Last night I was brain-dead. Blogged out. A blogging conference can do that to a girl, along with subsequent emails, post reading, comments, more emails and debates all about blogs and blogs and blogs and blogs.

So I turned on my favorite go-to network for shows for the gray matter-challenged, hoping to catch some of Chachi is a Middle-Aged Male Prostitute or my other new trainwreck fave, Skanky Heavy Metal Groupies Lacking in both Self-Esteem and Access to a Good Colorist.

But no. Instead, I was privileged to watch Grease, only the best (BEST!) not-so-much-the-best movie of my preadolescent years. With Valley Girl a close second, of course.

I know this movie backwards and forwards, and have ever since fifth grade when I bought the photo book of the film that took you through the entire script, cartoon-style. It was the first film I saw five times in a theater. It was the first album (double album!) I ever owned thanks to my brother, although it sucked when I cracked sides 3 and 4 and couldn’t listen to half of the dance-off tunes. I do however confess to skipping Hopelessly Devoted to You every time because it was boring. I was more of a Summer Lovin’ gal.

I know every line of that film, every blooper, and as of last year, I even know where the Thunder Road scenes were filmed.

So of course I sprang to attention last night when I caught that Grease Lightning had been edited.

Somewhat arbitrarily.

You are supreme
The chicks will cream
For Greased Lightning

That was fine.

With new pistons plugs and shocks
You can get off your rocks
You know that I ain’t braggin’
She’s a real pussy wagon

That was fine.

Also, the accompanying jerk-off gesture – fine. In case you’re wondering.

With a four-speed on the floor they’ll be waitin’ at the door.
You know that ain’t no shit, we’ll be gettin’ lots of tit
Greased Lightning.

That’s not fine.

Shit/Tit? Not fine at all.

So instead of simply bleeping the offensive syllable, someone did a sneaky little edit job, grabbing other lyrics that might blend in tonally, maybe even escape the scrutiny of dorks like me.

The result:

With a four-speed on the floor they’ll be waitin’ at the door.
You know that ain’t no floor, we’ll be gettin’ lots of door.
Greased Lightning.

Does this make any sense?

We’ll be gettin’ lots of door?

What does that even mean? I can only imagine some sort of weird automotive fetishist moaning, More door! More door!

Or something.

So what did I learn from all this?

Excrement + breasts = bad
Masturbation + precoital lubrication + female genital euphemism = good
Me + blogging conference = punchy

The pervy googlers from Thailand are going to loooove this one, aren’t they.