Fuck You, Eddie Money

Fuck You, Eddie Money

11.27.06 (6:38 pm)   [edit]
I had Think I'm In Love stuck in my goddamn head long enough I had to come home and blast Zevon's Boom Boom Mancini six times to get it out.

Heard it on the radio on the way to buy beer. Then I heard it in my head when I saw her.

40-ish brunette. I think I wrote about her a few weeks back. Married, but flirts with me a lot. I hadn't seen her in a while.

"Wow, I don't see too many people buying that beer anymore. It's usually Budweiser or something."

"Fuck that shit! Pabst Blue Ribbon!"

David Lynch - director of fine films, supplier of lines that make really fucking hot women laugh at me.

"You're funny."

"And you are the most beautiful married woman I ever wanted to steal from a man who would probably kill me by shoving me face first into a gallon of this stuff when he found me hitting on her."

She laughed a lot at that, then said, "Nah, he'd probably just run over you with his truck."

"Cool! I had half my body shot off in Korea, and I'm all steel plates like Lloyd Bridges in those Hot Shots movies. I bet I could survive a truck on my skull. So, wanna cheat on your husband with a guy who likely isn't half the man he is? Come on, I'll buy you a pizza."

She was about to collapse laughing. Wheeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!

"Sorry, I'm a nice girl, but you make sure to come back soon. I need the entertainment."

"Nice girls finish last, sweetheart. Bad girls finish...uh...all the bad girls avoid me like the plague too. SHIT!"

I love hearing a woman laugh. When she looks vaguely like Teri Hatcher and plants fucking Eddie Money songs in my head on the drive home, that's even cooler.

Earlier tonight I wrote a song borne out of alcoholism and Zevon-worship. It needs music and some tweaking. But the first draft is something I'm pretty proud of.

The dead man is singing a Prince song for me now. I'll have a beer for him now.

Love,
Dougie