31 October 2008
I don't want to get you all worked up
Except secretly I do
I'd be lying if I said I didn't have designs on you
I'd be lying if I said I didn't have designs on you
~ "Designs on You" by Old 97's
Waking up Saturday morning was not a treat! First off, Ali-Son kept stepping on my sleeping mat; second, I think I was still drunk – yet experiencing a hangover at the same time. Our first stop was "Brothers" a convenience store that Ali-Son plans on buying and renaming "Cousins". We bought Dr. Pepper, some batteries for the camera, and a 1/5 of Bacardi, which I was somehow going to sneak into the park since the thought of more Hurricanes turned my tummy.
It was Roly Poly Nicoly's turn to be in the front seat, so I sat in the back, rearranging our belongings into our nylon Voodoo Fest backpacks. We stopped at New Orleans Hamburgers for lunch. There, we witnessed all kinds of shenanigans, including a vomiting 3 year old; two little boys who were very familiar with Obama; a little boy with the more gorgeous blue eyes and blonde curls; oh, and a Papa, with his daughter, and grandson. The food was good – unfortunately, the sunlight beat down through the windows and terrorized my hangover. I was so ready to leave when we were finally walking back to the car.
We had three goals for Saturday!
Be in the very front for the Old 97's (MY goal); throw panties and telephone number to Lil Wayne (NOT my goal); touch Trent Reznor in ways that cannot be discussed in this blog (MY goal).
Once we arrived at City Park, we recapped our goals and began the not quite as long of a trek. When we were by the sculpture garden, still a block or so from the entrance, a troupe of teenagers (gaggle; group; gang; whatevs), approached us and asked if we would be interested in some "E". At first I thought they had kidnapped my dog and were holding her for ransom; but then clarity happened and I realized that the youngn's were trying to cut a deal of a less nefarious sort.
I laughed at their offer and said they were sweet for caring; but that we'd be alright. Then one piped up, "you and me could have some fun with it". I literally laughed out loud and said, "Honey, you're a tad young for me I think." He disagreed and said that he was old enough to satisfy me. Ha ha ha Of course, I took the bait and asked him just how old he was. . . "I'll be 17 tomorrow". This gave me another case of the giggles as I told him I was driving before he was out of diapers. We wished them good luck in their drug dealing adventures and walked toward the gate.
I slipped the Bacardi into my jeans, and prayed it wouldn't fall through as security dug through our bags. We made it inside without incident and I began my day of Bacardi and Pepsi while RPN and Ali-Son bought more of those blasted hurricanes. It was already 2:30 or so by this point. We perused the vending tents for a half an hour or so. Some minor purchases were made. At 3, I told the girls I was heading over to the Old 97's stage and that they could join me or they could go get ready for Lil Wayne who was scheduled to go on at 4:20. Imagine that time choice!
They said they'd go check the crowd and come back if it wasn't too bad. I did NOT expect to see them again until after Lil Wayne. I wished RPN good luck on her panty throwing bit and I finished off my second Bacardi and Pepsi before walking to the SoCo stage where Rhett Miller would soon be playing guitar and singing directly to me.
Most of the audience was seated on blankets in the grass, which made my trip to the front an easy one. I stood directly in front of Rhett's microphone and waited, patiently for the Old 97's to take the stage. A guy standing next to me, wearing a Cracker shirt (the band, not the food), asked if I'd ever seen them live. I explained that it just hadn't been in the cards for me until that point and he explained that he'd seen them lots of times. We continued talking about bands and shows we'd seen until 3:30.
I screamed like a school girl when the show finally started. And several times, Rhett Miller looked directly at me with those incredible blue eyes and smiled. They were phenom and my voice was hoarse by the end. I have a ton of pictures and video footage of the Old 97's if anyone is interested. As Cracker-boy and I walked away from the stage, I could hear Lil Wayne in the distance. The thought of actually having to sit through that show nauseated me, so I elected to drink another Bacardi and Pepsi instead. Imagine my surprise when Cracker-boy accompanied me wherever I went for the next 2 hours.
It got to the point where I texted 2 different friends to call me and help me out of the situation – but both of those people FAILED me. And I know both of those people are reading this now and laughing at the uncomfortable situation in which they left me. All I can say to you two is payback is hell, bitches!
It wasn't until Ali-Son and RPN found me that I was able to detach the nice; but unsolicited appendage from my side. I think he would have been fins to chill with all day had he not kept pointing out people's tennis shoes and telling me which model number they were. It really got a little creepy after a while.
We needed to return to the car to drop some stuff off and run to get dinner before the Nine Inch Nails show. I found out on our walk to the car that RPN did not throw her panties – but she did almost end up in a huge fight with some big girls who didn't like the fact that she was closer to Lil Wayne than they were. Poor Roly Poly Nicoly – always getting picked on!
The End of Part III. Part IV will commence shortly!
29 October 2008
I'd like to say that you're my only fear
And when I dream, it slowly disappears
And when I awake, I'm right here by your side
To feel your heart beat in and out of time
~ "My Only Fear" by Angels and Airwaves
Parking near City Park is a trick – as there are over 10,000 other people also trying to park for the shows. But Ali-Son is a miracle worker and she found us parking within 6 blocks – PLUS it was free. We climbed out of the Hyundai, complimented her on her parallel parking skills, and started walking toward the park. Thanks to the White Russian daiquiri and the Sex on the Beach shot from Mango Mango, I was well on my way to being quite the happy concert-goer. As we are walking, I told my companions that I desperately needed to go to the bathroom. I believe my exact words were "seriously y'all, I gotta pee". Every house we passed, I was tempted to pay the owner for the use of their facilities. I believe there was also a short discussion about using someone's potted planter as a loo – but my plan was vetoed by common decency.
Finally we were in line for the festival. I could see the row or clean porta potties right past the guy handing out wristbands. When he secured mine on my left wrist I commented how these were so much better than last year's, which were tearable. Not "terrible" but "tear-able" as in able to be torn. Of course, I felt obligated to explain what I meant and the guy was laughing at me. The helpful Voodoo volunteers handed us a band schedule and we were in!
