Archives For Geddy Lee

Like many of you, I sing along when I’m listening to music.  It’s not pretty, but I do it anyway.

There are a lot of singers I can’t keep up with—their voices are either too high or too low for me.  Usually I get around it by going down or up an octave.  Or if I’m feeling fancy, I’ll harmonize.  But sometimes I feel stupidly ambitious and try to hit the actual notes.  The other day I tried to match Pat Benatar.  That was a mistake.  I sounded like I had my ovaries caught in a vise.

I don’t fare any better when I try to match someone with a really deep voice—Elvis Costello at his deepest, for instance.  I sound possessed, and it makes my vocal chords itch.

But there are some singers with vocal ranges that I can almost always match perfectly.  I call them Goldilocks Singers:  Not too high, not too low.  Juuuuust right.  For a chick, I have a relatively low-pitched voice; I’d most likely be a contralto if I were a legitimate singer (I have no problem singing comfortably well below middle C).  And for whatever reason, I find that I sing along best with Michael Hutchence from INXS (RIP, sir).  Most of my Goldilocks Singers are men but there are women on the list as well.  Sadly, the vast majority of my favorites aren’t Goldilocks (Geddy, honey, I’m so sorry but you often sing too high for me).

Here’s a partial list of my Goldilocks Singers:

Michael Hutchence
Billie Joe Armstrong, Green Day
Peter Murphy (except when he hits those basement-level notes)
Elvis Costello (ditto)
Billy Joel
Richard Butler, Psychedelic Furs
Dave Gahan, Depeche Mode
Shirley Manson, Garbage
Fiona Apple
Chrissie Hynde
Stevie Nicks

Okay, I’ve showed you mine.  Now you show me yours.

I’ve got to switch things up around here.  My recent posts have been sentimental and/or introspective and frankly, I’m starting to annoy myself.  It’s time to break away from all that thoughtful shit and bust out a new batch of search terms.  For a refresher on the other mind-boggling search terms that bring people to my blog, please click here and here.

First, the newest members of my I Hate Alex Trebek club:
why is alex trebek such an insufferable prick
why does alex trebek think he’s hot shit
i fucking hate trebek
alex trebek isn’t a nice guy

I wish I didn’t like Jeopardy! as a game because I have such a hard time watching it with that smug bastard hosting.  I yell at the television at least once per episode, usually more:  “Fuck you, you little douche!”  “Shut up!  Stop talking!”  “Ass!”

What is WITH these people??
weebles boobs
weebles rack
weeble porn
weeble butt plug

Based on the disturbing popularity of these sorts of terms, I’m going to create a new literature genre: Weeblerotica.  There’s obviously an unmet need here.  A very twisted, baffling, unmet need.

Not quite the right URL, sorry:

If only I had thought of either of these for the name of my blog.  I could have been Madame Boobs.  Both of these domains are available, by the way.  I checked.

Some pressing questions that require answers:
can cats carry demons
Yes, but only if the demons are very small.   Cats can’t handle a big saddle.  Also, cats are pretty lazy.

what do i do i’m scared of weebles

Did they not read the title of this blog?  FEAR NO WEEBLES.

can i touch up my hair and raid it the same day

I suppose so, if you have a lot of bugs in your hair and you don’t mind that bug spray smell.  But you know, you may have more important concerns than your hair.  Just saying.

i wore pantyhose for halloween, now i can’t stop
I find this one particularly curious.  Is this person now addicted to pantyhose?  How does this happen?  What was their Halloween costume, anyway?

you see another brother in christ and you get nauseous
Whoa, is that any way to talk about a brother in Christ?  Let he who is without nausea-inducing qualities cast the first stone, dude.

Um, what?
prepare to fuck a new woman every day … but first read through our policies below

What the hell kind of organization is this?  I’m going to need to see these policies of theirs.  And is there a division for those who might wish to fuck a new man every day?

Variations on Fuck You:
fuck you american style
i fuck people like you in prison

Yes, well.  “American style” could mean so many things…  And although I’ve never been to prison, I watched Oz, so I know what’s up.  But if someone says, “I fuck people like you in prison,” does it mean that you’re a tasty piece or does it mean that you’re an obnoxious jerk who needs to become someone’s bitch?  It could go either way.

So many weevils, so many idiots:
how to make sure weebles aren’t in your food
what happens when you swallow a weeble
what to do if spaghetti has weebles in it

You mean like this? I usually just pick them out and lick off the sauce. It’s really no biggie.

If I had a dime for each search term where they obviously mean weevils and not Weebles, I’d be writing this post from my yacht on the Riviera.

My personal favorite:
geddy lee madame weebles in bed

Geddy, is that you????  Don’t be shy, baby.  Email me.

More search terms that would make great band names:
picturesque vagina
barricading the cheese
big pubes little dick
pantyhose ascendant
precocious tits
subway penis
dead marshmallow

But first, Happy Pearl Harbor Day!  I might have forgotten were it not for Sandylikeabeach, who observed that yesterday was Pearl Harbor Day Eve.  So thanks, Sandy!  Yes, it was 71 years ago today that the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and facilitated America’s entry into WWII.  It wasn’t a good day.  Nor were the 828 days of war before December 7th, nor were the 1,347 days after it.  War sucks.

