Keith Stewart’s remarkable adventures usually occur near his hometown of Hyden in the hills of southeastern Kentucky, although he can be found aimlessly wandering the streets of nearby Lexington at any given moment. Before he shed his corporate casing, he worked as a certified public accountant for a multi-national company. He now enjoys less stressful work with much less pay, and blogs and writes and stuff. Oh, and he is as happy as a clam.
Tonight, I just have a quick note on a current event that has been in the news this week. I am a caring blogger who wishes to not only entertain you, but also to inform you!
The Man Who Was Forced To Eat His Beard
Have you seen this?! When I first saw it, I actually thought I was being punked. Surely, this was some new show on television that pretended to be a newscast but actually was a comedy. But, no, there was the news anchor trying with all his might and professionalism to keep a straight face and not burst out laughing as he read the story.
(ZZ Top, not pre-cut Harvey)
If you haven't heard or read about this, a feller named Harvey down in Lawrenceburg was trying to sell his lawnmower to his friends (I use the term friends loosely because friends don't make friends eat beards) James and Troy. The negotiations were apparently heated and the good ol' boys started arguing. Harvey said, "one thing led to another, and before I knew it, there were knives and guns and everything just went haywire." By "haywire," Harvey means that James and Troy cut off his beard, which I am guessing must have been long and flowing a la ZZ Top, and then stuffed it into his mouth and forced him to eat.
Now I ask you, WHO DOES THIS?! What kind of mind has the thought that making someone eat his own body hair is a good fight tactic? I could understand if you were negotiating the price of a lawnmower and the haggling turned into a fight with the biblical Samson that cutting his hair off may be a good move. Really, that is the only instance I can think of that would call for cutting off someone's hair. From the picture, Harvey looks like a pretty stout feller, so I am also thinking that either Jason and Troy used a stun gun or a taser before chopping off his manly locks and forcing them down his throat.
(Back hair as an option
or the tail of a mullett?)
Further, let's just say, for the sake of arguement, that I did decide to cut off someone's hair and make him eat it in a fight, would beard hair be the best choice? I think if you are fighting with someone and you are at the point of making him eat his own body hair that pubic hair is the logical choice for eating. Pubic hair has everything you need when making someone eat body hair in a fight. It adds a layer of disgust that beard hair can not deliver while basically having the same texture as and difficulty in swallowing that facial hair offers. Back hair could also be a viable option, but probably too hard to harvest in the heat of battle. Then, I am speaking hypothetically. Jason and Troy may have used both pubic and back hair in their previous fights and found that beard hair is the best option. Who am I to mess with that?
I am particularly proud that (a) these good ol' boys have brought such pride to our state and that (b) when the television crew came for the interview Harvey decided it best to wear his "Southern Style" ball cap which is covered with the Confederate flag. I do not know why stereotypes exist. Just because the only news story from Kentucky that has made national news this week was about a man in a Confederate flag hat who had gotten in an arguement with his friends over a lawnmover and had his beard cut off and was forced to eat it doesn't really mean anything.
(Notice everyone is bald (except me) and clean shaven!
But, just in case it does, and I get into a fight with some of my friends, Andy, Glenn, Doug, and Jeff better be happy they are bald and clean-shaven.
Thank you to all of you who have responded to my last blog with support. I really appreciate it, and it means a lot to be able to share that experience and know that there are people out there who care.
As a result of my bashing, I had to have extensive dental work, and it took months before I was able to get the implants I have now for my two front teeth. In the interim, the dentist gave me a partial that was, by far, the ugliest set of false teeth ever made. The only teeth I had ended up actually losing were the front two, so the partial was a full plastic piece that fit into the top of my mouth with two front teeth attached to it. It always reminded me of a cartoon rabbit's teeth.
I soon realized why older people with dentures "click" their false teeth. It is both fun and addictive. By using my tongue, I could snap the piece in and out of place in my mouth. I don't pretend to have the answer to why this is fun to someone with dentures, but it is, and I did it a lot. Too much actually.
During this period of time, I was teaching college accounting classes at Sullivan University in Lexington. Having to go stand in front of a group of 25 students while wearing my new false teeth was tough enough, but my new lisp that I felt I had with the falsies and my addiction to playing with my partial had me on edge beyond belief. Before going to class, I would slather the plastic with Fix-O-Dent, a glue substance that adheres dentures to your mouth. Although the directions only called for a drop or two, I would cover the piece completely. I would not have my front teeth go flying out of my mouth while explaining debits and credits.
