The Daily Earworm

Pick one or two or all of them. Whatever floats your boat.

I’ve given you a selection, depending on which year brings you the bestest/worst memories. In other words, I’m fucking with you and enjoying every damn minute of it.

#1 Mr. Leo Sayer. Nothing says secksy more than a Jew-fro, white duds and an adenoid-killing falsetto.

#2 Mr. Cliff Richard.

I had the pre-teen lady bits shivers back in the day for him — way before Rex Smith and Andy Gibb ended up on my bedroom walls. Cliff paved the way for my Marcia Marcia Marcia/Davey Jones crushes. However, prior to Cliff, there was Elton but my heart was busticated when it was revealed to me that Reginald preferred peen. I still loved his music, but his love for all things male stopped me from planning our huge county club wedding. (side note: My first rock concert was Sir Elton at the now-defunct Chicago Stadium. KiKi Dee showed up too. Elton tossed piano benches into the audience. Got a contact high from the hairdos in front of us who were smokin’ doobies with their parents. I got gum in my hair. I was ten.)

#3 Rex Smith. One of my oldest friends on this rock, Heather, and I would spend hours listening to the dulcet tones of Rex in her bedroom in the large house her family owned in the woods of Wayne. Heather was SO lucky because she OWNED THE RECORD. I was in awe of her because of that, and well, many other things.

This is my fave MOW ever, and Heather, I’m SO gonna marry Rex Smith someday. You can be my maid of honor and throw rice at us as we speed away in Rex’s Camaro.

#4 Andy Gibb.

I loved him so much I even named my horse after one of his songs. Let’s see if you can guess which one. (Hint: It’s not the one below)

He wrote this song for me, you know.

#5 Brothers Johnson.

I love the tummy gurgling sounds at the beginning of this tune. Makes me wanna pee.

There ain’t anything better on Earth than classic R&B music.

#6 FUCK YOU.

Coming soon: The Daily Earworm: Ladies’ Night

The beauty of unemployment

Believe it or not, being unemployed has many advantages–at least that’s what I keep telling myself so I won’t throw myself off the end of Navy Pier whilst wearing ceeee-ment shoes. There are many things I don’t have to worry about doing on a daily, or even weekly, basis and I’m finding great comfort and joy in that revelation.

1) No daily shower. Unless I do Bikram of course. However, I don’t shower right away because I like to wander around in small, enclosed public spaces with horrible ventilation & opium den-esque lighting to let the common folk bathe in my aura and aroma. Since I’m quite the social butterfly and can extract an actual conversation from the meanest of souls, I make sure my breath is extra-stanky and my skin extra-ruddy. This is their punishment for any previous nefarious acts. Hey, that ‘thing you smell’ is what they get for being bullies, or Teabaggers or whatever.

2) No makeup. One of the great things about being blessed with decent skin is I don’t need to wear a pound of makeup when I leave the house. At this age, about 1/2 pound is sufficient since I don’t garner all that much attention from my fellow humans on any given day. If anyone does pay attention to me, it’s because the drag queen scared them, and they need to see what meh looks like in order to get on with their lives. I happen to like somewhat expensive makeup because I believe you get what you pay for. The cheap stuff just slides off my visage and isn’t worth it in the long run. The downside to applying makeup after a long hiatus is I have to re-learn how to put makeup on. Sometimes I look at my eyelash curler and am reminded of the time a roommate in college used one as a roach clip. This memory causes me to giggle, of course. But then I have to try to remember how to use the eyelash curler PROPERLY. That, my friends, takes some serious thought.

3) Braless–All day, everyday. Or until it really starts to hurt, or until my boobs are brushing against my knees whilst standing up straight. Kudos to Ms. Jenni Spinner for reminding me about the wonderful world of going sans bra. It truly is a magical experience until it’s time for my daily break dancing practice, then I gotta bundle the gals up.

4) Schedule-free zone. This is both good and bad. If I don’t have some sort of plan for the day, I’ll just sit on my ass and futz around on the computer and watch “Teen Mom”, or my new fave “Monster In-Laws.” Or, I watch amateur Bulgarian porn but even that gets frustrating after some time because the poor production value drives me NUTS. I mean, c’mon! It’s so cheap to make movies these days, you’d think these porn auteurs would put some actual thought into lighting, camera angles, editing and sound, but NOOO. They can’t be bothered. Why can’t anything good ever come out of any of the former-Eastern Bloc countries? It’s been–what–about 12 years since the fall of the Iron Curtain, correct? One would think that would be enough time for the denizens of those countries to take a tour of the rest of Europe in their Yugos and realize just how easy it is to make porn. Maybe they’re too busy mourning the death of Yakov Smirnoff’s career.

Wait…where was I? Right–not having to adhere to any type of schedule. The only thing I have to do each day is go to Bikram. It may not be much, but it gets me out of the house AND gets me my daily dosage of Vitamin K.

5) No wardrobe malfunction. When McCrabass ain’t gracing some newsroom with her presence, she’s dressed from head to toe in sweats–usually something from Target and my alma mater. The bigger and more unflattering the better. And big socks if it’s cold out. And some sort of beanie on my head–usually the one I bought at the Sundance Film Fest a few years ago. Who am I trying to impress? The missing link who lives across the street? My motto is, if it’s relatively clean and BO/peanut butter smell is faint, it’s my uniform for the day. It saves on wear and tear, and money on dry cleaning. Plus, I don’t need to buy new threads for work.

6) Agoraphobic by choice. As I’ve aged, I’ve come to the conclusion that the less interaction I have with the citizenry of this fine city, the better for both of us. Plus, this is a rotten time of year to be unemployed with all of the holiday crap being shoved down our throats by way of cheery window displays, garlands/sparkly stuff hanging from lamp posts, red and green crap everywhere and insipid holiday music. I don’t need the constant reminder of how I can’t afford gifts for family and friends because I don’t have a job, money or prospects. I’m succeeding beautifully at that task all by my lonesome, thankyouverymuch. It’s just best that I remain inside my apartment, keeping the couch down and watching movies on my eyelids.