Letterpress List No. 16: La-La-La Land

On our mornings in Paris (sigh), Mary and Shop Boy were awakened by many things other than the alarm clock and cellphone we broke: screaming schoolkids on the nearby playground, the symphony of church bells that chime in unison across the city on Sundays, performers on the cobblestone street, the hunger for more cheese …

Perhaps even more memorable, though, was this guy on a little motorbike who, after having a few too many cocktails with his buds, “parked” in the courtyard, wiping out into a collection of trash cans.

Bummer, right?

He pulled himself out of the pile and sang out: La-La-La!

It’s become the unofficial motto of Typecast Press, the French take on “Stuff Happens.”

Anyway, as Shop Boy was thinking about what kind of New Year’s greeting to offer here, the merry Parisian dude came to mind. So …

Welcome to 2008! Some good stuff’s gonna happen; some bad stuff, too. And at year’s end, we’ll just stand up, brush off the mess and, ahem, press on.

La-La-La!

***Letterpress List No. 16

Here’s about an hour of music to celebrate the senses of wonder, possibility, doubt and loss that seem to wash over us at the turn of the year. Were we good enough last year? Will this be the year we become what we know we can and should be? Will there be a 2009? And perhaps more importantly, if there is a 2009, will there be a Letterpress List No. 68?

;-)

Most of these tunes should be available in the usual places.

Happy New Year!

The Dock of the Bay – Otis Redding (Best song ever?)
Time in a Bottle — Jim Croce (If not, this is. Shop Boy cries every single time.)
Multiply — Jamie Lidell (Channeling the funk. One of Mary’s discoveries.)
Bring Me to Life — Evanescence (Get off the ledge.)
Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) — Green Day (Lessons learned.)
Get Ur Freak On — Missy Elliott (Hate the spelling, not the speller.)
It’s All Been Done — Barenaked Ladies (“Alone and bored on a 30th-century night. Will I see you on The Price Is Right?” LOL.)
You Better You Bet – Roger Daltry (“I don’t really mind how much you love me. A little is all right.”)
Let My Love Open the Door — Pete Townshend (Equal time in Who-ville. Shop Boy’d never noticed how similar the lead-in is to Daltry’s. Funny.)
No More Drama — Mary J. Blige (Just an idea.)
The Wreckoning — Boomkat (She’s sooo tough.)
Feel Good Inc. — Gorillaz (Maybe the coolest band side project ever. OK, that Shop Boy knows about, anyway.)
You Know I’m No Good — Amy Winehouse (Hang on, hon.)
Story of My Life — Social Distortion (Rock-and-roll weekends, alas, get old.)
Wouldn’t It Be Nice — the Beach Boys (Yes, it would.)
Wash Us Away — Ian Hunter (“For all the wrong reasons we rescued each other.”)
Steady As She Goes — the Raconteurs (Acoustic version’s even better.)
Elected — Alice Cooper (Speechless. Us, not Alice.)
The Way It Really Is — Lisa Loeb (Everything is fine … right?)
Where’s Your Head At — Basement Jaxx (Monkeys rock!)
Breathe (2 AM) — Anna Nalick (Friends in need.)
Friend of a Friend — Foo Fighters (Friends no longer there.)
I Can See Clearly Now — Johnny Nash (Ahhh …)

We Are Not Alone

Bring Your Child to Work Day has always seemed to me a really bad idea. Gather up the impressionable young ones and let them observe Mom or Dad getting yelled at for screwing up in the workplace. Watch as the folks then squirm and make excuses, pass the blame as they botch more assignments, surf the Internet, chat on the phone about how busy they are and finally weave, bob, speed, honk and holler through the rush-hour traffic toward home.

(Shop Boy wants to create this bumper sticker: “My Child Is an Honor Student … But I’m Teaching Him to Drive Like a Moron.” Look for it on your car.)

Anyway, what are the kiddies to take away from Bring Your Child to Work Day? Pretty much this:

“Man, working stinks.” Or, worse, “Dad’s a loser.”

Why bring this up? Well, Typecast Press has entered unfamiliar territory. It’s always been just Mary and Shop Boy … and, from time to time, however many dudes it took to move heavy equipment. If one of us did something really dumb, we looked at each other, we laughed at ourselves and we moved on. No young minds were harmed in the printing of our materials and all that.

Now, all of a sudden, we’ve got interns — college kids — hanging around the shop. And it’s a bit unsettling.