Armed with antibacterial wipes, the sunglasses I purchased in Columbia, and a full bladder, I made my first of MANY visits to the bathroom. Ali-Son and Roly Poly Nicoly were patiently waiting when I returned to them a few short minutes later. Our first stop was the Frozen Daquiri stand where we purchased our first of MANY Hurricanes. We perused a few booths before heading over to the Main Stage where we met up with Ali-Son's cousin to watch Angels and Airwaves. They were very good. And I never realized how good looking the lead singer was until I saw them live.
The rest of the afternoon was filled with music and vendors and more alcohol. We left the park to head back to the French Quarter so we could enjoy a very expensive seafood dinner – also known as Prince Charles (Shrimp Charles). Our waiter was from Mississippi and had a southern drawl which could make a girl's heart melt. I think I would have followed him through Hell had he asked. He called me Darlin', Sweetheart, and Love. I was lost. I eventually ran out of reasons to call him over to our table.
The table next to us was occupied by 3 guys our age. They were also having Shrimp Charles. This led the 6 of us to begin engaging in conversation. One of the guys had just moved to New Orleans from Southern California. The other two had helped him move and were returning home on Sunday. They were drinking beer (beer which tasted awful, I may add, since I asked for a taste of it). We were drinking shots. We forcefully requested they join us.
Soon, California Guy, Big Brother, and Chico were buying us more shots and chatting away. California Guy and I eventually began exchanging insults, much to the entertainment of our friends. Drunk or not, I can still hold my own in a battle of wit and sarcasm. Finally, we were ready to leave and go enjoy us some Stone Temple Pilots! As we said our goodbyes and I paid a bill which was beyond exorbitant, CG asked for my digits (after being prompted several times by his friend and brother). I made some comment about him being lucky I was drinking as my standards were lower than normal. He responded with, "Actually, you're lucky I have no standards at all". Laughing, I gave him my cell phone number and assumed I'd never hear from him again.
We went back to City Park in time to see STP take the stage. Scott Weiland put on one hell of a show. Not doing Heroin has been good for him. He has gained some weight and his voice has improved. I don't know how many more beers and hurricanes we drank; but eventually the show was over and it was time to find the car. Thank goodness Ali-Son has a built-in compass in her head. She led us through a very dark City Park, over the bridge, through the neighborhood and directly to the Hyundai. Roly Poly Nicoly and I were less than sober and found the entire trek extremely humorous. We kept making comments about uneven sidewalks (which they were), potted plants (which were everywhere), and how badly I had to go to the bathroom. Seriously, I must have peed 15 times at the show and still had to go.
On the way back to the apartment I received a text from CG and his friends. They were on Bourbon Street. They were drunk. They wanted us to join them. We declined out of sheer exhaustion. Back at the apartment, we crashed . . . and I was once again reminded how much I love beds and hate sleeping mats. Grrrrrrrrrr.
This concludes Disk B. Please insert Disk C to continue . . .
28 October 2008
Hey, I remember the way we would both say we'd be together forever and a day
Well I guess that day came sooner than late
'Cause now we're a part and a way
And it feels so stra-n-g-e, wouldn't you say?
I used to call you babe, and you used to obey
~ "Hey America" by Lil Wayne
Our magical carpet ride commenced at 5:45am on Thursday morning. Three Girls, one Hyundai, One trip to Starbucks, "a latte" of energy pills, and 18+ hours in the aforementioned Hyundai. Did you know that even though one drives through several states to get from Omaha to New Orleans, a majority of the mileage is spent in Misery, I mean Missouri? Did you also know that when someone tells you that you can just drive the Missouri part and they'll cover the rest of the states, that you are getting royally screwed? Well, it's true on both accounts.
Exit One Twenty-Four, Exit One Twenty-Four, Exit One Twenty-Four, Exit One Two Four -- Exit 124 in Columbia, MO is a rockin' exit. There is a Steak and Shake, a Wal-Mart, a traffic-light that NEVER-EVER changes to Green, a store where you can find bargains that you cannot possibly turn down (though we turned them all down), and a Toys R Us. There are lots of other things too – but those are the important ones. Trust me on this. The Steak and Shake service is mediocre – but the food is pretty damn good. Don't believe the pictures on the menu though. The Vegetable Beef soup is NOT that chunky and they are stingy with the crackers.
The driving rotation was disorganized and consisted primarily of one of us saying "my eyes are getting sleepy – someone else drive". Funny thing though – the driver only gets to pick the music if that music is rap. If the music is not rap – then the driver has to sneak in a CD after everyone else falls asleep. And when they wake up – it will return to rap. There is a huge rap following in Hyundai drivers, apparently. It was quite frightening.
Arriving in New Orleans around 1am on a Friday morning means only one thing – "let's go to Bourbon Street and drink "a latte" of alcohol. One visit to Mango Mango provided us with daiquiris and free shots. The street was crowded – the bars were crowded – the weather was perfect. Once Ali-Son's cousin was off work, we found ourselves at her apartment, where the space was limited and my extra comfortable sleeping/camping pad was no longer comfortable by any stretch of the imagination.
Our first morning was spent at Café du Monde (only after a visit to Mango Mango). White Russian Daiquiris are delicious when combined with Café au Lait and Beignets. After we had eaten our fill of fried dough covered in powder sugar we went to City Park for Day One of Voodoo Fest! I'll be sure to fill you in on everything in Part 2. I can promise you this, though – there will be several more drinks; some music; more drinks; "a latte" trips to the Port-a-Potty; and more . . . stay tuned!
22 October 2008
** My heart starts aching
My hands keep shaking
And you know, you know, you know
* It would take a strong, strong man
To ever let you go (to ever let you go)
To ever let you go
~ "It Would Take a Strong, Strong Man" by Rick Astley
I am printing a disclaimer on this post. Normally this is not required – but today – well, it is. The following may contain – strike that – will definitely contain – brutal truths that could be construed as less than PC or conducive to perpetuating existing friendships. If you read it and get your panties in a bunch due to what I write – well, that is unfortunate. The truth sets us free, bitches!
To start off, I received a text from Kickboxer last night. It said, "How is Nebraska?" Seriously? How is Nebraska? Not, "hey, sorry about that whole apple juice and emotional attachment misunderstanding. Sorry that I broke the rules then bailed because you didn't respond with love and adoration." Just "How is Nebraska?" So I responded with, "Cold and rainy" – then I followed it up with "You abandoned me in Fort Worth never to talk to me again. Why do you care about the weather here?" No response. Guess he really didn't care about the weather.
