solid weeks.  E and I were on the way to my brother’s bar one night.  I was wearing a black leather jacket that had been thrown into a random bag in a hurry.  I kept smelling something not unpleasant but very strong and familiar.  I asked E if he smelled it.  He answered that he did.  We tried to identify the scent all the way to the bar.  I finally recognized the fragrance as we were parking.  My jacket smelled like the citrus Poo Pourri I packed.  The bottle had leaked all over my leather jacket.  Always looking at the bright side, I told E, “Well, if anyone shits on me tonight, I’m golden.”  Glass is half full, y’all.
  • Landon and I were running errands a while back.  Landon has Asperger Syndrome and is not up to date on the latest trendy things to say, which makes this even funnier.  Also, he kind of sounds like Forrest Gump and I say that with love.  I was listening to some new music I had added to my Spotify favorites playlist.  I wasn’t very familiar with the songs so I didn’t know there were multiple F Bombs in them.  I know it’s hard to believe but I try to not curse in front of my kids and I try not to play music with F Bombs when they’re with me.  So after the first F Bomb hit, Landon said “That was a F Bomb!”  I apologized and went to the next song which dropped about four F Bombs within the span of 10 seconds.  I was so flustered that I just turned the stereo off and apologized again to Landon, who sighed, shook his head and said very disapprovingly, “So many F Bombs.”
  • Gracie was bemoaning the fact that school starts next week.  She said, “Yeah, I can’t wait to hear the yelling and cursing and see the fighting.”  I said, “Oh, it won’t be much different than a night at home then.”
  • Speaking of hurting like a mother fucker, just block out everything and watch this.  It’s Adam, his ass, and almost peen.  Some other people may be in it, I’m not sure.

That’s it for Tits and Bits, July edition!  I’ll post my Summer Texas Trip Wrap Up in the next week, which will include an explanation for the funnel purchase and also explain to E’s good friend (who subscribes to my blog) why I asked him over the phone if I could show my tits at my brother’s One Year Anniversary party at the bar.  Yes, all that in one blog post.

Have a great week, y’all!

Spotify Survivor: New Music On My Starred Playlist

Some of you know I religiously check out the New Releases on Spotify every Tuesday night.  This sounds like a lot of work if you think about all the new releases from every genre that’s released every week but it’s pretty easy for me and really doesn’t take longer than around 30 minutes.

I’m a speed listener, if you will.  I know within a few seconds of listening to a song if I’m going to like it or not.  I listen to the first few seconds of a song then skip to somewhere around the middle and listen for a few seconds.  I then make a decision on whether or not that song deserves to be placed on my “Starred” playlist for further exploration later.

Don’t preach to me that I’m missing out on a lot or that I’m not a music purist because I don’t buy into the whole “album as a concept” philosophy.  There are a few exceptions where the whole album as a concept thing has worked and actually made sense and I’ve respected and liked those albums much more for it but those instances are few and far between.

Side rant or as my husband calls it, “Look!  Something Shiny”!:  I think music snobbery/bullying is at a peak right now.  I’ve actually been called narrow minded because I didn’t want to listen to some bearded dude’s wrist slasher of an album which he made all by himself in a secluded log cabin in Bumfuck, Idaho using only tin cans, string he made himself from squirrel innards, a blank cassette and a boombox.

Bad music is bad music and I don’t have time for it.  Listening to a song I instantly don’t like another dozen times will not warm me up to it.  Also, if a song title includes the words “truck”, “dog”, “trailer” or “badonkadonk”, I don’t even listen.  Trace Adkins is totally fucked based solely on that criteria.  And if you’ve ever written a song that included those words, I say to you, sir or madam:  Fuck you and stop making the collective South look like a bunch of stupid ass wipes.

I’m actually not in a bad mood.  I promise.

I realize that music is very personal.  That song you absolutely love, I may loathe with a level of hatred not known to man ever before and vice versa but I happen to think I have a pretty broad range of musical interests.  I have everything from Mozart to Slayer in my music library.  The concerts I have seen or will see this year range from St. Paul & The Broken Bones to Rob Zombie.  I love a very well made country song.  Well, ones that don’t include the words truck, dog, trailer or badonkadonk.

With all that said, when I add a new song to my Starred playlist, I give it a few days.  Most do not prove themselves worthy to become a regular fixture in my life so they are deleted and banished to my music graveyard forever, God rest their souls.

I listen to a lot of music.  A lot.  You would be shocked if I broke it down.  I thought it’d be fun to go back through the last few months of my Spotify listening records and make a playlist of new releases or at least recent releases that survived culling and were not voted off the island.

 

These songs won’t be for everyone but I’m betting if you’re friends with me, you’ll gain a few new favorites yourself.  Let me know in the comments if I introduced you to your new favorite or if I introduced you to an artist you’ve never heard before.  If you’re that crazy bearded dude with the squirrel innards, just go away.  I hear Trace Adkins is really lonely.

