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myOtaku.com: Godel


Monday, June 27, 2005

Bat Out of Hell
So. Spanakotyropitta. That's Greek for spinach and cheese pie or more work than I ever plan to do again, in my entire life, ever. Evil to have to prepare, they're so very tasty. Why must one suffer for all good things in life?

I actually need to bring the little bastards to a party tonight, where everybody is going to love them to death, lest I rip out their eyes with a rusty spork. (No really: I know everybody there very, very well, so they will love the food I am bringing. Or else.)
It's supposed to be a big, funtastic waterfight, where every one has a right good time they'll remember forever, however I know it's just going to turn into a big sob-fest. It involves every one from my special-ed class, from the past long-as-I-can-remember, many of whom are leaving next year, to go to obscure schools, pursuing more obscure dreams.
And it'll be a sad, sad last hour of the party.


Meat Loaf. Over the years, I've discovered depressingly few people who love one of the greatest bands and albums--Bat Out of Hell--as much as I do.
When I was little, my dad would play that CD over and over, as we drove to and from our boat, a two or three hour journey. Unused to listening to one thing for more than two minutes and ten seconds, I would always listen desperately, trying to find the end of each song. I paid such close attention, I managed to metaphorically burn all of the lyrics of Bat Out of Hell, You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth, Two Out of Three Ain't Bad, and Paradise By the Dashboard Light, along with others, into my brain.

Also, "On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?"
"Yes."
"I bet you say that to all the boys."

I always loved that dialogue.

So, anybody else care about these guys?
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