I can’t get Rilo Kiley’s, 15 out of my head. It’s very Jolene-ish. Which makes it super fun to sing. That’s pretty much my only requirement for a song. Is it fun to sing to? Can I sing it? Perfect.

When I listen to music I am hyper aware of whether or not my mom will approve of it. Unfortunately, I developed my musical tastes just as Tipper Gore decided rap was a blight on American culture and turned a whole generation of parents on to monitoring the lyrics their children listened to. For my 14th birthday I asked for 40 oz. to Freedom, having already confiscated Sublime, she didn’t even answer me. But one of my friends got it for me anyway. I won this battle, Mom. When she found it’s hiding spot and got rid of the cd with nary a mention of it, she won the war. Stealth work, Mom.

Around the same time I asked her to pick up the Reel Big Fish album for me on her way home from work. She agreed but came home empty handed. She explained that she checked the cd out and didn’t agree with the album artwork. No deal. She told me there was a girl chained up and she didn’t want that in her house. Years later I saw the offending artwork. I have to say, it wasn’t as offensive as she made it out to be. But I’ve never had a 14 year old daughter so I guess I don’t have room to talk. I see where she was coming from, I don’t like women being unnecessarily objectified anymore than I should. But goddamn was I pissed.

Ha ha. Once, we were cleaning the house and I put a mixed cd on. Goddamn those half Japanese girls! echoed off the tiled floors. She THREW the mop down with a loud clap, slammed the radio off and yelled, “What the hell? I taught you better than that!” I was startled by her use of hell. I tried to explain Rivers Cuomo’s persistent feeling of loneliness and unfortunate Asian fetish. I tried to convince her to listen to the rest of the song, “It’s a good thing, he LIKES the half Japanese girls! He thinks smart women are cool!” All my adolescent pseudo intellectualism couldn’t convince her. We cleaned in silence.

Every time I sing along to 15, I think about how offended my mom would be. 15 refers to the age of the girl the 25 year old man is having sex with. Of course, my favorite line is, Does your daddy have a shotgun? It’s not just the ridiculousness that I love, but the tune of it. She sings it like a lullaby. The whole song is totally fucked up but I maintain that it’s being facetious. No one is actually promoting statutory rape, are they? No, that would be terrible. But we can sing sarcastic songs about it and have a good time.

The Millionizer wonders why Mama Millz doesn’t really have a problem with drug references though

[tags]Rilo Kiley, Weezer, Reel Big Fish, El Scorcho[/tags]

I have a statistics test tomorrow afternoon and a chemistry test on Monday. I’m procrastinating naturally. School is kinda kicking my ass but I’m pushing back. We’ll see who wins this epic battle. I apply for UCSF this July and I have every expectation of being accepted.

The only remaining cousin I keep in contact with is moving to Austin, Tx. This is where I would say something about how she’s a redneck and she and her honky ass can have Texas, but Brittanie is from Tejas and she seems like an upstanding citizen. So I won’t make fun of Texas, at least not til I visit it and have the chance to judge it first hand.

Today was her going away party. Her dads (my uncle by marriage) gene pool is hardcore Swiss American real life rednecks. Like, oh my god there are several mounted animals in this home. You say you killed them yourself? All the way from Colorado huh? You. Made this jerky? That’s…intense. They are all Guns & Ammo and the Cabela’s catalogue. We differ on several levels, but they are my favorite. I never told any of them that I’m vegetarian except my aunt. These aren’t the people you want to be talking to about animal cruelty or the environmental impact of factory farming. These people could single-handedly support the meat industry if needed. I overlook this for the most part, to maintain civility and the only remaining extended family relationships I have. They are good people in every other respect, they support gay rights, they drink alcohol and will manage to make you feel welcomed no matter what.