The interns sought us out, seeing the Typecast Press website and deciding that, ahem, Mary has a pretty cool thing going here. And we really can use the help right about now. (Free help that comes to you. What a concept.) But interns — even, and sometimes especially, the good ones — are hard work. Mary tends to worry that they’ll get underfoot and feels they must earn our trust and their keep. Shop Boy worries that they’ll be bored or, ouch, unimpressed when they see us “live.”

So when Mary and Ned, a truly gifted print maker and graphic designer from Savannah College of Art and Design, both started shrieking “No!” as Shop Boy was printing the right information on the wrong holiday coaster … well, let’s just say it wasn’t a good sign, to my way of thinking. I wrecked only a few of the things — OK, 35 — but was so embarrassed to have messed up something so simple in front of Ned that I had to leave the building for a moment.

Playing dumb can be fun. Being dumb … not quite so much.

Still, Ned got a very valuable lesson in checking once, checking twice, checking three times and then turning on the press.

And we had a big laugh about it later. I guess young people can do a lot worse than to learn that trick.

Pull the Lever Already

Think Santa’s elves are busy? Bah. Shop Boy’s gotta really start cranking.

Got to get the materials ready for Iowa and New Hampshire.

See, as Mary’s surprise Christmas gift, I got her on the ballot for president of these United States of America. It wasn’t easy. All these rules and stuff, going door to door for signatures, the paperwork, and all the secrecy. We need to keep this out of the media as long as possible to keep Clinton, Obama, Romney and Giuliani from digging up dirt. (Watching you too, Huckabee.)

Mary and Shop Boy are going to spring a January surprise. Mark my words.

“Wait,” you ask, “what business does Mary Mashburn have being president of the U.S.A.?” Shop Boy asks back, “Who else is there?”

The Clintons burned us once. We’ve stopped thinking about tomorrow. (Yesterday’s still too fresh.) Giuliani’s too pugnacious and mean to have control of the nukes. The 9/11 thing looks good, but here’s what our foreign policy would sound like: “You talkin’ to me?” Obama’s got the Oprah albatross. Just … enough, you know, O? Romney’s going to be needed in China to fix those Olympics, too. Huckabee? No offense, but wouldn’t we giggle every time he was introduced? Edwards? Should have gotten his wife on the ballot. Fred Thompson? What’d Bush say about bad actors?

As for the elephant — or should we say donkey — in the living room, Al Gore is doing such a good job of not being president, you’d hate to see him mess that up.

So that leaves Mary.

Her platform? Since this is a surprise gift, let’s just say it’s evolving. And Shop Boy’s putting words in Mary’s mouth, but …

Iraq: Like it or not, we need to muck out George Bush’s stall. Shouldn’t be there, but can’t leave until we clean up our mess.

Economy: You want to be an American? Pay your taxes. That goes for the tycoons and rich churches, too. The rich will remain rich, the poor might eat tonight. I think Bill Maher said it pretty well: “If America’s richest one percent are now so rich that even a five-star hotel isn’t good enough, it’s time to bring back the guillotine.” Typecast Press’ guillotine is available. Won’t cut straight, but that’s not the point here.

Energy: Ethanol is stupid. It just puts off finding better alternatives by pumping cash into ridiculously wealthy farm/oil monopolies. It doesn’t force auto makers to improve cars. And it takes corn out of needy mouths. Ban SUVs and fix Amtrak instead.

Now, if you’ve been following along in this space, you know that Mary will keep the nation up way too late at night. (Shop Boy has “energy issues” all the time.) This will just give her more incentive to address the nation’s oil addiction.

Non-Iraq foreign policy: Don’t start none, there won’t be none.

We’ll save further specifics for the campaign trail. I mean, once I tell Mary she’s running and all. (Shhhh! Don’t spoil the surprise, OK?)

Oh, sure, we’ve got an uphill battle in “Cow Hampshire” and “the Snickers Salad State,” as Mary refers to our first two stops. And we’ve got to come up with a better slogan than “Mashburn 2008: She Rules!” Got a couple of days to work on it, though.

So, Shop Boy as first guy, huh? Don’t worry. Mary will keep me too busy in the printshop to get into any trouble. Of course we’re keeping Typecast Press going. It’s cool. It’s creative. It’s fun.

And Mary’s going to need a job when she’s through fixing America.

