Throwing Little Thought Pebbles at Your Windshield Since 1996
I’m so very ready for my vacation. I’ve had enough of work, and of stuff going on outside of work. The way things have been going, I assume while I’m away my home will be destroyed by a bus-sized chunk of blue “airplane ice.”
But I shall take my chances and hope Captain Stubing steers away from any hurricanes we stumble upon, and I’ll give my now adult son <gasp> the keys to the swinging singles pad, with the assumption it won’t be overrun with garbage and vermin by the time I return.
I declare new rules for Emergency Room prioritization. We have to throw out HIPPAA because you should have to loudly announce what’s wrong with you so the rest of us can stack rank you against the others to decide who goes in first using the following guidelines.
1. Heavily bleeding flesh wound (cause that’s a quick fix anyway)
2. Throwing up or about to. I don’t need that shit while I’m sitting waiting
3. Passing out from pain
4 Trouble breathing normally
5. Clammy skin the color of the parking garage.
6. Head injury
7. Uncontrollable swelling
8. 4 hour erections (see 7)
9. Swallowed a battery
10. Broken bone (not compound fracture)
11. Something stuck in a body orifice that you can’t get out
12. Thing for which you could go to a Minute Clinic if it was open
13. Place for you and your friend to sit while you both eat fruit cup with your fingers
Last night Tom took me to Ixtapa Cantina for guacamole and I had a margarita that literally made my eyes stop working properly. [Thumbs up, El Presidente!] In the spirit of Christmas, he wrote down Jody quotes because fair is fair after I wrote the Michael quotes while he was on anesthesia.
We then went drunk shopping at Walmart, which I think was a ripoff because I didn’t find anything good to make him buy me. My next morning comments are in italics.
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[I tweeted these myself from the restaurant]
This margarita is made with cocaine or something. Oh my god who broke my eyes.
Oh my Hod two of you liked my tweet you guys are the ducking best. But not as good as these margaritas.
We’re gonna park in someone’s driveway and take pictures of their Christmas lights, like Americans. It is our right!
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I need you to be that guy who would steal a balloon from a 7 year old.
Mikey says [about Tom] “But he’s a nice guy!” Like that’s an excuse.
[about going to jail after he steals a balloon]
Shit. I’m gonna have to be in a lesbian relationship again.
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[About shopping for Tom’s daughter for Christmas She] needs drugs and cigarettes to trade in the big house.
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I’m cutting this like the Incredible Hulk. Did I eat lunch today?
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Dude you know what I could do with [$15,000]? Breasts up to here. Watch the Brady bunch. Teenage boobies.
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This is the greatest meal ever in possibly my entire life! [Takes another bite] It’s kinda salty.
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I just want to eat the outside shell of my burrito. It’s called a tortilla. The skin of my burrito.
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[Regarding my favorite musician/band (other than Jeff Lynne) Luce]
Luce’s first name is Tom. So you’ll just have to wonder if I ever call out that name.
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[Inside the restaurant] Can we take pictures of Christmas lights? Not In here.
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It’s not a good time of year to get those water balloon multiple thingies. And I should know.
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You know what would be the worst Christmas present? Wrapping paper. And thank you cards.
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Crotchless pants? Do they sell them at Walmart? Sweet! Not saying I’ve bought them before. At least at Walmart.
[I completely do not remember saying this one AT ALL.]
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[spotting a skewer of Peeps]
Look! This is impaled peeps! Look they stabbed you and it makes it taste better.
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Can we buy a cello? My Amazon wish list is full of magical things.
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Look it’s resting bitch face Barbie!
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I love you. This lighting is very unflattering.
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Why didn’t you tell me my cleavage was showing?! And I’m not buttoning up. People will have to deal with my boobage.
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I recently added a cello to my Amazon wish list, because I think it’s good to learn you suck at as many things as humanly possible. Starting to feel cocky about yourself? Here, let’s see how you do with this set of oil paints, Vermeer. (See also: the tap shoes I bought myself.)
This is the cello.
Seriously, how COOL is that? I could hang it up as art when I invariably realize I’m not a cellist!
That wishlist is more just a way to bookmark stuff I might buy myself later than a list I think people will actually use. I have zero expectation that my fan club members will pool the change in their car consoles to get me a home electrolysis system. I mean, unless my unsightly knee beard is really bothering them. Which, really, will be an interesting conversation that we must have as soon as I can find the time to spend with someone PRETENDING to be a fan.
I am not young. Kids who still need car seats probably think I’m someone’s grandma. To be fair, I do have peers who are just that, and that’s cool, I just like to think of myself as a much younger woman. Like maybe 32, tops.
I have read articles that say people stop listening to new music around age 35. I can see that. I know a lot of people who just sat back in their easy chairs surrounded by their favorite bands from college.
I followed a different path. I kept finding new music I liked. If it’s power pop or has a certain type of solo male singer-songwriter vibe like Duncan Shiek, I’m in. I use those “if you like A you should try B” algorhythms and often find some pretty cool stuff. I have all sorts of Spotify playlists of new fun things I like. Friends introduced me to Jellyfish years ago and I used the members of the band to branch out to find solo work, special projects and people they worked with. I found Bleu this way, and found the world’s greatest ELO album the ELO never made, L.E.O’s Alpacas Orgeling. (Go buy it. Trust me.) Over time I found other bands I love: Luce, Air Traffic Controller, Washed Out, The Neighborhood, Walk the Moon, Two Door Cinema Club, to name many. I like musical styles I shouldn’t at my age. But I really do.
I discovered a guy who recorded as “Owsley” a year or so ago on Spotify and just fell in love with his music. I bought his two albums on iTunes and played them on repeat for weeks. Now I have a habit of reading up on anyone I like (singers, actors, underwear models) so I looked him up. I was absolutely crushed to learn he had committed suicide years before. No more music from him; I was robbed of his voice, his talent. If I was this upset about it, I cannot fathom what his family was going through every day.
in the past year the Bleu newsletter
So I just discovered Bleu covered Owsley’s Oh No The Radio on this album. This is the 2nd time Bleu has done something with an unrelated favorite of mine (see Air Traffic Controller). I thought the Owsley version was perfect so I was hesitant to listen. The cover is amazing. And made me sad all over again that Will Owsley killed himself and robbed me of any future new music. Sorry for the tangent but you can understand why this would stun and amaze me, and why I wanted to share.
