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Puttin' the FUN in dys-FUN-ctional!!

It's the holidays! Time for Ding Fries Are Done!

Friday, Dec. 23, 2005
Get Into The Frickin Spirit....

Okay, I am sooooo tired of all the emails about Ding Fries Are Done and the 'clean' lyrics versus the 'not so clean' lyrics. If I put 'bob for fries' I get the censorship emails and if I put the 'fuck with fries' people write all "Gasp! The laaaanguage!"

I have to admit, though, that the email about the guy who had the misfortune of sending the link to his pastor when it was 'bob for fries' and said pastor didn't click the link until I had changed it back to 'fuck with fries'? Thaaaat gave me WILD giggles. Can you imagine? You're a pastor and you get an email from a parishioner and you click it, only to see the 'F' word and wonder just how FAST this guy wants to be sent to hell! I felt bad, of course, but only for about 3 seconds.

So anyway, I have posted two versions so everyone will be happy.

Ding Fries Are Done - Clean

Ding Fries Are Done - Not so clean


I took the kiddo to a hockey game last night and while he was down by the ice watching the teams practice, I decided to do a little last minute Christmas shopping at the team store (also I had to walk back and forth in front of the cameraman that, lately, has been stationed over by the escalators, and the footage he takes before the games is then shown periodically throughout the game on Turner South. I did this because I was POSITIVE George was missing me tremendously since he was at home alone wrapping gifts and watching the game on t.v. Yes, of COURSE I realize I'm delusional.) So anyway, I grabbed the items I needed and got into the checkout line. Standing behind me was an older man with his daughter, who must have been around 7 years old. He was buying her a pink cashmere Thrashers sweater and was explaining all the ways she could wear it and when and basically over-doing it so she'd think this was WAY cooler than she apparently did at the moment. He also seemed to be feeling guilty about the seats they had, despite the fact that they were close to the benches, and this is the conversation tha ensued:

Dad: "I know we aren't sitting by the goals and all, and we're off to the side, but hey! we're right near the benches, so we'll get to see players in their box!!"

Daughter, excitedly: "Yeeeah! And we'll even get to smell their deodorant!"


Later on I realized that I could not, in fact, go three plus hours without a cigarette, so after the 2nd period ended I high-tailed it downstairs to the (outdoors, friggin' FREEZING) smoking area and was quite shocked at some of the people there. The pounds and pounds of makeup, hair straightener, jeans so tight they couldn't bend their legs, and the stiLLETOS were appalling. And as an aside, what is WRONG with these women that wear mini-skirts and/or 4-inch spike heels to a SPORTING event?? Where there are miles and miles of stairs??

Where was I? Oh yeah! I went out for a smoke and saw these...women and since I was bored and alone and didn't want to get into a fist fight for doing what I ALWAYS do (read: Stare a Really Lot and Judge) I whipped out my Blackberry and sent George the following text message:

Gracie: "Am down smoking and am happy to report that tonite is apparently Bring a Stripper Who Smokes Night"

George: "And I MISSED IT?!"

Gracie: "Poor Poopie"

George "Horry Jorry Xmas!"

Frankly, after seeing these women (and the subsequent drooling of the men in their general vicinity) I am SHOCKED that we all didn't catch V.D. just by sharing the same air.


So the other night I was doing my Christmas shopping and I couldn't believe that it was only a few days away. Friggin' work. Time flew by so fast I had NO time to get into the holiday spirit and it was now almost over. Boo-hoo, right? Anyway, while driving around I decided that I would speed the Get Into The Spirit process by flipping the radio station over to B98.5, which is playing 24/7 Christmas songs. It did help, but I, of course, began getting irritated at the songs. Most of these have irritated me for YEARS but that was back before I had a notepad and a blackberry and all SORTS of ways to write notes about things that piss me off AS they piss me off. Lucky you!

Here they are, in no particular order:

  • Horrible medley Christmas songs where the singer (usually someone who makes William Shatner sound like a singing ANGEL) merges six or ten different songs into one, using the end of one sentence as the launch into the new song, ensuring that the words only marginally match each other. To wit: First song-part he sings is the one that goes "Ho Ho Ho and Mistletoe" (or some such) and then he merges that into "Ho Ho hoooooly niiight, Siiiiilent Niiiiight" ohhh and the guy is SO off tune.
  • Every time I hear the song "I saw mommy kissing Saaaanta Claaaus" I always think they're saying "I saw Mommy tickle Saaaanta Claaaaus" and even though I KNOW that isn't the correct lyric, it SOUNDS that way and I get all oooked out.
  • Burl Ives - Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: at the very beginning when he says "You know Dasher and Dancer And Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid And Donner and Blitzen." Comet always, ALWAYS sounds like 'Vomit' to me. Why? And then I picture Burl in the studio, sick and TIRED of being forced to sing these hokey songs and he passive-aggressively slides in words that aren't supposed to be there, but that speak to how he feels about this particular song and it makes me happy. Also, it reminds me of the translator for the Vietnam DVD The Pacifier, which I lovingly posted on This Page.
  • The freakin' Beach Boys Christmas song Little Saint Nick. What irks the HELL out of me is the lyric that goes "Christmas comes this time each year". No SHIT?? Really?? How utterly brilliant! Your creativity humbles me!
  • The Hall & Oates version of Jingle Bell Rock. I cannot STAND the jerky squeak they do after every 3rd word or so...that sounds like a melodic hiccup? That's supposed to sound sexy I suppose? It took THAT song to make me realize, 2 decades later, that the two of them were gay. I know.
  • John Lennon's Happy Christmas (War is Over) song. HATE this song. Truly. But what makes it worse is that warbly awful woman who does the bridge or chorus or whatever it's called. The one who sings "Let's hoooope it's a goooood one" Bitch couldn't hold a tune if you super-glued it to her THROAT.

So those are my pissy Christmas song sentiments. Despite having these thoughts (and writing them down on my trusty journalist notepad --quit laughing!!-- I was still happy and enjoying myself and was totally getting into the Christmas spirit.

Or so I thought. A few minutes after the following occurred, it became clear to me that I should not be allowed to even TRY to get into the spirit. Of ANYTHING. And shouldn't be allowed out of the house during the holiday season, either.

So I'm driving and shopping and listening to Christmas songs and I'm actually singing along with nearly all of them (except for those idiotic Mariah Carey songs where she displays how pissed off she is that she's not full-on black and warbles and does that hiiiiigh-looooow-miiiidle note crap all in the same damned line and has to put 8 different ranges into each WORD fer chrissakes and just WRECKS any song she has sung since Vision of Love). So yeah. I'm singing along and I'm happy, dammit. I just finished purchasing the last item and am making my way home. Traffic is awful, but hey! Gracie doesn't care today! Even though she HATES driving at night and trusts NO other driver, she just doesn't care. It's CHRISTMAS and she is GIDDY and she is SINGING, man!

Yeah, that didn't last. Here's how it all went downhill...

Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire came on the radio and I, of course, was singing right along, loudly and joyfully, and not at ALL caring how I looked to the other drivers. These are the words Gracie was singing (and the thoughts going on in her head) exactly as they happened. Let's listen in, shall we?

    Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
    Jack Frost nipping at your nose
    Turn out of parking lot onto main road
    Yuletide carols being sung by a choir
    And folks dressed up like Eskimos

    Change lanes to pass yet another minivan. Wonder if there is a freakin' LAW that you cannot own a minivan unless you SWEAR to drive slowly, erratically, and while on the phone, especially if you see Gracie on the road
    Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe
    Help to make the season bright
    Stop at a red light
    Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow
    Will find it hard to sleep tonight

    They know that Santa's on his way
    Turn left onto windy, two-lane road
    He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh
    Wind this way, Wind that way
    And every mother's child is gonna spy
    To see if reindeer really know how to fly
    See old bat in white cadillac drifting into my lane and, since this road is really REALLY narrow and we are on a CURVE, I am about to DIE, so I honk and SCREAM:
    "FUCKIN' MOVE ya stupid WHORE!!" and, without missing a beat:

    Aaaaand soooo I'm offering this simple phraaase.
    To kids froooom one to niiiinety-twooooo"
    Although its been said many times many ways
    Meeeerrrrry Christmas to yooooou!

And that's when it dawned on me what a lunatic I am. Yep.


After that episode, even though I swore I wouldn't sing along with another Christmas song because, you know, I'm a LUNATIC, what came on the radio? CAROL OF THE BELLS! Which, as we all know, is what Ding Fries Are Done is sung to the tune of. So of course I had to break my brand new pact with myself and sing along. But it wasn't REALLY a broken promise, because I sang (read: YELLED) the lyrics to Ding Fries Are Done (the NAUGHTY ones) and giggled my ass off.

Merry Effin' Christmas, y'all!

Love, Gracie.


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Last 5 Entries:

How Much Are YOU Worth? - Sunday, Jan. 08, 2006

Perfume and Lazy Bastards.... - Wednesday, Jan. 04, 2006

Like Poop Through a Goose.... - Saturday, Dec. 31, 2005

Bling and Bullets.... - Thursday, Dec. 29, 2005

Get Into The Frickin Spirit.... - Friday, Dec. 23, 2005

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