Nocturnal Journal

Paranormal Romance Author
Mandy M. Roth
Vampires, Werewolves & Faeries...Oh My!
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Jukebox Reflection, big hair, big shoulders, wall street mentalities, and men in leather pants…

WARNING: I’m in a crabby mood and unwilling to read back through this. If errors are found, close your eyes and pretend hard that it’s not wrong. Come back to it and continue on. You’ll be okay, I promise *ducks to avoid stones being pelted at her*

My mega hug disc CD player bit it a few days ago. I’m going through and yanking out discs. While doing this, I decided it was a great time to pull out all those old cassette tapes we have. Umm, I’m embarrassed for myself.

Wake me up before you go-go…

Jitter bug? WTF? How old am I? And why is it that the minute I hear a rather enthusiastic George Michaels belting out these very lyrics I can’t help but dance? Am I a ball of sunshine? A ray of pure light? Do I even need to answer that? Didn’t think so. LOL. Yet only seconds before stopping to write this, I was doing that very thing—dancing in the kitchen as I loaded dishes into the dishwasher.


Where do I sign up for that gig?

Really though, I am one of the strangest people I know. I’m rough around the edges—okay, jagged even. But I find myself randomly singing or dancing to music playing only in my head. Yeah, the voices hushed long enough to let Huey tell me he’s got a new drug. The man is how many years older than me and I still think he’s one of the sexiest men put on this earth. And that raspy voice, mmm, they should bottle that as an aphrodisiac.

Don’t you want me baby?

Moving on…Human League. Where did they come from? Where did they go? Not quite a one hit wonder, but I have memories of only two of their songs. One of which I find my mind accessing randomly. But even then I knew I’d find a much better place, even with or without you. Yeah, sums up a lot you know.

Bum rushed?????

Next stop on the eighties dance tour is Wild Wild West by Kool Mo Dee (sp?). There was a time before the introduction of gangster rap that I actually incorporated a wider variety into my insane music repertoire. Doesn’t matter how out of touch the song seems now with its “softer” words, the hook in that song will make you move your ass. And I find it hard to NOT think about one of the dances we had in seventh grade. Ahh, the memories. Living in constant fear that a break out would occur, that the period you’d gotten a year or so prior would hold to form and show up unexpectedly. What about the hair. Why the hell did I think it was cool to shave steps into the sides of my head? Oh, right…it pissed my mom off.

Random thought insert: Did anyone else get annoyed every time that friggin’ Do the locomotion song came on? Yeah, I knew it wasn’t just me.

Head to toe….

No one ever accused Lisa and her “cult” of sacrificing chickens. Figures. Why the hell do I get accused. I'm a freak about bacteria. Like I'd get blood on my hands. OY!


Toy Soldiers? Love it! Where the hell did you go? Where you ever even here? I think I may have been hopped up too many “this is your brain” commercials to be thinking clearly back then.

Land down under…

Vegemite sandwich? Took me a while to figure out what the hell they were talking about. I get it now. Took me long enough. Once more I fully blame the egg breaking, frying pan commercials. NO WAIT! It was the Italian guy dressed as an Indian crying as he looked around at the pollution. That did it!

Mr. Big?

Does anyone else instantly want them to whip it out to verify this. I mean, claiming your “Mr. Big” is rather presumptuous. Have you seen all the other dicks in the world? I haven’t and that makes me question you. Big is actually a relative term. You could be a seventy pound forty year old virgin who grew up in a cult that taught you that your hand would fall off if you touched yourself. If so, your opinion on a large penis would most certainly be different than mine.

Love and erection?

Err…I mean affection. They’d have been hot with shorter hair. Dating a man prettier than me is cardinal rule number three on my list of DO NOT DO. I’ll drop more from the list as I go. I should point out that #1 is that I have the right to forget…errr…change each rule as I see fit. Being Queen is good.

Big Time…

Peter, I can’t say a bad thing about you! Anyone that I find oddly fascinating deserves my uttermost respect. You’ve got it.

White sports coats, pink shirts and loafers without soaks?

Who decided this was cool? Who okayed letting Phil waste a perfectly good song on the likes of this? *shakes head* Some times you have to just walk away or it will bug you forever. I liked the talking car show better and I think we all get what I’m trying to say here.

It’s raining men…

Wait, I need to get a bucket! Hell, I’d be out front “rolling” in the puddles if you know what I mean. I suddenly find myself thinking of Magnum P.I. stripping as he gives the weather forecast. I’d like to point out while I’m on the subject of Tom, he is the ONLY man allowed to have a mustache. He wears it as a sexual weapon. Other look like seventies porn stars. Goatees, any variation are permitted and even encouraged, but use caution men of the world—while the ZZ Top look worked for them, it is highly advised no man attempt this. Unless you can make me think you are the sharpest dressed man, leave it be. I’m only here to help folks.

