The Time I Crashed Blogher and Slept With VodkaMom

Warning: The following post includes namedropping.

So I crashed the Blogher conference Friday. Wait.  Before the Lesbian Mafia Wing of Blogher come to arrest me and force me listen to Tracy Chapman, I didn’t eat your food or attend your sessions.  OK.  OK. One session. But it was to support my sistas in humor (more on that later).

Anyway, I called up a random blogger and asked if I could camp out in her room.  OK.  OK. She wasn’t totally a random blogger.  Here’s what I knew about her:

 

1)    her name was Vodkamom

2)    she has a daughter called Bitchy

OK.   OK. That and she’s a rock star in the bloggy world.  Now, I don't know whether she'd hit the sauce early or is simply a totally kind-hearted women* but she said yes.

Wait. I’m sorry. I forget.  Some of you play tennis or knit or work for a living. 

Let me explain Blogher.  

Blogher is yearly conference on blogging with 900 women attendees and 7 men.** It’s the virtual Who’s Who’s of blogging.  Just imagine going to a conference and having Mick Jagger, Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Bono, and Susan Boyle in the same hotel.  Yah, it’s like that. Only with a lactation lounge and skinny biatches passing out chocolates in the lobby.

But we know what Mick Jagger and Susan Boyle look like (I’ll leave that up to you all to decide if that’s a good thing).  It’s not so easy to match up these bloggers with their 1" by 1" image.  When you meet these rock stars and your Borderline Social Anxiety Tourette's Syndrome rears it’s ugly tongue you say things like:

To:

Father Muskrat:  I thought you’d be taller.

Maggie Dammit:  Oh, your hair is so dark.

Amy of Bitchin’ Wives Club:  You’re prettier in real life.

Ms. Picket:  You have freckles.  I can’t believe you have so many freckles.

Busy Dad:

Me Heiniken in Hand--Oh!! You’re Busy Dad

Him--Who? Is he a blogger?

Me--Dude, he’s THE mommy blogger.

Him--Busy Dad is a mommy blogger?

Me--No Dude, he’s THE mommy blogger.

Him--Is he any good.? What do you like about his blog?

Me--Dude, he's THE, I mean, you're THE mommy blogger.  So good to meet you.

Two Heinekens later I return:

Me--Dude, you're just shitting me, right? You're Busy Dad.

Him--No, really. I’m not Busy Dad. 

Me--You’re testing me, right?  I know, you’re tired of your groupies and ...

Him--Truly. I'm not Busy Dad.

Me--Dude, think about it.  This is conference with 900 women and 7 men.  You expect me to believe two of them are Asian-American bloggers with shaved heads. But it's cool, dude. Nice to meet you.

Later that evening I ran into the real Busy Dad. We reminisced about the time he kick-boxed with My John Cusack in Venice Beach.

 

Yep.  It all comes back to John Cusack.  

Such is this Conference Crasher’s Midlife Crisis.

 

Kinda sad, really.

*a totally kind-hearted woman who doesn't snore at all

**Father Muskrat, Black Hockey Jesus, SecondHandKarl, Literal Dan, Backpacking Dad, Busy Dad, and another Asian guy who looks like Busy Dad

**************************************************

Stayed tuned for my conference after party crashing: In The Bath With Bossy, In Bed With Muskrat

posted at Humor-Blogs

 

 

 

Blogher 09 in Real Life and My Fantasy Life

So I'm going to Blogher.  In real life.  

Even though I got closed out of the conference, there'll be plenty of things for me to do.  Too many actually. How do I choose?

There's the Blogher 5K or the Bowlher 09.  Both sound like work, frankly. 

There's the Ann Taylor Style Event or the gathering at the Queerosphere Crimson Lounge. Combine those two events and you'll have a REAL party.

--The MamaPopsRocks! A Sparklecorn Extravaganza????  Sounds sparkly.  Very Sparkly.

--The Third Annual CheeseburgHer Party???  Wear a bag on my head?  Hmm...maybe not.

--The Shutt Sister Suite GapBody Pajama Party??? A newly single girl partying with sisters in pajamas?  What's wrong with that picture?

The choices were overwhelming.  

I was going to go with the Queerosphere Crimson Lounge Party until I scrolled down the list and saw this:

 When I read it was the Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party  with chocolate, microbrews and a wine bar I knew my fantasy life had collided with my real life.

It's about time.

