|How Henry will greet my family at our wedding reception.|
A bolt of lightning between my legs
I can't think straight my mind's a mess
I only see straight when I'm being led
Loose nut, I want head
The loneliness I dread
Loose nut, you can help
Be with me so I don't hurt myself
Loose nut, no bolt fits
My head is giving me fits
Loose nut, looking for diversion
Just anything that'll let me stick it in
~ Black Flag
I wandered into Dad’s office this afternoon, looking for some answers to life's most important, philosophical questions.
“Hey Dad? What the shit is a 'podcast'?” I asked him as I walked through the door.
“Don’t say shit, Kage,” he said, without looking up from his paperwork. “It’s rude.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I said, turning on my heel and stomping out of his office.
I came back in a moment later. “Hey Dad? What the fuck is a 'podcast'?”
He sighed and threw his pen onto his desk, then swiveled around slowly in his chair to face me. “Very nice, Kage,” he said drily. “Really. That's fantastic. Now, then, Miss I-don’t-take-off-my-iPod-for-anyone. You really don’t know what a podcast is?”
“Nooooooooo, Stephen Hawking, I really don’t know what a podcast is,” I said haughtily, and pushed his papers aside so I could park my ass on his desk. “I never had a reason to give a fucking shit before.” I grinned broadly. "Hahahaha! Do you see what I just did there? I used both swears to-"
"Yeah, I got it," Dad rolled his eyes, then dropped his head wearily into his hands. “Look, kiddo. Why don’t we just skip the fun part where I explain it all to you, and you swear a lot but don’t actually listen, and you just tell me what the hell you want?”
“Dad, don’t say hell,” I gasped, my eyes wide. “It’s rude.”
“I’m not helping you,” he announced, and pushed on my shoulder to try and yank his papers out from under my arse. “Beat it. Get lost. Go ask your mother, you heathen child.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” I grinned, pushing back with all my weight, effectively cementing his papers to the desk with my left butt cheek. “I’ll be good. Please help me, oh all-knowing father?”
I smiled winningly, a la overachieving Broadway star.
He glared up at me. “What do you want?”
“Well, now! My imaginary boyfriend has this radio show in California, see,” I began, smiling wistfully and shaking my head in wonder at the romance of it all, like Henry Rollins' entire radio show is dedicated to me or something.
Which it should be.
“What?” Dad asked with interest. “1979 Jello Biafra has a radio show?”
I stopped twirling my hair and looked at my father like he was a complete idiot. “No, Dad,” I said condescendingly. “How could my imaginary boyfriend from the past have a current radio show? That’s just stupid.”
“Oh, right, right,” Dad smirked. “How thoughtless of me.”
“Quite,” I agreed. “No, this is my imaginary boyfriend and personal trainer from the present, Henry Rollins,” I explained. “He does a radio show in LA or something, and I want to know if I can somehow get my hands on it. Ergo, I need to know what a podcast is.”
“Okay, well, just go onto iTunes, and search for it under podcasts,” Dad said.
“And...?” I prompted.
He looked at me quizzically. “And then download it.”
“That’s it?” I said, astounded.
“That’s it,” he said.
“For free?” I demanded.
“For free,” he agreed.
“You mean I could have been listening to Henry this whole time?" I cried. "Instead of talking to YOU?”
“You’re welcome, Kage,” he said sarcastically, and managed to yank most of his papers out from underneath me. “Now get out of my office. Oh, and next time you have a question? Please, go and harass your mother. I'm mad at her right now.”
"'We're gonna have a t.v. party tonight!'" I yelled loudly along to my iPod as a response, and danced out of the room.
I’m a-coming, Henry!!! I thought gleefully to myself, and thundered back up the stairs to throw myself in front of my computer again.
Let the search begin! Soon we shall be united, mein liebe!
Uh...I’ll have to let you guys know what I find,
It’s gonna take a little longer than I thought.
Seeing as I don’t actually know what an “iTune” is, either.
God damn it.