Is This Thing On?

Y’all suck big hairy balls.  The only reader who contributed to my Cruise Playlist (from here) was my friend, Peter Butternuts.  That isn’t his real name.  I know this news is disappointing.

In the spirit of full disclosure, however, these were the first three songs he contributed before I accidentally deleted them from the playlist:

Maybe it’s me but I don’t think I’ll be listening to these songs while enjoying a beautiful sunset.  I could be wrong.  Also, I think Peter is trying to tell me something but I just can’t put my finger on it.  He’s so subtle.

If you’re a music freak, you can slip into his blog here to read about all his concert adventures.  Tell him I sent you and then give him the middle finger for me.  Then give the finger to yourself because you didn’t even make one Cruise Playlist suggestion.

I will be on vacation this week but I have scheduled a few posts to go up while I’m gone.  Check in, make a comment or two and make me feel missed.  That is your penance.

Update: Peter would like for me to point out that these were not the first three songs he added. I am sorry for that oversight. He first added “Thunder Island” by Jay Ferguson. After I song shamed him, he added the above three.

Now ALL my readers are taking 70’s Cheesy Song Showers, Peter. I hope you’re happy.

Oh, You Want A Playlist?

All my friends call my husband “E”, even if they’ve never met him. We’re not in Witness Protection or anything, I promise. My girlfriends in Texas started calling him that years ago and it stuck around.

E and I were running around this weekend like aimless baboons who had just happened to find my “Shit We Still Need For The Cruise” checklist and decided to be helpful. We checked some shit off, for sure. My bank thinks I’m about to make a permanent run for Mexico or they suspect someone else is making a permanent run for Mexico with our money so they apparently don’t give a flying fuck because those bitches haven’t called to say “Hey” or anything.

I was feeling pretty accomplished with all that productivity.  You know, for me. And then this little tête–à–tête went down:

E: You got a playlist put together for the trip?

Me: (I actually don’t say shit because I got nothin’)

E: You DON’T have a playlist, do you?

Me (stuttering like Mel Tillis with Tourette Syndrome): I…I…d-d-d-d-damn it!…I…shit!…always h-h-h-have…I always have…m-m-m-my Sum…Summer Play…motherfucker!…Playlist…on my Spot…Taint!…Spotify…acc…account…p-p-p-p-penis!

Okay, I didn’t actually say it like that. I think I missed a really ugly slang word in there somewhere and probably have forever offended some clan in Ireland. Happy St. Patrick’s Day, btw. Proud member of the Murphy clan here. I now return you to this cluster of a blog post.

E (very snarkily): So you DON’T have a playlist? Aren’t you always the one with a playlist for everything? And now you don’t have one?

At this point, I have beaten the shit out of Mel Tillis in my head and am now thinking of doing the same to E.

Musically, compared to E, I am Jack Nicholson’s character Colonel Jessup in the movie “A Few Good Men”. I won’t speculate on what rank E is in this fictional Music Army but let’s just say he’s probably holding a vegetable peeler while listening to Nickelback.

I’m probably sleeping on the couch tonight for that little joke.

I think I know my music pretty well. I stay on top of the trends even though I usually don’t like the vast majority of them. That’s why they’re called “trends”. I love to ferret out acts I’ve never heard of. Every Tuesday night, I check the New Releases on Spotify. I’m constantly adding to and editing my Spotify Playlists.

E can’t question me on my Music Readiness. In the words of the great Colonel Jessup (no, I’m not going with the blow job quote although that could probably work here also): “I run my unit how I run my unit. You want to investigate me, roll the dice and take your chances. I eat breakfast 300 yards from 4000 Cubans who are trained to kill me, so don’t think for one second that you can come down here, flash a badge, and make me nervous.”

Shit! I’m so sleeping on the couch tonight.

This is where I need your help, dear readers. I know some of you are real music freaky freaks. I’m busier than a one armed monkey with three dicks this week. Your freaky musical knowledge can greatly assist me. Help me make an “I’m So Drunk I Pissed On My Lounge Chair And Passed Out In The Salsa In Multiple Caribbean Locations” Playlist.  I’ve already added the second song that my brain spewed out when I fed it the word “vacation”.  “Whole Wide World” by The Proclaimers.  I tried to add “Margaritville” by Jimmy Buffet but apparently he doesn’t like to share his music with others on Spotify.  Not cool, Jimmy.

spotify:user:hailkingash:playlist:5y1qJpBIcfWbCjPJZGSIQa

If, for some reason, you can’t add to the Playlist because I’m a dimwit and can’t link correctly or you don’t have a Spotify account (although you totally should, it’s free and awesome), just tell me your favorite vacation songs in the comments below and I’ll update the playlist for you.  Yes, I realize I’m basically making you my Musical Minions.  Thank you.  I will sleep well tonight on the couch knowing you care.  Mel Tillis will also.