This system worked well during the term, and my partial never moved. What I did not realize I was doing, however, was still trying to use my tongue to play with the partial. It had become an addiction and I was doing it subconsciously.
The evening classes at Sullivan are 3.5 hours long and meet one time per week. In these classes, it is common to lecture, give a quiz, and return and review homework all in one night. In one particular class I was giving a quiz after my lecture, then returning mid-term exams. While I was waiting for the students to complete the quiz, I was bored and started playing with my partial. I felt a funny snap, and immediately ran my tongue over the piece. It appeared that everything was intact, so I didn't worry. After I returned the mid-term exams, I allowed let anyone who made a C or higher leave class early, and gave the option to the rest of the class to stay and review the test and take another quiz to help them earn enough points to at least pass the mid-term (yes, I like to think I am a cool, hip accounting prof).
Fifteen students remained with me as I started working the problems from the exam on the board. I was trying to be very specific and very clear how to do the work, when suddenly I felt a tuft of wind. I felt the tuft of wind blowing through a gap in my mouth. It was then I noticed that one of my false front teeth had snapped out of partial and had somehow lodged itself on my sweater. That had been the snap noise I had heard! My tongue had pushed out one of the teeth! I still thank my guardian angel for the mere fact that I was writing on the board at the time and my back was turned to the class. I had an instant panic attack, and stopped talking in mid sentence. As my Uncle Ed used to say, I didn't know if I should shit or go blind. I stood still, hoping that if I didn't move or make a sound the students would think class was over and get up leave, but seeing as how we were on problem #1 from the exam, that was not likely. Eventually, one of the students said, "Um, Mr. Stewart, are you OK?" I did the only thing I could do. I picked my tooth off my sweater, put my hand over my mouth, and ran out the door.
I ran down the hallway to the restroom to assess the damage. After calming myself down, I could see that it had been a clean break. The false tooth had cleanly broken from the plastic. Damn my addiction to playing with my partial! I finally decided that I could try to glue it back with the Fix-O-Dent. The only problem was that my Fix-O-Dent was in my bag in the back in the classroom. There was really no choice, I ran back down the hall, ran back into the room, grabbed a large tube from my bag, and ran back out, ignoring the questions of the students. As I headed out the door, I did hear one of them say to another, "That looked like a tube of hemorrhoid cream."
Back in the bathroom, I successfully Fix-O-Dented my tooth back to the plastic. How long it would hold, I had no idea. I just wanted to get the heck out of there. I went back to class and told that the students that I did not, in fact, have hemorrhoids, but I was having dental issues. That confused them even more and led to more questions. Finally, to make them shut up and leave I told them to take their tests, rework the missed questions, and I would give them a passing grade. I just wanted out before the minty fresh hold wore off.
I finally got home that evening with my both teeth in tact. I had made it! The kitchen smelled wonderful, and I asked Andy what he was making for dinner. I don't remember anything after he said, "Corn on the cob."
I was thinking this morning about what I would blog about today, and I remembered a pretty darn funny story to share with you. However, in order for that story to make sense, I would need to share a very unfunny, unpleasant event with you. It is something that I have not shared with many people outside my family and circle of friends in Lexington, but it is has become such a turning point in my life, I decided that I should just share it. Hopefully by doing so, some people will become more aware of the hate and issues that gay and lesbian people face each day.
On February 17, 2008, I was gay-bashed in downtown Lexington. We are talking about losing consciousness, 911, ambulance, hospital, the works.
Until the beating, the evening had been great. Andy and I, along with our friends Glenn and Doug, had been to dinner at A La Lucie, a great bistro in downtown Lexington. Lexington had just recently been named as one of the top 10 cities in the nation for GLBT people to live, and we were completely happy and proud to be a part of that. We all four had a very trying work week, one in which Glenn had actually totalled my car (which is actually another blog story!), and we were relaxing in an open atmosphere full of people who did not judge us at all. The memory of that night is so vivid I still remember that I had a delicious fish stew for my entree.