Look for me fellow Blogherers and keep me posted on any John Cusack sightings.

posted at Humor-Blogs where I used to be somebody

One More Reason to Keep At This Midlife

by Just Jen.

Thanks Jen, I needed that.  OK.  OK. In truth, Jen awarded me this:

But I already had one of those, so I swiped the sexy award from her blog.  I mean, I need something in This Midlife to keep me going, right?

Rules are you have to list five sexy things about yourself:

1)  I have a sexy name--Meg.  However, I was born with the unsexy name of Margaret.  Yes, even Dennis the Menace didn't go there.  

2) I have sexy bangs like this:

3) Only red.

4) I have sexy CFM boot earrings:

5) I have sexy friends (in my fantasy life):

6) I'm going to sexy San Francisco this weekend to celebrate my birthday.  And drink sexy micro brewed beer.

Rules state that I must pass this award onto other sexy bloggers.  And I can't think of anyone more sexy than these two.  OK. OK.  In truth, I can think of one, but Sexy Snuggie Guy has gotten lots of love lately. 

 So I pass this award on to Sexy Unfinished Dude:

And Sexy Matt-Man:

Cheers!

posted at Humor-Blogs.

A Birthday, A Blogoversary, and a Breakup

Today is my birthday and my one year blogoversary. So in the virtual time-honored tradition of Bloggers, I will list some things about myself:

1. This blog used be titled The Suburban Subversive. I worked for days ignoring the kids designing it before I posted. One night before bed, I googled my beautiful new blog and another Suburban Subversive came up.

What the F--K!! (isn’t it silly to do that when everyone knows the word is fuck?)

What the F--K!  I then navigated back to my dashboard and linked onto my blog that way. And guess what? I discovered I was the Surburban Subversive.   With an R!!  So I changed my title to Prefers Her Fantasy Life. Because in my fantasy life I can spell.

2. When I began one year ago I never intended to write a humor blog.  I merely signed up for every catalog out there, including Humor-Blogs.  Then all of a sudden people started voting my stuff on Humor-Blogs.  How could I write rant about politics or the spouse when I was expected to be funny?  I was trapped.

3.  And being trapped writing a humor blog can be difficult when one is going through a separation/divorce.

4.  I've been married for 20 years.

5.  I've wanted to write about the pain and guilt that ending  a history with someone can cause.

6.  And even though it is my decision, the sheer panic that can strike when you're putting your spouse's socks in his sock drawer and you ask yourself,  What the Hell Am I Doing?

7.  And about the countless number of times you ask yourself, What the Hell Am I Doing?

8.  I've wanted to describe how difficult it is to explain to your children that yes, you love their father, yes, you would give a kidney to him, but that the two of you don't work well together.

9.  And the silence you're stricken with when your daughter asks you if you want to die alone.

10. And the despair--yes despair is the best word--for you truly feel despair when you hear this song and long for that kind of hopefulness:

11. And the loneliness--because let's face it, there are only so many distressed-divorcee cards you can pull out with your friends.

12. But instead I wrote about John Cusack and Couch-surfing and my love of micro-brews.

13. And in a way, writing a humor blog has saved me.  

Forcing myself to look for the funny, or at least amusing side of life has kept me from taking my son's soft-air gun and shooting myself in the kneecap.

14. And being part of a humor blogging (and the greater blogging) community and reading all of you guys has given me something to look forward each day when I drink my coffee.

15.  So tonight I will be, where else, at an Irish Pub sharing a birthday drink with some buddies and tomorrow morning, I'll be back in this wonderful virtual world and connecting in some small but necessary way with all of you.  Cheers!

Post, where else, at Humor-Blogs.

  

1-2-Skip A Few 100! Meg's Blogoversary!!

Three lovely handfuls, a big black lab who attacks people, it is amazing--my 100th post. 

To celebrate I will adhere to the virtual time-honored tradition of sharing some little known facts about myself.

1. I love Wilco.
2. I love micro-brewed beers.



3. I love John Cusack.
4. I'm a wiseass.
5. Not necessarily in that order.

6. I taught English for two years in Tokyo and always introduced myself to my classes with this icebreaker: tell 3 things about yourself and one of them must be a lie. Here are my three:

-When I was 17, I was suspended from school.
-When I was 18, I hitch-hiked across the country.
-When I was 19, I was arrested and put in jail.


Which one is the lie? My Japanese students got it wrong every time.


