Sunday, March 26, 2006

Blog Stuff: Isn't it ironic...

...that I was maybe the only woman in America going through messy break-up type stuff in 1995 who didn't buy a copy of Jagged Little Pill? Well, technically that's not in itself "ironic", but neither is a "black fly in your chardonnay". The latter is gross, maybe, but not ironic. Use some of those royalties to buy a dictionary, Alanis. Anyhow, I picked up the Alanis Morissette CD as well as Love And Rockets' eponymous '89 album at McKay's on Friday afternoon (so now I can lay my worn-out Love And Rockets cassette to rest.)

Driving home and singing along reminded me of one of the great "Don't Try This At Home, Kids" experiences of my misspent youth...

It was a Friday. The company I was working for was shutting down its Atlanta customer service department, which meant that all of us would be out of work or transferring to corporate HQ in Frozen Butt, Minnesota come Monday, so we did the only thing to do in such circumstances: We went out and drank on the company dime. It was fun but poignant, like the last day of summer camp, with many tearful promises of keeping in touch forever being exchanged. I also seem to recall a lot of vodka being involved. One of my co-workers, who we'll call Don, brought his girlfriend, and she and I hit it off well. As the party broke up, the decision was made that Don would drive my jalopy home for me, while us girls would continue our conversation in her car, a Porsche. (I had just sold my 924S, which was how our conversation had started.) The rendezvous was set for my apartment down in Virginia Highlands, a tony in-town neighborhood consisting of a rat's warren of little residential streets.

We barrelled out of the parking lot and on to the interstate and, as she fiddled with the CD player, she said "Feel around on the floor behind my seat; there should be a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses." I attempted to gracefully pour two glasses of Merlot as she aimed the car south and we rocketed into the Georgia night. So there we were, sunroof open in January, 130 MPH southbound on the Downtown Connector through ATL in a bucks-up Boche roller skate, sipping vino and belting out the lyrics to You Oughta Know at the top of our lungs. (Remember how empowering it was to sing out the "F-word" with Alanis, all loud and proud? ;) )

When we got to my apartment, the wheels began to come off. She didn't have her cell phone with her. Meanwhile, Don couldn't find my crib, and so was frantically dialing my home number on his cellie. Except the door key to my apartment was dangling from the steering column of the car he was driving, so all she and I could do was listen to the phone in my apartment ring with our faces pressed to the outside of the living room window. There was a half-hearted break-in attempt through said window, but neither of us was dressed for, or athletic enough, to get boosted far enough up the brick wall to leverage our way in. That, and neither of us had a screwdriver handy. Then the bottle of wine we'd been swilling from began to have its effect and, locked out of the house, we had to... well, there were bushes around the building, okay? At least one could keep watch for the neighbors while the other answered Gaia's call. Then I put one brand-new heel into a pile left by the neighbor's illicit hound...

What had started as a harmless episode of Cheers was rapidly devolving into Fear And Loathing In Atlanta. Gradually realizing that Don would never find the place, we piled our frostbitten selves back into her car and set off more circumspectly across town to his house (coincidentally right down the street from the on-again-off-again beau who was letting me sing along so enthusiastically with Alanis...) It was the kind of bonding evening that only comes from adversity, much like the one experienced by the Donner Party, but we did get to Don's place in one piece and without any detours through the Atlanta city jail (for which I am eternally grateful.)

I would warn anybody against such insane behavior, and would never pull such a damfool stunt again as long as I live.

But I wouldn't have missed that one for the world, and I remember it every time I hear that CD. You Oughta Know better, indeed. ;)


Anonymous said...

From Wikipedia, so I'm not sure if it's true:

Alanis Morissette once said herself that the biggest irony of "Ironic" is that there is no irony in the lyrics: "The irony of 'Ironic' is that it's not an ironic song at all."

Anonymous said...

You love Love and Rockets as well? Boomsticks and Love and Rockets. Damn, what a combo!

Tam said...

"Alanis Morissette once said herself that the biggest irony of "Ironic" is that there is no irony in the lyrics: "The irony of 'Ironic' is that it's not an ironic song at all.""

Yeah, that's probably what I'd say if caught red-handed, too. ;)

phlegmfatale said...

Thinking of your private future
You snatched at the trees
In the starry dark green sleep
Thinking of your private future
You think at the river and set it flowing
A late fog's lifting a fast wind's rising
So you turn to reflect on your brief life
Session slip

One of my favorite albums EVER. I bought it on vinyl (pre-ordered it) and was waiting at the door of the shop the day the record was released. Love and Rockets - it's a gorgeous album.

Kevin said...

It's amazing how young people are immortal...

...until they aren't anymore.

How did any of us survive?

(Good story, BTW!)