song 1

Wow, full circle. A year ago today i was sitting on the floor of Pete's room in Mark and Tracey's house going through the painstakingly-made top 15 lists of some of my besties. i highly, highly recommend having a top 15 'party' of your own with your besties. It's enlightening and fun. It's really easy too: you plan a date and tell everyone to come with a cd of their top 15 songs, in order of toppest to 15th-est, then you take turns going through your choices and why you chose them. The only rule is that there's no judgement. 14 Britney Spears songs and 1 Muse song? So be it. You must ascribe to 'to each his/her own' when engaging in the top 15 sharing circle. Anyway, we made copies of our mixes for everyone. It's best to plan the event a month out to allow everyone time to really think about their lists, because for most, it's a challenging task. Although it has nothing to do with new years, ours happened to be on new years and it's a superb memory.

i hadn't planned on stretching out the bloglist of my top 15 for the entire year, but i just happened to realize today was the anniversary and i'm down to my number 1. How keen! Perhaps it's a sign and 2010 will be a keen year..... hmmmm....

Song One.

You know this song, it's programmed into your subconscious if you were born around or after 1979. It was originally written by Paul Williams and Kenny Ascher as a soundtrack song and recorded by Jim Henson's alter ego, Kermit, the frog. (Wiki has good backstory on this song, in case you're curious.) Many, many artists have recorded their own versions, to varying results. Sarah McLachlan has a beautiful version and the Dixie Chicks prominently feature the original's signature banjo in theirs. But these are not my choice.

My choice is Willie.

As i've said before, when i began constructing my top 15 it was helpful to list a few artists i knew were important enough to my musical life to include, and then select a favorite song from said artist. One such artist was Willie Nelson, because my siblings and i were raised on Willie, James Taylor, and the Eagles. And because like everyone else born in the early 80s, i was also raised on/by The Muppets, the natural convergence would be the song of all songs, The Rainbow Connection. Is it a little cliche of a choice? Sappy? Sure. But i'm not just choosing a childhood song, and a 'can't-we-all-just-get-along-while-we-follow-our-dreams?' song at that. i chose Willie's version for it's musicality. (Kermit, bless his goofy heart, is not the world's most melodious singer) Sarah McLachlan's version is very musical, but too ethereal. i prefer Willie's version for it's grounded simplicity and guitarity. (Yup, just made up a really awesome word.)

It's a great song because it's a little melancholy and wistful in that Robert Browning 'ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?' sense. (you know, that sense? the one everyone's always talking about? no? just me? *sigh*) It's also very optimistic and inspirational, which is why, i think, i gravitate toward to the Willie Nelson recording. His voice is at times raw, at times wavery, at times imperfect, and those factors, combined with the earthy and bare guitar keep the 'follow your dreams' message from taking over and making it a very saccharine, very American-Idol-finale type of musical gag-inducer. i love Willie Nelson's voice, some songs much more so than others, so when i knew i wanted a Willie song on my top 15 i searched for one that i felt accurately demonstrated why his voice is one of my most favorites and this was obviously one.

Another one of my methods for deciding which songs would make the top 15 was the method of 'would i want this song played at my funeral and what would it say about me if it were?' i know, totally dramatic and self-absorbed, right? Whatever. This was one that made it through that filter.

Concluding, in sum, finally and at last: please to enjoy my number-1-most song of everness, 'Rainbow Connection', as performed by Willie Nelson.