Besides, imagine how much an ex-president could charge to print your business cards.

***

Hey, by the way, check the “Ten Commandments of Holiday Entertaining” from Baltimore’s own Kitchen Goddess. Carve them in stone, people.

There’s a spot in Mary’s cabinet for her.

Letterpress List No. 15: Enter Sandman

Mary calls herself a Ford and Shop Boy a Maserati.

Now, before you start thinking that she’s giving me the ultimate compliment here, let’s run through her reasoning: First, she’s talking about when a Ford was a Ford. Simple, dependable and … uh … well put together. Turn the key, press the gas pedal, go.

The Maserati? Sports car of sports cars. What a machine! Turn the key, touch the gas pedal and it just might fly, so finely tuned that it flits, gazelle-like, in whichever direction you point it, its sleek suspension and steering systems making a mockery of the sharpest turn.

Or it might choke, rattle and stall, one of its fancy systems shot, meaning another expensive trip to the repair shop.

The reason I bring it up is that we’ve been putting in some late hours at the studio, the product of a glut of work — yay! — and the fact that Shop Boy’s other life makes him unavailable most weekdays. Once he steps off that train from Washington, though, it’s all about Typecast Press. No matter what the hour. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind doing it for Mary. And it can be fun. But, dude … every night? One of the reasons my last Tuesday post was a day early, in fact, was because Shop Boy thought he should file it before he died.

See, Shop Boy’s not the type to pull an all-nighter, and by that I mean go too long without sleep. (Please, folks.) Run too hard or for too many hours, Shop Boy begins to break down. Just like a horse that’s been “rode hard and put up wet” in cowboy terminology. Eventually, I’m as handy as your average houseplant. That ain’t the motor whining, it’s Shop Boy. Pffft! Call the tow truck.

Mary? Unbelievable. Unsinkable. Unstoppable. Pedal to the metal. You’d think as she got a little, um, more mileage on the odometer that she would pay, pay, pay for her blithe disregard for human limits on consciousness. Nope. Thus, her Ford-Maserati theory. And Mary’s sticking to it. Sigh.

The other night, Mary bought Shop Boy a cot for the printshop. So, we can all see where this road is heading, eh?

***

Letterpress List No. 15:

Cue the music. Here’s about an hour of music to rev up your engines for a last push at work or, for you lucky ones, a little, ahem, parking. Most songs should be available at the usual places.

Driver 8 — R.E.M. (We’ve been on this shift too long.)
Iron Man — Black Sabbath (Cal, schmal. See: Mashburn, Mary.)
Midnight Maniac — Krokus (Lock your door. She knows where you are. And she’s got a little project for you.)
Fly Me Courageous — Drivin’ N’ Cryin’ (A time machine, no?)
Devil Nights — Electric Six (These guys kill me. Shop Boy and his childhood pal Kenny wanted to be them when we grew up. Of course, they probably hadn’t been born yet.)
Push It — Salt-N-Pepa (Ooh baby, baby, b-b-b-baby. Real good.)
Stop! — Jane’s Addiction (Don’t ask Shop Boy what it’s about. He just likes the noise.)
Hip Hop Is Dead – Nas (Iron Butterfly rolls over in its grave. Love this.)
Sleep Forever — Bree Sharp (Just an idea …)
Jeepster — T. Rex (“If I may be so bold,” this dude Marc Bolan launched a million bands. Odd duck, though.)
Too Old to Rock and Roll – Jethro Tull (Speaking of weirdos … a Shop Boy favorite anyway.)
Thunder Road — Bruce Springsteen (“Don’t run back inside, darlin’, you know just what I’m here for.” Shop Boy hands Mary the bill.)
Missundaztood — Pink (Shop Boy couldn’t make it any clearer.)
Got the Time – Joe Jackson (“No such thing as tomorrow, only one-two-three, go!”)
Mr. Baylis — Kasey Chambers (Keep driving. Something better’s up the road.)
Enter Sandman – Metallica (The point of no return for Metallica. Great song, but commercial success has a price. Typecast Press hopes to find out what it is.)
Let’s Go to Bed — the Cure (Amen.)

Keeping It Real

At Typecast Press, we work to remain true to the time-tested letterpress principles and traditions that have always made the printing industry hum: hard work, precision, resourcefulness, crazy and dangerous machinery, elbow grease, lead and … the girlie calendar.