7. I've never been suspended from school.

8. I’ve been to Nam. Vietnam.



9. And also China, Thailand, South Korea, Europe, Turkey, Mexico, Nicaragua and the Toronto film festival where they have over 300 movies from 55 different countries.

10. I’ve never water-skied barefoot like the Hypocritical One, but I did do a sailing course with Outward Bound in Maine and ended up being an instructor there one summer.

11. I have a huge collection of memorabilia dolls ranging from Barry Goldwater to Barry Gibbs.



12. I’m a member of The Couch Surfing Project.

13. I did a solo backpacking trip to Europe after college.

14. I hate milk.

15. My greatest talent is in arranging the song order on CD mixes. I’m an excellent arranger.

16. And I have excellent taste in music.

17. Like Wilco.

18. I’ve worked for the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation for four years writing about small school reform.

19.  I recently learned how to add color to my posts.

20. I’m currently drinking white wine because it has fewer carbs than beer.

21. And it’s hell.

22. And I hate it.

23. But not as much as I hate milk.

24. I have choreographed and performed with an Adult Irish step dancing group. And we're on You Tube. And like my friend Randy says, "They just don't let anybody on there."

25. After high school I hitchhiked across the country with my best friend. We were on the road for a month. It was the greatest time of my life.




26. When I was 19, I was arrested for “park curfew” and “unauthorized use of a city swimming pool". In layman’s terms that means skinny-dipping.

27. Ya see, I really am a Hippie for Obama.

28. A wine-drinking Hippie for Obama.

29. But hopefully not for long. The wine-drinking, that is.


You can make my blogoversary by smiley-ing me at Humor Blogs.

Famous People, Foreigners & Foreign Films

Here's a quick recap of my Toronto Time:

Part I - In which Meg gets interrogated and chatted up by an immigration officer at the same time. (scroll way down)

Part II - The Stalker, The Dancer, His Opera Wife and her lover. (scroll down)

Part III - Famous People, Foreigners & Foreign Films


FAMOUS PEOPLE


OK. At least one famous person. This guy:



Do you recognize him?

No?

Well, he plays with this group:



The Dandy Warhols.

Know them? You’re listening to them. If not, unmute that volume key now and wait for the acoustic-electric guitar. You won't regret it.

The Dandy Warhols are a psychedelic folk space rock band from Portland, Oregon. Do you know where I saw him?

In concert.

I paid $32.00 Canadian to see Courtney Taylor-Taylor and The Warhols at a warehouse-like venue in downtown.

You see, I go to the Toronto Film Fest every year. But this year I really didn’t think I could afford it. And I really couldn’t afford it. And I was also told that I really couldn’t afford it.

But then I had a Kid Krisis, and in response I raced to the computer to check out the film schedule.

Some people feed their emotional needs with chocolate or alcohol. I feed mine with film.

OK. OK. I do all three.

But with the price of gas and all, I came to my senses and decided to stay home and rent In Bruges from Netflix—-a great black comedy in which midgets get their due.



But then one day I was checking out the concert dates for the Warhols and I saw they were playing in Toronto at the same time as the film fest. Needless to say, I grabbed my credit card and was on line in as short of time as Sarah Palin was vetted.


FOREIGNERS


I mentioned I met some foreign types at Hemingway’s. And being the friendly girl I am, I felt compelled to chat with them. But how do you chat with foreign types? I don’t know how you do it, but I talk film.

With the guy from Northern Ireland, I drop In the Name of the Father, about a chap wrongly accused of a 1974 IRA bombing in England. The conversation slowly disintegrates to an actor from the Republic of Ireland and star of In Bruges—Colin Farrell.

The Iranian was easy. Children of Heaven, of course. I mean, how many Iranian films are there? The conversation with this guy soon turns into Middle East policies of which I am greatly versed having dated that Palestinian.

With The Short Italian Waiter it was Life is Beautiful, what else? That discussion soon turned into the ways Italian men show affection such as pinching a girl on behind. When the guy wanted to give me a demonstration, I quickly changed the topic to Peroni (I can also talk beer in many languages).

Now the Romanian threw a monkey wrench into my plan. Turns out he’s obsessed with Smoke Signals— The film with the distinction of being the first motion picture with an exclusively Native American creative team. And by Native American I mean, Indians. For that is what I recently learned they preferred to be called.



With the Chinese-Canadian guy, I had to be careful. Do I go with a movie from the mainland like Raise the Red Lantern, or do I go with one from Taiwan like Eat, Drink, Man Woman? And what if his family is from Hong Kong?