sum of all fears

Our dearest darling dog, Penny, is a mutt of some sorts, but is mostly pit bull.
In case you've been living under a rock for 10 years, pit bulls are unilaterally feared and hated because they breathe fire and murder virgins and traffic humans across borders to harvest their organs and stuff. They're large, sleek and muscular, so they tend to attract owners who prioritize strength and, subsequently, violence in the same way small, curly-haired and simpering dogs attract little old ladies and girls with large purses. The different appearances and temperments of dog breeds are what make them the #1 household pet of humans; this is why it works. Anyway, pits attract jerks and bottom feeders like Michael Vick and that creepy guy who lives around the corner, and these a-holes rear their dogs in irresponsible, dangerous ways and then the rest of the world goes, 'Bad dogs! Inherently evil! Should be banned from breathing oxygen! Gahhhhh!'
There are bright spots: pit bull rescue organizations like Villalobos and celebrity advocates like Rachel Ray (hey! she's good for something!) and just about every time we take Penny out on local walking trails at least one person will fawn over her and share their own pro-pit testimony. i don't doubt that for every 1 local fan there are 5 people who shoot dagger-eyes as soon as we pass and move their children to the other side of the trail when they see us coming, but phooey on them.
i'm aware that there are bad pits out there and people are allowed to form their opinion on their experiences. My friend was a police officer in the Bay Area for 6 years and she witnessed things that will prevent her from ever being completely comfortable around pit bulls. i will probably never own a German Shepherd because of the time our family pet threatened me. Experiences should form our opinions, though, not fear-mongering or gossip.
A lecture is not why i started this post, but apparently i woke up on the defensive side of the bed.
We have a pit-mutt. We adopted her from a local rescue group who had busted her out of the pound before she could be euthanized; she was in the pound because her owner was a shady character and had been taken to court. She is needy and neurotic but also loyal and silly and affectionate and she's learning to catch treats. Here is a list of things our big, scary, baby-killing dog is absolutely terrified by:

-tape measures, both the hardware kind for measuring walls and the sewing kind for measuring sleeves
-ladders
-cell phones
-cameras
-hairspray
-wrapping paper
-showerheads
-small plastic tubes
-Furminators

Not scared of but maybe should be? Fire. Possums. Mormons. Don't look for the rhyme or reason. She's a strange dog, befitting her environment and owners i suppose. She's available for loan if you need some dog therapy or want to do a pit test run before adopting your own.

what do you DO anywhere?

We went on holiday, as the Britties say. We ditched our biological families and spent Thanksgiving and its companion days cavorting around the great northwest in our little car. First we drove through Oregon in the rainy dark. It was literally dry and nice in California and then the minute we crossed the border it started snowing, because Oregon has a HUGE chip on its shoulder and just has to prove that it's NOT California, thankyouverymuch. So it was rainy and dark for 4 hours and i'm going to say something, but i'm going to preface it with this: Oregon is very pretty. At night? in the rain? MOST BORING DRIVE E V E R. You might argue that any drive in the dark is going to be boring, but i disagree. There's not a whole lot going on in OR along the i-5 corridor. No towns. No lights. No signs to read. BOR. ING. (See the attached image that i took with my fancy camera at the most exciting part of the drive.) So go ahead, Gonies, get your angry comments fingers flexing and bring it on, but the beauty of a blog is that i don't have to account for what i say. (love you)

Anyway, we got to Portland in the dark rain and arrived at Erin's home and proceeded to play with Erin (hi Erin!) for the next few days. With the exception of our drive, the weather was gorgy (which it always is when we're in town (which leads Erin to believe we're witches (which i'm not going to deny because a lady has to maintain her mystique))). We strolled through the park, we shopped, we dined, and we went to Tony Starlight's Supper Club & Lounge and heard Erin's roommate, Tara, and a handful of other talents do Johnny Mercer right. GREAT music, drinks and food with just enough camp to keep the stuffies away. i highly recommend paying Tony and his crooners a visit the next time you're in Portland. After Erin wiped her hands of us we met up with Pete and Bets and enjoyed some boozy milkshakes and Por Que No food. Good times all around.

After we bid adieu to those hipsters, we connected with Katie, Bobby and their unborn burrito, Trixie True Trihub*. It was a short visit, about 16 hours including sleeping, but they're always super fun to see and they have the world's most comfortable couch.

