MIX CD COMING SOON

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned to Jelly that I needed a new project for the Pool. She put her head down slightly to think. Her head came back up almost immediately, her eyes bright with excitement. "Why don't you do everybody in the department's theme song?" And that's why she's my assignment editor.

I put that idea in the back of my mind and let it fester for a few days. Then, I tried to attack the assignment. I didn't get very far. One idea was to do everyone's Beatles song. Negative. Most of their songs have love implications, and I ain't playing that game. For that matter, so many songs are about love that I gave up on the idea.

Until Tuesday. After much thought in the T-P parking lot, I started the groundwork. I tried to find an artist that I know each person likes and that I also like. Step 2: Go through that artists' songs and pick one. Here's the compilation:

(Note: Please take up any objections with my secretary.)

Me: Don't Stop Believing. Journey.
I think we've spent enough time on this.

Jelly: She's a Rebel. Green Day.
Jelly and I both have American Idiot as our favorite album. So I picked a song off that masterpiece. "She's a rebel; she's a saint." Perfect. Jelly is a saint. Yelly is a rebel who is "dangerous" and a "symbol of resistance."

Phil: Feelin' Way Too Damn Good. Nickelback.
Last week at dinner, Phil went on a tangent about the new Nickelback album. I couldn't believe he liked them. "Well, when they do the cool songs. Not that slow crap." Very well. This song is on the slower side, but it has some edge. "Something's gotta go wrong / Cuz I'm feelin' way too damn good." First part is Phil's outlook on life; second part is his carryover feeling from the Steelers' Super Bowl victory.

Max: Good Times, Bad Times. Led Zeppelin.
Max could talk to you about Zeppelin all day. Me, I just own the Mothership. You can't tell how any given shift is going by looking at Max. Because good times, bad times, Max "don't seem to care. ... He finds his way into the same old jam." He rocks it that way.

Lopes: Black or White. Michael Jackson.
Me (on AIM): Who's your favorite artists?
Lopes: Picasso, Da Vinci ...

He eventually told me he likes Michael. Not only do I like Michael as well, but this song is just too perfect to pass up. "I'd rather hear both sides of the tale. See, it's not about races. Just places. Faces. ... It don't matter if you're black or white." Tru dat.

Mike: Shining Star. Earth, Wind and Fire.
I'm pretty sure Mike told me they are his favorite once. I have like two of their songs on my iPod, this being one. Mike has been making the T-P shine for years now. "You're a shining star ... shining bright to see what you can truly be."

Anne: Lucky. Britney Spears.
I asked Anne what artist to pick for her, and she said Britney. Yes. Yes. I admit it. I liked Britney's first two albums. Wanna fight about it? And just like the title character is lucky to be a star, Anne is lucky to be the designer in sports and not some other boring section. "And the world is spinning, and she keeps on winning."

JRap: Someday, I'll be Saturday Night. Bon Jovi.
We both count Bon Jovi among our favorites. Start of the second verse: "Hey, my name is Jim, where did I go wrong?" Ding. Ding. Ding. Actually, JRap has become Saturday Night for me. If he's not here to go pick up food, the whole shift turns to shit.

D: Where the Streets Have No Name. U2.
D was reading my top bands of the 80s list.
D: You like U2?
Me: Yup.
D: Yeah. Me too. The Joshua Tree is awesome.

D is from New Orleans. Many times the streets have no name. In other correlations, "The cities a flood, and our love turns to rust. We're beaten and blown by the wind."

Derry: Life in the Fast Lane. The Eagles.
Derry just went to the big concert and loved it. I own both volumes of Greatest Hits. Think of "he" as Derry and "she" as Drea. "He was a hard-headed man / and she was terminally pretty." No word yet on whether or not they've become drug addicts.

Sandy: Don't Blink. Kenny Chesney.
Sandy likes her some country. I don't. But I do like Kenny Chesney. After all, he's an honorary Saint. Don't blink is good advice for Sandy because she can't blink. What with those two kids and her job. "Don't blink ... Just might miss your babies growin' like mine did."

Brick: Master of Puppets. Metallica.
Brick loves him some Metallica. I don't turn off their songs when they come on the radio. Brick is a master of puppets. And we, the members of the sports department, are his puppets he plays against each other for his amusement. "Master of puppets. I'm pulling your strings. Twisting your mind. ... Blinded by me, you can't see a thing."

Marcus: I Believe I Can Fly. R. Kelly.
Marcus and I had trouble coming to a mutual artist. Especially if you don't count French artist Rodin. In the end, we had to settle on R. Kelly. Marcus is always saying, "Don't give up. Don't ever give up." This song is about just that. "I believe I can soar. I see me running through that open door."

Bake: When I'm 64. The Beatles.
Me: How about Yesterday for you?
Bake: How about When I'm 64?
Me: I like it. How old are you, Bake?
Bake: I'm getting close.

I wonder if Bake's wife can knit a sweater by the fireside.

Liam: Give it Away. Red Hot Chili Peppers.
One of the harder ones to pick. We've discussed the Peppers before, so that's good enough for me. The "it" must mean nickels here because Liam gives away nickels to me three days a week. "I'm a low brow, but I rock a little know how." Liam's jokes are certainly low brow, but he also has been known to drop some knowledge on me.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

When my mom woke up Tuesday morning, she was upset that I was watching 24. I was at the end. She storms back into her room, so I didn't hear the end of the following line. "Every fucking time ...." ... She comes back out with her iPod playing as I finish the last scene. "I wear fucking headphones all day."

Mom looks at the paper. She sees the news about Vince Marinello. "He's going to fucking Angola. Hee-hee. He won't last there. He'll be dead in two weeks."

Mom sees Chris Rose's column on Britney Spears. "He went to the fucking concert?"
Me: It's tonight.
Mom: Oh yeah. All that shit is tonight. Those are some expensive fucking tickets. Who the fuck she thinks she is? Neil fucking Young?

Mom is upset about what the bad guys did on 24. "Well, if they let Jack do his fucking job, none of that would have happened."

Mom is excited about her new treadmill, which came after I left Tuesday afternoon. "Let's go with the fucking treadmill. I haven't had a good workout in fucking weeks."

PARTING SHOTS
Derry and Brick are dismissing something quickly.

Me: Don't go jumping to conclusions?
Marcus: Derry can jump?

At dinner, I'm eating Skittles but not the yellow ones. I put them on the side.

Stephen: Gene's a Skittles racist.
Matt the photo guy: What? He doesn't like Asians?

THE DAILY TOP LIST
Let's go to the show again.

70) Rocky. 1976.
I've never crapped thunder.

69) Scream. 1996.
Yes. I do like scary movies.

68) Pulp Fiction. 1994.
Jules: Ain't no fuckin' ballpark neither. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but, you know, touchin' his wife's feet and stickin' your tongue in her Holiest of Holies ain't the same fuckin' ballpark; it ain't the same league; it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Look, foot massages don't mean shit.

67) Beverly Hills Cop. 1984.
Axel: Disturbing the peace? I got thrown out of a window! What's the fuckin' charge for getting pushed out of a moving car, huh? Jaywalking?

66) The Paper. 1994.
I've always wanted to yell, Stop the presses. And I wouldn't mind getting Marissa Tomei pregnant.