Turned out I didn’t have to worry. Being an engineer in the oil business, he brought up the movie Syriana, which he claims gives a pretty realistic view of the oil fiasco.

Of course not understanding what the h-e-double hockey sticks what was going on in Syriana, I quickly changed the conversation to George Clooney. I mean, it's the natural thing to do, right?


FOREIGN FILMS


Disclaimer: Some of you know that I prefer my fantasy life with John Cusack. What you may not know is that if My John Cusack is in a movie like this one:



And if the movie happens to s*ck. I will not finish it.

Which it did. So I didn’t.

But if he is in a good movie like this one:




I will watch the movie multiple times and begin to quote lines from it at the dinner table.

Mr. Newberry: What have you been doing with your life?
Marty: Uh... professional killer.
Mr. Newberry: Oh! Good for you, it's a... growth industry.

That means my interest in film trumps my interest in eye candy. Surprised?

And that means that when I go to Toronto I avoid films with John Cusack and Colin Farrell and Mark Ruffalo (as painful as it is) and opt for films from countries that Sarah Palin couldn't find on a globe.

One of the movies I saw was a Turkish movie called Sut(milk).

The scene opens with a young woman being hung upside down from a tree, her head a few inches from a pot of boiling liquid. She begins to cough.

Are they torturing her?

Curing her?

No.

Slowly a two-foot snake crawls out of her mouth.

Later, she has a kid who ends up writing poetry and delivering milk.

One day he gets a draft notice. They both freak. However, we soon learn Poet fails his medical exam. Meanwhile Mom meets the station master and develops a crush. Poet Son spys Station Master picking up Mom every morning and one day follows them. He spots the car in a field.

Is Station Master teaching Mom English?

Are they getting it on?

No.

The car is empty. Poet follows their tracks. He sees Station Master with a gun.

Is Station Master intending on murdering a rich man to get Mom of out the milk business?

Or is he planning on murdering Mom because he likes Poet son?

No.

Station Master is teaching Mom to duck hunt.

Poet picks up a large rock with the intention of bashing it into Postman’s head. He drops it suddenly.

Is he having a stroke?

Did he have a change of heart?

No.

He sees a monster four-foot carp in the water and bends over to pick it up.

In the next scene Poetic Carp Hugger is holding the fish out to his mother while she plucks the feathers from a duck. It’s about as phallic as the opening scene.

But cut...

Poet appears at a mine with soot on his face, hard hat on head. He looks into the camera. Camera zooms in on the light. The audience looks at the entire screen flooded with light.

We look at it for 30 seconds.

For 60 seconds.

For 100.

Roll credits.

Yep, should have gone for the eye candy.


If you like this post, or if you didn't but feel sorry for me that I had to sit through such a sh*tty movie, vote for me at Humor Blogs.

Caption Contest Winners Live From The Pub

I’m blogging the caption contest winners live from here:



Because they have this:



And this:




And I like this:



And this:



I'm kidless because Teen, who just learned about cleavage, has taken his younger boy cousins here:




For wings, of course.

And with strict instructions to swim in front of the lifeguard Daughter and Ten-Year Old are here:




So I’m here at Dogfish with Sister-in-Law, the only family member who reads my blog. Not because she is supportive, mind you, or even because she thinks I’m funny. She’s basically a busy-body and needs to know everything that’s going on.




She never shows much cleavage but she drinks, so I love her. Also I can blame her for choosing the slogan winner so I am not accused of favoritism.

AND NOW THE PHOTO AND THE WINNING CAPTION:




Beat it. No you beat it.



Wait...Sister-in-Law tells me this is the wrong photo. Guess that's what happens when you drink too many of these:



They are 9% alcohol you know. Sadly, I do not own any Bush or McCain dolls, although I do have the have this one:



My Girl Hillary.

ANYWAY, HERE IS THE CORRECT PHOTO:




Thanks to all who participated. Now personally I liked the caption from Andy of Andy's Weird Warped World:

Fonze: Hey Sonny, guess where my other thumb is.

But since this is a family blog, Sister-in-Law The Prude told me I couldn’t publish that caption. Plus that Andy guy drinks way too much.

SISTER-IN-LAW'S PICK FOR THE WINNING CAPTION IS:



I got you babe, no I got you babe. Fellas please. I’m a lover not a fighter.