Back on the 5 (which is an interstate) and up into Washington, where there are no billboards. Did you know that? No billboards in the state of Washington. Just trees. Oh, another word about Oregon: several Adult Shops (one with a 24 hour arcade!) along the 5. Kinda pervy, O-gon. Just a little bit. Anyway, Washington. Trees. No rain, but mucho water. i don't think i've ever driven through WA before, i didn't realize how spotty it was. Lots of inlets and bays and ports. i had no clue. (the more you know...dun dun dun duuuuun....cue peacock graphic) We made to tiny Bremerton and to Jason and Winter's lovely old house on the water. What water? i dunno. We're talking about Washington here, could've been any water. Kitties Lola and Buster were like 'Oh my goodness! Kallie is here! We're so excited we're going to pee our kittypants! We love Kallie so much!**' J and Winter took us to see Samudra, the business Winter and Kath opened and for which Josh designed the logo and i served as human resources consultant***. It was super great to finally see the studio and cafe that we've heard so much about for so long. Samudra was beach chic- homey and peaceful and stylish. The foods and drinks were absolutely delish, especially the fun iced tea whose name i've forgotten but starts with an S.

Wednesday night we went to the world's coolest grocery store and shopped and dined in Poulsbo, which is like the Norwegian version of Chinatown (Lefse included. Yay lefse!). i don't remember the name of the restaurant where we et, but if you're looking for a high-style meal and vino at a surprisingly good price, go to Poulsbo and find the restaurant a few doors down from Sluy's (not Slutty's) bakery with the signage in Papyrus font. (Yes, i know. But this is a good reason why we shouldn't judge an establishment based solely on its chosen type treatment) tra la la la....what's next...

Thursday morning, Day of Giving Thanks: up very early (well, early for a vacay day) to go to Samudra and do yoga for the first time ever. We were a bit nervy because we are out of shape, not very bendy, and have never done yoga, but it was a good time! Teacher Kath led a very twisty class- all the twisties squeezed our organs and then unsqueezed them so the blood rushed around and got our digesters ready for the big meal. Then we had Thanksgiving with the Mitchell/Niemeyer/Nicholson clan which included TWO turkeys, a delish ginger/cider/vodka cocktail, and a boatload of madly rad green beans. After the meal was et and the family departed, J and Winter's friend Mike popped in to say hello. Mike has many, many tattoos and is the main dude for a punky little band you may have heard of: MxPx. (Yup. It's like that.) We played Apples to Apples (which is a super game) and had a lovely punk rawk time.

Friday, we and the rest of Kitsap county went to the Christmas tree farm to select J and Winter's tree....which i just realized we forgot to name. (everything needs a name, except cattle, sheep and other creatures you plan on eating. i learned that the hard way, but that is for another blog on another day.) Perhaps the tree should be Trixie True. Write that down, Winter. i discovered that there is a breed of tree called the Shasta Fir (not to be confused with Brendafer) so that was a delightful shoutout to the RDG way up in Washer country. We skillfully attached the tree to the top of the compact car, then proceeded to pile all 5 of us in to the car through the only working door: the driver's. Teehee....lesson learned. Afterward we put up holiday decor at Samudra and ate a bizarre and wonderful dinner of green beans, yam casserole, and fresh Puget Sound crab. i'd never et crab before, and i'm still not sure i like it enough to counteract the squeamy factor of cracking the creature apart. Still, mark that one off my bucket list.

On Saturday i went to the dentist, which is what i do when i'm on holiday. The dentist in question was J, so it was fun, and i got prescription toothpaste. (How many people do you know whose teeth are so bad they need prescription toothpaste? Probably just me. If you know me. If you don't....Hi. Nice to not-exactly meet you.) Later we went to pizza and got drinks at the oh-so-odd Hi-Fidelity Lounge, where Samudra employee Vanessa LePapillon was performing. She was very talented and we enjoyed people-watching a Liev Schrieber lookalike who was trying to stay awake and sober. (Liev: "Cannnn i getnother Comsopotilan?" Bartender: "If you can't pronounce it you can't order it." Haha!)

Sunday we drove back. Boo. Oregon wasn't so bad in the light and we stopped for some Christmas shopping at Bridgeport Village. Whilst in one particular hoitytoit-yet-bohemian-kitsch store whose name certainly does not rhyme with Anthropolgie, a salesperson initiated a conversation with Josh about where we lived. Being relatively familiar with Northern California, she was most curious to know just what sort of profession the two of us professed because, in her words she 'just always wanted to know what people DO in Redding.' (emphasis hers) To reiterate, the 40-something woman selling overpriced mugs in a mall wanted to know what there could possibly be in weirdo, podunk Redding that would allow anyone to eek out a paycheck, so help her God. i was a little steamed. i wanted to punch her in her overpriced face and then run out of the store with one of the $148 cardigans****.