Now, before you even go there, know that Shop Boy initially had nothing to do with this. Honest. Our suitemate, Chris Hartlove, posted the 2006 calendar as a goof — a “welcome to the neighborhood” present. It was funny. But I didn’t think it would stay.

See, Shop Boy knows that a man’s place is three respectful steps behind a woman. Mary taught him that. He puts the lid down. Five sisters taught him that. And he still bears the scars of endless Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue demystification sessions — Mary again — that caused him to eventually just cancel his whole subscription.

Yet, here they are. The lovely Fantasy Builders, version 2008. Free to a good home from Falkenhan’s, the terrific (ahem) woman-owned hardware store down the street. The Fantasies are tricked out in all manner of hoses and electrical cords, holding power tools … generally just as happy and handy as they can be and dressed appropriately for a really, really, really, really warm day. (Hey, they happen in Baltimore.)

Spend any time in a printshop, a machine shop or an automotive service center anywhere in America and you’ll see thousands of happy women just like them. So, what’s not to appreciate?

Well, start with Mary’s lecture on how each new young Fantasy Builder has herself been “remodeled.” (She sees the calendar as a learning tool.)

“Those are fake … those are fake … those are definitely fake. Look, maybe Miss June 2007′s got her own boobs, but look at how they airbrushed here and here. You guys are so gullible.” At which point, Chris and Shop Boy go all Beavis and Butt-Head.

Yeah, go ahead. Call it men’s lurid, drooling stupidity. But we’re not concerned about whether the calendar models’ breasts are real. We’re just proud of them for learning a skill — construction — that can earn them enough money that one day they can buy whatever they want. Like pants or … I don’t know … even bigger replacement parts.

Miss December 2007, by the way, appears to be a whiz at laying concrete. So smooth, you know?

Still, the lectures continue.

“Look, Shop Boy, even the cement’s airbrushed.”

So last year, when the new calendar arrived, I made Mary give me a list of all the dates the local deliveryman would show up to replace the 5-gallon tanks of drinking water at the shop. We went through the calendar to write down the proper reminder notes. Mary asked what phrase would best help us remember to set the containers outside the shop door.

“What else?” Shop Boy said helpfully. “Jugs.”

Letterpress List No. 14: Mechanical Bull

“Don’t send your readers to the dictionary. It’s much more fascinating and better written. They’ll never come back.”

This is advice that Shop Boy, in his other life as an editor, has half-jokingly offered writers inclined to use big words or foreign phrases simply because they think it makes them sound smarter. You know: deus ex machina or bildungsroman. It’s no shock, really, to find that in Webster’s New World College Dictionary, “bildungsroman” — Shop Boy’s, ahem, personal bete noire — is followed by the word “bile.” You can look it up. No, wait … don’t go!

Oh, and be concise. “Unlike me, your readers aren’t getting paid to slog through this.” Mr. Old School has committed that sin himself a few times in this space, I know.

Now, I also know that this is just a silly blog. But if you’re going to write something — even for fun — you might as well make it understandable.

So before we get any farther along here, let’s begin to assemble a glossary of cool and goofy terms that stray readers and those who — gulp! — actually visit this space on purpose are likely to bump into. Believe me, Shop Boy was unaware of 90 percent of these words and concepts about two years ago. Mary, of course, has long been fluent, having stalked a few of the letterpress experts into the Witness Protection Program and having scoured books and the Web. (She also uses too many big words, so nyah, smartypants.)

Just a few to get us going …

Imposing Stone: This is the aptly named station where the Old Masters of composition, the final step before putting ink to paper, did their thing. First off, it is imposing. It took six movers just to lift the top of ours. Its steel surface is buffed to a perfect flatness, kind of like a riverbed pebble smoothed by the current. This is so type — and thus the impression it makes — remains perfectly level. The base is a wooden cabinet with drawers, trays and slots for thousands of bits of wood furniture. I know, because I cleaned each wooden bit by hand. The guys who worked on it were Stone Men. (Wow. Shop Boy is hoping his apprenticeship can lead to a title like that some day.)

Chase: The metal frame that holds in place whatever form you’ll be printing on the press. The bigger the press, the heavier the chase. Then you add the lead. The Shop Boy Workout Video is available for $19.99.

Hernia: See above.

Furniture: The wood or metal pieces — like honking Legos or Lincoln Logs — that surround and support your form in the chase.

