Saturday, June 16, 2007

Detachable P

Alright. I published it. I then took it off. Now I'm publishing it again, because, well, sometimes life aint pretty... (6/16)

6/15
Here's an Official Warning - along with an apology to my family and any readers with delicate sensibilities - if you aren't up for a not PG rated post - please skip this one. I've gone back and forth about sending it - but I figure it's a big part of my day - so here it is.
This post ain't gonna be pretty.
I'm not in a very pretty mood (though I'm feeling much better having written this post!)
Chances are I'll be removing it - but for now I gotta say what I gotta say.

For a few days now I've had a song in my head.
It's by King Missile, and it's called Detachable Pe- - -. (think male anatomy.)
I'm not saying the word, because I don't want my blog to come up for any wierdo's who are doing a blog search for said unit. Not because I'm necessarily against the p word. (though I don't say it much in every day conversation.)

In a later post today I'll relate why oh why I have such a thing in my head.
But for now here is the song (it's really rather humorous, and not terribly offensive, unless you just can't bring yourself to think a story about a missing p might be funny.)

Detachable Pe - - -
I woke up this morning with a bad hangover
And my p was missing again.

This happens all the time.
It's detachable.

[background singing begins: "detachable p" over and over]


This comes in handy a lot of the time.

I can leave it home, when I think it's gonna get me in trouble,

or I can rent it out, when I don't need it.

But now and then I go to a party, get drunk,

and the next morning I can't for the life of me
remember what I did with it.
First I looked around my apartment
, and I couldn't find it.
So I called up the place where the party was,

they hadn't seen it either.

I asked them to check the medicine cabinet

'cause for some reason I leave it there sometimes

But not this time.

So I told them if it
pops up to let me know.
I called a few people who were at the party,

but they were no help
either.
I was starting to get desperate.

I really don't like being without my p for too long.

It makes me feel like less of a man,

and I really hate having to sit down every time I take a leak.

After a few hours of searching the house,

and calling everyone I could think of,

I was starting to get very depressed,

so I went to the Kiev, and ate breakfast.

Then, as I walked down Second Avenue towards St. Mark's Place,

where all those people sell used books and other junk on the street,

I saw my p lying on a blanket
next to a broken toaster oven.
Some guy was selling it.

I had to buy it off him.

He wanted twenty-two bucks, but I talked him down to seventeen.
I took it home, washed it off, and put it back on.
I was happy again. Complete.

People sometimes tell me I should get it permanently attached,

but I don't know.

Even though sometimes it's a pain in the ass,

I like having a detachable p.


I'm feeling rather like I've been lugging one around for a few days. I really wish it to be detachable.
Having said these things, I am feeing better already!

disclaimer: this post is in no way meant to be offensive to my brothers in this world - this is just something I am relating to/hearing in my head these last few days.

4 comments:

Stephanie said...

I'd like to dedicate this post to my friend Mel, for without her excellent sense of humor , this post would not exist!
:) xxoo

Melissia said...

I love this- makes me laugh so hard. Only slightly less hard than "I want my horse to be a unicorn"

Ana MarĂ­a said...

Listen, the only thing I didnt like about your post was you apologizing so much...

readers read...we bloggers write...

let be

Stephanie said...

Well, that's all fine and good, but I have family that reads and refers other family to my blogs, too,- some religious, most definitely modest.
Thus the warnings.
Thought it only fair, and to help them along with their acceptance of my ways!
:)
Stephanie