And then we drove home. The end.

*Trixie True is an in-utero baby who is not actually named Trixie True......yet.

**At least, this was how i interpreted the hissing and swiping every time i walked past them or how every time i tried to pet them they ran away and hid.

***This consisted of saying 'yes, i agree that you should fire the cranky barista who reads celebrity gossip on the company computer on company time.' And yes, this image of your banana bowl comes up on page 1 of Google Images for the keyword search 'samudra yoga, bremerton.'

****Clearly, i was conflicted.

song 2

Oh song 2, i love you. i love you more than all the other songs except song 1. i've found that i have an affection for a heavy down beat and chipper lyrics, especially in congress. These lyrics are decidedly optimistic:

"Bad news comes don't you worry even when it lands
Good news will work its way to all them plans
We both got fired on exactly the same day
Well we'll float on good news is on the way

And we'll all float on, ok....
Alright already we'll all float on
Alright don't worry even if things end up a bit too heavy
We'll all float on...alright already we'll all float on"

Tell me all about it, Wikipedia!
-The song came out in 2004 on the album "Good News for People Who Love Bad News." Asked about the song in an interview with The A.V. Club, Isaac Brock said that he consciously intended to write something that felt more positive than some of his previous work:

“	It was a completely conscious thing. I was just kind of fed up with how bad s**t had been going, and how dark everything was, with bad news coming from everywhere....Then you've got the well-intentioned scientists telling us that everything is f****d. I just want to feel good for a day."	”
—Isaac Brock, The A.V. Club

i love that there are two distinct halves to the song: the stiff, staccato, marching verses and the looping, hand-in-the-breeze-out-the-window-of-the-car, 'floating' (if you will) of the chorus. i love the way it's steps away and then jumps back in around the 2:30 mark. It's a great song to drive to because it's easy to play on the steering wheel. There was a really wonderful alternative rock radio station when we lived in Elk Barf and it would play this song semi-regularly.... just rarely enough that it was still special when it came on. Whenever i heard it then, and now (which is never rarely b/c it's always on a cd since there is a nary a station in the greater Shasta County area that would ever deign to play something alternative, cool, or indie) it instantly improves my mood 96%, which means if i'm already in a good mood, i immediately feel 96% gooder. The following is not the official music video, (i'm not allowed to embed that) it's a fan slideshow, but i knew i had to embed the song in order for you to listen to it, which you MUST, even if you already know the song. You need to listen to it now, in the context of MEEEEEEEEE and things i LIIIIIIIKE.

ya know?

Since i seem to be obsessed with common language barf-ups and idiosyncracies, this video - sent to me by my good pal Jamileh - was right up my alley. And since it was all typographyish and designy, i was able to get Josh to watch it with me.

Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.

Bye Bye Birdie

A rite of passage 4 years in the making occurred in our little family yesterday. Cosmo, who is a member of the species felis silvestris catus, finally FINALLY F I N A L L Y did a felis silvestris catus-like thing and deposited a small dead creature on our doorstep. (it was a bird) Here's the thing: Cosmo is a mean, ornery, domineering animal. He is short on affection and long on demands. He abandoned such trivial practices as 'play' years ago and his relationship with us now consists mostly of:
-'FEED ME, SIMPLETONS.'
-'FEED ME MORE.'
-'NO. YOU WILL NOT WRAP A PRESENT OR CUT A SEWING PATTERN ON THIS PARTICULAR PART OF THE FLOOR- I DECIDED I WANT TO LAY HERE. WAIT FOR ME TO FINISH.'
-'LET ME IN, KNUCKLEDRAGGERS.'
-'LET ME OUT, DAMN YOU.'
-'LET ME BACK IN AND FEED ME MORE FOOD.'
-'EXCUSE YOUR FACE, I'M TRYING TO GET TO THE WINDOW. I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE SLEEPING.'
-'MOVE YOUR BOWL DOWN SO I CAN BIFF AT YOUR CHEERIOS WITH MY PAW. NOW.'
-'LET ME OUT. YOU AND THE WHITE CREATURE BORE ME.'
-'TAKE YOUR HAND OFF MY FUR, YOU'LL MAKE IT DIRTY.'
-'I HATE YOUR ANKLES, HOLD STILL WHILE I MAKE THEM BLEED AS PUNISHMENT FOR EXISTING.'
-'DON'T BOTHER ME, I'M SHARING A SPECIAL MOMENT WITH THIS BLANKET AND THIS BLANKET LIKES ME JUST THE WAY I AM.'
(imagine all of that said in a voice similar to a Stewie Griffin's, only more bored, and maybe with a touch of Willem Defoe)

