I Like You, I Really Do
December 20th, 2005
Did you see the title of the post up there?
If you didn’t, I would like to let you know that the title of this post is I Like You, I Really Do and no, that doesn’t refer to the collective “you” but it actually refers to the singular “you” — meaning that if you are reading this post right now and you are digesting the words contained herein, that you should know that it is you, not them who I really like.
I do. I really do.
There are so many things about you that I like. There are so many qualities and personality quirks and neat little habits and obsessive compulsive disorders that you have as a person that I enjoy liking. Sometimes, I like to simply like for the sake of liking. But don’t let that make you feel any less liked just because I like for the sake of liking.
I like the fact that you think the word liking looks a lot like the word licking and that on many occasions you have suggested that the word-professionals find a way to combine the two into one, all purpose liking/licking word for all the word to enjoy.
But for now, let’s just get back to the fact that I like you.
The fact that I like you so much woke me up from a deep sleep this morning with nothing but liking on the brain. I thought to myself, “Man, if you like them so much, why not post about how much you like them…” and lo and behold — here I am converting my waking-state likeness to a post likening the likeness here right now.
Someone famous once said, “I like, like you.”
But in an attempt to not give too much press to the Valley Girls of the 80’s who are no longer a part of our world, I would instead like to return to the point in this post where I mentioned that I woke up with a start, with “like” on the brain, and how I immediately turned to my bedside table where an empty pad was waiting for my words. Feeling the emotion of “like” — I quickly scrawled this poem out:
What is…like?
Do you like it like the summer wind,
or like it like the winter snow,
or like it like a lollipop,
or like it like you think you know?
Do you like to like them in the rain,
or like to like them on a train,
or like to like them in the night,
or like them if it’s wrong or right?
I kind of like it. You likey?
No matter you level of likeness, the factor of like permeates my soul like air permeates my lungs, assuming my lungs don’t have holes (not that kind of permeate) but that they instead have some kind of porous quality that allows air and oxygen to get into my lungs so that I can breathe.
Still, I like you. (No matter what I have to say about my lungs, which I like as well, since they allow me to live — but would I really want to live with fully functional air-breathing lungs if I could not enjoy the like-ing-ness that I enjoy with you here today?)
That’s something I don’t like to think about.
I like to cut to the chase when talking about my propensity to like. I like to liken my adoration (or, some would say, likability) for you to the kind of way I like old stale cereal. No matter what there is in my kitchen (or around me in my life), I will always turn to you (the stale cereal) before I turn to any other type of food. And deep down, you must know, that this all stems from me liking you. You’re damn cool. And that’s why I like you.
I like where this is going, so far.
But in the event you worry that I am liking someone else while referring to “liking you” — you must know that this is not the case. When I enunciate the liking of you, I am communicating my likeness for you and yours. I not only like you, yours and theirs - but I like everyone who falls under paragraph 3.4b of the liking clause.
I like to contradict myself solely because you like it when I do that, which makes me indirectly like you even more.
And that…I like.
Sorry, I have to borrow that Valley Girl speak: “Like…wow. Like you really sound like you know what you’re talking about. I like it that you’re so in love with the word *like*, just like John Tesh is so in love with his cell phone. And it’s so nice that you like me, you really really like me!”
Comment by Pearl — December 20, 2005 @ 9:03 am
No, Pearl - you don’t get it.
I like likening you to someone that I like.
Comment by Pauly D — December 20, 2005 @ 9:05 am
Aw , I like you to. Really I do.
Comment by networkchic — December 20, 2005 @ 9:13 am
you can have my half eaten box of Lucky Charms. I know that’s what you really want.
Comment by Kathleen — December 20, 2005 @ 9:17 am
Kathleen - Sadly, and this is so true — I like Lucky Charms more than any living or breathing human being. Cause when the Nuclear Winter comes, only Lucky Charms will survive the harsh conditions…and people won’t.
Comment by Pauly D — December 20, 2005 @ 9:21 am
I lick you, I really do
(well, I lick my computer screen everytime I see your picture)
Comment by meme — December 20, 2005 @ 9:22 am
I hate not being liked. I feel powerless and stunned when I hear someone doesn’t like me. So YAY! PaulyD likes ME!
Comment by ginger — December 20, 2005 @ 9:54 am
You like me! You really, really like me! [sniff] I have to to thank all the little people, who helped make me so likable…
Comment by annabel lee — December 20, 2005 @ 9:56 am
I’m licking the liking too.
