So, I was cruising around town one very hot summers day whilst listening to Led Zeppelin… as I often do. But, this one time… I was listening to Out On the Tiles, and it made me think… and then think some more. Analyzing Led Zeppelin lyrics has always been a great past time for me, but there really isn’t much to analyze with this song; it’s pretty straightforward and honest. “All I need from you is all your love. All you got to give to me is… All your love?” Sounds great, except the only thoughts that went through my head were… what I DON’T need from you. Yes, many thoughts… and I know this much… all I don’t need from you is… for you to pretend to be somebody you are not in an attempt to electrify or personify me. The truth will come out eventually, so you may as well get it over with… as no one is perfect. This will only put us both in a pickle, and lead to our demise. Also, please don’t try too hard to be funny by pulling foolhardy maneuvers or making asinine jokes. It’s like this: A) You are funny. B) You are not funny. Overkill. Next… please don’t come on to me real strong and act all emotional when we’re alone, then totally go Danny Zuko style in front of your friends. Really? How old are you? And please, when you come over, don’t park in front of a fire hydrant… nuff said. Also, please don’t break up with me for a safety girl, and then make sexual innuendos towards me when she’s in the next room. This means you are a flawed human being. I understand if you want to settle down with a breeder, but wouldn’t it make better sense to sexually innuendo her then? I hope you are a having a divine marriage. And please don’t moan and constantly bitch about all the wrongdoings life has endeared you… or bitch about your job because it is not what you dreamt. This will only make you sound like a pussy. Hard work pays and it is honorable... unless it’s illegal I guess. Please don’t bail out on me because “feelings” are now in the cards, and you don’t want a girlfriend… I know this is your prerogative, but don’t call me approximately one year later to rekindle. Guess what? I moved on. Please don’t try to be my friend, unless you mean it… true friends stand by you in time of need and don’t play childish games with each other. Look up “friend” in the dictionary… on second thought, I will do it for you: 1) A person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard. 2) A person who gives assistance; patron; supporter. 3) A person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile. You get the gist. Also, please don’t try to make me jealous by flirting or hooking up with a skank, or skanks’ plural. You will squander, as I am NOT, nor will I ever be jealous of skanks. Straight up. Please don’t leave your underwear in my bed, or your watch on my dresser, or other “important” items in my home just as an excuse to see me again. Here’s a thought… you can see me again because you want to see me again. Just say it. Most likely if we had that great of a time to make you forget your junk… I too, will want to see you again; consequently, you won’t have to deal with the dreaded rejection. Also, if you don’t have a college degree, this doesn’t make you stupid; you are the one who makes you stupid. If you try too hard to act scholastic or intellectual, you are only acting like a douche bag. Be yourself… we know you are smart. Please don’t try to communicate with me via third party through social networking. If there is something you want to say to me, you know how to get hold of me. Don’t be a chump... or insult my intelligence. I sure hope your bro-mance enjoyed the enticing poem you posted though.Also… don’t booty text me at five in the morning. Just don’t. Self-explanatory. Also… please don’t follow me at the grocery store and casually whistle or make creepy sounds; there is not a chance in Hell this will work out.This will only give me unnecessary anxiety and pretty much ruin my day. Don’t treat me like a whore, and don’t treat me like your mother. I am not your mom. And a lady never need be treated like a whore, even if she is one. Finally… all I don’t need from you is… backseat driving. I WILL open the door and push you out of the car... I’ll stop first though. And that’s all I have to say about that. The end.
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