Over at Vocalo blog, they’re talking about their F*ck It lists.  I think the * is supposed to be a u.  (I’m surprised that a site affiliated with NPR would make that kind of typo.)  So I think it’s supposed to read “Fuck It”.  Like the opposite of “Don’t Fuck It”?  I don’t know, I’m not a journalist.

Anyway, people seem to be listing things that they will never do.  Lots of people will never run a marathon.  Lots of people will never turn off their Caps Lock key.  Lots of people will never use spell check.

There’s got to be a drinking game in here, right?  Take a drink for everything you might someday consider doing?  For example, Ursula from comment #16 “will NOT dive into the bottle as a means of escape!”  I’ll probably do that someday, so I’d take a drink.

Swirly in comment #45  will never “SLEEP ON A COUCH”.  What the hell is wrong with you, Swirly?  Sleeping on couches is the shit.  Sometimes, I drive through alleys looking for couches just so I can take a nap outside.  And then I dive into the bottle as a means of escape.

subWOW in comment #52 will never RUN.  You’ll RUN if I’m chasing you with a knife because you’re trying to bogart my napping couch, subWOW.  Oh yes you will.

Here’s my F*ck It List of things I will never do:

1. Punch a lion in the face.
2. Make out with Mayor McCheese.
3. Pull a locomotive engine with my teeth.
4. Wear overalls.
5. Learn from my mistakes.

If you’d do any of these things, go ahead & drink.  If you’re right now in the boxing ring with a lion, or if you’ve got Mayor McCheese’s tongue in your mouth, go ahead & finish the bottle.  I think you’ve earned it.

I’ve been fumbling along with a PC for about a year & a half now, and for what I needed at the time, it was just fine.  I had my Notepad ++ text editor & GiMP for working with images, but if I needed to use anything more advanced than that, oh hell no.  There have been tears, curse words, threats of violence, and victories that were too few & too far between.

I’m looking at you Cigwyn.  I’m still mad at you, asshole.

So at this point in my nerd career, it’s time to get the right tool.  I need something where development tools run naively.  And I need something I can carry without breaking my back.

So I got a MacBookPro.  And it’s really pretty, and I’m a little intimidated by it.  It’s more computer than I’ve ever owned, and I feel like kind of a fraud.  Am I really a person who needs something so ‘vroom vroom’?

I did manage to knit it a sweater, because that I know I’m competent at.  And I named it Flapjacks.  I don’t really even like pancakes all that much.

I love the feeling of a newly changed password becoming second nature to your muscle memory.  I’m sure the ghosts my blue-collar ancestors, who actually worked with their hands, are staring over my shoulder & wondering how we got to be so soft.  It’s a first-world life I lead.

Here’s Nick Cave’s version of Stagger Lee, with a video shot by a student film maker.  It’s a darker, heavier version of the song.  It’s the soundtrack to tears in a glass of whiskey & regrets that won’t leave you alone, rather than a lighthearted coming of age beach trip for high school girls.  There’s a time & a place for both of course.

And courtesy of my friend Keith, here’s a version from a band called Modern Life is War. So this version is definitely not my style.  I can’t get into the growling vocals.

Neil Diamond also covered this song.  It’s remarkable for just how straight it is.  I don’t think Neil Diamond could sing behind the beat if his life depended on it.  I’d love to see what would happen if the audience at the Wilson Pickett show got to see Neil Diamond perform this instead.  Riots.

There is also a saxophone solo.

Let’s check in with Ike & Tina Turner & see what they have to say about all this.

In the previous versions, Stagger Lee loses his “brand new Stetson hat” to Billy.  Ike & Tina have him losing his “brand new Cadillac.”  They play higher stakes dice in Ike & Tina’s world.

But who’s right?  I feel like Lyle Lovett would be the perfect person to adjudicate this, but he has yet to weigh in, so we’ll get another white person’s perspective, courtesy of Huey Lewis & the News.

And now, don’t you all want to listen to Power of Love?  Because that song is awesome.