In light of this less than loving situation, for him to leave us a present (even one as misunderstood as a dead, possibly diseased thing) is nearly stunning in its implications. HE LOVES US, he just has a hard time saying it for fear of rejection. We were very moved; so much so that we mounted the dead bird to a board and hung it on the mantle with the date and some of Cosmo's paw prints as a signature.

Well, there's always the possibility that he truly hates us and deposited the bird on the doorstep much like the ol' horse head in the mattress message. That's probably more likely. It's surely more of a 'You're next, bitches' message than a 'Thank you for rescuing me from the jaws of euthanization and always giving me food and shelter and medical care and staying up late to make sure i come home in one piece instead of making me spend the night outside with the fugly possums and sketchy alley cats.' Of course, there's no way of proving that he didn't:
-Find a the bird already dead and drag it around out of boredom until he found something more interesting to be creepy with.
-Steal the prized kill from the neighbor's cat (i call him Catsumoto because he looks like a samurai. What? it's funny!) with whom he has a 2.5 year staring contest rivalry, and claim it as his own.
-Systematically lace the earth with arsenic and other chemicals, causing local insects to absorb it and build up a tolerance and thus poison and kill the bird that ate the insects. (Do not put it past him. The minute you declare anything as 'beyond him' is the minute he decides that is how he will destroy you.)
-Kill the bird as a representation of his tough catliness to send a message to all the neighborhood kitties (there are plenty). Our yard may look like a litter box, but it's his litter box and his only. Know about it.

i suppose the case of the toe-up doorstep bird will remain a mystery until our giant angry beast of anger is caught in the act of being something less than diabolical and more like a pet.

return of the texts

Another round of going through my phone and finding funny texts, usually without contexts and always accurately transcribed. 

This female will steal my soul through my pizzle!

me want beer. 

As long as you smell like Anthro.

We might have to bake two so we can eat one. Maybe we can turn Pete's twin cake into a hoarcrux. 

Is he butch or the kid?

Projectile vomitting: not as funny or as fun as the movies make it out to be. 

I'm listening to the funniest slut ever talking out loud on her cell in starbucks!

Wayne just brought us a still twitching gopher.

Supposably she is a college gratuate!

It makes me happy to know that people in the business world read that book. Like somehow it will be ok somehow...

Today is the day you emerged from your mother's va-jay-jay. Way to go!

For your birthday present i was wondering if i might be able to borrow your vacuum?

Georgia Nicholson is the Mighty B in six years. 

Babysitting when you're drunk is really hard. 

We'll let you know if we find crab people in the caves.

By the way, would u like a small used dog?

Steve just asked "didn't we just sing this last week?"

My riblets hurt.

Look at you go with your golf references!

Not if I poke holes in your condoms!!

That "so you like throwing up" brochure was kinda sad and awesome.

And to the republic of awesomeness on which she stands!

Oh gawd save me from the crazy in laws. My mouth is numb from fake smiling and my throat is sore from yelling into hearing aids.

They put stalls in the restroom so now 3 girls can pee in different toilet!

You'll be happy to know Stella just pooped on your neighbor's fence

There is/are an unnatural number of crows gathering in my apple orchard right now. I'm uncomfortable.

I'm still happy today that Rashida jones reminds you of me. Am i vapid and vain because of that?

But if anyone asks I'm gonna say it's real, obvi.

The Flatulance Gods must be getting back at me with your dog

I've had two martinis and a PBR in two hours. DRUIUUUUUNK!

That was for all the people that want me to get pregnant.

