Today, I’d go with “Chunk of Goat”

I’m one of those types who has to be listening to music almost all the time. As such, I have never denied that I have questionable taste in music and I would be the first to admit that I find some terrible music to be terribly good. So it doesn’t surprise me that when I was younger, dumber, and slightly to moderately emotionally disturbed, I had some absolutely terrible ideas for music. It also doesn’t surprise me that I thought I could make music because like any self-absorbed, shit-for-brains teenager, well, I thought I could make music.

Turns out, I can’t make music and after discovering journals from high school buried next to some headless Barbie Dolls in a box in my parent’s house, I now realize I was unable to even put forth a D- creative effort in the endeavor.

I appear to have started down the creative path in early 1995. Consider this thought-provoking brainstorming session from July 25, 1995:
“I’m going to make a list of possible band names:
1) Chicks with Dicks; 2) Chaos; 3) Naked Guinea Pigs; 4) Chunk of Goat; 5) Cigarette; 6) Dartboard; 7) Asshole; 8) Sterile; 9) Infertile (favorite!); 10) Yum Yum. Well, my brain is dry. Fuck Tofi Downs.”

Dry indeed and I have no clue who Tofi Downs was and/or why I disliked her/him enough to justify this mention. I’m also not certain where I developed the habit of telling my diary what I was going to do before doing it. I’ve heard that works well in public presentation settings … maybe I was ahead of my time there. Then again, some creative free-flow sessions that followed suggest something of the opposite.

On Jan. 12, 1996, shit got real for this music idea of mine:
“I’ve decided that I’m going to start a band called Chicks with Dicks. The debut album is going to be called Friction Off A Pickle Jar. The songs will be Pickles and Sauce; The Hermaphrodite Procedure (video for that one); Self-Penetration; Two in One; Friction Off A Pickle Jar; Casteration (sp); Hotdog Fantasies; and Lubrication. The cover will be a huge pickle jar with a couple pickles in it. The background will be either orange or red. I haven’t thought of a second album.”

Brilliant. My coup de grace came shortly after I settled on jump-starting my music career with a pickle jar, when I got serious and penned my first real ditty Shove It Up Your Ass. I’ll spare you the details of those lyrics, although I would note that my then-older boyfriend actually wrote a guitar part for that song. He’s a great musician but I can’t imagine in hindsight that was one of his best moments, even though it just may have been mine.

My journals show that despite my initial interest in forming an incredibly below-par band with a potentially career-stunting name, I gave up this preoccupation for what appears to have been a chronic habit of bitching about my friends and talking about how much I like boys with names starting with A through Z. Oh, how times have changed …

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