After dinner, we all four went to the Lexington Opera House for a production of Evita. The show was fantastic and after it ended, none of us wanted the evening to end. There was a charity event for AVOL, Aids Volunteers of Lexington, at a local gay bar that was a few blocks from the Opera House. We decided that we would stop by and see how it was going.
The event was a great success and the bar was packed with all types of people, both straight and gay, who had come out to support the charity. We ended up chatting with old friends and making new ones. We stayed until quite late, and because Andy and I had both had cocktails at the bar, we decided to take a taxi cab home. I told Andy that I would walk to the car and grab our garage door opener and anything valuable in the car that we were leaving parked on the street downtown.
As I walked out of the bar, I turned the corner into an empty lot which served as the bar's parking lot. Our car was parked on the street at the far end of the empty lot. As soon as I had taken a few steps out of the lighted sidewalk and onto the darkened lot, two guys stopped me. They seemed to have come out of nowhere. One of the men, who was wearing an orange hoodie, said, "Hey, Faggot." Then the hits came. It all happened in just a matter of seconds, too fast for me to react, to fight back. The next thing I remember, I was lying flat on the ground with Andy standing over me frantically trying to wake me up as he called 911 and screamed for help.
Next came the bystanders staring, the paramedics, the ambulance ride, the doctors, the nurses, the dentists, the x-rays, and the cat scans. I think I was in shock as I tried to talk to the policemen in the hospital emergency room. I am so thankful for Glenn, Doug, Andy, and my friend Donna who were all there with me that night/morning.
The end result physically was that I had a lot of bruises, a black eye, a couple of fractures in my jaw, and the loss of my two front teeth. The end result emotionally ran much deeper than any fracture or bone loss. The end result financially was literally tens of thousands of dollars for hospital, doctor, tests, dental implants, therapy.
The men who bashed me were never found by the police. I really only saw the first man, and he had his orange hood over his head, so I was not much help to the police. The newspaper ran an article about it, WKYT-TV aired a story on the news. No one mentioned my name in either, and at the time, I was happy about that. I was petrified that people would somehow look at me as if I had done this to myself, that I somehow deserved what happened to me. I did make the mistake of reading an online article about it, and then reading the viewer comments that were posted after the story. Many comments said exactly what I feared people would say, that God was punishing me, that I got what I deserved, etc.
Two and half years later, things are much different for me. I had been out of the closet for years before I was bashed, but after that event in my life I became more determined to live my life as my true self. I also became more involved in hate-crime and bullying issues. I used to agree with people who say that all crimes are hate crimes, but now I know different. The only reason I was beaten was because I had come outside of a gay bar. I had a wallet in my pocket that had hundreds of dollars in it and my car keys in my hand. Nothing was taken. The only thing these men wanted was to hurt me because of who I am. THAT is a hate crime, and it IS different.
It took a lot of time and work to dig myself out of the place that I went after that night, but I did it with the help of Andy and my friends and family. I am hoping this blog posting will help anyone who has faced a backlash because they were different, whether that backlash be physical or emotional. I want them to know that it does get better and you can overcome it because I am no different than them. He or she can be what I am.
OK, so a year or so ago, someone told me about this website called Topix. I think at this point we all know what Topix is, but for those of you who "don't know," I will explain. It is a website that allows people to post items and messages about their local community based on zipcode. For people who live in larger cities, you may very well not know about this. Be thankful. It seems to be, for all practical purposes, the newest way to gossip, spread untruths, and talk about people. Of course, I have never been to the Lexington community page. It is too big, I don't know anyone. I went straight for my hometown page of Hyden where everyone knows everyone else. I was mesmerized by it at first at all the posts. Then I became amazed at all the ignorance. Now, I am just completely blown away by the number of people in my hometown who have access to the internet and are still so dumb.
I have all but stopped going to this site unless someone tells me that I have to log on to read a funny post. That is what I did today because someone had posted negative comments about our pharmacy. As I read the names of the other posts, I started laughing out loud, and thought I would share some of my favorites with you. I have taken these directly from the Hyden Topix threads. Enjoy along with my commentary:
Chicken For Sale (Ah yes, thankfully I can now find a chicken for sale online)
Who Is The Drunkest Man In LC? (Wow, really? I am sure that I would have had that title on some particular night in my life. I have a lot of friends who would be interested in having a contest to see who would win the title.)