Mental connection make: Shakira sounds like the Target lady from SNL

Less than a minute ago I said, "I love toast."

Watching Toddlers and Tieras. What is WRONG with these people?!

Whatevs. Have fun eating NOTHING!

My life's quality is measured by whether or not i remember deodorant.

And isn't this a little more serious than  a TEXT?!

The prophets have spoken!

I meant OMG sarcastically not for reals, just to clarify.

That song that paula abdule sings w/the dancing animated cheetah is on the radio. Seriously?! Talk about a hostile wrk place.

Out on your crazy pants!

we just call it "driving"

When you guys are here we're forcing you to go help us pick out and cut down an Xmas tree! And drink cider and wear scarves! And LIKE IT!!!

How was jury duty? Did you wear your princess leia costume and tell them you were telepathic?

I'm headed into a recording studio to add my voice to some na na nas on the new mxpx Xmas song. Weird.

When you come visit we can have sing alongs!!!

Right. Your little black and white one with bulgy eyes.

We have a customer who introduces herself as "raven rain....also Cathy."

She's super random and kind of dorky like us- so if you can say something about pee or poo she'll bee your bff.

Ya but they're prob fat

That'd be a killer cupcake if it was all one!

Haha! shut up, you're super cute, even if you look kinda bi

How come in the prehistoric days all the animals were giant, but the humans were not?

I'm on a fantastic combo of midol and dayquil right now. Super lucky. 

I can totally wait. I just got flipped off by a homeless man.

You and I are finally going to have our FNL marathon. Jervis be praised.

I meant JEEBUS be praised.

But jervais can take some credit too, I guess...

only suitable for adults

My dear comrade, and first of thousands of roommates, Ashley (of the Northern California Ashleys) is also a blogger. And whence directed to her blog by its author (meaning her), i was greatly amused to find, before i could observe the blog, a warning from the good people at Google and Blogger. "The blog that you are about to view may contain content only suitable for adults," it declared. "In general, Google does not review nor do we endorse the content of this or any blog." i laughed. Of course Ashley's blog would come with a warning! i half-expected to also hear a husky-voiced man tell me intensely, "The blog you are about to view is rated BL MALVSC. It is intended for mature audiences only." (is it sad that i have that tv rating boiler plate language memorized? yes, a little. But i do watch a great deal of Rescue Me.) Having accepted the warning and perused the blog, i can't really figure out why it's only suitable for adults. i see very little of Ashley's usual colorful jargon, no mention of that one very adult word she taught me in 11th grade, and no dirty pictures. A simple 'holy $#i!' seems to be the extent of the adultry (a word i just made up, not to be confused with adultery), and i learned that word in 2nd grade (i ran out with a rough crowd).

Anyway, Ashley runs. i only run when i'm being chased, and even then i'm more inclined to either-

A. Curl up in a ball and hope to be killed/devoured quickly and mercifully, or

B. Do what no fictional chasee ever thinks to do, which is run like hell for a short distance, then hide like hell and wait for the chasers to run by before you double back and stroll, whistling, to safety. Seriously. i spend most of the Bourne movies (which i do love, btw. Call me, Damon.) thinking, 'if he just tucked himself away in a good spot he could easily evade the baddies.' Then i think, 'i would be happy to tuck away with him' but then we're veering all to closely into the aforementioned adultery.

Like music/food/literature/jesus, everyone has different tastes in exercise. i prefer to go to a gym and take a kickboxing class with 20 strangers and a psychotically peppy instructer. Ashley prefers to run long distances in public. That's her prerogative, which i happen to think is bananas. Sometimes she even PAYS for the privilege to get up at ungodly hours and run long distances in strange cities. She is perfectly welcome to do that, i happen to think she's Mentally Askew. In case i haven't made myself clear, i honor Ashley's choices, ridiculous and bass-akwards as they are. (here's where i admit that my 2nd favorite part of that cinematic gem, Talladega Nights, is Ricky Bobby saying 'with all due respect' and then saying something completely, baldly, disrespectful.)

Clearly, i am incapable of making a blog post about Ashley into anything other than a post about myself.

