Monday, October 26, 2009

What a Tortured Mind Produces

Yesterday I asked you all to contribute your suggestions to a list of songs and artists that would form the basis of a play list you'd find pure torture to endure. There were many fine additions thanks to all of you. One comment stood out in particular for a couple of reasons. First it describes a mighty extreme reaction to the song listed.

Suldog said... Theme from The Bodyguard, by Whitney Houston. Like nails on a chalkboard to me. If they played it continuously, I would seriously consider cutting off my dick to make it stop.

Really, Suldog, that paints quite the picture. Forgive me but it also evoked a memory that made me laugh. I was going to share it with him just in email but I decided I needed to inflict it all up you as well. You can thank me later. Suldog, just to be safe, put on a cup or have YOUR WIFE remove all sharp implements from your immediate surroundings.

*Walks past and whacks Suldog in the crotch with a baseball bat and calls "Cup check!" Ok, you're ready. If you can make it through the post, my friend, I hope you'll find it was worth it.

Now onto the story. As many of you know, the Lime family lived in Trinidad once upon a time. At the time Diana was a mere tot who was highly impressionable. Also at that time the local practice in television broadcasting was to delight viewers in between scheduled programs with music videos rather than commercials. I believe it was just shortly before we moved to Trinidad that the movie Suldog mentioned was released. Upon our arrival on the island and the discovery of regular video rotation between TV shows we also took note of the frequency with which Whitney Houston's cover of I Will Always Love You was played.

Diana also took note of this particular song and became quite fond of it. In fact, every time it played she felt the need to add her own dramatic rendering of the song as she sang into a plastic xylophone mallet that was supposed to be a microphone. Mr. Lime and I found this highly amusing both because of the passion Diana infused into each and every performance as she emulated Ms. Houston and because of the way she mangled the lyrics. I wish I had a video of her singing it so you could hear the itty bitty white girl with a Trini accent trying to make the great big Whitney voice with all the runs. It was a hoot. Ok, so maybe it would have just made Suldog run with a bad case of the runs but it made us laugh like loons. To this day if the song comes on the radio the entire family breaks out in very exaggerated song. Just think, and entire family of musical torture!

Ok, so I have tormented poor Suldog long enough. I hope his dick has survived. Now I will tell you why I can't stand Neil Diamond. First of all when I was in elementary school the beginner orchestra was required to learn Song Sung Blue every year. If you want musical torture just imagine a xylophone made of cats which is played by stepping on each cat in order to screech out that tune. The will be the rough equivalent of hearing the elementary school orchestra play it. I am sure if I had a dick the mere memory of that experience would make me consider chopping it off if it meant the musical horror would stop.

A few years later I added another reason. The summer I was 15 I babysat 2 younger cousins, a brother and a sister. The boy was about 5 at the time. His father was a Neil Diamond fan. I already had a certain bias against the singer who shall not be named again on this blog. The father's fandom was maintained at fairly reasonable levels. However, as demonstrated by the story with Diana, youngsters tend to take it to a whole new level. The wee lad in my care was no exception. Every...single...day we listened to The Jazz Singer....the...entire...album. We didn't listen once. We listened any time the boy wasn't watching the game show Press Your Luck (which was another brand of torture all by itself) or making me play it with him on his little chalkboard easel. We didn't just listen to it, we had to dance to it. I HATED the Jazz Singer with every fiber of my being by the end of the summer. I also hated the game show Press Your Luck in equal measure. They both make my teeth itch and my spine contort.

It was my own personal Scylla and Charybdis. To avoid the singer who shall not be named I had to endure the game show which must not be played. To escape the whammy hell of Press your luck I was whammied with the singer who makes my teeth itch. So, dear reader, you will understand why I sank into the old sofa with relief one day when my young charge announced he was going to his room to play alone for a while. I basked in silent bliss enjoying the brief respite from both musical and televised torment.

After some time it seemed perhaps I should check on the boy since he had been quiet far too long. Upon reaching his bedroom I found the door closed and heard some sighing as the bed squeaked. I cracked the door open and found the 5 year old rolling around on top of his bed in ecstasy. He had taken the Sears catalog and a pair of scissors. He turned right tot he lingerie section and had spent quite a while cutting out nothing but pairs of bra-clad breasts, no faces, no torsos, just the breasts. The top of his bed was covered in tiny titties as he rolled in them delightedly.

After I could breathe again from laughing so hard I almost fell down the steps I paused to wonder if I should make him clean up or if I should go back downstairs and allow him to roll in a hundred paper tatas while I basked in the relative peace. I opted to take the scissors and let us both enjoy our respective pleasures.




22 comments:

Desmond Jones said...

All this talk of cutting dicks off has me sitting here with my legs crossed. . . y'all just stay over on that side of the room, 'K?

