The Radio Is Predicting My Death. And The Death Of My Dog.
Lady Gaga frightens me. Like she is the scariest horror movie villain of all time. Except that horror movie, is life. And she’s not so much a villain, as a symbol of my serious lack of appreciation for avante garde pop acts. Or something. Long story short, I just saw Lady Gaga’s new video, and I’m now convinced that I am somehow going to end up burning to death after a tragic bra malfunction and/or giant sperms are going to escape from monster tubs and attack me. The moral of the story is that I am highly suggestible. Alternatively, it could be that I can’t distinguish between reality and music videos.
When I was a little girl, back in the 80s, I thought that Madonna was the most outrageous person ever. Totally convinced she was going to hell for sexualizing black Jesus and having cylindrical breasts. But holy shit, Madonna was such an amateur. I know that now, and that knowledge makes me sad in my head parts. Like, if I ever have kids (by which I mean abduct kids to then subsequently raise as my own) they’re going to go to middle school dances and instead of doing the hand jive to the Grease soundtrack, they’ll be giving hand jobs while listening to Flo Rida rap about boots with fur and jeans filled with guap. This is why I’ve decided to forgo my previous plan to kidnap a neighbor child, which was probably Lady Gaga’s plan all along. Kudos Lady, keeping America’s children safe.
In related (only in my head) news, I have recently become convinced that my radio is trying to communicate with me. Like its trying to send me messages. Normally, when I am driving, I listen to NPR. As a result I start approximately 3,721 sentences a day with the following phrase, “So, I was listening to NPR today and <insert long and rambling story>.” Recently, however, I’ve been listening to music stations on the way into the office. This is mostly due to the fact that listening to the news in the morning was making me cry in my car and I didn’t want to keep showing up at work with puffy eyes, lest someone think that I’m a bloated drunk who knocked back a few too many last night before propositioning that chick I thought was a hooker, but who just turned out to be a slutty-dresser/false-advertiser.
Listening to music on the way into work has succeeded in making me cry less, but has caused some pretty interesting paranoia. Now I will assault you with some recent examples of the various things that my Jeep’s radio is trying to tell me:
Tuesday Morning. Supertramp, Goodbye Stranger:
Feel no sorrow, feel no pain, come tomorrow, feel no pain
The radio is trying to tell me that I’m going to die tonight. And also, that since my death is imminent I should do whatever I want today, since there will be so shame soon. I’m going to house that quart of ice cream.
Wednesday Morning. The Band, Ophelia:
Ashes of laughter, the ghost is clear, why do the best things always disappear
The radio is trying to tell me that something I really care about is going to disappear. Dear God, Coco is probably going to die. Or, it could be that I’m going to die. No wait, that’s totally narcissistic. I’m not the “best thing” and therefore can’t disappear. Unless I’m just being modest. Shit.
Friday morning. Talking Heads, Psycho Killer:
Psycho killer, <things in a different language>, far better, run run run run run run run away
The radio is trying to tell me that I’m going to be murdered by a psycho killer. And that I should learn French. The radio is trying to tell me that I am stupid and about to die.
So, what I really want to know is should I talk to my psychiatrist about upping my meds, or am I good?
OMG, I totally do the NPR “So, I was listening to NPR…” thing as well. I choose to believe that it makes me appear to be intelligent and not obnoxious. Although I’m pretty sure that it just makes me obnoxious.
At one point I wound up saying “I’d start this story with ‘I heard on the radio…’ but, you know, all my stories start that way. So, just take it as a given that I have no thoughts of my own and that anything I share comes from something I heard on the radio.”
*insert Donna Summer singing* on the radio oh oh oh oh oh on the radio oh oh oh oh oh…
I think you’re good. Lady Gaga terrifies me but I can’t stop looking at her. In other news, I listen to Ryan Seacrest in the morning. And talk about it all day. So that can’t be good.
Glad you’re back woman. I missed my sister in Christ. And I got your email and cried tears of joy.