And this is a good segue to the subject of today’s post:  my Christmas list.  I would like world peace, but that seems to be a pretty tall order.  Santa’s good, but he’s not a miracle worker.  I’ll have to be more realistic.  Here’s what I’ve got so far:

  • A Tesla death ray to eradicate the idiot tourists in Manhattan.  I will not rest until New York is free of loud, intelligence-free, giant map-wielding visitors who have not mastered the art of walking in a straight line.  They’re a plague.  Like locusts, except dumber.  I’d almost rather deal with the aliens from Cloverfield than maneuver around some dipstick trying to take a photo of the tree at Rockefeller Center without any people in the way.
  • The ability to summon a perfect cup of coffee from the ether by clapping my hands.  I realize this could pose a problem when I’m at an event where applause is involved.  But I’m willing to take that risk.
  • A magic middle finger.  You have now seen a photo of me flipping the bird—it comes quite naturally to me.  I want to be able to give the finger to people and things and have them automatically behave themselves.  How cool would that be?  Next time I encounter a douchebag yattering away on his cell phone, I can just strike the pose and he’ll magically shut the fuck up.  Car alarm wailing in the middle of the night?  No problem—I’ll just stick my middle finger out the window and presto: sweet silence.  Nasty bitch giving me attitude?  I’ll flip her off and she’ll feel compelled to apologize.  As a bonus, she’ll spontaneously gain ten pounds.
  • A calorie vaporizer.  We’ve sent probes to Mars and the far reaches of the solar system.  The Hubble telescope has revealed images of galaxies billions of light years away.  We have programs that allow me to hold my phone up to the speakers to identify a song I don’t know.  If we can do cool stuff like that, then surely we can invent something that will zap the calories in a piece of chocolate cake while leaving the cake intact.  What the fuck is all this technology for, if not to better our lives??
  • This guy.  I know what you’re saying.  You’re saying, “Madame Weebles, Robert Cornelius has been dead for 119 years.”  That’s true.  However, if we can build Tesla death rays, vaporize calories, neutralize idiots with our middle fingers, and conjure coffee out of thin air, then I can’t see why bringing someone back from the dead should be a big deal.  But listen, I don’t want to be unreasonable.  Santa Claus has enough on his plate. If it’s too difficult to get Robert Cornelius, I’d be overjoyed to receive this guy as a gift instead.

Now I need to know what to get for all you guys. Kindly tell me what’s on your list and I’ll go shopping this weekend.

I just can’t quit you

Madame Weebles —  September 11, 2012 — 169 Comments

Well, that ended up being a much shorter blogging break than I anticipated.  It’s your fault, you know.  That’s why I’m going all Brokeback Mountain on your asses.

I did!  I missed you all very much.  (Except maybe you.  And you there—get your hand out of your pants and zip up.)

Thank you all so much for your wonderful, touching comments, and big hugs to everyone who sent personal emails.  And an extra batch of big hugs to Cathy, for the stunningly revitalizing reiki session.  Also, a huge vat of buttered noodles to Brother Jon for the shoutout on Sunday.  I’ll say it again: You guys are awesome.  Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.  I’ve been deeply humbled by the outpouring of kindness from everyone.

It got me thinking . . . why should I deprive myself of the joy of your company?  As long as I make sure to take time for all the other things I want and need to do, there’s no reason I can’t blog too.  Everything in moderation, that’s all.

I’ve been ridiculously, almost comically productive over the past week.  The momentum is powering my mojo again.  A lot faster than I expected.  I feel great.

And I got a pedicure—the first one I’ve had in well over a year.  I chose a rich, dark red polish color called “Head Mistress.”

So I’m back.  Get ready for Madame Weebles 2.0.

I’ve got nothing meaningful to say today.  Plenty of stuff flying through my brain but none of it very profound.  It’s Sunday, and any deep thoughts I may have are out having a martini brunch.  So here’s all I got today:

The Funky Scale
I’m pissed that I forgot to add Kingsley Shacklebolt to my original Scale of Funky. Mr. Weebles and I were watching one of the Harry Potter movies when we realized that we should have put him on the list. Because Kingsley is definitely funky. He has a funky name and a funky look. And he’s a wizard. You just know he’s got to be one of the funkiest wizards at the Ministry of Magic, if not the funkiest.

My goal is to have one of each of the original Weebles made during the 1970s. My collection is almost complete—I’m missing only about 6 of them. The inventor of Weebles, Ned Strongin, died just over a year ago at the age of 91. I have no idea how long it took him to perfect the Weeble, but I wonder what the protoypes looked like.  I’m thinking they looked something like this:

I can see why they probably wouldn’t have tested well in market research.

Also, I really want to make a Steampunk Weeble. But you’d be surprised at how difficult it is to find really tiny goggles.

The Weeblettes
These are the Weeblettes. Quite the little Rogues Gallery, aren’t they? They’re all girls, they’re all rescues, and they’re all wonderful. Adopt shelter pets!!

I like to cross-stitch.  It gives me else something to do while I’m just sitting around watching television.  But I lose interest pretty quickly, so I keep switching between patterns.  Right now I have 3 or 4 unfinished cross-stitch patterns.  I’ll complete them eventually.  The first cross-stitch piece I ever did is this one, which is now proudly displayed in my office:

I need to buy a doily to put under it so I can make it look extra dainty.

The New York Yankees

Like all arrogant Yankee fans, I expect my boys to go 162-0.  Right now they have a disappointing 28-24 record.  Meh.  Fortunately, the season isn’t even half over yet they’re still ahead of the Red Sox.

Geddy Lee
Every few weeks or so I have dreams about him. I had another one last night. I’m not sure why or how these dreams started. Although I’ve always liked Rush, Geddy didn’t do it for me when he was younger. But apparently he does it for me now, big time. I just hadn’t realized it during my waking hours. Maybe the Universe wanted to make sure I was aware of how much he rocks. And I have to say I think he looks pretty smokin’ hot in this photo.