For those who don't know the Kickboxer story – you're missing out on some hilarity and drama and an ending of which legends are made. I did what I could. I tried to feel something for him. Anything beyond the all-consuming lust that only a 23 year old professional MMA fighter can create. But it wouldn't happen. I could not develop one real emotion for the kid. Definitely not sorry it's over – but do wish it would have been a little more FINAL; as in him not texting me yesterday.
Now, a quick moment on my favourite topic, "pie crust promises". Easily made – easily broken. I do my best not to make them or break them. Inevitably, I will continue to fail at this. It may be a mistake – but bloody hell – can't you see that you're worth the risk of making a mistake of that magnitude? Still, the pie crust is intact!
Moving on – for those of you who can only have emotional conversations by quoting song lyrics – don't have the hypocrisy to berate me because you think I am hiding my emotions. Get over yourself. I am not angry or filled with hate – like you suspect – I am INDEED an emotional void. I truly just don't care. Guess what? . . . It didn't work for lots of reasons, NOT just because I do not have the capacity to feel. I tried to feel. And you sucked the bloody life out of me – good fun. Glad we're still friends. Let's have lunch.
Oh and in case none of that made sense to you, here is the message again, in lyrical form (courtesy of Papa Roach).
"I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut
My weakness is that I care too much
Our scars remind us that the past is real
I tear my heart open just to feel
I tried to help you once
Against my own advice
I saw you goin' down
But you never realized
That your drowning in the water
So I offered you my hand
Compassion's in my nature
Tonight is our last stand
I'm drunk and I'm feeling down
and I just wanna be alone
You shouldn't ever come around
Why don't you just go home?
Cause your drowning in the water
and I tried to grab your hand
and I left my heart open
but you didn't understand
but you didn't understand
GO. FIX. YOURSELF.
I can't help you fix yourself
But at least I can say I tried
I'm sorry but I gotta move on with my own life"
That's all I have to say about that.
p.s. If you wanted funny today – here you go. . . a very short story – just for you.
Once upon a time, an imprisoned princess sent a series of desperate letters to her fiancee, the handsome and brave, Prince Phillipe. Below is a sampling of correspondence, which clearly illustrates their love and devotion.
Dear Princie Poo,
I am still locked in the bloody castle of your second-cousin's step-brother's best-friend. You claim to have been looking for me; but apparently you have yet to locate the return-address on the envelopes of the letters I have been sending you. In addition, I have included maps and a guide on several occasions. I cannot, for the life of me imagine what could be taking you so long. While I confess my confusion at the situation, I'd also like to address a few other issues. First, how in the world did your second-cousin's step-brother's best-friend happen to know that I would be on my way, without guard, to meet you at our secluded love spot at precisely 1:17pm in the afternoon on a Tuesday? Does he have psychic powers I am not yet aware of? I mean, he knew exactly when to jump out of the tall Oak and ambush me. Had I been half a second late, he'd have landed on the ground. Second, why haven't you paid the ransom? I provided you with my account information, as well as a hefty line of credit from "Ye Olde Tyme Bank and Trust". It is important that you pay the ransom soon, before he changes his mind and just throws me into the alligator infested moat. Lastly, and most importantly, do you know why my kind, thin, and beautiful little sister has not yet sent me a letter, inquiring about my health? I know that you have been a good friend to her in the past. Please, verify that she is healthy and safe. I would hate to find out that she has been kidnapped as well.
I suppose I should close this letter, as the candle is almost completely melted and it is very dark, here in the dungeon. Please send your forces soon so we can be together again.
Princess Winifreida xoxo
p.s. I am writing this in blood, since I ran out of ink several days back.
After several weeks, imprisoned in the dungeon, the princess received a response to her desperate pleas. With much anticipation, she ripped open the envelope and began to read.
To My Sister, Winnie,
I am sorry it has taken me so long to write you. I have been away on my honeymoon. Princie Poo sends his regards. Give our love to the alligators. Thanks for all the letters.Kiss Kiss,
p.s. Please don't send any more letters written in blood. The last one made the dogs act all crazy-like.
21 October 2008
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart
Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
~ "The Scientist" by Coldplay
In 48 hours I will be in a car driving South! I am really looking forward to being in New Orleans this weekend! There is nothing quite like road tripping with Ali-Son. She is one of those friends who will let you get wild and crazy – while keeping you 100% safe. And unlike last year, where I was rather tame and wanted to enjoy and remember my first trip to New Orleans, this year I am ready to remember nothing.
We should be pulling into the city around Midnight on Thursday night/Friday morning –just in time to grab a drink or four on Bourbon Street then head over to Café Du Monde for some beignets and café au lait! I don't have any idea where we are staying or with whom. I don't care, actually. Like I said, I trust Ali-Son to take care of me.
This time around, however, I do have some goals.
1. Do not trip and fall on a public street.
2. Know where the car keys are at all times.
3. Use feminine wiles to avoid long lines for alcohol at Voodoo
4. Take pictures
5. Find the Praline lady
These are not lofty goals – well, except the first one – but they may still present a challenge as the weekend goes on. I also need to buy some sunglasses before I go since I have misplaced my fake Versace's and broke the ones I bought in San Diego. This situation is why I refuse to invest more than 20 bucks in a pair of sunglasses. I am looking forward to warm weather, friendly people, southern drawls, and some incredible music!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I cannot explain it either - but that's okay. I don't need an explanation for it to 'just make sense'.
For those who missed it – here is a recap of our trip from last year:
"[28 Oct 2007 | Sunday]
There's One Less Fall Out Boy Fan in the World Tonight
Current mood: drained
This weekend was a whirlwind of music and sights and more music. I spent my first trip to New Orleans on Bourbon Street and at New Orleans City Park – for the Voodoo Music Experience. An experience, it definitely was. In fact, it ended at 5am this morning, as I pulled my friend's car into my apartment complex – just in time to get an hour nap before getting ready for work.
Here is a quick rundown of the weekend – in Awards Show format.