The song “Stagger Lee”.  If you’re a lady my age, you probably first heard it in the movie “Shag”.  Remember how much you loved that movie?  I wish I could dance like Pudge.  And how happy were you that Carson ended up with Buzz?  It was like Sex & the City for teenaged girls.  Think about it: you have the socialite, the slutty one, the uptight Senator’s daughter, and the girl who’s prettier than everyone thinks she is.

Anyway, the version of Stagger Lee used in the movie is the bowdlerized version, which was recorded at Dick Clark’s request.  Apparently, fighting over a woman is better than murdering a man because of a dice game.  Whatever Dick Clark. Lloyd Price had a #1 hit with the original.

And here’s Wilson Pickett, making it a Wilson Pickett song.  Can’t you just imagine him busting into the chorus of Land of 1000 Dances?

So today, I unmolded the soap brick.  It looks & smells almost completely unlike strawberries.  But it’s soap, and it’ll wash the sin off you.

Here’s what Miss Universe makes me think about:

• I wonder about the roads I didn’t take. Because I went to college & got a job & rely on my brains to get me through life.
• Brett Michaels looks like he’s lip syncing the words on the teleprompter.
• I wonder if Axl Rose looks at what Brett Michaels has made of himself & asks “who not me?”
• This is the 59th Miss Universe.
• Holy fuck, the judges are a Who’s Who of Who Used to be Somebody: William Baldwin, Chynna Phillips, Criss Angel!
• Criss Angel! They called him “provocative,” which I guess in the Miss Universe universe, he is.
• Brett Michaels is so bad at this it’s kind of not funny any more.
• It’s nice that they’re taking the ladies on a tour of Las Vegas, since so many of them will probably end up working there in the professional sex industry.
• They have choreographed dance moves.  “Dance.”  They’re “dancing”.
• All of these ladies look like they do the same ab workout I do!
• Miss Universe is telling us about what’s hot & trendy is Vegas.  I will never ever go to any of those places.
• I wish someone would throw an elbow.
• Miss Albania’s interests are Astrology & Yoga.  She’s my new BFF.

Mostly, I’ve learned that I can’t take more than an hour of this. Ladies, you’re all winners!

A while back, I started making soap.  Because soap is expensive & hard to find in stores, right?  I do cold process soap making, as opposed to melt & pour.  Melt & pour is basically where you buy a brick of pre-made soap, melt it & pour it into a mold.  You can add color & fragrance.  It all looks real pretty.

Fuck that.  Give me the caustic chemicals.  If I’m not in danger of horribly maiming myself, I’m not interested.  I now have over 10 pounds of lye in my apartment.  If I ever try to buy pseudoephedrine, they’re gonna drop a cage on me.

This weekend I decided to make use of those strawberries that were going bad in my fridge.  How delicious does strawberry puree soap sound?  Out comes the hand blender, *vroom vroom*, strawberry puree!  Add a little distilled water to thin it out, and you’re good to go! At this point, it’s such a lovely, happy color.  It’s something you’d consider pouring on ice cream, or perhaps pancakes.

Then added the lye solution, and it changed.

It’s kind of obligatory to make a Fight Club reference when working with lye, but this picture shows why you don’t fuck around with it.  It’s the same puree, after adding the lye.  You can’t see it in the photo, but it’s smoking.  That’s a chemical reaction, people.  SCIENCE!

I buy more plain white vinegar than anyone else I know.

I’ve made soap with goat’s milk before, so I know that your liquid gets scalded.  The lesson I need to remember is to be patient & add the lye slowly.  But last night I was impatient, and the result was the nastiest looking excuse for strawberry puree I’ve ever seen.  And because I didn’t want to burn the inside of my lungs, I didn’t try to smell it.  I plowed ahead.

The oils were added, the mixture was stirred & then poured into a wooden box to sit all night & do its thing.  I’ll unwrap it tonight & see how it turned out.  It won’t be bright pink like I was hoping, but maybe it’ll smell nice.  I’d settle for that.

If you’re going to pick a fight, make sure it’s with a group of people who lack the muscle tone to inflict any real injury.  This, combined with a disproportionate sense of importance, make Brooklyn & Chicago hipsters an excellent target.

So bravo to you, Allyson, for sparking an outrage that’s filling the void now that Pitchfork & Lollapalooza are over.