Bullcreek Lying Bitches (Oooh, those lying bitches on Bullcreek make me s'mad!)
You Might Be Emo If... (If you are emo, you probably know. So does everyone else.)
Bust Up Beech Bottom (Was there a police bust at a place called Beech Bottom? Did someone named Beech bust up his or herbottom?)
Scrape Scrape What's That Sound (Probably a scraper. Scraping something)
Vote No Gay Officials in Hyden (Yes, here in multi-cultural Hyden, KY, there are several openly gay candidates running for elected office. It is the San Fransisco of the South. WTH?!)
Hyden Low-Lifes (Watch out. They will get you.)
Trailors For Sale?? (Um, YEAH.)
Attention Womerns!! (The mating call of Topix Men)
My Pee Is Clear (Glad the infection cleared up.)
Popbelly Stove (Hmm, would like you to post a picture of that.)
Trade Your Vote For A Fish Dinner (A fish dinner would have been greatly appreciated instead of Rand Paul.)
WSGS Has Went All To Hell (Just all to hell. All to hell.)
Looking For A Police Man!! (Maybe you should look at city hall or the police station, not Topix.)
Everybody Think For A Minute (Now if we did that, we would not be on the Topix website.)
And my favorite:
People Who Sticky Their Nose Up Other People Azzes Dam I Hate That (Damn, I hate that too.)
Although my ultimate life goal after college was to meet Wynonna and become her new BFF, I pretended to have interest in other things in my life, such as career, relationships, and family.
I always keep a close eye on what was happening with Wynonner, being surprised how much our lives mirrored each others. Wy and I are close in age, so we sort of grew up together. We both made the same coming of age mistakes. I could be awkward and gumpy and say the wrong things, so could she. I got married and divorced, for obvious reasons (gay). She got married and divorced, for obvious country music star reasons (he dated an under-age girl). Then this happened to Wynonna:
When she was arrested for DUI, I thought about how lucky I am to have never been arrested for some of the idiotic things I have done. Plus, as if I needed even more reasons to love this woman, look at her mug shot! She is smiling and arching her eyebrows as if she is saying, "Yeah, I'm bad. You caught me this time, Po-Po, but you won't catch me again."
As the years went by, I went to every concert I could go to but was never able to get front-row or backstage. All that changed on Friday, September 24, 2010. Andy and I had tickets to see Wynonner, and he was happily pretending to be just as excited about it as I was. We were having a pre-concert cocktail waiting for our friend Doug to join us when the phone call came. Doug called to say he was running late, but he had a surprise. His partner Glenn had pulled some strings and gotten us not only backstage, but also on the list for the MEET AND GREET! The next 10 minutes or so of my life is completely blank. I think I blacked out. I know I hyper-ventilated. It was finally going to happen! Glenn then phoned, and when I answered, the first words out of his mouth were, "Do NOT embarrass me." I assured him that I wouldn't, and that I did, indeed, know exactly what songs Wynonna actually sang (please see the Bernadette Peters post in this blog for explanation).
We connected with Doug at the theatre, and were ushered backstage. As we stood in the room waiting for my Wynonna to arrive, I was a nervous wreck. I was babbling and extremely worried about what I would say to her. I'd had no time to prepare, and I always like to have something prepared when meeting a celebrity (again, see the Bernadette Peters story for further explanation). Andy finally told me that if I did not immediately calm down, he was going to perform a full-on-straight-out-of-a-movie slap in the face. The tone of his voice and look on his face told me he was serious, so I started using my inside voice and tried to focus on breathing normally and not laughing hysterically.
I pulled myself together and started sizing up bunch of yahoos that were in the group with us. I needed to be Wy's favorite person in this meet and greet. I needed to be memorable in order to win her over and become her best friend. Most of the group were sadly ordinary and I was sure I could outshine them. It was at this point that I noticed an adult man who was mentally-challenged standing in the room. Apparently, he was just as excited as I was to be here meeting Wynonna. He was going to be a problem. The advantage he had over me was evident. He had no filter on his giddiness. He was screaming "Wynonna!" to anyone who would look at him, and hugging strangers because he was getting to meet Wy. Was anyone in his group threatening a full-on-straight-out-of-a-movie slap in the face to him? Nooo. He was free to express himself . He was acting exactly the way I wanted to act. It was just unfair.