Most Graceful Moment: Crossing the street – heading into City Park, I apparently missed the curb – started to fall – quickly recovered, then tripped again – sending me careening in slow motion towards the asphalt. Luckily my karate skills kicked into high gear and I spread the impact throughout my entire body. I skinned my knee and scraped up my palms pretty badly – but I didn't break anything and the only laughing witnesses have been disposed of. It was New Orleans after all.
Best Breakfast Ever: The Café Du Monde Beignet and Café au Lait. A beignet is a square piece of dough, fried in vegetable oil and lavishly covered with powdered sugar. The Beignet is also known as the French Market Doughnut, and is the Louisiana State Doughnut. They use Cottonseed oil at the Café Du Monde. I could have eaten there for days. Yummers!
Most Surprising Act at Voodoo: Paolo Nutini. I watched him because my friend, Veggie Girl, loves him. He is a Scottish Songwriter. Though he danced like he had to pee during his entire performance, his show was fantastic. I am now a fan. Plus, his Scottish accent is kind of sexy – though I could not understand a single thing he said besides "thank you".
Best Miracle of New Orleans: Long story short – Sunday (Day 3 of the festival) – we are leaving the park, after 8 non-stop hours of musical extravagance. And Ali cannot find her keys. Seriously – we emptied her purse, pockets, etc, no keys. 5 sets of keys at the Lost and Found – none of which were hers. We walk through the very dark, very scary park toward her car, where I open the back door (oooops – no locked door) and there are no keys. Then she says, "No Way!" There are her keys, sitting ON the trunk of her car, in plain sight – on a very busy intersection in New Orleans – for 8 fricking hours! We did a 'praise Jesus' dance in the street, and thanked the SoCo beads for their part in it all.
Most Disappointing Old School Band: 'Smashing Pumpkins'. Billy Corgan looked old, tired, and like he felt he was entitled to fandom – without any work. He was "God awful – we left after song 2" said one former- fan. We stayed a little longer than that – but it was a huge disappointment. They should have stayed broken up. Bloody Hell!
Performance that lived up to All the Hype: Plain White T's. They were fantastic. They had energy, a sexy-yet-nerdy look, and that boy can sing. Wow! They played at 11:45 in the morning, and you would think they were headlining a sold-out crowd based on the energy and effort they put into their too-short show. I was so pleased that these boys from Chicago could put on a show of that caliber. Plus – who doesn't love "Hey there, Delilah"?
Friendliest People: The guys who shared their blanket so I didn't have to lay my head on the ground in a muddy field – the people who didn't rob me while I slept during 'Clap Your Hands and Say yeah' and that girl at the ATM who posed with me in a photograph for those guys who also hated the Smashing Pumpkins show!
Worst Live Performance Ever: Hands down, this award goes to 'Fall Out Boy'. They sound great on my iPod – but that is where it ends, folks. These dreamers cannot play their instruments – they cannot sing for shit – and even Pete Wentz (the Emo-poster child) only impressed me with his ability to wear all black – including a ragged hoodie – on a very hot day. They sucked. 'Gym Class Heroes', 'Plain White T's', and 'Cute is what we aim for' should abandon the tour and form their own before the crappiness plagues them as well.
And that, my friends, was my weekend. See ya next year at the 10th anniversary -- VooDoo Musical Experience 2008 – New Orleans."
20 October 2008
I'm running through your veins
Like a habit you can't kick
Here's a secret confession
From a lifelong obsession
As I'm staring out your window pane
~ "Body Language and Bad Habits" by Just Surrender
So, last night G3 and I went to dinner and then to Scary Acres – a haunted "acreage" with 4 haunted attractions. I LOVE haunted houses. Though you wouldn't know it by the way I scream like a school girl while going through them. We started out with the Haunted House on the Hill. Just walking up the damn hill was creepy. Once in the house, however, my heart was racing. There were tons of twists and turns and mad people. I do fine with gore and ghoulish stuff – but mad people scare the bejeezus out of me.
We walked through one room where there were baby dolls nailed up all over the wall and a girl in bloody pajamas hopping around requesting quite loudly that we leave her room. Then I did what one should never do in these situations, I made eye contact with her. She jumped in my face and just started screaming. I flew back and slammed into the wall behind me and started telling G3 to get us the hell out of that room. Laughter ensued from everyone except the mad girl and me.
From there we went to the Dark Woods where some bad stuff went down – but luckily for us, 'Sam' the teenager behind us took the brunt of the abuse since the evil doers found out his name. He was definitely scared. Again, I did fine with all of them except the mad ones. Stupid mad people!
With half the attractions out of the way, we decided to head over to the Stalks of Terror, which was a maze of wheat or straw or something growing. I was just happy it wasn't a cornfield – because that wouldn't have been happening. No Isaac and Malachi run-ins for me. The maze was not inhabited by any character actors. Instead, it really was just a maze, but patrons would hide and try to scare each other – for fun. We were searching for the exit when I saw two girls coming down part of the path. I motioned for G3 to duck down and I crouched low and hid behind some wheat, waiting for their approach. Then, when the timing was right, I jumped up and . . . said, "Hi." WTF!?!? They looked at me with curiosity, and then walked past without a word. G3 was laughing. . . "Hi?" He asked. "Really? You hide in the Stalks of Terror then jump out and say, 'Hi'?" Needless to say, my attempt at being scary was not successful.
The rest of the evening, which included over an hour in line for the Master's Castle, included the frequent mockery of jumping out and saying, "hi"! Nice! My haunted legacy will consist of friendly greetings!
Overall, the night was a lot of fun – and I handled the scariness like a trooper. No tears or rocking back and forth begging for my mommy. Hopefully I'll get a few more haunted houses in before Halloween.
The rest of my weekend consisted of an amazing opera, tequila shots, vodka, steak, humus, more vodka, a hangover, Chinese food, screaming 2 year old, grilled cheese sandwiches, an emergency shopping trip, holding a girl's hand, drunk married guy hitting on me, finding a quarter, and quality time with Marcus Aurelius!
PERSONAL NOTE: Still cannot believe it was only 10 bucks! A miracle!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Your present should arrive today or tomorrow. Wish I could have delivered it in person – for more reasons than one!
17 October 2008
So I thought I'd let you know
That these things take forever, I especially am slow
But I realized how I need you
And I wondered if I could come home
Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning?
