Typically narcissistic blogging.


Quickie Post: My Current Top 5 Workout Songs

As one might expect, learning how to walk again after losing a foot and months of bedrest requires serious dedication to one’s physical therapy and workout regime. I’m not gonna post my routine here; suffice it to say it’s long, it’s intense, and when I gave my physical therapist the entire list, he decided he was gonna have to get more on top of his own routine.

But the necessity of fitness to truly manage my ability to walk and function properly aside, it’s not always easy to motivate. I’ve been struggling with some brutal depression, incredible amounts of stress from external, unavoidable issues, and the fact that I’ve only had months to even begin to get used to this new body of mine (for those of you not keeping track, my foot was amputated at the end of January this year).

The songs I use for my workout help me a great deal, and I’m gonna share my top 5—the ones that can get me through ANY workout, and why. I’d love to know yours, too.

1. Stronger, Kanye West

I’ve always thrown shade at the idea that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger—sometimes it just scars the shit out of you. But I’ve had to hold onto the idea pretty hard to help me get through this experience. It’s also a good reminder when I am 45 seconds into a weighted plank.

2. Killing in the Name Of, Rage Against the Machine

I’m already filled with rage about race in this country, and this song really gets me going when I need the adrenaline to push harder. ALSO? Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.

3. Fighter, Christina Aguilera

This one is partially directed at the universe in general, and at a former friend who managed to betray my trust and friendship so awfully and so thoroughly in the months immediately following my injury and amputation that I’m still blown away by it. Anger makes for a fantastic workout, but so does the knowledge that nothing can stop you, not even unbelievably false friends.

4. More Human Than Human, White Zombie

“I have a fucking robot leg,” I tell myself as the sweat gets in my eyes and I begin to flag. “I can fucking do this.” This song is unrelenting and there are times I just have it on repeat if I am doing something I don’t think I can get through otherwise.

5. Lose Yourself, Eminem

“Success is my only muthafuckin’ option, failure’s not.”

Let The Motherfucker Burn

With sincere thanks to my awesome friend SushiSpook for the inspiration:

The Roof

Guitar With Otto

This is Otto (and my guitar):

(Otto speaks in all caps.)

WP: It’s a guitar. You have seen these before.
WP: It’s a guitar, Otto.
Otto: DO I EAT IT?
WP: You can try.
WP: It’s a— Okay. Listen. *strums guitar*

And then he ran into the hallway and yelled at me from behind the door for five minutes before he forgot what had happened. The photo was taken at his second attempt to determine the nature of the guitar.


When I tell people I have a guitar, very often they say things like, “Are you in a band?” or “Will you play a song for me?” or “That’s nice, let’s watch TV.” And I have finally figured out why that last reaction is my favorite.

I love guitar, and I love music. I don’t love the fact that I am essentially unskilled, but I love that I can learn new songs by finding lessons on the internet and sing them to my cat and inadvertently to neighbors who are, I assume, pretty pissed off at this point. But I get major performance jitters even when there’s only one other person in the roomhouse. I have no intention of ever really performing. So, why am I bothering to learn and practice and even occasionally come up with new ways to sing covers?

Sure, there’s reward in all of these things—learning, mastery (for some definition of the word), entertainment, growth, creation and love. That’s the trite bullshit I’ve been telling myself from day one. But I realized today that I’m really doing this for one reason: potential hostage situations.

I’m doing this: learning new songs, and practicing semi-regularly because—and this could totally happen—I might someday be in a situation where I have to be able to play between one and five songs competently if somebody hands me a guitar and holds a gun to my (or somebody else’s) head. Alternately, I could find myself in a Goonies-related situation where every chord I play correctly helps get me and my friends across a booby-trapped floor. Or I could be surrounded by a horde of hippie zombies and have to fool them into thinking I’m one of them by lurching about and gently playing Bob Dylan.

This is why I do it. Music saves lives.

Sorry, neighbors.

Good News For Whiskeypants

Here’s my on-the-spot victory dance mix, since I got a job offer.

Today, Whiskeypants is happy.

Soothing The Savage Whiskeypants

Click to biggify:

Brining SexyBack

No, that’s not a typo. My dear friend Tanyamazon named our Thanksgiving turkey SexyBack. Puns aside, the real accomplishment was the bird’s new theme song, team written by me and her (mostly her):

[Verse 1]

I’m prepping Sexyback
get out the bucket, give that rump a slap
You got to brine him in a plastic sack
With salt and onions and the whole spice rack
Take it to the fridge


Dirty bird
I’m gonna cook ya
Yeah I think you heard
Gonna stuff you until it’s absurd
It’s just thanksgiving so it’s diet third.
Take ’em to the chorus


Come here bird
Go ahead, go carve on it
Come to the breast
Go ahead, go carve on it
Go ahead, go carve on it
Drinks on me
Go ahead, go carve on it
Let me see what you’re roasting with
Go ahead, go carve on it
Look at those ‘sticks
Go ahead, go carve on it
You make me sing
Go ahead, go carve on it
Gonna eat that wing
Go ahead, go carve on it
And get your turkey on
Go ahead, go carve on it
Get your turkey on
Go ahead, go carve on it
Get your turkey on

[Verse 2]

I’m herbing Sexyback
Chop up the thyme and give its ass a smack
With so much butter give you heart attack
Rub it so good your exes want you back
Take it to the fridge


[Verse 3]

I’m roasting Sexyback
Talk dirty to it there’s no room for tact
This turkey wants it, baby, that’s a fact
Lounging so sexy on the oven rack
Take it to the stove



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