The handlers then lined us up in the order we would meet Wynonna. I was vying for a good position, and my last second decision was to go last. By being last, she would not feel so rushed, and I would have some extra time to spend chatting with her. I was sure that after hearing my witty opening line she would be enamoured and would be thinking to herself, "I love this guy! I hope he tells me another story!" The handler asked if we minded if she placed someone in front of us in line. We said that of course we didn't mind. I had not noticed that the exuberant man was still wondering around outside of the line yelling, "Wynonna!" She then explained that right before it was our turn, we would need to let him in line first. I was horrified. How could I compete with an exuberant mentally-challenged adult male who was a big fan?! Panic set in immediately. I was sweating profusely.
Then it happened. WYNONNA walked in the room!! I gasped at the sight. Then, the man who was to go in front of me in line started jumping and screaming and yelling, "Wynonna!!! Wynonna!!!" He then broke all the rules and ran over to her and gave her a big bear hug. Her bodyguards started to leap into action, but Wynonna was so gracious and unfettered. She waved off the guards saying, "It's OK, it's OK." She then talked to him and was so very gracious. My heart just melted. He then pulled out a drawing he had made for Wynonna. I know at this point I should be saying "awww" like everyone else in the room, but all I could think was, "Aw, Hell, I should have drawn her a picture. Now, he was going to be the most memorable person in the group." Shit. I regrouped and decided I would not let this deter me from making a good impression.
Suddenly, it was Andy's turn to meet her! He had given this meeting no thought whatsoever. I was just hoping he didn't mess up and call her Naomi. He was, of course, charming and said proper things. He told her what a tiny thing she is (very true, petite) and then hugged her. Wy already had her microphone pack strapped on and it was placed on her lower back under her shirt. When Andy felt it, he asked her if she was packing heat. She just giggled and was quite delightful.
Our friend Doug was next to go. I have no memory of what he said to her because I was busy trying to not faint and making sure I had no food stuck between my teeth.
The moment had arrived! Over 20 years of wanting and waiting led up to this moment! I walked over to her and hugged her. Tears came to my eyes, then nothing. Nothing was in my head. I could think of nothing to say. Maybe I was mesmerized by her wonderful eyes or transfixed by her body glitter. Finally, I stammered out at the speed of ninety words per second, "Oh Wynonna, I have waited all my life to meet you so that I could say something witty to you and you would love me and want to be my best friend and have me come to your house and have supper with you but now that I am finally here and you are finally here I can't think of a thing to say to you." She just hugged me again and sweetly said that as soon as I left this room she was sure that I would remember everything that I had planned to say. And just like that, it was over.
I felt more of a sense of relief afterward. Although I was out-shined by the other guy, I had finally met her. We may not have become friends tonight, but I was sure I would visit with her again. It was just a step on our journey together, me and Wynonner, and after seeing the compassion, grace, humility, and genuine friendliness she showed during this meet and greet made me sure that I had, indeed, chosen the right person to be my hero.
I have never hidden my love for Wynonna Judd. I have flown my Wy Flag for the world to see since I was mere boy. Her voice is unmistakable, incomparable, and just downright big. Hers is the type of voice that really needs no microphone. It could fill an arena with its pure and distinct sound with no help from electronics. I remember hearing "Had A Dream (for the Heart)" on the radio in the mid-80's and thinking that I really digged that voice. By the time "Mama He's Crazy" was released, I was. I was crazy in love with a red-headed woman named Wynonna.
While in college at Transylvania, I will be the first to admit that I did try to minimize my quirkiness in a youth-driven need to be accepted and fit in with kids from larger cities. I was willing to conform in most every way, except for my love of country music, in particular Wyonner (my pet name for her, I'm sure she'd like it). To my surprise, my high-falutin' Transy friends also loved Wynonna! Well, maybe love is a strong word, but they at least put up with my border-line obsession with her. Thankfully, I found a fraternity brother who harbored an unhealthy fascination with Wynonner's sister, Ashley Judd. Together, we were able to sit in our dorm rooms and plot elaborate plans on how best to meet and become best friends with the Judd girls. Sometimes, we would drive across town to the campus of the University of Kentucky in hopes of catching Ashley, who was attending UK at the time, walking to class or sitting outside her sorority house. Other times, we would just plan out what we would say during the dinner party that was an inevitable part of our collective future, each taking turns being Wynonna and Ashley in the conversations.
