Because i just haven’t posted that much totally gay music lately:

[Press 'Play' to flame]

What’s going on that i would add such a lame song to the juiced-box? The truth lies in the story behind the song.

Here’s Jason Patrick, lead guy of Filter:

Here’s what he looked like last week:

Patrick wrote “Take My Picture” in the late ’90′s after an incident on an airplane where he got totally drunk and decided to take off his clothes mid-flight so he could get more comfortable. Stripping down to his boxers alarmed the passengers, apparently even more than the fact Filter is often referred to as a heavy metal band(!).  The incident ended with his “wrestling with flight attendants”; and i don’t think this is meant in the good way. “Take My Picture” was his response to the passengers’ reaction. While no picture is available of this striptease, here is the Bar None’s artists rendition of the whole affair.

Take a closer look at the lyrics i’ve included at the bottom of this post and you’ll see the entire mess spelled out there. “Hey dad, what do you think about your son now?”

Feel free to skip the rest of this post, unless you’re looking for something for your eyes to do while you listen to the rest of the song. This is just a blast from my Pabst and i’m certain to take the event too seriously still to make that much fun of it here. Plus, i’ve been dry since Sunday, a total of five days straight, and that doesn’t suit me well at all. Tell you what, i’ll make a joke right here, up front, and then you promise you’ll skip to the lyrics… Deal?

Here’s the joke:

Have you heard the latest pickup line making rounds at the Bar None?

“If you held a party in your mouth, could i come?”

Ok, now you scroll all the way down and i’ll be up here mumbling into my beer. One last touch of humor before you go, though: it’s crazy ironic that i’m telling this story sober and on a Friday night.

One time someone did Take My Picture and that someone was my ex-wife, before she became the Expresso.

i’ve already mentioned my office has a cocktail every party every Friday and during my 10 years of marriage i hit that pretty much religiously. One Friday night i came back Saturday morning, in the wee hours, and passed out slumped sitting up on the sofa. i don’t remember if that was the same time i put hamburgers on the stove to fry and blacked out long before they did, only to be awoken by my, understandably, hysterical wife. Regardless, i’m sure i had my traditional Saturday hangover, which is the price i have to pay for my Friday night Invincible, and certainly had to abandon the kids to their mother so i could suffer in silence.

Yes, there’s a lot i’m not proud of when i binge. A lot that i’ve done and have cracked memories of, like looking in a broken mirror, and sometimes those shards of my past come back to cut me. And i bleed and i bleed and i bleed.

No mention was made of this ‘misstep’ in my walk along the straight and narrow of functional alcoholism. The incident was relegated with all the other pink elephants in the living room to a corner we pretended didn’t exist.

Until she kicked me out one Valentine’s Day, on a Friday night. In the weeks following our separation, i was going through boxes of photographs, separating the cases of mine from the envelopes of hers, when i came across a picture. She’d taken it of me passed out on the sofa with my clothes crumpled, my hair a mess and my shoes still on. The idiotic posture of my head and my tongue hanging out like a drunken camel made it clear i was thoroughly soused. Shame burned through me so strongly i started to sweat as i sat on the floor, staring at the proof of who i was.

That’s my blast from the Pabst for today.

i’ve decided not to apologize about writing it ’cause y’all are free to read or not read. Besides, this post was written only for a chosen few: the D.R.I.N.K.E.R.s (Drunks Really Involved Now Known as Exiles Reunited). i’m writing this with the hopes that those of you out there who are reading because you are drinkers will share some of your experiences here, with us, in the Bar None. Tell us about your victories and your defeats, what you want and what you’ve got and what you’re stuck with. There’s nothing you can say that will make us send you away. This is the BAR NONE.

Anyway, i know what Patrick’s talking about better than he does when he says “Take My Picture”. Still, i woulda written a cooler song about it. Something less faggy than his, for sure.

Anyway, here are the lyrics to “Take My Picture”

Awake on my airplane
Awake on my airplane
My skin is bare
My skin is theirs
Awake on my airplane
Awake on my airplane
My skin is bare
My skin is theirs
I feel like a newborn
And I feel like a newborn
Awake on my airplane
Awake on my airplane
I feel so real

Chorus:
Could you take my picture
‘Cuz I won’t remember
Could you take my picture
‘Cuz I won’t remember
Could you take my picture
‘Cuz I won’t remember
Yeah

I don’t believe in
I don’t believe in
Your sanctity
Your privacy
I don’t believe in
I don’t believe in
Sanctity
A hypocrisy
Could everyone agree that
No one should be left alone
Could everyone agree that
They should not be left alone yeah
And I feel like a newborn
And I feel like a newborn
Kicking and screaming

Chorus

Hey dad what do you think about your son now
Ah hey dad what do you think about your son now

Chorus (4 times)

Just a reminder to all you D.R.I.N.K.E.R.s: i’d love to hear from you, share what you feel comfortable with or don’t share anything at all. A simple “Hey, babe’ would suffice. Don’t be shy, you’re a freaking drinker after all! Have a shot then take one, for chrissakes!