I mean, yeah. . . I got a chuckle from what Suldog said yesterday; but when it comes down to women wanting to cut off dicks they don't even have. . . Well, I just start to wonder how I got to this place. . . ;)

Right at the moment, 7M (age 11), who is just learning to play the guitar, is on a major Led Zeppelin fetish. I mean, he goes to sleep at night with Stairway to Heaven on 'repeat' in his player. I really like Stairway to Heaven, but my fondness is being sorely stretched. I suppose I should be glad he's not playing The Immigrant Song like that. . .

And I'm sorry. . . I'm going to be quite a while getting the image of a 5-year-old boy (a 5-year-old!?!) rolling around in snipped-out bra ads, out of my head. So, uh, thanks for that. . .

James Goodman said...

lol, that creates a vivid picture about your young charge. :D

I may have had to make a .38 caliber escape if forced to endure the alternating gameshow and song torture for any period of time.

Jazz said...

I can't help but wonder what that five year old grew into...

EmBee said...

Okay, so I can understand how 'Cutting ones ears off' would make sense when it comes to listening to 'bad music'... But why exactly would the maiming of ones 'Dick' be at all beneficial?

OH, I get it, the screaming drowns out the offending artists crooning.

Um, I guess... But I would've just gone with the ears.
:-)

g-man said...

Such Rage!

Michelle H. said...

I only wonder what would happen to both you and Suldog if Whitney Houston and Neil Diamond had done a duet together remixing both of those songs?

Ahh the screams...

S said...

My you are in a randy mood today!
Im glad I dont have a dick.


That pic is adorable of Diana! I wish we could hear her voice.

Since my baby bro was born in No Carolina, when I was about 2, my mom said I had the cutest southern accent you ever did hear, y'all!

Have a fabulous day, Lime!

lime said...

desmond, my apologies. fear not. there will be no maiming here today.

james, yeah, it's like that...

jazz, he moved away and has no further contact with the family so i can't even answer that.

embee, if i cut my ears off my sunglasses wouldn't stay on

gman, you have no idea!

michelle, *sticking my fingers in my ears* i can't hear you lalalalalala i can't hear you!!!

susie, having heard your distinctive socal voice i can't imagine you with a southern accent!

misticblu said...

NowhammyNowhammyNowhammy!
Stepping on cats = Bjork :)

Cocotte said...

I had forgotten about Song Sung Blue. Until now. Thanks a lot, Lime.

elle dubya said...

seriously this just made my day.

Jocelyn said...

I hopped over (during classtime, no less) to tell you that your comment about Kegel exercises at the grocery store has me howling, and now my students think I'm crazier than ever.

Then I read this, and it's all dicks and boobies, and I may have to be removed from campus. So I'll just toss in the most random of comments: I started thinking about how The Boy might have been tata obsessed because he was nursed 'til 5 (not that he was...), which then reminded me of A TREE GROWS IN BROOKLYN where there's a neighbor boy who is still nursing at 5, until his mother draws a fearsome face on her breasts and scares the living daylights out of him when she exposes her bosom. Speaking of psycho-social stuff.

And we were, right?

Casdok said...

Aww very cute photo :)
So thank you Suldog for triggering some memories!!

Suldog said...

Oh, God. I was literally laughing out loud reading this, with co-workers walking by and wondering if I'd flipped out.

(No, I did NOT click onto the link for the song. Just in case I mistakenly hit it, though, I had a tube of crazy glue standing by.)

And, if I had someone as cute as your daughter singing the song, I might have been able to stand it. Maybe.

Hilary said...

That was hilarious. And your daughter was just adorable.

(M)ary said...

ahhh....if Diana had been born 15 or so years later, she could have been a You Tube sensation..


i too have hated Neil Diamond for years altho, i am mellowing out on that particular dislike. i sing along to "Cherry" when i hear it on the oldies station


Have you seen the movie What About Bob? There is a scene where Bill Murray says "there are two kind of people in the world, the ones who like Neil Diamond and the ones who don't"..he is explaining why he and his wife got a divorce.

secret agent woman said...

Michael Boltin and Celine Dion both twist my gut.

Ananda girl said...

Holy moly! The tiny titties did me in lime. hahahahahahaha

But it does make one wonder... was he into the boobs or the bras?

lime said...

mistic, ah, you are familiar with the show i see.

cocotte, my humblest apologies

elle, glad tp be of service

jocelyn, i wish i were a fly on the wall of your office.

casdok, glad you enjoyed.

suldog, it makes my day knowing you not only survived this post intact but that you laughed so hard.

hilary, thanks!

mary, that is my favorite line i n that movie (which i also love)

secret agent, eeewwww, i have to agree with you on that one!

ananda, pretty sure it was the boobs

Beach Bum said...

Guys just never get over the tatas, its simply encoded in our DNA.

Palm Springs Savant said...

oh my Michelle.

Desmond Jones said...

PSS, you're not singin' that, are you? 'Cuz, you know, she hates that song. . .

;)