A Lyric Without A Song

He said…“You can’t get there from here.
You need to retrace you route.”
To get better you must get worse.
Now, what’s that all about?

Life is full of yings and yangs.
The night is a half the day.
I wish I’d never known the dark,
But it doesn’t work that way.

(Chorus)
I can’t get there from here.
I can’t find my way back.
I can’t get there from here.
There must be some way back.
I can’t get there from here.
She’ll never take me back.

(Verse 2)
You must be sick or dying
Before you can get well.
It seems to get to heaven,
You must live through hell.

If you have something to lose,
It means you’ve found it before.
You can’t ‘get’ having less,
Unless you’ve once had more.

(Chorus)
I can’t get there from here.
I can’t find my way back.
I can’t get there from here.
There must be some way back.
I can’t get there from here.
She’ll never take me back.

(Verse 2)
You both must start as singles
Before you become a pair.
You can not know happiness
Unless you have met despair.

You won’t know when you’re nasty
unless you can be kind.
You can’t even go home again
until you’ve left it behind.

(Chorus)
I can’t get there from here.
I can’t find my way back.
I can’t get there from here.
There must be some way back.
I can’t get there from here.
She’ll never take me back.

Guy is such a guy that he measures his ingredients in shot glasses, and times his cooking depending on how many pints it takes to cook. He’s probably the worst cook in the world which is why he’s only got an internet show. But it’s a show where I’m promised I’m going to be the co-star — if I work like a million years as a lowly production assistant for the experience!

Guy is one of my bosses at xcuse2party. He’s not the worst one. The worst one is Sensei Yo who thinks she’s a Samurai Warrior and my master. Yo has this sword she got on the internet and she swings it around as she yells at everybody in Japanese. Yeah, she really speaks Japanese and she thinks the reincarnation of same famous Samurai whose name I don’t remember because I just don’t care.

Guy, whose whole name is the GuyGrub Guy, is okay most of time. Except when he gets food ideas like a whipped cream bikini and you can guess who has to be the model. But he didn’t even use his own whipped cream on me because his whipped cream weighs like lava and just slides off. And we had to do like 17 takes before they figured it out that it wouldn’t work. Then he used one of those aerosol cans, and I just want you to know that he cheats.

Guy made me one of his guyiest recipes, Hunky Chunky Sesame Noodles. That’s what he called it. You see he promised me dinner for working on his video shoot as a PA and when we wrapped all he had was some Chunky peanut butter and a quarter box of old angel hair pasta. That and three cases of beer. And he calls himself a cook!

What he did was he boiled the pasta noodles for like three minutes which for him is two glugs of beer. Guy found an old soy packet you get when you order Chinese takeout that must be like a thousand years old, which he said was “aged”. He poured the soy into the peanut butter jar and mixed it up with his drill, which he calls his screwjobber. Oh, yeah, he’s too macho to cook with real kitchen stuff, so he uses garage tools like its cool or something.

Guy mixed up the soy to like make the chunky peanut butter all greasy. Then he just dumped the noodles into the peanut butter jar, shook it like it was a martini mixer, then poured the whole mess onto my plate. This is not what I call a good reward for a 12 hour day under hot video lights.

Actually, it tasted pretty good on the only bite I had before I poured it on his head.

I really mean it.

This weekend is last chance for you to work up a summer sweat doing something constructive, like rebuilding New Orleans. Or Newark, or Gary, Indiana which probably need it more. It is also the last chance to wear your summer things, and have a summer fling, albeit a short one.

Depending on your sense of humor, you should dress either in construction clothes, or give your summer things one last outing. Guys, remember you just can’t wear your seersucker jacket and white bucks after Monday.

Your party mix should include old lefty Labor Songs from the WPA era like from Men At Work singing Working On The Chain Gang or whatever they sang. You Cougars might choose a few seductive Summer Songs from your youth to get your tanned boytoys in the mood one last time time before you dump them.

Your cocktails should be like Long Island Ice Tea and any other summer cocktails you haven’t already od’d on.

If you choose the “Go Labor” option, we suggest you and your peeps should dress like laborers, drink like laborers (beer), eat like laborers (hot dogs), fight like laborers (pool cues), and have dirty sex at an hourly rate.

This guest column was borrowed from our sister site xcuse2party so the staff of TotallyBeaugus could have a weekend of fun without thinking they should be thinking.

I saw a rerun in ploked.com of a popular blog entitled “Why I Eat a Frog for Breakfast.” See video above.

My first thought was that I date frogs. I don’t eat them, even after kissing them.

After understanding the frog-fetish blogger was dealing with the issue of procrastination, I still disagree. Doing the hardest thing first is like obeying the commandments. It’d be nice if you did. It’d be nice if you could. But mostly you don’t and really you can’t. Not in the real world.

It’s the same with a Kermie for breakfast.

My philosophy is to do the easiest things first and just keep on a’doing them. Clear your plate and leave the frog sitting there next to the grits, which I would eat second to last.

You will get more done. And when you get in the habit of gobbling down everything put before you, you might even scarf down the little green guy without even being aware it was a toughie to swallow.

Momentum is what is important. Getting into action is what gets things done. Nobody can eat a frog without a second thought. And second thoughts are what slow you down in getting thru your things to do list.

The biggest problem with looking down on a fat green fly-eater with your first cup of coffee is that you won’t eat it. And you won’t do anything else while you’re trying to figure out how to eat it. And then you find yourself caught up in the old “paralysis by analysis.”

If you must eat a frog because you took a vow on your mother’s grave or have a deadline to write a blog about it, I suggest making it more edible by deconstructing it. Break your frog-issue into bite-sized pieces. Then start with pieces you can handle. I’d start with the frog legs which the French say taste a lot like chicken which is just a grown-up egg. And who can’t handle eggs for breakfast?