And I thought it was strange, you said everything changed
You felt as if you just woke up
~ "First Day of My Life" by Bright Eyes
I love songs by artists who are from Omaha. While this city is not my Mecca – I will never stop appreciating the art and music scene here. There are some very talented humans from right here in the middle of America. I am especially partial to Zack Hexum and Conor Oberst. Not because they are easy on the eyes – but because they have voices which invoke an emotional response.
You know what else I love? Smart people. Clever people. People like DustoMcNeato on YouTube. He is a frickin' genius. Plus, he is a great voice mimic and wicked hot!
Here is a sample of his work:
Take on Me - Literal Video
The problem is this. . . I have been listening and watching his You Tube stuff for over a week and am starting to worry that I may get fired if I continue. I mean – I am still working, don't misunderstand. . . I work a lot of hours and I am getting stuff done – but my PC still plays a cycle of DustoMcNeato clips. My favourite part in the "A-ha" video is when he sings "you know you like it when I'm flirting with you". Because he's right . . . that girl does like it. You can tell just by looking at her. She likes flirting with an animated man. And why not? Who's to say that an animated man isn't as good, if not better, than a 3-D man? Let's not be biased against the 2-D hero. I used to be infatuated with Jonny Cage from Mortal Kombat – the video game. There's no shame in it.
Okay, maybe there is a little shame in it. Maybe I need to not share these types of secrets with the general public. Maybe I was just making it up. Maybe I don't even own a Jonny Cage action figure . . . it's just a hypothetical like Joe the Plumber talking about not wanting to share his wealth above and beyond what is fiscally dictated by the IRS (even though the US Gov is a little pissed that he hasn't even paid his legal share of taxes – but quite pleased he chose to come out on national television so an example can be made. Say it ain't so, Joe. . .)
Tonight, I am going to the Opera. I love the Opera. The Opera makes me emotionally respond to music in a way that no other artistic media can. I intend to laugh and be merry with a bunch of singing and dancing pirates tonight! Does life get any better than that?
PERSONAL NOTE: I am so happy that we talked this morning and that we got caught up on each other's lives. I miss you!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: *singing* 'I want something else to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life, baby, baby'. -- It's your special day – enjoy it.
16 October 2008
Instead of with the masses
Time and time again, she spreads her arms
While her mind wraps the rope around and around
‘Tighter this time’
She doesn’t want to slip
She doesn’t want to fall
Circulation drops; hands turn red
She waits, and waits, and waits
Fingers throbbing, pressure mounting
They see her now
Hanging there; a sacrifice of her own making
A nameless face tugs on her skirt
Then her skin; pinching and scratching
Blood and tears; tears and blood
They take what is offered and more
Rape and Brutality; never satiated
They’ve already forgotten her
She sighs at the irony
His hand extends as she turns away
Dark purple disappearing in a shadow
Drawing a glance, sliver of light
Cheshire grin watching over, observing
She shakes her head; finger hushing
Wings whisper, then upward
His charge far below
Dry tears do not cleanse
While the Blind refuse saving grace
All for ‘Nothing’
You've been known to obsess over the future.
Do you think you'll get away from the past?
As you stone yourself just to make it through 'til midnight
consider what you might have found.
~ "Topeka" by Ludo
My attorney called me yesterday. My young, attractive, clever, amazing attorney. This perfect defense attorney charged me a paltry sum and vowed to make a very big problem go away. You see, for those of you who may have forgotten, in August I had a little mishap with a PT Cruiser, a Fire Hydrant, and the laws of physics. Apparently, this special combination creates the need for a Reckless Driving citation.
Reckless Driving is a misdemeanor in the state of Nebraska – resulting in 5 (yes, 5) points being taken off one's operators license. It is accompanied by a possible license suspension; a hefty fine; probation; AND 0 – 60 days incarceration in the city jail. I would not survive in jail, people. My passive aggressive tendencies and irreverent humor would not be appreciated by the other ladies in the Pokie (that's 'prison' for those who are not up on the latest slang). As it is, these personality traits are barely appreciated by my friends and family.
So, Mr. Attorney Rock Star (MARS) spent the early part of the week hunting down my police report and file in the City Prosecutor's office. Using his skillz of persuasion, MARS talked Mean City Prosecutor into reducing the charge to Careless Driving, which only strips my license of 4 points AND carries a maximum fine of $500.00. No jail. No license suspension. No probation. Compared to the alternative, this is a friendly slap on the ass. No problem!
I get to go to court on October 28 (accompanied by MARS), plead guilty (with MARS standing next to me), pay a fine to the clerk (hopefully still accompanied by MARS), then go to work (without MARS) – never again fearing the orange jumpsuit and metal handcuffs.
PERSONAL NOTE: Sunday will be interesting.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Speaking of handcuffs. . . you game?
15 October 2008
and then you take that love you made
and stick it into some--
someone else's heart
pumping someone else's blood
and walking arm in arm
you hope it don't get harmed
but even if it does
you'll just do it all again
~ “On the Radio” by Regina Spektor
I remember as a teenager I would daydream about the ideal song for my first dance at my wedding reception. It alternated between “You’re the Inspiration” by Chicago and “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel. For years I never wavered away from those two selections. Then, when it came time to actually sit down and select a wedding song, I went with one from left field, “Because You Loved Me” by Celine Dion. Looking back, I wonder if I knew, deep inside, that after my divorce, I would never be able to listen to the song again – prompting me to select one that had no meaning to me.
I didn’t dance at my second wedding. It was a private affair, with close friends and family. We had a song though. It was ‘our song’ – of course. I have not heard it in a very long time. I don’t know whether or not I would feel anything if I did hear it again. I don’t intend on finding out. Some things are better left undiscovered.
Someone told me the other day that they don’t know how I went through two divorces. I wanted to explain that it takes mad skills, patience, and that you just have to take it one marriage at a time. Life happens – and sometimes what we plan goes awry – leaving us with pieces to pick up and reconstruct. I am not Miss Fix-It by any means; but I can use logical reasoning to patch things up enough to move on. It’s what we do as humans.
Resiliency is strictly a human trait. I believe it is what makes us different than our animal counterparts. In the wild, the weakest are picked off – survival of the fittest, etc. But humanity – wow, the things we force each other to endure. We are the cruelest species on earth, yet we keep living AND loving. There is something to be said for that. For every dark event there is a light which encourages; the silver lining, I suppose. For every heartbreak, there are two lovers who find one another. It’s an eternal cycle. For every death there is a birth.