Comment by groovebunny — December 20, 2005 @ 9:57 am
I really like telling people I like them. It’s fun. Seemingly out of the blue, I’ll just suddenly say “I like you!” Sometimes, they look a little uncomfortable, but that’s only if we’ve just met. Otherwise, they usually say they like me too. And that makes me feel all warm and gooey.
Comment by jodi — December 20, 2005 @ 10:00 am
Jodi - What I’ve found is that if you say I Like You you must follow it up with I Really Do or they think you’re just pulling their leg. Everyone says both phrases together, I guarantee it.
Commence satirical, allegorical discussion…NOW.
Comment by Pauly D — December 20, 2005 @ 10:02 am
you are so full of shit, paul. bastard.
Comment by kristine — December 20, 2005 @ 10:03 am
Awww… I feel so well licked. Even after missing the WFME Holiday Party, I’m still licked by the host!
BTW, what’s a “satirmifical alligator discussion”? And how would I go about commencing one?
Comment by Kevin — December 20, 2005 @ 10:11 am
Kevin - If you must know, in order to commence a satirmifical alligator discussion you must go to Florida. That’s where most of these satirmificalizations take place.
Comment by Pauly D — December 20, 2005 @ 10:14 am
You wrote this post just for me, didn’t you? Love you … mean it!
Comment by nic — December 20, 2005 @ 10:41 am
I like you like I like liking licking. (btw … meme, you’re funny!)
Comment by nic — December 20, 2005 @ 10:49 am
If you really liked me you would create a podcast… just about me. that was not a hint or anything so don’t worry
Comment by Glen — December 20, 2005 @ 11:46 am
I hate your guts.
But the rest of you is alright, I guess.
Comment by Fun Joel — December 20, 2005 @ 12:16 pm
Have you actually read the book you have in the photo? It’s adorable… confession, I’ve actually purchased it for quite a few ex-boyfriends who incidentally I don’t like anymore. Anyways, it’s a great book and I just spilled my secret so I won’t be purchasing it for any more boyfriends and any ex of mine that reads this comment will now know that I am completely unoriginal and well… a liar.
Oh well. It’s a great book. I like it… errr you… errr… it.
Comment by Alissa — December 20, 2005 @ 12:30 pm
Alissa - I like that book so much!!
What’s it about?
Comment by Pauly D — December 20, 2005 @ 12:46 pm
You might like this, too:
Comment by Flower Girl — December 20, 2005 @ 1:41 pm
FG - What are you trying to do to me? I clicked on that link and woke up five minutes later with no recollection of where I’d been.
Eerie.
Comment by Pauly D — December 20, 2005 @ 1:46 pm
I like it when you call me Big Poppa….
Comment by Jacynth — December 20, 2005 @ 1:59 pm
Pauly likes us (yay!)
Might he like me best someday?
Probably not (sigh)
(see: random “like” haiku)
Comment by sandra — December 20, 2005 @ 4:09 pm
You have a very interesting view on “like” and I like it.
Comment by Scully — December 20, 2005 @ 5:18 pm
My consciousness stream is nothing like yours Pauly (I see you added categories since my last visit). Case in point, I do not ponder nice words like “like.” Last night, considering the differences between “bile” and “gall” kept me awake for minutes. Was “gall” one of the four humours or just “bile”? What is the difference? What are the other two, or three?
See what I mean? I’m, like, so twelfth century!
Comment by RW — December 20, 2005 @ 5:34 pm
Do you like them if it’s wrong or right?
Pauly, your like is so wrong, but it feels sooooo right.
Comment by Lynn — December 20, 2005 @ 6:32 pm
really? because i like to follow it up with reasons why i like them. instead of just reassuring them that i mean it. like “i like you. you are funny and i enjoy your presence in my life” or “i like you. your shrill voice frightens small children and i find that useful”
Comment by jodi — December 20, 2005 @ 9:26 pm
too much liking around here for me
Comment by Wendi — December 21, 2005 @ 9:19 am
Pauly! This is very special…really…My mom (RIP) bought me this book in April 1969 and signed it for me. I remember the day she bought it in Pickwick Bookstore. I have an original with a blue cover too!
…”i hate it when people are all googly and gaggly (sic) and everything”…
It sits on my nightstand…
Comment by Melina — December 21, 2005 @ 1:57 pm
and, i really like you!
Comment by Melina — December 21, 2005 @ 1:57 pm