Work? What Work? | Solid State

Work? What Work?

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So, it's actually a beautiful day in the 802 — at least for the moment … stupid Summer of 2009 — and I seem to have a severe case of of the fuckoffs. It's not that I don't have plenty of things I technically should be doing — reviewing CDs, returning emails, putting together my column, etc. But the sudden burst of moderately not shitacular weather has essentially turned my brain to mush and my already questionable work ethic to something else entirely. I also seem prone to cursing much more than usual. Fuck.

Anyway, whilst avoiding my ever expanding to do list today, I decided to peruse the Tweetscape and see what sort of sub-140 character shenanigans my fellow Tweeps were up to. Amid the usual nonsense, I found that an old friend of mine, IDMPhoto, was tweeting a running playlist of albums he was enjoying. This is something I like to do from time to time as well, and my voyeuristic side always enjoys seeing what other folks are listening to — if only to marvel at the superiority of my personal tastes. Ahem.

In his his last post, IDM Photo informed the world that he had just transitioned from the Specials to Squeeze. A bold move, perhaps. But one that tickles my personal fancies. And really, go big or go home, right? I responded with the following: "Ooh! Pulling Muscles for Michelle!" in reference to that bands classic tune "Pulling Mussels (From a Shell)." I love that song. But until some years ago, I honestly thought the lyrics were "Pulling muscles for Michelle." Really.

In my slack-tastic state of mind, that got me thinking about other famous tunes for which people always fuck up the lyrics. Regular readers know I'm a "lyrics guy." So I hate it when people screw 'em up. Unless it's funny.

This led to a quick interwebs search which led me to my new second favorite time-wasting webspace (FailBlog will always be numero uno. Always.). It's called Kiss This Guy: The Archive of Misheard Lyrics. As you might guess, it is a veritable treasure trove of those tunes we all know and love, and that some drunk asshole is almost guranteed to slaughter when it comes on the jukebox at your favorite dive. A few of my favorites:

Robert Palmer, "Addicted to Love": You might as well face it you're a dick with a glove.

Queen, "Bohemian Rhapsody": The algebra has a Devil for a sidekick eeeeee!

Steve Miller, "Jet Airliner": Bingo Jed had a light on.

Trust me, there are many, many more. So if you're struggling, as I am, to get anything done today, you could do worse than spending a few minutes perusing Kiss This Guy.

Is it five o'clock yet?


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