I am sort of in love with Gaga and her ridiculousness, as weird as that may be…
But, I am also sort of in love with you, so…
I shouldn’t read your blogs at 1:30 in the morning while hubby is trying to sleep on the bed next to my desk (also known as my office) (which also resides in my bedroom) (which i call my office cause i makes me feel cool and business like) (which is why i am lame) anyhoo my rambling point is this… i totally was laughing so hard that i sort of sneeze laughed and made this loud obnoxious snort sound and woke up hubby who sat up and GLARED at me and then we just sat there staring at each other for like 2 minutes (or 2 seconds) and then he went back to sleep. But it was totally worth it anyway.
Your psychiatrist is in on it.
We ALL are.
I’m actually the psycho killer they’re all talking about.
But don’t worry, it’s just a ploy to come see you. I’ll stalk your house, then break in….with alcohol.
I heard that firefly song this morning. I think the radio was telling me to quit my job, move to NH and play with Coco all day and sit around your place and tell you how pretty you are.
Meh, you’re good without the upping of meds but if your microwave starts giving you relationship advice then it might be time to consult your doc.
we found out our neighbor was gay when he showed up dressed as Lady Gaga to our haloween party, in a red bra and panties. so now Lady Gaga frightens me by proxy because that image of him is burned in my brain and thats what i see when i look at her.
I suggest classical music, so that you can chose your mood right? Ave Maria makes me greatful and in awe of life, Mozart makes me serious and convinced of my own intellectual prowess, Stravinsky makes me see pictures in my mind, etc. Go forth and explore what moods strike you with mathematicly complicated music, and what it causes your brain and psyche to do
Also Lady GaGa is a no talent hack. I can’t listen to one of her “songs”. They are blah.
You’re totally good. The radio talks to me too. That’s why I CAN’T listen to music in the car and therefore start most of MY sentences with “So, I was listening to NPR this morning…”
Ha ha good luck with that!
i totally start out all my sentences with, “on NPR…” and it is totally awesome. npr, will you ever steer me wrong? additionally, you better keep the dog on a short leash because we would be sad if the radio came to steal her away. very sad.
Lady Gaga is definitely coloring outside the line…wayyy outside!
Lurrrve her! I learn my French via you tube! Free!!
Glad you are back darling~ I miss adding up numbers for your spam protection, my calculator still works…yup*
I am totally forced to listen to shitty music all day at work and here is what I am convinced of:
1: I must put my hands up to party in the USA (Thanks Hannah Montana!)
2: The Black Eyed Peas are Jewish
3: The paparrazi can’t read poker faces
4: Tears and diamonds are the same thing, according to Rob Thomas
5: We all are supposed to hook up with Taylor Swift
Welcome back, lady
I had that Lady Gaga/Madonna comparison in my head a couple of weeks ago. And I know what you mean, I find myself constantly starting sentences with, “I was listening to NPR…” Maybe try scan?
Jill,
You have nothing to worry about, the thoughts of these things are OH MY GOD LOOK OUT!!!
Made you look.
Hahaha…I’m so glad you are back! See, my problem is, I can never actually understand the words to a song. It is a serious issue, but then again, my unintelligible songs aren’t trying to kill me.
Lady Gaga scares me a lot too. I mean, you know how she always in editorial pages in fashion magazines these days and although I think it’s good for her, she doesn’t really have to go out all the time wearing those weird shiz from the shoots, you know? lol. She needs to make herself interesting maybe, her voice isn;t what i can call special. ALthough her songs are really catchy and dance-able.
You should listen to talk radio. Then you get the news but in a lighter, fluffier version so you won’t cry. And it’s helpful if the hosts are funny b/c then you are happier. Until you get into the office and you want to murder your boss. What? That’s just me? Oh. Oops.
Yes. Lady Gaga is a psycho killer. She is ridic.
Look who’s back…back again…Jill is back…tell a friend! I missed you my gorgeous bloggy bud!
Just discovered you blog on 20SB. Thank you for elucidating the plight of American school dances. It’s sad to think our children will go without such wholesome pop lyrics as “Let’s do as they do on the discovery channel.”
AND, Stephanie:
6. There will be a firefly plague any minute now.
It makes me so happy just to know that you’re somewhere out there… being as crazy as me.
Im so confused about lady gaga. Is she a hermaphrodite or not? because I’m not sure how to feel when I watch her new video with beyonce.
should I be turned on?
should I turn the channel?
should I be ashamed?
All of the above?
I just dont know!