Quoins: Metal locks that expand to tighten everything up, keeping the form and the furniture from falling out of the chase as you carry it toward the press.

Pied type: What you get if you don’t correctly lock the form into the chase. Also known as “$#@%&*!” — not just because of the jumble of metal type characters that results but also because it probably all just fell on your foot.

“$#@%&*!”: Also your supervisor’s response to delays caused by pied type.

Loupe: A sort of magnifying glass used by Mary, once the form is reassembled and the first proofs are made, to find and obsess over ink coverage issues.

Creature: Cool speaker setup from JBL that turns your iPod … OK, or other MP3 players (heathen!) into a full stereo.

***

Wait, did somebody mention music? Oh, it was me again. How about a few ditties with a Southern twang? What … Shop Boy can’t like any country music now? Please, hater. Besides, you have no choice in the matter. Here’s about an hour of music, country and crossover, most available in the usual places. Video links have been added if Shop Boy’s found great or goofy examples. Yes, it’s a day early, but it’d been too long between posts.

Letterpress List No. 14: Mechanical Bull

La Grange — ZZ Top (“Uh, you know what I’m talkin’ about.” Not really, but you rock! And a-how-how-how.)
Go Walking Down There — Chris Isaak (Yeah, he’s soooo lonely.)
Let ‘Er Rip — the Dixie Chicks (Don’t let the door hit you in the butt.)
Blame the Vain — Dwight Yoakam (Finger-pointing at the mirror.)
Wichita Lineman — Glen Campbell/Freedy Johnston/Dwight Yoakam/REM, etc. Shop Boy had no idea the effect this song had on women, or he’d have embraced it much earlier.)
Pony – Kasey Chambers (Just because. By the way, don’t let this song fool you. Mary and Shop Boy have seen Kasey in concert a few times. That voice is a WMD.)
Liquored Up, Lacquered Down — Southern Culture on the Skids (A new role model for Mary.)
Four Kicks – Kings of Leon (These Southern boys been pumpin’ too much AC/DC. Cool song, though.)
Beer Run — Garth Brooks/George Jones (Can’t stop thinkin’ what the hell they were drinkin’ when they made this county dry …”)
Crawling From the Wreckage — Dave Edmunds (Too fast, too drunk, too habitually. OK, I know he’s British, but rockabilly’s close enough.)
Gimme Three Steps — Lynyrd Skynyrd (Man, all them gee-tars! Found this snippet on brainy Brian May of Queen and his awesome harmonic guitar tricks. Skynyrd didn’t need ‘em.)
Cowboy — Kid Rock (Not your Roy Rogers type.)
I’m No Angel — Gregg Allman (Honesty’s a nice place to start.)
Bleeding Fingers — Lucinda Williams (Shattered nerves, itchy skin, dirty words and heroin never sounded so … sexy.)
No Stranger to Shame – Uncle Kracker (Trading a trailer and TV dinners for a crib and a chauffeur.)
Born on the Bayou — Creedence Clearwater Revival (John Fogerty sounds kinda Southern, anyway.)
My Wife Thinks You’re Dead – Junior Brown (The man’s flat cool.)

Letterpress List No. 13: The Tattooed Lady

It was about the time that she approached the drug dealer to ask if he’d like her to apply a temporary tattoo. (“I got real ones, lady.”) Or maybe it was when she stormed onto the parade route to accost the Catholic school cheer squad, asking that the teens wave to the new bride and groom standing along the curb as they passed (hey, Catholics like marriage, right?). Or it could have been when she requested that the wedding DJ play one of hip-hop’s dirtiest songs at the reception. (And he did!)

This girl Mary’s got some magic in her.

See, over the weekend, pals Geoff Brown and Stacey Mink got hitched. Mary created the wedding invite. We, as Typecast Press, printed it. Gotta tell you, it’s one of a kind. Turns out that Geoff and Stacey bonded over, among other things, zombie movies. Oh, and woodland animals might be a nice motif. Geoff figured a buck would be nice on there, sorta like the Jagermeister logo. Green and gold inks. Oooo-kay.

Now, Shop Boy likes to have a little fun at her expense sometimes. Oh, all right, constantly. She can, ahem, hold her own there, by the way. But Mary’s a force of nature when she turns her creativity loose. And what she produced here was sweet. (For real … the cake’s maker built and decorated it to echo Mary’s invite, all scary gold branches and green bunnies and birds and bucks.) Shop Boy bows down.

