Deciphering Taylor Swift’s Lyrics…

…everyone’s favorite parlor game.

No one is immune to the grandeur that is Taylor Swift.  NO ONE.  I tried avoiding her for years because:

  1. I’m a grown-up
  2. I’m a grown-up
  3. I’m a grown-up
  4. I don’t particularly care for that sort of watered down country pop (if I must listen to country music, it had better be OG country music)
  5. The last time I had a crush on a boy was, like (twirls hair and snaps bubble gum), 198x, k.?.

Now, I find myself all giggly and screamy whenever I see Taylor for she is positively fabbo.  I mean, the woman carries around her fucking Scottish Folds (note:  I’m hipster crazy cat lady and knew the breed before any of you!) and those cats actually don’t freak out in public.  She’s either the cat whisperer, a witch or heavily sedates them with kitty ludes.  Oh, and her wardrobe:  uh…ah-may-zing.  I would sacrifice all my future trips to Starbucks for one just one of her purses or a day shopping with her.  And don’t even get me started on her fan-lovin’:  total heart of gold.  Clearly the woman has descended from the heavens above.  She must be the Messiah or Second Coming of Christ (or Christina, if you prefer).

How did I get into the bliss that is Tay-Tay?  Easy.  I have a kid and when you have kids of a certain age, you need to be exceptionally cautious about song lyrics (teachers of your kids, otoh…).  With my lexicon, it should be pretty apparent that I give zero fucks if/when Milky starts rifling off profanities.  I’d much rather him not do it at school or in front of other kids because other parents can be less than appreciative of playmates who use the word “cunt” as often as the word “please.”  Wait.  My kid has to be reminded to say “please.”  Let’s use “now” instead.

Back to the topic at hand – deciphering her song lyrics.  It’s my understanding that many a fangurl will sit down with their secret decoder rings and ponder for days over which ex-suitor Ms. Swift is singing about.  I’m considerably out of touch but the shit the kids read these days have these articles which take a deeper dive (oh fuck you, corporate speak!  Get the fuck out of my private time!) explore this in great detail.  Well, I wanna play that game now, too!  It’s a little known secret that adults like to have fun now and then, just like teachers have sex and drink booze (source:  every teacher everywhere).

Shake it Off was released right around the time The Sprog started kindergarten.  He changed schools and it was a bumpy road in the beginning so I started playing this song for him each day, encouraging him to physically (totes adorable, double-oh-em-geeeeeee) and emotionally shake off the troubles of the day.  I’m not going to say that I don’t understand the lyrics because my IQ is considerably high (for realsies, stepfather was working on one of his eighty billion continuing ed degrees and I took like a trillion IQ tests and I’m supposed to be like this super genius or something) but the whole “And to the fella over there with the hella good hair…” did pique my curiosity.  Isn’t “hella good hair” subjective?  Great googly moogly, Chris Rock did a whole documentary on good hair (Good Hair and I totes recommend).  This shit is deep, yo.

Then, this morning, as I’m scrolling through my Facebook feed (before the two cups of coffee it takes for my brain to begin functioning), I spy, with a blurry eye, a video featuring The Try Guys which was posted by the lovely Kitten.  Oh?  The Try Guys are going to get nice and naked and I get to see this before 08.00?  Okidokiloki!  Then, I saw it.  Like the proverbial beacon in the night, I saw it:  the fella over there with the hella good (hipster) hair.  Eugene.  The mind boggled.  If I had any artistic abilities what-so-ever, I would doodle a picture of my head with springs flying out of it, eyeballs dangling and tongue hanging from the corner of my mouth.  Alas, I don’t so you’ll just have to imagine that bit yourself.

I’m on coffee number two so I’m still a bit drowsy but not so drowsy that Eugene did not pop my cork, pet my monkey, float my boat or trip my trigger.  Ha!  I’m awake NOW.  I’m awake and thinking of Eugene, pizza and inappropriate things to do with Eugene and pizza.  If all y’all thought the teacher was shaking in his normcore sneakers, adorable Eugene should be in full panic mode for I am wildly inappropriate when good hair and pizza are in the mix.