You’ve got the look…

Do you now? You aren’t wearing leg warmers are you? No rainbow suspenders? Speedo? (please say no, please)

Naughty Girls Need Lovin’ too…

This is my theme song. Deny it all you want but its true. Claim that you’ve never listened to it and I’ll pretend that I never watched Silver Spoons. I spent endless hours learning to mimic her voice and praying to wake up with breasts her size. I got the voice thing down. The boobs never came. *pouts*


I can’t be the only person who listened to this (thanks mom for being such a die hard fan of Sheena Easton that I knew all the words to this when I five. I preferred Dad listening to the Doobie Brothers—Black Water, while completely capable of sticking in your head, lacks the ability to creep back on you and never leave)

Nothing Compares To You…

Holly, that was hella fun to take off with your sister’s car (too bad we weren’t old enough to drive). I’ll even admit that listening to Carrie belt out the words to this for the ENTIRE hour drive wasn’t as painful as it could have been. Though it is hard to sit next to a bitchy Barbie wanna-be and not want to hit her. The added “cha, cha” sound she inserted between EVERY line of the song did make it difficult.

Oh, my God Becky…

I like big butts and I cannot lie. Umm, yeah I do…what of it? I dare you not to shake your ass to this one. I’ve spent years to trying to escape my ass. It spent equally as many years following me. When I was pregnant, I swear the thing sat on the back of thighs. I found myself referring to my legs as ass stilts, support columns, braces…yeah, you get the picture.

Wishing Well…

Need I say more? You will all be thinking of this song for weeks. Don’t bother with the hate mail. My inbox is like a black hole. LOL. *big evil grin*


I think my hubby would like some alone time with you. The guy’s been infatuated with you from the word go. Redheads make him weak in the knees. Everyone want a good laugh? I dyed my hair this insane strawberry blonde/red right before graduation from high school (sorry about that mom). I meant my husband a few months after that. Having spent those two months working outside at an amusement park had made it lighten up even more. I'm fairly sure he thought he was getting a redhead. That was prior to the brazilin days so you’d think he’d have caught on at some point. Umm, when I dyed it back to dark brown/borderline black, he freaked. I bit back the OY and walked away. If you all promise not to laugh, I’ll post a pic of the summer we meant in my readers group pic files. The first person who pokes fun of me gets bumped off in my book.

White Snake…

What the hell was I thinking? Guess it beats the Great White I just chucked out the window. I firmly believe the large amounts of cocaine being snorted throughout the US filtered into the air and made me high too. It’s really the only explanation I have. (Quickly tosses White Lion out window too)

You’re Unbelievable…

Thanks, I know.

Relax Don’t Do it…

I’ll try to hold back. Don’t have the equipment to play along. But I’d love to watch.

Karma Karma…

I refuse to be embarrassed by this. Come here George…I’ll hold you and never really want to hurt you.

Tainted Love…

Aren’t they all?

Sunglasses at Night…

Umm, baby. As fine as you looked you could have worn the damn things anywhere you wanted just so long as I got to wear whatever I wanted as well (for the record it was you).

Take on me…

*shakes head* You could have done so much better than the skittish blonde in the video. And how do you get your voice to go that high?

If You Leave…

Don’t look back. What I think you really should have said was “don’t let the door hit you in ass.” I’ve offered to help a few men pack in my life. And I guarantee I won’t cry.

Goody Two Shoes…

Often I have to stop and listen to this. Having never been one that a comment as such was directed at, the concept is a bit foreign to me.

Summer of 69…

AWESOME SONG! Enough said.

Sweet Dreams…

See above comment!

Quickly pitching the following into the trash…

Air Supply


The Little River Band

(secretly hides Styxx…and sings Mr. Roboto)

Quiet Riot




(keeping Poison. I still love Brett)

Don’t Dream it’s Over…

There is freedom within. One of only a select number of songs that make me actually want to slow dance, with a man no less! Very symbolic of my take on most interactions with other people.

My take on other slow songs…

Crash by Dave Matthews Band is another one I’ll willing go onto the dance floor and allow myself to be pawed. MORE: Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now), If You Don't Know Me By Now , Wicked Game , In Your Eyes, Iris, She Talks To Angels, Stairway To Heaven, Take My Breath Away – Berlin anyone plays the newer version risks castration, Time After Time and Mandy (just kidding, playing this will also leave you short vital item).

Playing NIN Closer to God, while not slow, will most certainly get you laid. *winks a DH, are you taking notes?* an animal...feel you on the inside....

NIN, Depeche Mode, The Cure…

Back up off any smart comments. You’ll only get hurt.

That’s all the glimpse of the tapes I’m willing to give you. One day I’ll let you see my cd collection. Trust me when I tell you that it’s scarier than the tapes.


posted by mandymroth @ 8:57 PM  
  • At 1:24 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Hike up your skirt a little the world to me. Too Hot.

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