Mi Madre gave me a plaque which says, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.” This is a Seneca quote – but it is also a song lyric by Semisonic. Who would have thought they were fans of Seneca? Anyway, I digress. The quote makes a very valid point – that nothing is infinite, except change. Things begin and things end. What matters most is that periodically along the way; we stop, look around, and take a snapshot in our minds.
I am not sure why I decided to venture to this depth today – I really had planned on being amusing and light-hearted. Like I said, plans often go awry.
PERSONAL NOTE: Cannot wait to see you tonight!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Thank you for the encouragement and your faith in my ability. I will really think about your suggestions. Love to the Missus!
14 October 2008
I'm a go-getter guy with a gun on my hip
I'm just searching for that someone to be firing it
I've narrowed down the field and I'm taking a glance
And I'd say you've got a pretty good chance. . .
To be my girlfriend.
~ "Go-Getter Greg" by Ludo
It is no secret that crazy people are drawn to me. Over the past 18 months, I have been amused by late night phone calls and random text messages from people I do not know – though they clearly know me. The numbers are not familiar and no matter how I try, I cannot seem to identify the culprits. Trust me, I have tried. I have these numbers saved in my phone with names such as "No Idea", "Prankster", and "Borat". The last label was due to a call I received in January.
Sometimes the texts are interactive, where we actually engage in conversation.
Text Message: 'Hi, how was your day?'
My Response: 'Fine, and yours, crazy stalker boy?'
Text Message: 'Mine was good, thanks for asking.'
And sometimes they are one sided –
Text Message: 'I am having dinner now.'
Text Message: 'You still having problems sleeping?'
Text Message: 'Are you going out tonight?'
Then there are the days where I am feeling clever –
Me: 'I am having lunch'
Or Inquisitive –
Me: 'Who are you?'
Or Irritated –
Me: 'Just tell me who you are, damnit!'
In the end, however, nothing new is discovered. They know my name, where I work, the kind of car I drive, etc, and I know nothing – except they like to say their name is Joe or Dave or Chris or whatever name suits their fancy.
Since I have moved back to Omi-ha-ha, the texts had actually been sparse. That is, until the other night, when I was sick, and lying in bed at my parents' house. A NEW number appeared on my phone display. I clicked on the text message, only to discover it is yet ANOTHER secret admirer. This one is funnier than the rest, however. So, I am going to dub him 'Go-Getter Greg' [G3] like the Ludo song above. He has given me his name, well, a first name, and while I would normally be disinclined to believe him, he has an auto-signature set up on his phone and it is a nickname which coincides with the first name he provided me.
And, unlike the others, this one has come up with a confusing, yet imaginative back-story.
'We met at work. I work at *** with you. I am always too shy to say anything. Or maybe you gave me your card after spending an hour telling me your life story in Aisle 5 (or maybe it was the Deli) at Bakers – and if you don't shop at Bakers, then it was Hy-Vee. Or somewhere else. I remember it vividly – but not all the details. You are pretty.'
LOL -- WTF!
And when I told him I was sick, he offered to bring me soup or cook me dinner because he can be really sweet (so he claims). Last night, 'G3' texted me that he wanted to take me to dinner. And y'all know that someone taking me to dinner is a dream come true, even if they are a crazy stalker guy. But, when he texted, he also admitted that he had been drinking and that perhaps our "first' meeting shouldn't be when he was three sheets to the wind. Wait a minute, our FIRST meeting? I thought we have met before . . . oh, that is when he back-peddled to his 'too shy to actually speak to me' story. He asked me out for Wednesday night – I explained I had to work. For Thursday night – I explained I already have a date. (This excuse didn't deter him in the least – he responded with 'yes, a date with me.' -- 'um, no, with someone else') Friday night, I am going to the Opera.
No worries, though, because he was up bright and early, texting away, this morning. Some people would say that I shouldn't encourage the attention. He could be a dangerous psychopath. Though, last I checked, serial killers didn't have auto-sigs set up on their text messaging. Plus, I really don't believe that he will ever actually take me to the dinner he has promised. It's all part of the game. And playing the game is far more fun than celebrating the outcome!
PERSONAL NOTE: Now you are a celebrity!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I am happy to hear that your headache has improved. Did you check that weekend yet?
13 October 2008
I don't have to sell my soul
He's already in me
I don't need to sell my soul
He's already in me
~ "I Wanna Be Adored" by Year of the Rabbit
Today was day one without Prince Harry in the office and I must admit it was a bad day for it, as I forgot my security badge and could not get into the annex. Previously, I would have been able to knock on the glass and he would have been right there to mock me, and then let me in; not today. Bloody hell! At least I have the framed memento on my desk to serve as a reminder of him being here. Isn't that what all mementos do? Serve as reminders. I think that statement may have been redundant; however, I don't care enough to research the proper grammar. I do hope he was able to sleep in today, though – which seemed to be all he talked about for his last two weeks with the firm.
I leave for New Orleans in 10 days. Today I highlighted the bands that I MUST see at VooDoo Fest. I also need to come up with a plan to win Trent Reznor's attention. I mean, I know he was getting all kinds of tail in the 90s when NIN was at its peak – but now, almost 20 years later, . . . are there that many women who want to be *censored* like an animal? Most likely not! This is good news for me. ;)
Today, Elizabeth is still at my parents' since I stayed there last night. It is cold and rainy – so she is probably cuddled up with the boys under the deck, where it is both warm and dry. This morning when I opened the door for her to go out, she stuck her head outside, then backed up and refused to budge. I had to coax her out the door – then close it right behind her. She will be a muddy mess when I pick her up today. No matter, as she gets to go to the groomer tonight, anyhow.
I started looking at Eidetic Vision again last night. I think I am ready to finish it. I'll resume working on it this weekend. I just need someone to read it and give some feedback. Hmmmmm. Anyone interested in being in the mind of a serial killer? Let me know!
PERSONAL NOTE: Your Magic 8 Ball works much better than mine.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Don't let your guard down.
