Daily Archives: March 14, 2014

Radio XXXII, side B, track 7: “She Drives Me Crazy” by Fine Young Cannibals

Fine Young Cannibals - She Drives Me CrazyOh, Fine Young Cannibals, so last time this song came up on the track list, I used it to talk about one of my dogs by the name of Eugene and how he drives me crazy (oo oo).  And I intimated that I had some stories I could tell about him.  So I thought why not use this particular post to tell one of those stories and explain why exactly he drives me crazy (oo oo).  Like no one else (oo oo).

So every Christmas, my wife and I travel to New Orleans to visit her family.  And every year we bring along our dogs, Eugene and Emily (and now our newest addition, Charlie).  We stay with my sister-in-law and her husband; they also have two dogs.  It’s a full house for Christmas, and I’m pretty sure that my sister- and brother-in-law are up for sainthood for putting us and our unruly hounds up every holiday season.  Plus they’re Saints fanatics, so they’ve got a couple ins.

Anyway, it’s become something of a Christmas tradition that Eugene will get into something while we’re there at least once during the trip, and he’s usually aided and abetted by one of their dogs, Pisces, who weighs about ten pounds but is the clear matriarch of the pack when everyone’s together.

So a few Christmases ago, my brother-in-law and I walked down to a bar near their house called The Bulldog on Magazine Street (I always feel cool when I can name a place and where it’s at in New Orleans and also say that I’ve been there), which has a whole lot of different beers on tap.  So we have a few beers, and it’s getting late and we need to meet the girls back at the house, so we decide to pack it in and head on back.  I was bummed, because there was another beer I wanted to try, and that’s when I was introduced to the wonders of the go-cup; I can take my beer outside?  The heavens opened and angels wept.  As did I.  And I got my beer to go.

So I’m feeling nice and relaxed by the time we got back.  Not a care in the world.  Beer flowing through my veins and all is right with the world.  And then we opened the front door.

There, in the middle of the living room, was the remains of a two-pound bag of flour.  If I didn’t immediately know what happened, I would have guessed that someone had dropped that poor bag from on high and it exploded upon impact, since there was flour on everything.  The couch, the TV, the stockings, everywhere except for the counter where it had originally been sitting. 

And laying all around the evidence were dogs, all looking petrified at what we’d discovered.  Petrified that we’d blame them for what basically looked like the most amazing coke party since “Scarface”.  All of them petrified except for the actual culprit, who was still snuffling and snorfling around the scene of the crime.  Even if we hadn’t caught him in the act, based on the amount of soggy, caked flour crusting his ears and nose, it wouldn’t have taken much of a detective to figure out what had happened.

So rather than kick back and enjoy my N’awlins buzz, I helped my brother-in-law vacuum and dust and chisel dried flour out of the woodwork.  And since our hellhound had ingested two pounds of flour, I also got to escort Eugene outside once every half an hour or so all night long since his normally iron stomach had hit its weight limit.

As holiday stories go, it’s a good one.  And while I was severely displeased at the time, it’s one of the nuggets I pull out from time to time when I’m swapping dog stories.  I’d like to tell you it’s the last time Eugene got into trouble.  In fact, I’d LOVE to tell you that.  But that dog is 100% chowhound, regardless of what they told my wife when she got him as a puppy (incidentally, what they did tell her was that he was a beagle and would probably get to be about 15 pounds.  I would like to meet the gentleman who told her this with a straight face and make him live with our sixty-pound food assassin for a month.). 

And I can’t hold too much of what he does against him.  As someone who’s snarfed a whole pizza down by himself on too many occasions to count, the only difference between Eugene and myself is. . .actually, I don’t know that there is a difference.

So yeah, Fine Young Cannibals, he drives me crazy (oo oo).  Like no one else (oo oo).  But I love that goddamn dog anyway.  I can’t help myself.

(Oo oo)

“She Drives Me Crazy”

<awesome FYC jam>

I can’t stop

The way
I feel

Things you do

Don’t seem real

Tell you what
Got in mind

‘Cause we’re runnin’
Outta time

Woncha ever
Set me free
This waitin’ ’round’s
Killin’ me

She drives me crazy (oo oo)
Like no one else (oo oo)
She drives me crazy
And I can’t help myself

(Oo oo)

I can’t get

Any rest

People say

I’m obsessed

Everything
That’s serious lasts

But to me
There’s no surprise

What I have
Knew was true

Things go wrong
They always do

She drives me crazy (oo oo)
Like no one else (oo oo)
She drives me crazy
And I can’t help myself

(Oo oo)

<awesome FYC jam>

I won’t make it

On my own

No one likes

To be alone

She drives me crazy (oo oo)
Like no one else (oo oo)
She drives me crazy
And I can’t help myself

(Oo oo)

She drives me crazy (oo oo)
Like no one else (oo oo)
She drives me crazy
And I can’t help myself

(Oo oo)

She drives me crazy (oo oo)
Like no one else

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