I’m a Woman Who Really Knows How to Handle Her Pinecones
I have to start with the obvious: today was beautiful. It rained and stormed off and on all day. Delicious. I got to run around in a downpour twice.
So, I went to a Department of Music concert tonight. It started off well. They did a hauntingly beautiful rendition of Dona Nobis Pacem, a work I’ve loved for some time. Intermission came and went, then it was time for a composition by a MSU staffer.
I have no idea how I sat through that whole performance. I was tempted the entire time to either walk out or just start laughing uproariously.
Let me explain it in the best way I know how: It’s as if Jere Hutcheson was eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and watching old Saturday morning cartoons while his daughter watched a Disney flick in the other room. He’s inspired, so he cobbles together this idea, á la Dr. Frankenstein, blending Beowulf, the Smurfs, and a dash of Pokémon (for good measure). He then hands this treasure trove of pain over to the bastard child of Lewis Caroll and Mother Goose, who writes up this atrocious set of poems, with such stunning lines as:
“Und, kleines Kind Fünf! A little dessert cookie: All crumbly and crunchy! O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!”
“Shaleeta, Shaleeta, Shaleeta, muscles, sleek and slim, muscles, streaming down sinuous limbs.”
“Ghrashadoo I am, and Ghrashadoo I be! Hungry am I, for buttercup pie!”
“Where are the little buttercups?!!!” (Yes, punctuated just like that)
“Moon streaking through moosewood, glibbey taratoos.” (He gave up on real words, apparently)
AND:
“Shaleeta leaps, turns, contorts, winds up to deliver the coup de grace, the double-whammy crowning block smasher!”
What. The. Fuck. Anyway, after this shit gets written, he sets it all to something that sounds like equal parts of the soundtracks from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty and LoZ: Ocarina of Time, with the tiniest hint of Orff thrown in just to fuck with everyone.
It was atrocious.
Followed by Ride of the fucking Valkyries. There were no words for the disaster that was the second half of this concert.
Non sequitur: I cannot eat animal crackers without thinking about Armageddon. I may have another scene to add to my list of ridiculous sexual fantasies I will make some poor bastard enact with me. Either that, or I need to never eat animal crackers again. It’s weird to think about them prancing around on half-naked Liv Tyler…
On the way home tonight, I saw the world’s most belligerent cab driver. He was picking up some drunk kids from Haslett Arms and was herding them out the door and into the van, yelling at them, “Get out there! I’m doing you a fucking favor!” When he got them to the cab, he was forcibly shoving them in, still yelling, “Get in there!”
It was fucking hilarious.
Finally doing some laundry. Namely because I don’t have a choice. I’m out of clothing (as today proved). I leave you with this nerd gem of the night. Enjoy.
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