My mind is a rocket a rocket a rocket

So I've been listening to "The Bucket" by Kings of Leon for two days straight in my car now. Not the album just the song. On repeat. Again and again. And each time the song ends I think hmmm I wonder what I feel like listening to now? And my answer so far has been: Hmmm that Bucket song...that sounds like it would be real nice right about now. and again we go. And it's not like this hasn't happened to me before. I think I played Soul to Squeeze by the Red hot chili peppers for 2 weeks straight. And then there was Intergalactic by the Beastie Boys that for some reason I couldn't stop listening to over and over and over again. In fact intergalactic was so bad I had it taped off the radio before you could buy the single and I would actually have to rewind the tape in my car and then after weeks of this they finally released the CD single with four different versions of Intergalactic on it which was pretty cool for whoever the sorry sad-sack of a person was that was stuck in my car with me during those 3-7 weeks.

Anybody: "Um Henri how about we just listen to the radio for awhile?"
Me: "Um how about you not talk when Intergalactic is on okthankyou."

So I guess it's related to this neurological condition that I was born with where that center in your brain responsible for getting used to novel stimuli is slightly retarded and so anything good stays good for me...like forever. It just never gets old. Ever. Ever ever? Never ever. Maybe thats why I visit Defective Yeti like 10,000 times a day, because that guy is seriously funny. And 9,999 times I'm looking at the same post and 9,998 times I'm laughing my ass off. Or how every morning I wake up and look at this chick in my bed and I think "thascool". And what about that whole breathing thing and don't get me started on whisky, whisky is really good. and rainbows and ok ok so what I'm really getting at is

1)The Bucket is a good song
2)My kid never stops eating.

The Conman eats because he thinks it's freakin awesome. And while his stomach grows huge and rock hard, he's laughing and signing like a madmad "more" "please" "thank you" "tigerwoods" Ok the tiger woods thing is his own sign because his Dad started down that dark dark wicked path of golf a few months ago and now does retarded things in the living room like swing an imaginary golfclub. And conman being the cruel smart alec kid he is started mocking me with his "tigerwoods" sign where he mimicks my flailing swing. So what did he eat the other day? I don't remember but it was two man-bowls of food. So he finally signs "all-done" "please" "tigerwoods" "all-done". So I figure he's done. Get him cleaned up and let him down. Watch him take a few more mocking tigerwoods swings to goof on me. Hmm so maybe it's my turn to eat. I grab some beans or a bearclaw or a turkey leg...I don't remember what was on the table and go to take a bite. And there's Conman, Frozen. Eyes wide open and staring. And I can see the thoughts forming in his little head...'Is that...could it possibly be... food?!' And I think no freaking way...and here he comes charging at me. "more!moremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremore!" He cant make the signs fast enough. It's like groundhog day or memento or something. No matter what he's just polished off nothing is better than the thought of having something to eat again. And its at that moment that I think...hmmm maybe this ain't the mailman's kid after all.

Hmmm I wish I could be listening to the bucket right now.

...I'll be the one to show you the way
You'll be the one to always complain
Three in the morning come-a bang bang bang
All out of fags and I just can't wait
Cancel the thing that I said I'd do
I don't feel comfortable talkin' to you
'Less you got the zipper fixed on my shoe
Then I'll be in the lobby drinking for two

Eighteen
Balding
Star
Golden
Falling
Heart....