Great job JD of I Do Things. Thanks so much.

Although, I do wonder if a Black American would use the word "fellas". Oh, wait a minute, I forgot. Michael's no longer ..... never mind.

First prize was the one-of-a-kind Diesel Daisy Earrings (notice the presence of a link there):



But sadly, nobody wanted them.

So I decided to give the earrings to Sister-in-Law for helping me out, but even she informed me she’d take the freshwater pearl ones instead.

So if anyone out there wants these the second in my Diesel Series, email me and they’re yours.

By default JD gets second prize my Xena doll as seen on the popular television series:



Sorry Unfinished, although you do score points for liking Cusack, so I am publishing this for you:




Also I really liked the caption from Damon at Try To Keep Up:

a tree hugger,
a boy mugger,
and a Potzie slugger.

so I picked out a special gift for him at a shop on Rehoboth Avenue:



I also enjoyed the caption from AoE at Army of Epiphenomenon because it works with both the Bush/McCain photo and the original photo:

Sonny: I want to beat it.
Fonze: No, I want to beat it.

He is the lucky winner of this:



Have fun AoE selling the toast on eBay.



So JD, Damon, and AoE email your addresses to Pegcypher at sbcglobal dot net to get your gifts.

And because adding all of these links has made me thirsty, I really must go and drink more of these:



But I am so not tipping the bartender because the asshat didn't ask to see my id.




Stay tuned for:

-Meg and Teen do the Virgin Festival
-Stalking Once Removed
-and Something Something About These:




If you now have the song "I Got You Babe" stuck in your head, visit Humor-Blogs and vote for all of these funny folks.

My First Caption Contest, Yeah!

In my continuing effort to be hip I was going to blog about man boobs, but that's been done to death. And by "death" I mean my own if I see any more of them.

I then considered doing something from the Urban Dictionary, but terms like 'a big red' have no place on a family blog written by a redhead.

Next I decided to host my first caption contest. But then I thought, OMG what if I host a caption contest and nobody comes? How uncool would that be. Can I risk it?

But seeing as how the alternative would be revealing more dysfunction in my household, I thought WTF I'll do it. I mean, everybody's doing it.

First a Disclaimer:

While other bloggers were apparently brushing up on their PhotoShop, I was probably watching Grosse Pointe Blank for the 13th time.

Another Disclaimer:

While other bloggers were learning how to add those cool voting widgets to their sites, I was probably watching High Fidelity for the 19th and 1/2 time (the 1/2 time is an experience I do not care to share at this time).

I'm hoping there is no Blogger Patrol out there because:

1) I will have to use a plain old photo

2) I will have to decide the winner of the best caption myself (and because these things make me extremely nervous, I'll have to drink a pint or two).

But there's good news: Prizes!!!

First prize is Diesel's book, Antisocial Commentary. That is, after I win one first. In the event I don't win one, the first prize is these Dandy Diesel Daisy earrings.



Now I realize that someone with man boobs might not go for daisies so I'm also giving away this:



A 12" collector series Xena Warrior Princess doll as seen on the popular television series. NIB!!!

Here's the photo. Enter your caption in the comments. And please don't leave me hanging here because then I would truly have to go back to blogging about beer.





You can vote for this post at Humor-Blogs and meet way cooler folks than me.

More on Bangs, Nothing on Beer

I apologize for the silliness of this post. It's what happens when yott,;lk';;jm sorry my hands were shaky there....when you can't blog about beer.

Which brings up a question. Is saying you're not blogging about beer actually blogging about beer?

Anyway, thanks to everyone for their support--it seems more guys are over here commenting when I don't blog about beer (such as Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA) than when I do blog about beer (such as Great Lakes Commodore Perry). But back to my bangs.


As requested, I will now reveal my latest effort not to look like Susan Sarandon. First, a disclaimer. Do you know how freakin' hard it is to take a decent picture of yourself?


There's the matter of the flash:



Then the positioning of the camera:



Decisions like glasses on:



Or off:



Or hair down:



Or up:



And after all that, you realize how stupid your bangs are (and that you need braces and botox) and you secretly wish you looked more like Susan Sarandon.

It's enough to drive one to drink (but not beer, definitely not beer).

And speaking of other bloggers who don't and never will look like Susan, JT at The Goth Mom tagged me for my first meme--three things my spousal unit would say about me. Most of them I can't repeat on my blog, but here are three I can:

1) I blog too much.

