You go to my head

You go to my head
and you linger like a haunting refrain
and I find you spinning 'round in my brain
like the bubbles in a glass of champagne.

You go to my head
like a sip of sparkling burgundy brew
and I find the very mention of you
like the kicker in a julep or two.

The thrill of the thought
that you might give a thought to my plea
casts a spell over me
till I say to myself
get ahold of yourself!
Can't you see that it never can be?

You go to my head
with a smile that makes my temperature rise
like a summer with a thousand Julys.
You intoxicate my soul with your eyes.

Though I'm certain that this heart of mine
hasn't a ghost of a chance
in this crazy romance,
you go to my head.

Been listening to Rufus Wainwright's Judy Garland cd and the Who's Quadrophenia exclusively for the last few days. A strange pairing, but it's working out well for me. Just thought you should know.

Here's your moment of synchronicity for the week. I've had it in my head to cook a turkey after Amanda told me about the one she prepared on Thanksgiving and it sounded so good, I figured I'd give it a try. Anyway, I was grilling Kim at work today about how much turkeys cost and other things about them that I'm pretty sure I should know already. In the middle of the discussion, the phone rang and it was someone asking if we rented vats to cook turkeys in. Never got a call like that before.

So what is the significance of the call. I think it portends something huge, something epochal, concerning me and a turkey. Whether I cook one or end up in a romantic relationship with one, who knows. All I know is that things are gonna get interesting, son.

I will report back in full, leaving nothing out, as things develop.