12 October 2008
Anything you desire
I will set at your feet
With a kiss in the air
For the gods to receive
~ "Don't Let Go" by Weezer
Grrrr. I hate call waiting. It is the world's rudest invention. Truly. It enables us as humans to tell another person, 'hey, your time is not important to me . . .instead, I am going to put you on hold so that I can see if I would rather talk to this person instead of you!" I admit, I am guilty of utilizing call waiting – but I seldom actually let the person go to talk to someone else. Still, I am just as rude as everyone else. It's why I think I am going to call Verizon and request they take the call waiting off my phone line.
This weekend, I have been ultra-sick. Influenza is a beating. I slept almost the entire weekend away while house-sitting for my parents. In fact, tonight I was going to head home and Mi Madre said I was to stay here tonight so that I could be taken care of. She even loaned me her favourite shirt to wear to work tomorrow since all I have here are two tank tops, a DMB shirt, and a Blues Traveler shirt – none of which are work-appropriate.
I did buy Marcus Aurelius a car wash this weekend, as he was pretty dirty and spotty from the recent rains. Plus I vacuumed the seats and car mats. Elizabeth had shed a bit in the backseat. Plus, his dash says that his oil life is down to 30% - meaning I will get to return to Honda soon and see 'Joe Cool. Yea!!! I miss my car salesman.
So, it appears that I am now the 'divorce expert' and that friends send their divorced friends to me for a pep talk of sorts. I think that my job is to convince the newly divorced that there is life to be had after our worlds fall apart. I mean, as the legend goes, 32 year old women who have been divorced TWICE are gurus and have achieved some sort of clarity and nirvana. Whatevs! Still, this weekend I shared my wisdom with a newly divorced human. And I think after a few more sessions with Dr. Genius, 'Red Eye' will be as good as new and ready to take on the world – or at least the local sports bar.
Even if nothing I said is the least bit helpful or enlightening, I made a new friend – and that is better than a stick in the eye!
Also, this weekend, while I was sleeping and praying to the gods that someone would come over and pet my hair while I was miserable and sick, an old friend stopped by and brought me apple juice, Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper, and copies of 4 CDs I had been wanting. Good friends are hard to come by – and I am so blessed to have so many people I can call 'friends'. *insert cheesy music here*
I hate to digress – but back to the concept of phone etiquette – I would rather someone just say, "Hey, I am going to let you go now" instead of telling me that someone else is calling them. I'd rather think I am boring than think I am MORE boring than someone else. Ya know? Bloody Hell!
All that being said, at this very moment in time, I am actually very content. I am lying in my own bed (in my parents' second guest room, but still it is my antique bedroom set which inspires the décor). I love this bed. It is so comfy and beautiful and perfect. It almost makes me want to move back in with my parents, just so I can sleep in this bed every night instead of the twin bed I have at my own place. Not to say that the twin bed is not comfortable, it just isn't this comfortable. Plus, Ebie and I can sleep without pushing each other to the edge.
I am listening to Weezer at the moment and I still really like that Buddy Holly song. Even though I think my affection for the song stems from the amazing video – because I really like the show 'Happy Days'. Wow! Did I really just say that? Does anyone actually admit to really liking that show? I liked it better though, before Joanie was old enough to date. She and Chachi were a stupid story line. And I still want to know what ever happened to their older brother. He was there for a year, and then nothing. Not another word. It's like the little sister in "When Boy Meets World". She disappeared for two seasons, then returned, as if she had always been there. WTF! That does not happen in real life – it shouldn't happen in a sitcom.
On that note, I need to go – I am being bombarded by song lyrics via Google Talk and I have to catch up!
PERSONAL NOTE: Someone in the mood for some peppermint????
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I gave you the set. . . but not the match. Bring your 'A' game next time. I need a challenge!
08 October 2008
Are you sure that you're mine
Aren't you dating other guys
You're so cheap
And I'm not blind
You're not worthy of my time
You're just a whore who sleeps around the town
And I've got proof because the word's going around
~ "Who's David" by Busted
As everyone who knows me is well aware, I am a big fan of Google and Gmail. In fact, I have never had an e-mail account that I love as much as I love Gmail. What I love most about Google is that they are willing to put experimental items out on the web for users to 'try'. Google Labs is what they call it. And, I am a Google Labs addict. At any given time, I have at least 5 Google Labs functions enabled.
Today, I added another amazing Google Labs feature that you all will wish you had thought of; "E-mail Goggles". What are 'E-mail Goggles' you wonder? You can go here for a full explanation E-Mail Goggles
The 411 is this: you set the time parameters (nights between 11pm and 4am, let's say.) During those hours, if you want to send an e-mail from your Gmail account, Goggle will require you to solve a few simple math puzzles. The logic is that if you can solve these puzzles, then you are sober enough to send an e-mail. Google Labs needs to be integrated into my real life – adding this feature to cell phones, text messaging, and blogs. Or maybe I should just carry a math workbook around – so that even before speaking with a guy while I am a little intoxicated, I can solve a few puzzles. I think about all the less than stellar moments I have had due to Vodka and no math book!
So, a shout out to Google Labs. . . Thanks, Google, for making my life a less humiliating existence!
PUBLIC NOTE: Prince Harry for President!
PERSONAL NOTE: 'Pretty One' I hope you are having a wonderful day off!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I'd definitely rock climb for you!
07 October 2008
Well she wants to be the queen
Then she thinks about her scene
Pulls her hair back as she screams
I don't really wanna be the queen
~ "Meet Virginia" by Train
Today a life lesson was learned by someone, not once, but twice. I cannot go into too much detail because he may actually never speak to me again if I mock it too badly. Let's just say that you should ALWAYS lock your laptop when you leave it. This is especially true when you remain logged into social networking sites. Someone will ALWAYS take advantage of the situation and it will end badly. Same rule applies to e-mail accounts, cell phones w/ text messaging, and even pre-addressed stamped envelopes (if you're anti-technology). People cannot be trusted!
In a few short moments I will be on my way to my 'other' job where I will inevitably get cranky due to my lower than average daily dosage of caffeine today. At least I will get to see Pretty One on my break. She is so sweet!
I may try to post something far more interesting later! Sorry for the lame-ness!
PERSONAL NOTE: Remember it how I do. The story is better!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: When I said "mediocre" before, I meant it. Seriously.