2) I talk about John Cusack too much.

3) I show too much cleveage.

Stay tuned for my next post where I reveal my cleveage. Just kidding. This is a family blog after all.

For more family blogs, go to Humor-Blogs and vote for me by clicking that odd little PAC MAN guy. It's been two days of not blogging about beer and I need something to look forward to.

p.s. is Pac Man one word or two?

Stalking in Malibu

is not easy with loudmouth kids.

"There! In the sunglasses!" my son shrieks. "Is that John Cusack?"
"Not unless he's gained 80 pounds," I try to shish him.
"That woman, there..." my daughter points, "is that Britney and her kids."
"How many times do I have tell you," I push her finger down. "If you see Britney, she won't be with her kids."
"That Corvette. Five 'o clock. Is that Will Smith?" my teen yells.
"Will Smith is black," I whisper. "And not a senior citizen."

We go to Nobu's. Nobu's is closed. We go to Starbucks. Starbucks is empty. The closest we get to any movies stars is the waitress at Paradise Cove who has personally waited on Brad and Angelina before they opened their orphanage.

And as we drive one of the canyon roads, we're pretty sure we see Mel Gibson's garbage cans and John Cusack's gardener. Or John Cusack's garbage cans and Mel Gibson's gardener. Or maybe it was Britney's gardener. Or maybe her new boyfriend. We're not sure.

Anyway....a few days earlier I am told I look like a movie star.

Coming down the escalator at Universal Studios, I am filmed by the Tonight Show crew. I sign a release that my five seconds can be used for a segment on people who look like famous people (or their gardeners).

"Who do I look like?" I prod the young producers.
"Oh, we don't decide. The writers will decide."
"When I was younger," I tell them. "People thought I looked like Meg Ryan."
"No not Meg," a hot guy says. "More like Susan Sarandon."
"Susan Sarandon!" I protest. "You're aging me."
"Dude," a young woman tries to console me. "She's got Tim Robbins."

Tim Robbins? Ummm. OK.



But I'm pretty sure Susan Sarandon doesn't tape her sunglasses together. What do you think?

For more people who look like people, check out Humor-Blogs.

Groupie or Stalker? You Decide

At the risk of not revealing too much I found out that when Colin Farrell’s in town for the Toronto film festival he goes to Hemingway’s for a drink. What a coincidence! I go there too when I’m in town for the festival. And I am in town every September (but mainly to run into John Cusack).

So I parked myself at the bar in Hemingway’s and waited and waited and waited (and accidentally learned all about hockey while waiting). Colin was a no show. Newspapers reported he got a little bogged down with picking up a homeless guy and finding him an apartment.

Friggin’ homeless guy.

And then I ate at a restaurant in Malibu where John Cusack reportedly sits at the counter eating his avocado eggroll. After a no-show, I hopped over to the nearby drugstore. I figured he'd have to buy toothpaste sometime. I waited and waited and waited (and accidentally counted 34 different brands of toothpaste among countless whitening and breathe refreshing products). Turns out John was in Chicago visiting the family.

Friggin' Cusack family.

So I couch surfed in Chicago—but not to run into John. I was there for the real guy in my life - Jeff Tweedy (and yes, for a harried with children chick I do get around). Last February I bought a scalper’s ticket on eBay (after seeing this guy twice in the last 6 months) because I love Jeff Tweedy. I mean, I LOVE JEFF TWEEDY. My life’s motto: WWJTD.

And who is Jeff Tweedy? This, Internets, is Jeff Tweedy:



And hang in there for Nels Cline's fabulous whammy guitar stuff.

Muzzle of Bees

There's a random painted highway
And a muzzle of bees
My sleeves have come unstitched
From climbing your tree

And dogs laugh, some say they're barking
I don't think they're mean
Some people get so frightened
Of the fences in between

And the sun gets passed from tree to tree
Silently, and back to me
With the breeze blown through
Pushed up against the sea
Finally back to me

I'm assuming you got my message
On your machine
I'm assuming you love me
And you know what that means

Sun gets passed, sea to sea
Silently, and back to me
With the breeze blown through
Pushed up above the leaves

With the breeze blown through
My head upon your knee
Half of it's you, half is me
Half of it's you, half is me

For more Music Mondays, check out Soccer Mom in Denial. For more folks in denial, check out Humor-Blogs. For more Wilco and Couch Surfing in Chicago, stay tuned.