Wednesday, September 21, 2005

What's the Matter? You Got Something in Your Earneck?

My perception is all fuzzy today.

There are once again workers working on the outside of the building, and while I would like to use a more descriptive verb for what they're doing than just "working," I'm unsure what to call it when someone appears to be a window washer but whose true function is to coax the entire harmonic scale out of the building's exterior with a hammer and drill. Whether or not this has to do with my cloudy thinking I cannot conclusively prove, but let's just say I would love to lean out the window with a pair of garden shears and liberate their hanging platform from its cables.

I realized I might not be thinking completely coherently when, while flipping through the online edition of the New York Post's Page Six gossip column, I thought Paris Hilton had an ear growing out of her neck. In all fairness, look at this picture quickly:

(From the AP/New York Post)

I wish it was a fact that Paris Hilton had sprouted a third ear off her clavicle, one they had to decide whether to airbrush out of or defiantly include in her Stuff Magazine photo shoot. Would she have it removed? Would she position herself to be the world's most prominent spokesperson for those with physical abnormalities? Would her jewelry line now include rhinestone ear chokers, so the kiddies can emulate the coolest of cool deformities?

I only have two ears and they're still full of drilling noises, and a the tiny little bit of the Ramones I can still hear through my headphones. I got my (final) new iPod for my birthday, along with a two year protection plan that should insure me against any theft, loss, damage, Acts of God, Acts of Godlessness, Acts of Accidental Rocking Out and Dropping It On The Pavement, and so on. I've named it Alexander (Our older brother! Who went off for a--a great adventure!).

Today marks Day One of my Ramones Appreciation Project, another reason why I can't distinguish between ears and necks, or now and two hours ago. I know that every Ramones song doesn't sound exactly the same if you know anything about the band; I don't know enough, hence the self-tutorial. I've been listening to the first thirty-four tracks of their career retrospective Weird Tales of the Ramones (which, by the way, clock in at about seven minutes--every song is twelve goddamn seconds long) and everything sounds the same, and the time is passing very slowly, and I can't gauge exactly how long I've been staring at the wall of my cube when I don't know how many songs I've listened to.

Also, "Rockaway Beach" was redone as the jingle for "Rockaway Bedding," a mattress company somewhere in the tri-state area, which I heard roughly four times a day from my conception until I went to college. I can no longer distinguish between ears and necks, between now and two hours ago, between a seminal rock band and a bedding warehouse.

It's all kind of confusing. And they're still drilling. If yesterday was a repeat, today is a scratched DVD.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Damn, Paris looks haggard in that picture. How come she looks 60 years old?

That really DOES look like an extra ear, too.

7:53 AM  
Anonymous mombi said...

i wanna be sedated

my fave ramones

12:44 PM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

See, my favorite was always Blitzkrieg Bop, which I feel is like, everyone's favorite, why is another reason why I had to undertake the Ramones Appreciation Project.

3:31 PM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

That "why" should be a "which."

3:45 PM  

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