06 October 2008
Current mood: argumentative
One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt, and pillars of sand
~ "Viva la Vida" by Coldplay
My lips are chapped. To remedy the sitch (that is 'situation' for the abbreviation challenged) I have been plastering on the CO Bigelow Lip Formula No 1053 with Sweet Almond Oil and Cottonseed Oil. It has a nice smell and doesn't taste too bad either. I am in no way suggesting that you snack on the stuff – but, for the accidental ingestion, it is tolerable. This morning, I remembered too late that my clothes were still in the washer, leaving me limited on my clothing choices. Yes, it is true, I still have boxes of clothes at my parents' where the majority of my belongings are beings stored until I figure out what it is I am going to do with my life.
I definitely need to find and unpack my sweaters. It's way too cold here for all this summer gear I have been wearing.
I was ill on Friday and slept the day away. My nose is still running and my ears still hurt – but at least I am no longer achy. Being achy sucks. I don't understand how our body actually gets all achy from an illness. Do the germs attack our nerve endings? If someone knows the answer to this, let me know. I would like to have a genuine medical explanation.
Genuine medical explanations are amazing things sometimes. For example, when I walk into bright sunlight I sneeze. I thought it was just a weird little quirk. I was wrong.
"Sun sneezing or photic sneezing is a genetic condition (sometimes called 'ACHOO Syndrome') in which the signals from your eye to your brain are somehow also received by the part of your brain which deals with the sneeze reflex. This means that when your brain is being told to contract your iris in response to increased light it also thinks that it is being told to produce a sneeze." (ACHOO - AUTOSOMAL DOMINANT COMPELLING HELIOOPHTHALMIC OUTBURST SYNDROME.)
I should ask my parents if they sneeze at the sun, since it appears to be a genetic trait. I wonder why evolution continues to pass this on through DNA. Someday, will it be the salvation of mankind? I wonder. . .
Sunday morning, I was awakened by a hacking cough – not mine; but Gracie's. She was coughing and gagging, then before I could move her. . . ewwwwwwwwwww. . . . vomit and hair ball all over my pillow. Very gross! The thing about cats is that they are so seldom embarrassed. Instead of looking forlorn or even the least bit sorry, she gave ME a look of disdain, as if it were my fault, then she began grooming herself. Unbelievable!
Okay, last thing before I end this post. Yesterday, I was working at my 'other' job and I invited a family into the viewing room to look at their portraits and I said, "Y'all". This is not unusual, as I often say "y'all". What is unusual is having someone mock me for it. Sure enough, the 'dad' of the family said in this really poor Texan accent imitation, "yee haw kids, come on y'all, we're fixin' to go look at some pictures". I love it when people find it perfectly acceptable to insult someone in a public manner. Bloody Hell!
PERSONAL NOTE: Hope your visit with your mom was fun!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Hi. What are you doing this weekend?
02 October 2008
Won't you give me the love I'm after
I know you got yourself aplenty
Won't you write me something steady
~ "Patient Patient" by the Morning Benders
This morning, I skipped my morning Mt. Dew and instead decided to try something new. For a mere, $2.00, I purchased a can of Starbucks DoubleShot + Energy Drink (Vanilla flavored, for anyone who is curious). I shook it well before opening. I am not a fan of energy drinks. I think they taste pretty gross – and I will never, ever understand people who ruin good vodka by pouring Red Bull into it. Still, I wanted an iced coffee and this DoubleShot drink was my only choice.
I opened the can and due to the shaking, some of it splashed out. No worries – I took a tentative sip and was not overly impressed with the taste. It was NOT horrible – but NOT really very good either. And it had a funny after-taste. Not funny Ha-Ha, but funny Unusual. I grabbed by Go Green mug at the suggestion of a co-worker and poured the contents of the can into it. It vaguely resembled coffee in appearance and smell. Not one to waste money, I began to drink the concoction. Amazingly, the more I drank, the better it tasted. I emptied the mug pretty quickly.
Within ten minutes, I felt a rush of energy and my heart was racing – to the point that I was really fidgety and talking a mile a minute. Looks like I found a new morning drink! Let's hope I don't crash by eleven. That would be unfortunate!
Now onto more embarrassing things. Yesterday, I decided that I wanted to try Speed Dating. I did a cursory search on the magical and mystical interweb and found a site which sponsors Speed Dating in my area. Next Thursday's session is full – but they appear to have them regularly. I called one of my trust sidekicks who agreed to go with me if I found a session that worked with my schedule. The sessions are held at "upscale restaurants in a public and safe environment" per the website. In order to be eligible to attend one of these functions, potential Speed Daters are required to register with the site and create a profile.
I did so – and while I felt ridiculously silly, I convinced myself that I could not do any worse than I already have with dating people I meet randomly. At least this way – I don't have to give them any personal information until I am sure I could handle them stalking me. Yes, the crazies are drawn to me like moths to a kerosene lamp. I have grown used to it. I really should just take out a personal advertisement which says "If you are interested in me, I require a release from your psychiatrist." I want to believe that this is not a reflection on me – but instead on society as a whole. There are just more crazy people in the world than there used to be. Wishful thinking? Perhaps.
I had several friends review my profile – verifying that it was a true illustration of my personality -- while simultaneously being witty and interesting. I even coerced one friend into signing up for the site, just so they could view the profile as a whole and give feedback. I didn't exactly have to twist his arm – but I do know he was not impressed with the women in his area. LOL Imagine my surprise when I started receiving messages that people were viewing my profile. And I was receiving little automated messages which indicate a potential interest.
I was looking at one of the profiles when I was taken aback by his level of attractiveness. I mean the guy was HOT! On top of that, he looked vaguely familiar. I kept staring at the profile, trying to figure out why the picture was so compelling. Then it hit me. . . I knew the guy. NO WAY!!!!! I could not believe my luck. . . Theo Epstein was actually messaging me on an online speed dating site. I couldn't believe my luck. I knew he looked familiar. Wow!!! Once I got my laughter under control, I decided to get a second opinion – just in case I was hallucinating.
I sent the picture to a friend and told him to compare. We believe with 97% accuracy that the picture is of Theo. Watch out Red Sox fans, I may have my own Season Tickets to Fenway very soon!
PERSONAL NOTE: 3 best words of advice: "Walk it Off"
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: One word – 'mediocre'