Except my uncles brother and his wife. That wife is a fucking cunt. I have never once mentioned my vegetarianism to anyone. In fact, none of them even noticed it until my aunt warned me that there was meat in the beans. Mustache cunt started going on about how people need animal protein to live. I’m not going to let someone who looks like that tell me what my body needs. I don’t think you know what your body needs. And it doesn’t seem like eating rotting flesh is doing you any favors. But I stayed out of it and let her go on in her own ignorant bliss. I spoke to my aunt about work and school. Cunty McCuntcunt barges in with, “Oh you college kids have it made.” That was it. “Are you kidding me? I work full time and I’m taking 9 units.” Imagine that, you’re wrong about something and I’m calling you on it. She didn’t interrupt anymore.

As we were saying our goodbyes the cunts husband, Dickhole, knowing we live in Santa Cruz, blurts out, “Tell them to get out of the goddamn trees over there.” I’m thinking of the Berkeley tree sitters and because these people are dumb as all hell I remind them, “Berkeley and Santa Cruz are two completely different cities.” “No there’s one in Santa Cruz, been up there for 17 weeks now! I’m tired of hearing about that shit on the news.” TBU, better able to handle my own family, smiles and says, “I bet that bucket stinks then!” We leave.

Three things I wanted to say:

1) Tell your president to get out of Iraq, I’m tired of that shit.

2) Only retards watch local news anyway.

3) Isn’t your cirrhosis terminal yet, you fucking cracker?

::blood boils::

I’m not related to them so I can rest easy.

The Millionizer tries not to be smug but can’t help noticing how stupid everyone else is

1. I drank on the job today and I am a better person for it. I figure I only have so long that I can still fuck around like a teenager because hopefully one day soon I will have a career and not a job. A career that I will actually want to keep and drinking on the career just doesn’t sound right.

Once upon a time I used to work at the KOA in San Diego. I’m not going to link because it’s a family run business and that family is friends with my mom and what I am about to type is questionable at best. I worked there for like 2.5 years in high school. And they sold alcohol. And we were the cashiers. By we I mean other 15 and 16 year olds. We worked the late shift and there was a rec room and cabins to pass out in and a dark dirt lot to do donuts in. All in all the KOA was a great experience. Big Mike still thinks I lost a bet and I have to flash him. I dunno, I was pretty drunk those summers.

Once, we had a hotel party and I got so drunk off Smirnoff Ice I threw up. Now that I’m a seasoned drinker I’m fairly certain it was the sugar and not the alcohol that had X holding my hair back. X was dating this guy who was so fucking shady it was comical. I have two very clear memories of him. One: He picked us up after work and may or may not have been under the influence of something. When he got in his car he crouched over the wheel and sneered, “Must avoid Johnny Law!” It’s still funny today. Two: He took me and X to a friends house. That friend was a drug dealer. Not like Tommy Bahama, “Hey, I have some extra weed you can buy off me.” No, like movie drug dealer that will kick your ass and make a profit. X and her boy disappeared and I was left making small talk with said drug dealer. I pretended to be all casual like, “Yeah, I’m totally OK with drugs and shadiness and talk of avoiding police busts. I know! Those fucking 5-0!” While I was pretending to be comfortable with someone who so desperately needed to be punished by law enforcement, I went to poor myself a drink and, HOLY FUCKING SHIT THERE IS A GUN IN THE REFRIGERATOR. I made my cocktail and silently pleaded for X to come back. I sat down and watched porn on the giant flat screen like I was watching MTV. Finally, he muted it when his cell phone rang. It was fucking surreal. But not as surreal as when he got up to get the door and left me staring at a shot gun leaning up against the wall next to his chair. I called Lassie and begged her to pick me up. She did, and that was the only time I have been grateful for knowing her.

Don’t ask me why I thought it was a good idea to get drunk while in the presence of the sultan of shady. In my defense, it’s a survival mechanism that works for me to this day.

Ummm… Oh yeah, drinking while working makes working not so lame.

2. Conversation between Sir Chinko and I:

TM: So I am an alumna? And you are an alumnus?

SC: Yes, and together we are alumni.

3. My mom got her puppy on Friday! Hip-hip-hooray! Hip-hip-hooray!

Sorry about the super shitty picture, obviously I didn’t take it.

Ok pholks, it’s time I sober up and get ready for class.

The Millionizer wears her safety vest and reminds you, Safety First!