I just wanted to re-post this post as a illustration of how this blog affects me in strange and silly ways. About two years ago Terry Nunn (former lead singer to Berlin) was a guest of Richard Blade's on XM Radio's First Wave. I've mentioned several times how much I like Richard Blade's show on this blog. Terry Nunn, btw, dated Richard Blade back in the day. Anyway, Terry was playing her favorite songs from the 80's and played a song by a band that sounded like "plastic baton (as I heard her)." Though rather kitschy I liked the song. It was like a Euro New Wave/punk band crashed into Jan and Dean. I searched and searched for "plastic baton" but could never find them. Several months later I heard Richard Blade playing a band called Nouvelle Vague that sings 80's songs to a "Lounge" rhythm. Later that day I looked them up as I wanted to feature them as one of my daily songs on the blog. As I searched through their songs lo and behold I found a band called Plastic Bertrand and there was my song from Terry's show. See wasting time always produces good results!
Anyway I didn't completely use that song for this post but it did add some nice flavor on the back end to emphasize the ending to my story.
In fact I had really written this post several months before I published it. This was one of those stories I had longed to write. In writing this blog I often have more fun writing about the trials and tribulations of relationships than I do the successes. After all isn't the pursuit of excellence that makes us great. Actually I think it was Vince Lombardi that said in chasing perfection we catch excellence. Well excellence is not part of this story but this was a fun night and I wanted to write about it. It just took me some time to find when and where was the best place. This is also one of those instances where the girl's name really is Ann. How could I make up a name when this Gordon Lightfoot song fits so well. And I do love Gordo so....
Btw as I searched for plastic baton I found several illicit sites on how to make pipe bombs with plastique. I'm sure the FBI is after me now to break up the ring of the lame and tacky plastic pibe bomb blogger. Oh and check out all those links to Southern Culture on the Skids - dang I like the way they play a song!
from June 14th, 2012.......
Ryan's Retro Summer:
Past Adventure #3 - Ann (Ryan Tries on a Grunge Chick for Size)
First I have to say a word on the lyrics above from Gordon Lightfoot's song "Carefree Highway." I obviously like a lot of different types of music but if I was ever stranded on an island and could only pick one artist to listen to the rest my life (I don't know why I would be facing that dilema but let's just go with it) I would probably pick Gordo. Why does it fit here? Well I guess meeting Ann was in a fairly carefree time in my life. The lyrics go on to say "her name was Ann and I'll be damned if I recall her face; she left me not knowing what to do." Well I do remember her face and I think most women leave me knowing exactly what to do, RUN! :)
But then again I do want to live the life of one of those Gordon Lightfoot songs one day, running away with some hard-drinking Cannuck lass way back in the woods.
But her name is/was Ann and I love Gordon Lightfoot so there you go.
Actually it would be better to do something like this:
"the way you talk down to me sends a chill right down through me..."
Wait that would be more like Shannon and no this story is not about bondage and humiliation! But that lyric does come from the Southern Culture on the Skids song "White Trash" and SCOTS will be a central figure in our "Ann" story. Btw, if you ever get a chance to see SCOTS do it; damn they do an awesome version of "Rose Garden," and have a song about Banana Pudding!
So on to my Ann story:
"Her name was Ann and I'll be damned" that frat boys can create a great atmosphere for a "hook up."
Wait, that is an odd way to start?
I knew Ann and had talked to her several times. She was not very approachable and seemed perpetually in a bad mood. But my obtusity often serves me well so I would talk to her when others had been shooed away because I was simply too stupid to be insulted by her brooding and sarcastic nature! :)
And then it happened. Opportunity in the form of a drunk Frat guy came in for a landing. Yep this drunk guy walks outside with TKE sewed onto his chest, turns the corner, does an about-face, unzips his pants, pulls out his pecker, and starts pissing on the side of the building approximately 5 feet from where Ann and I stood. He follows up his rather lengthy and volumous piss with a very loud belch and then turns to Ann, smiles, and says "what are you looking at bitch" upon seeing her frown! Then Mr. TKE turned to go back into the bar leaving behind a very audible final salvo from his other end as he walked away!
Ann was visably disgussed and I could tell she could not get out of there fast enough.
And so the valliant Ryan says "hey Ann I think Southern Culture on the Skids is playing down at the *****; let's get outta here."
He shoots! He scores!
A slight and begrudging smile broke across Ann's face and she said "sure," biting her lip as if to hide the fact that she might actually want to go somewhere with me. We walked down the street to the ***** and that is where my brooding little grunge girl opened up. We danced, drank, sang, fell on top of each other yada yada. It was like a scene from a "brat pack" movie. Later we just walked around town in the cool early spring air. I took the bus home with her as I certainly wanted to make sure she got home safely (neither of us had driven and we had thankfully lost our rides).
Once at "her place" I was invited to crash on the couch for the night as I didn't live close by. I said yes and thanks knowing full well my intention was NOT to sleep on the couch!
Well, I didn't sleep on the couch but I didn't get layed either, that night. Plenty of kissing, etc. But I broke through the next weekend after a nice hike at one of my favorite spots, followed by a dinner at one of my favorite spots up in the mountains which both preceded a very satisfying night (and following morning) of multi-dimensional sex.
Ann was mine from there on. Well, at least for about 6 months until Bertrand that Commie Metrosexual Euro doctoral student tempted her with his Haiku or whatever the hell kind of weird writin' he was uh studying there at Big State U! I don't know what is so damn sexy about a French accent and cigarette breath but chics seem to dig those Euro dudes in those skinny black jeans and turned up collars!
Anyway, I had a lot of fun with Ann. I only have fond memories now. I guess that is what I get for going to a Bastille Day Party (but the food was awesome).
Actually as cute as she was, she was a bit tentative in bed so to speak. I know that sounds like sour grapes and it is. But I'm just sayin'. :)
I actually don't remember that Euro guy's name I just used that name as an excuse to upload this video of Plastic Bertrand - nothing like French New Wave/Punk set to beach music; kind of like the Beach Boys meets Valley Girl! Btw, France if you are out there please translate for me! I think this song is supposed to be about getting high. And how in the hell do I get from Canadian folk music to southern red neck to French new wave - I must be smokin' crack!