R. Kelly Made Me Do It
Okay, so I don’t know if you’ve heard the new R.Kelly five-part thing he’s got rocking right now, but I had NOT, until yesterday, and it is...I mean, it is genuinely unbelievable. If you haven’t heard it, this entry will make no sense to you whatsoever, but basically, R. Kelly sings at length (AT LENGTH), and in excruciating detail, about what happens when he goes home with a woman he meets at a club and ends up hiding in the closet when her husband shows up, and the ensuing hijinks that GO ON FOR FIVE SONGS. It is painfully bad. I had heard other people describing it, but nothing brought it home for me until I actually heard some of the songs. I just sat there in slack-jawed wonder.
How can you not be deeply...uh, affected, by lyrics such as these, which he sings after the husband comes home and R (I like to call him “R”) is just, you know, chilling in the closet:
She hops all over him and says “I've cooked and ran your bathwater”
I'm telling you now this girl is so good she deserves an Oscar
The girl’s in the bed he starts snatching her clothes off
I'm in the closet like man, what the fuck is going on?
You’re not going to believe it but things get deeper as the story goes on
Next thing you know a call comes through on my cell phone
I tried my best to quickly put it on vibrate
But from the way he acted I could tell it was too late
He hopped up and said “there’s a mystery going on and I'm going to solve it”
And I'm like “God please don’t let this man open his closet.”
And so on. It is...unbelievable. I’ve never experienced anything like it. It is pure poetry, if “poetry” is codeword for “the most painfully embarrassing experience you can have on behalf of someone else.” Or possibly, “the telling of a story that sometimes involves rhyming words, but there is not any discernable beat or concern about syllables, but WHATEVER, because what’s going to happen when he gets found in the closet?!”
So! Because I was inspired (INSPIRED, I TELL YOU) by this...”poetry”, I decided to write some of my own. Oh, I know you’re excited.
In the style of R. Kelly, I present to you:
Thursday Night At Miss Doxie’s House
Today I woke up and to get out of bed, I had to fight
Because for some reason Bo decided to puke all over the place in the middle of the night
And I woke up at four a.m. to hear that Gu-GLUGGING sound and I didn’t miss a beat
And then I’m half asleep and trying to grab him before he vomits on my bedsheet
And so I snatch him and I get him down onto the floor
And then he’s throwing up and I see food that I gave him before
And then I have to clean it up with lots and lots of paper towels
And then he decides that he'd also like to void his bowels.
So then I have to take him out and let me remind you it is FOUR A.M.
And out he goes and he’s just sniffing around now and I hate him.
And then he hears something and he’s totally forgotten that he was ever sick
And instead he runs off to the corner of the yard because he is a prick.
And I have to go after him but I forgot it rained and now I’m covered in muck
And my toes are going all SQUOOSH and it would be fun if it didn’t totally suck.
So I finally catch him and he’s all, “Look, for I have cornered a TREE.”
And then I have to go get the hose to wash the mud all off of me.
And then I bring him back inside, and back upstairs to bed we go.
But now he’s wide awake and also bored, so he’s like, NO.
And then he won’t be still and sticks his cold nose in my face
And now wants to play and run around the whole damn place
And I try to tell him that I’ll staple his feet to the bed
But he’s not scared of me and so he starts to bark instead.
So I just lie real still and hope that he will shut up then
Eventually he does, and I fall back asleep again
But then the alarm goes off and now I’ve got to rise
And I see Bo and he just barely opens up his eyes
But then when I stand, and “Come on Bo, get up,” I shout
That little bastard dives beneath the sheets and won’t come out.
And when I try to grab him he just burrows further in.
He’s just a little lump of angry, and so I poke him.
And so he growls at me and he is saying “GO AWAY.
I’m not done sleeping here. Fuck off and go start your day.”
And I think maybe I’ll just put him in the microwave
If he doesn’t mind his momma and start to behave.
But I gave up and took a shower and just left him there
And he kept sleeping FOR AN HOUR until I had to physically spelunk under the covers as he just dug deeper, creating an elaborate under-bedcover tunnel system not seen since WWII, grab him by…something, possibly the collar, but SOMEthing, drag him OUT from under there while he LOUDLY PROTESTED this action, growling and shrieking in his BoSpeak, while the other dogs went BALLISTIC because MAYBE SHE IS KILLING BO, OH BOY, and then I had to struggle with His Wigglingest down the stairs, where he then proceeded to act like NOTHING HAPPENED, and HEY, CAN I GO OUTSIDE, and THESE ARE THE THRILLS OF DOG OWNERSHIP, PEOPLE.
I’ll be hiding from them all for the next ten years. Don’t look in the closet.