Monday is starting off as a quadruple win:

  1. I finally get to play “What’s Taylor Really Saying?”
  2. I played “What’s Taylor Really Saying” and won!  ZOMGWTFBBQROFLCOPTERZ!!!111!
  3. Kitten introduced me to the glory of Eugene, whom I shall cover in glorious pizza whenever he asks provided I get to muss his hair with my tentacles of doom.
  4. Partial nudity.

This only means one thing:  it can only go downhill from here.

Here are some interesting facts about the number 37…

…in honor of it being my 37th birthday. 🙂

“It is a prime number, the fifth lucky prime, the first irregular prime, the third unique prime and the third cuban prime of the form.”

Now, I know what a prime number is but I have no idea what the rest of that stuff is. I’m especially curious about the “cuban prime” and find myself wondering if it’s Numero Uno de Cuba, Fidel Castro?

Probably not.

“It’s the normal human body temperature in degrees Celsius.”

Very useful information, indeed.

“New General Catalog (NGC 37) is a lenticular galaxy located in the Phoenix constellation. It is approximately 42 kiloparsecs (137,000 light-years) in diameter and about 12.9 billion years old.

Here’s a picture of it:

Here’s a closeup of something really far away














37 is also:

“The number of plays William Shakespeare is thought to have written (counting Henry IV as three parts).”

“The [former] international dialing code of the German Democratic Republic (aka East Germany)”

“Kevin Smith’s Clerks’ Dante Hicks’ girlfriend Veronica’s number of former boyfriends with whom she performed fellatio.”

(Thanks, Wikipedia)


Are you stepping on eggshells?
Saying what is expected?
Avoiding waves and swells,
Politically corrected?
Are you afraid that it’s crude,
To put a nose out of joint?
Feel like you’re being rude,
Trying to make your own point?
Don’t worry so much,
Just learn to speak free,
Don’t use “nice” as a crutch,
We’re not supposed to agree,
We’re supposed to be true,
Express ourselves clearly,
Just speak for you,
Hang onto that dearly,
Step on a few toes,
Every fence can be mended,
And no one’s died as that goes,
From just being offended,
So let down your charade,
Stop your resisting,
I’m sure panties were made
To stand knotting and twisting.


I’m not trying to be rude,
But you can see that I’m playing Wordfeud,
Keep on talking if you choose,
But my listening is just a ruse,
I don’t care, I must confess,
Whether or not your life’s a mess,
Don’t care what kind of shape you’re in,
I’m focused on this game to win,
I’ll listen to you – rest assured,
Just as soon as I find this word,
Till then I don’t care what you say,
I play to live and live to play!

Nerd Wear 101: The Pocket Protector

Ladies and gentlemen, I have reached utter nerddom!  No doubt distinguished scholars, nerds, geeks, engineers, scientists, and plain lunatics would agree that a gentleman or lady’s wardrobe would be incomplete without a pocket protector.  Behold this little gem that I picked up at  Made in the USA from clear and/or white vinyl, the pocket protector will not only make you look handsomely stylish, but also protect your pocket from leaky pens and pointy pencils.  There are several versions to choose from, including the Stealth version, the entirely clear Invisible version, and the Badge Holder version that I chose.  Ordering was a breeze, the price reasonable, and I received mine two days after ordering.

Beware: with a pocket protector you will be the envy of everyone at the plant, office, lab or asylum; and a saucy minx might also try to take advantage of you and steal your treasured possession.   

God hates Sweden and vice versa

We all know that God hates Sweden because the Westboro Baptist Church told us so.  But did you know that the reverse is also true: Swedes hate God(s)?  Or at least the liberal-fascist-socialist-communist-god-hating editors at Bonnier book publishing do.  How do I know?  I present to you the book by Elizabeth Gilbert called “Eat, Pray, Love.”  Now this book was so popular they made it into a movie starring Julia Roberts.  As we know when something becomes outrageously popular, like Harry Potter, it’s translated into a million different languages.  Sometimes translations fail, and sometimes they fail because of god(s)-hating atheists and their evil liberal agenda.

