“O Frabjous Day. Callooh. Callay.”

No matter where the eff I go and no matter what the hell I’m doin’, I can’t seem to escape Owl City and their hypnotic irkfest of a song “Fireflies”. I’ve heard the song so much in the past week that I almost believe that the earth turns slowly. Which it doesn’t FYI. I can’t remember off the top of the dome but I’m pretty confident in the fact that we orbit around the sun at about 1,000 miles per hour. Not slow at all. Fxckfaces.
And am I the only one that’s listened to the lyrics of that song cuz I mean really. It’s about as nonsensical as as Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky” and almost as bad as LFO’s “Summer Girls”. But twas not brillig and the slivey toves this time around folks and there was no gyring and gimbling in the wabe although those Summer Girls—y’know, the ones that wear Abercrombie and Fitch and have been gone since that summer, that summer—made the mome raths outgrabe. Nope. This time it’s butterflies, disillusion, sock hops and a whole bunch of random ish. A friend of mine (okay, it was me) was joking around and said that this song is probably some brainwashing, programming type shxt from the (insert gasp…here) Illuminati. The good people at The Vigilant Citizen may wish to investigate.
[*baby side-eye*]
Anyway, rant aside, ya girl is not in a good gotdang mood right now.
I’m sitting in the backseat of the car while The Sibling is in my effing seat putting footprints on the windshield and singing recklessly, horribly off-key and inching closer and closer to getting choked out by me as we wait for The Egg Donor to get out of Kroger. Add that to the fact that I just got done spending time with The Sperm Donor very much against my will earlier, it’s east to see why I’m enjoying the vision of me stuffing the smelly socks that she threw at me down Boogie’s throat.
*sigh*
The Egg Donor thinks that at 20 she can control my life and The Sperm Donor decided that…hell, I don’t know. I just know that he’s been making more and more frequent appearances in mine (infamous) life and I don’t have the time. I’m past the age where he can influence my life with his fatherly advice and concern. Don’t need it. Don’t want it. When I did want it, I didn’t get it. He was too busy playing house with that big bodied broad backed bxtch (extra points for an alliterative insult) El Jefe to attend to his two youngest children. So now that he’s been kicked out the house or whatever the hell happened between them since he hasn’t told us and I had to find out the news from my brother (who’s deployed overseas at the moment might I add) he decides it’s time to remember us. But he couldn’t when he missed my high school graduation. And my open house.
Oh. Yeah, I’ve got daddy issues.
Speaking of daddy—not that I ever called this nigga ‘daddy’…*cough*—issues, TSD showed up and interrupted the booluvin’ conversation I was havin’ with Q.
Y’all don’t know how much I missed Him! When I heard His voice on the line I automatically smiled as that stupid girly side of me came out and I got shy as I said my hello’s. That loser’s voice just makes me…ugh. I smile when I hear it and have been known to babble like an idiot if he says the right thing and he’s quite fond of saying the right thing. The twenty or so minutes that we spent on the phone was not enough time to talk and I’m hoping that I’ll be able to talk to him again before he heads back out.
*rolls eyes*
Anyway, The Egg Donor is back and she drives like a bat fresh out of hell, so tracks of the day animout.
First up is “Daydreamin’” by Lupe Fiasco and Jill Scott

”Stop Fuckin’ Wit’ Me” by Lil John and The Eastside Boys since TED is runnin’ off at the mouth about absolutely nothing right now and I have to actually listen to her shxt since I left my mp3 player at home

And since I’m thinkin’ about Him
”The Reason” by Hoobastank

♥