You got a bloody right to say.........

Quarrel... spat... tiff... dispute... wrangle..  argue......

Remember that feeling of utter and COMPLETE exhaustion upon completion of that marathon we ran?  Me neither. 

Remember back in the day when you would blow up a balloon... pinch the end so air wouldn't escape... you'd finally let it go... it would boot scoot Tom Terrific-like with all kindsa energy, passion - this way, that way... only to finally deflate...  silently sneak to the ground.  I do remember that one.

So you think your schooling is phoney

I guess it's hard not to agree
You say, "It all depends on money
And who is in your family tree"

Right (right), you're bloody well right
You got a bloody right to say
Right, you're bloody well right
You know, you got a right to say

I love listening to songs for years, not really trying to unnerstand the lyrics, song meaning - moreso, simply to get my toe tapping, my mouth singing the (undoubtedly wrong) lyrics.

(Hang on a sec... taking fork in road the udder way, back in a sec. Had a little gal hired where I work, checking golfers in, selling them an occasional beer or two..  gal is 18. We'd discussed liquor and I told her "I think you gotta be 19 to handle alcohol". She was quick to reply, "I think it's 18 but, I'll look it up."  Insteada "Mom, will you drive me 7 blocks to the library to I can go find the right Encyclopedia Britannica to, figure out how old ya gotta be to handle alcohol in Missouri", now I can do it in a millisec on my flip phone. (Don't tell.)  18 yr old was correct. (Don't tell that either, I hate being wrong.)  Victor, hate is a strong word.  Uh huh.  I hate being wrong or proven wrong.)

OK,..  what I was gonna say, is nowadays, as you listen to a good song, tap your foot, punch the Shazam app on your phone so you can figure out who it is, the namea the song, yada... then, you can Google (or Bing, Yahoo, yada.. I like Google) song meaning.

WHOOP, there it is.  "This song deals with youthful confusion, class welfare, and forced conformity in schools."  Thanks, I needed that, but, I too believe it's kinda about arguing.  

Ha, ha, you're bloody well right

You know, you're right to say
Yeah, yeah, you're bloody well right
You know, you're right to say
And me, I don't care anyway

Write your problems down in detail
And take 'em to a higher place
You've had your cry, no, I shouldn't say wail
In the meantime hush your face

Victor, you remind me of Yogi Berra and his quote "When you come to the fork in the road, take it."  The hell you going with this? (Blog reader, you're right, but, standby one, let 'em finish the song.)

Right (quite right), you're bloody well right
You got a bloody right to say
Right, you're bloody well right
You know, you got a right to say

Ha, ha, you're bloody well right
You know, you're right to say
Yeah, yeah, you're bloody well right
You know, you got a right to say

You got a bloody right to say

You got a bloody right to say

You got a bloody right to say

You got a bloody right to say, yeah

TMI CLOSE YOUR EARS DON'T TELL I DON'T REPEAT GOSSIP SO LISTEN CLOSE THE FIRST TIME.

It's been nearly 20 years since I was married.  Yesterday, I/we, had an argument over the local school district's 482 question online enrollment process for a loved one.  I jest, it was really only 481 questions. It literally took hours.

We sparred.  We blurted.  We let go'a words we hadn't oughta let go of. In my mind, I 'pedastal'ed' myself, ran up the same stairs in Philly that Rocky did... She, I'm sure, silently said, felt things like "HA! Not this time Bubba!!"

It was like LumberJack (and LumberJill) each, bearing a big ole Stihl chain saw in attempt to be the first to fell a sequoia tree.  It was Tom/Jerry, Popeye/Bluto, HeMan/Skeletor, Bugs/Elmer, Roadrunner/Wile E. Coyote. (MU/KU, .Chiefs/Raiders, Yankees/RedSox, Packers/Vikings) That.

Victor, TMI.  (I just passed gas as I ran by you up them stairs in Philly... sorry, not really)

And in the end.

Right (quite right), you're bloody well right
You got a bloody right to say
Right, you're bloody well right
You know, you got a right to say

She was right. I was right. Kid enrolled. It's only right. Battles, thankfully, fewer and further between over the years. Love means sometimes having to say you're sorry.  Sorry. Kinda.

You stupid idiot Victor, how DARE you share/show your dirty laundry,

I loved goin' to Grannys back in the day.  Them sheets we slept on at night were hung out on the clothesline earlier all day.  Yum.

Have a smiley day!

Love, Victurd