Anyhow, Mink-Brown picked a heck of a weekend for the nuptials. First, on Friday night, came the annual Night of 100 Elvises at the Lithuanian Hall in Baltimore’s Hollins Market neighborhood. You had to be there. (Thank you very much.) The wedding itself was Saturday at Frederick Douglass-Isaac Myers Maritime Park, with the Baltimore Parade of Lighted Boats as a backdrop! When the Eiffel Tower steamed past at a pivotal moment, Shop Boy couldn’t help but shed a tear. Ah, Paris on the Patapsco indeed.

Sunday brought the threat of freezing rain and the Mayor’s Christmas Parade. Mary and her posse — Kimry Perrone, Abby Lattes, Holly Tominack and Anne Burger — had planned a surprise. Mary’d had rad tattoos printed. They’d snuck a float into the parade, a convertible car that would feature a stand-in bride and groom, the game (check the cotton-candy bouffant!) and lovely Lesley Humphreys and the game maker Tim Train. Attendants Emily Wilson and Luci Morreale marched out front with a totally wacky banner that Mary made, and Jobi Zink puddle-hopped alongside and worked the crowd in a very unorthodox Orthodox bridesmaid gown.

(Shop Boy had suggested that Natty Boh cans be attached to the rear bumper for effect, but no one was up for draining a six-pack of Baltimore’s famous beer that morning. Wimps. Besides, Lynda Del Genis, the leopard-printed owner of the convertible, might not have wanted us to drill the holes … these new cars and their fantsy-pantsy bumpers.)

The plan? Candy Kisses and temporary tattoos would be applied to both the willing and the reluctant along the route. As the car slowly passed, Geoff and Stacey would be stunned and amazed, left with an indelible memory. All involved would cheer, scream and share hearty high-fives, clouds would part, Hampden would glow with happiness, newly tattooed strangers of all colors would embrace, and …

The bride and groom had decided to take a pass on the parade.

Morning after the wedding? Standing for hours in the freezing rain? Wasn’t doing it for them, somehow.

To make a long story short — yes, Shop Boy’s been working on that — here’s where Mary and her pals got really creative. And as it usually does with Mary, everything worked out much, much better than great.

So, congrats to Mink-Brown. (Sorry about the rain.) May you share love and tenderness, goofiness and mirth beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.

As for Mary Mashburn, your world’s a circus, kid. But Shop Boy’s glad to be your clown.

***

Oh, stop it. Like you never get mushy over weddings? Sheesh. Let’s change the subject, OK? Here’s about an hour’s worth of music. The sappy, the sweet, the dopey and the dirty. When next we meet, expect a little more snark. Shop Boy’s pooped! Here goes: Most should be available at the usual places.

Letterpress List No. 13
Back in the Circus — Jonatha Brooke (What a ride.)
Bump — Spank Rock (Shout-out for deejay DLake, who did a masterful job of zigging and zagging past the worst of the language and sex. The edited song still rules!)
Animals — Nickelback (Getting Jagermeister-buck naked.) Mama Told Me (Not to Come) — Three Dog Night (Mary overruled her.)
Viva Las Vegas – Elvis (They’re lined up for pelvic MRIs in Baltimore.)
Thunder Kiss ’65 — White Zombie (Words escape me.)
Rock and Roll All Night — Kiss (Only pyrotechnics at Lithuanian Hall: Cigarettes. Cough!)
The Beautiful People — Marilyn Manson (Holy-moly! For the buzz killers.)
Stuck in the Middle With You — Stealers Wheel (Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right. Must be rush hour.)
Crazy Train — Ozzy Osbourne (Soundtrack for the whole weekend.)
Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong — the Spin Doctors (LOL! Even though I’m not making funny of Mary today.)
Keep Your Hands to Yourself — the Georgia Satellites (No huggy no kissy till I get a weddin’ vow.)
Pretty Fly (for a White Guy) – the Offspring (What Shop Boy lacks on the dance floor, he makes up in denial.)
Teddy Bear — Elvis Presley (Hey, there were 100 Elvises. Two songs ain’t gonna kill you.)
Innocent When You Dream — Tom Waits (Sniff! It’s purty.)
Light Up My Room — Barenaked Ladies (Love in the time of pollution: candy and tattoos in the gutter.)