It was for Wy that I slept outside of Rupp Arena on a bitterly cold winter night along with my friends Elizabeth Wilkinson, David Spiggle, and Kelly Martin. These were pre-internet days, and in order to get the very best seats at a concert, sleeping outside and waiting for the ticket window to open was your best shot at being up close and personal for a show. We were rewarded with seats very close to the stage. This was the Judds Farewell Tour, and I was already very emotional. David and I waited for just the right moment, during a lull in the noise and while Wynonna was facing us, we stood up and yelled in unison, "WE LOVE YOU, WYNONNA!!" She smiled and pointed at us. At the sight of Wynonna acknowledging us, we both fell back into our seats hugging each other and crying like little girls. It was by far the #1 Wynonna Moment in my life, and one of my more embarrassing moments during my Transy years.
As I graduated college, like most everyone else, I set goals for myself and planned my future. My number one goal to meet Wynonna, thus becoming best friends and probably living with her. As it turned out, it took longer than my original five year plan, but the seed had been planted. Nothing would stop me!
Because she has been such a part of my life, I am making her blog entry a two-parter. Tune in tomorrow for the conclusion of Meeting My Idol!
Also, if you have lived under a rock for the past 25 years and have never heard Wynonna, or need a refresher of why she is a legend, here are a couple of You Tube videos:
OK, I am still in exile in Hyden, and the thing I dislike the most is the lack of a cell phone signal here in the mountains. Apparently, Appalachia is smack dab in the middle of the 3% of Americans who are not covered by AT & T wireless. As Mary Katherine Gallager might say, perhaps my feelings can best be expressed in song. I have rewritten Lady Gaga's "Telephone" to better give you a feeling of my desperation.
First, here is the song itself. Please play the song and and sing along using the new words below the YouTube box:
Hello, hello, baby you called? I can’t hear a thing,
I have got no service here in Hyden you see, you see,
Wha-wha-what did you say, huh? You’re breaking up on me,
Sorry, I wish I could hear you, I’m bored and lonely.
B-bored and lonely,
B-bored and lonely,
Sorry, I cannot hear you
‘Cause I am bored and loney.
You know how addicted I am to my phone, eh?
And I cannot text or call for days and days and days,
How was I to know Hyden ain’t served by ATT,
And now I can’t call and tell anybody.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Eh, eh eh, eh, eh, eh,
Eh, eh, eh
Telephone me!
Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
Eh, eh, eh
I’m lonely!
Eh, eh eh, eh, eh, eh,
Eh, eh, eh
Telephone me!
Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
Eh, eh, eh
I’m lonely!
Call all you want, but there’s no signal,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map and I ain’t go no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
Call all you want, but there’s no signal,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map and I ain’t go no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
The way I’m blowin’ up my phone,
Won’t make no signal faster,
Won’t make no tower faster,
Won’t give me 3G faster.
I should’ve gone with Appalach Cell,
‘Cause this is a disaster,
Callin’ like a collector,
Sorry, I cannot answer.
Not that I don’t like it here, I just live in Lex-y,
And I am sick and tired of my phone not r-r-inging,
Sometimes I wish that I lived in Grand Central Station,
‘Cause I would not miss a single text or conversation.
Text or conversation,
Text or conversation,
Cause I would not miss a single
Text or conversation.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Don’t stop callin’, stop callin’ don’t stop calling anymore,
I miss my calls, texts, apps and more.
Eh, eh eh, eh, eh, eh,
Eh, eh, eh
Telephone me!
Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
Eh, eh, eh
I’m lonely!
Eh, eh eh, eh, eh, eh,
Eh, eh, eh
Telephone me!
Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
Eh, eh, eh
I’m lonely!
Call all you want, but there’s no signal,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map and I ain’t go no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
Call all you want, but there’s no signal,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map and I ain’t go no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
My telephone, m-m-my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map,
And I ain’t got no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
My telephone, m-m-my telephone,
‘Cause I’m off the map,
And I ain’t got no app,
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone.
We’re sorry the number you have reached is not in service at this time,
Please check the number,
Or try your call again.
P.S. If anyone personally knows Lady Gaga, please don't tell her about this. I would hate her to feel bad about my rewriting her song.
