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Just To See You Smile

Issue Date: Tuesday, May. 31, 2005

List of shit I found sitting in my drawer… Apparently I am supposed to write an entry or something.
It reads as such:

“Purple Reign (of Suck)
To add to the suckalicious (Shut it. Is too a word.) week I had with the red light, the falling off of the shoe and consequent twisting of twee lil ankle, breaking of the mirror and the totalitarian eyebrows…
1) I burned my hand in the oven
2) I have been late (7 to 8 minutes late, but late nonetheless) for work at least twice this week.
3) I flung my hair in the car and lost an earring. Talented… No?
4) The Mavericks lost to Phoenix. Shut UP Steve Nash.
PS… Steve Nash, cut your fucking hair.
5) 101 degrees… what?”

Maybe that was a few weeks ago. I’ve lost count of the days and weeks and um…

Look over here… shiny!

I also found another note in my purse that states quite plainly at the top, “Damn you 99.5 the Wolf! Damn you for playing El Cerrito Place by Charlie Robison.”

That song tears me up.

Or or or… Oh, my God… The Wedding Song… shit… kill me now. His duet with Natalie Maines? (Hi. Um… Neal… yeah, the seven foot tall junkie? Yeah, he used to sing that shit to me. How fucked up am I to fall for and be all “awww” about that huh??? HUH?!)

I can barely handle it when the Wolf plays Fast Cars and Freedom by my boys, Rascal Flatts. (If you want a good one?, download that one gatsby.) It hurdles me back into memory lane so fast… even when I am sitting beside my husband in a Lincoln LS on a Dallas parkway with our windows rolled down on a humid summer evening. I still feel like I am twenty-something and running a big Ford 4x4 down a dirt road with the windows rolled down and the stereo blaring.

Don’t even get me started on when The Wolf decides to get their panties in a twist and get all Tim McGraw on us. I’m not saying anything against the man, don’t take it like that ladies (what a beautiful ass!).

I’m just saying when I hear Just To See You Smile…. I just die a little. Ok. A lot.

Lyrics found within that last link… or if you follow that link, whatever.

A little back story? Ok. If you insist.

I told ya’ll about D’Wayne a bit on my first rant about the Wolf… (link found here)… but I didn’t tell you guys about the years this guys stood by me while I made bad decision after bad decision. He was the kind of man you would tell your girlfriends, “He’s too nice for me.” Strong, not wimpy… he had backbone and could put me in my place. But I was stupid and was drawn to dangerous men. Hello stupid. Hi! And then years later when you (ok when I ) wizened up you’d kick yourself (or I kicked myself) squarely in the ass for being such a fucking idiot for not seeing what was staring you (or me) in the face. Ok, well I did.

You know what I’m trying to say… oh, yes you do. Don’t play coy.

When I walked up to him in the Summer of 1993 with my current boyfriend in tow, he knew what was coming. D’ and I always had that nonverbal communication down pat. So when X* told D’Wayne that he had asked me to marry him, D’Wayne turned to me and said, “And you said?”

It was the perfect out. And he was giving it to me.

Even though he knew I was marrying the wrong man, D’Wayne sung at my wedding… beautifully… God, so beautifully… and then told my best friend (LuLu) that that was the day he fell out of love with me.

Fuck You 99.5 The Wolf. I could just listen to hip hop.

*If you didn’t know that I was married previously and would like to read about the carnage, please see this link.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

The Graphic Below Courtesy of Papernapkin.

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