Lyckan, Karleken och Meningen med Livet (Swedish Edition)So the original title of the book is Eat, Pray Love.  But the evildoers changed that to Lyckankärleken och meningen med livet.  Which re-translated into English means, “Luck, Love, and the Meaning of Life.”  Terrible, terrible, terrible.  There’s no PRAY in there, not even any reference to EATing!  So not only do Swedes hate deities, they hate eating as well.  Of course being liberals they love the loving, so they left that part in.  As for the meaning of life, who knows?

The Land Of Stuff

I’ve landed in The Land of Stuff,
Where no one feels they have enough,
Where every message from every store,
Consists of more and more and more,
Now “Jumbo” and “Mega” just convey,
The normal size of every day,
“Bigger” and “Better” both implored,
To keep the economy moving forward,
Disturbing, cuz sure as the world is round,
What goes up,
Must one day come down.

…raining on your morality parade

It’s a watershed moment in America.  A woman who was suspected of murdering her daughter, dumping her in a field and living the high life for 31 days before notifying authorities (excuse:  missing child) was rendered not guilty by a jury of her peers.  The peanut gallery gasps in horror at this miscarriage of justice for the slain toddler.  News, being news in the United States, can only focus on one story per day and this is it.

The jury is a collection of fools.  The prosecution was robbed.  The toddler’s memory was tarnished.  The peanuts take to the street, marching in lock-step tooting their horns and waving the “It’s unfair” flag while singing songs about the terrible, murdering mother.  All while overlooking some significant facts:

  • It is the responsibility of the prosecution to prove guilt.  Clearly, from the jury’s perspective, it did not.
  • Children are abused on a daily basis.

I understand the concept of cause célèbre.  We all have our pets we choose to support.  But let me ask the peanuts in the parade some critical questions:

  • Where is your outrage when it comes to other children being abused, beaten and slain?
  • Are you fully aware of the broad reach of child abuse?
  • Aside from Twattering and Fecesbooking, what are you doing about it?

Now…I’m certainly not denying the right to one’s opinion.  What I am trying to do is offer a different side to the tale.  It’s very easy to lash out at a monster who would harm his/her child when it’s the dominating story in the daily news.  It’s very easy to express outrage. That said, if you’re so horrified by child abuse, what are you doing in your community to stop it?

No one is omnipotent.  Dollars to donuts, abuse goes on behind closed doors and the general public is never even aware of it transpiring. That does not change the fact that it does happen.  A parent doesn’t have to murder a child to be a monster.  A parent doesn’t have to get caught to be guilty of this crime.

The sad fact of the matter is that a variation of Casey Anthony lives on every block in every neighborhood in every state/country. The sad fact of the matter is that most of us are blind to it.  Rather than taking the easy way out and joining groups supporting the non-purchase of any tell-all book, why not get involved in your communities and schools and help a child in need?  Surely that is a far better investment of time and energy, yes?


I’m jealous of Blondinbella.  She’s so pretty, smart, and successful.  She has her own business, book, magazine, and boyfriend.  Her blog is one of Sweden’s most popular websites.  Somehow, despite all this success, she appears to have it all together and dress fabulous.  I think she is probably a genuinely nice young woman, and a positive one at that.  Not like that Kissies chick who is about as self-absorbed and narcissistic as a Jay Gatsby .

I sometimes wonder how I would have turned out had my parents not packed us up and moved to America.  What would have happened had I stayed in Sweden?  Would I have become a liberal, progressive, bon vivant Swede, or a down-to-earth Nils Holgersson?  One thing is for certain, I would not have been the male equivalent of Blondinbella because I was too late for the social media revolution.

Anyhow, reading Blondinbella’s blog is my delicious vice.  Whenever I’m feeling down I read about her fantastic life and I feel much better about myself and life in general.  It also helps keep my Swedish current.  Until next time…