Thursday, November 29, 2012

Week Thirty: iPod Picks - Stone Temple Pilots - "Trippin' on a Hole in a Paper Heart" - Tiny Music...Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop

For Week Thirty, I'm turning my iPod loose (in the form of putting it on shuffle) and letting it do the picking... so the seven songs for this week were chosen by my trusty little iPod who is now holding close to 5000 of my favorite songs and who is slowly but surely dying battery-wise; however, I am too attached to do an upgrade just yet...



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Back in 1996, when this song was released, I left “the deli” and began waiting tables at Applebee's. Applebee's had a subscription to some kind of satellite radio, and during the weekdays, the music was very mellow and family-friendly. However, on the weekends, especially during the evening shifts, which were the primary shifts that I worked, the managers and/or bartenders would try to “rock out”.

I despised almost everything about waiting tables - but it could have just been Applebee's!! It was a wonderful method for making money to help put myself through college - (I once got an $87 tip on a $13 food tab), but people are slobbishly disgusting when it comes to dining behaviors.

Really, the only thing that helped me make it through my weekend shifts, especially those crowds that flocked through the doors for ½ price appetizers, was the rocking tunes, like this STP song!

This song just got me so pumped, and even if I was bombarded by tables of trashy, low-class, minimal-tipping, ½ price appetizer-eating cretins, from 10 pm until midnight, the thought of them getting fat as a result of gorging themselves on baskets of buffalo wings and mugs of cheap beer was vindication enough!



Don't cut out my paper heart, I ain't dyin' anyway 
Take a look at eye full towers
Never trust them dirty liars 
Sippin' lemon yellow booze 'ole' leadbelly sings the blues
All dressed up on wedding day keep on trippin' anyway

I am I am I said I'm not myself, but I'm not dead and I'm not for sale
So keep your bankroll lottery eat your salad day deathbed motorcade

Fake the heat and scratch the itch
Skinned up knees and salty lips
I'll breathe your life vicks vapor life
And when you binge I purge alike
Let go it's harder holding on
One more trip and I'll be gone
So keep your head up
Keep it on, just a whisper I'll be gone
Take a breath and make it big
It's the last you'll ever get 
Break your neck with diamond noose
It's the last you'll ever choose

I am I am I said I'm not myself, but I'm not dead and I'm not for sale
Hold me closer, closer let me go let me be just let me be

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