Ashley also teaches high school English. You can decide which is a more alarming and punishing habit to willingly undertake. She runs because she teaches, kind of like 'daddy drinks because you cry.' (i don't know where i saw/heard that but i can't even think of it without laughing out loud.) You could say, she blogs because she runs because she teaches. To be obnoxious to anyone masochistic enough to still be reading this post, i read because she blogs because she runs because she teaches. In the house that Jack built to catch the spider to catch the fly, alpha and omega, amen.

Her blog is about running and teaching and the highs and lows of both. Also, she's one of the most disciplined people i know, and has been since even before she taught me that one particular very bad word in 11th grade. She's also kind of a riot, so even if you are smart or chicken enough to not have gone into teaching, or if you're self-respecting enough to not do absurd things like Run Voluntarily, i do believe you'll enjoy yourself whilst reading her blog. Here it is. It's also in the list of 'Comrades' to the right. No, your other right.

an apology

In light of the ten year reunion, i made a preunion party playlist my pals and i could enjoy. i made the list out of the Billboard charts from the year of our graduation, 1999 and a little from 1998.

i spent the next week humiliated and apologetic.

i had forgotten or had never realized how excrutiatingly awful that time was in the world of music. This is me saying "I'M REALLY SORRY, WORLD, FOR THE MUSIC MY GENERATION INFLICTED UPON YOU." We punished you with the following diseases of sound:

Ricky Martin's 'Livin' La Vida Loca'
Sugar Ray's 'Every Morning'
Cher's 'Believe'
Smash Mouth's 'All Star'
Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On'
LFO's 'Summer Girls'
Will Smith's 'Miami'
and of course...'Hit Me Baby One More Time' by Britney Spears.

Here's the thing about 1999: it was pre-myspace, pre-iTunes and, in a way, pre-internet. Very few of my friends even had email addresses, much less the savvy or resources to find any sort of music that wasn't in heavy rotation on the radio or on MTV...which was beginning its downward slide into 'TV not having anything to do with M'. And i don't think i need to explain how asinine the radio stations around here were. And are. "Indie band" wasn't in our vocabulary, and since we lived in Redding and not a bigger or more cultural town like LA, Sacramento or even Chico, there were no shows to attend. So, there were a few GOOD albums released in the waning years of the 90s, albums like Beck's 'Midnite Vultures', Jeff Buckley's 'Grace', and Sigur Ros's 'Ágætis byrjun', but we didn't hear them.
At the mainstream level, the late 90s were about the end of grunge and rock and the beginning of bubblegum pop, the boy band, and of course, the country cross-over (thanks a million, Shaniah Twain, still haven't forgiven you). There were a few gems that made their way to the masses, Lauryn's Hill's 'Miseducation' album had several great singles, the Chili Peppers put out 'Californication' and Tom Petty made 'Wildflowers', but overall it was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time. We're sorry. If i give you Dave Grohl will you forgive? Here's one of the un-bad things to come out of 1999, the Foo Fighters with 'Learn to Fly', with a little Tenacious D thrown in for giggles.

Foo Fighters - Learn To Fly

Marco|MySpace Videos

screw 'em

i was born in 1981, so i was not alive for the 1980 Miracle on Ice at the Lake Placid Olympics. i saw the movie whilst on my honeymoon in Lake Tahoe and loved it; i'm a huge sucker for a sports movie, i think most people are. Kurt Russel's performance was fantastic. Here he is, as coach Herb Brooks, giving the speech before the game that made history:

Goosebumps! love the accent and clipped speech pattern and i watch it thinking, 'oooh i hope they wind their hockey game!' that's how easy it is for me to get caught up.

Anyway, this funny little kid grew up hearing about the Miracle on Ice from his dad and memorized the speech from the movie. It cracks me up! like, screw sponge bob! i wanna wear a tie a look like a hockey coach from 1980! He's only 4 in the video, so i'm pretty sure he's not even reading the paper in his hand. Check it out:

Good stuff! Here's the Yahoo story if you want more.

wobbly bits

This is my friend and once-upon-a-coliseum-roommate Erin, who looks very cute in this picture alongside a greenly-adorned scary lady who is about to try to eat your pet bird. (Man, am i glad that's not me! Can you imagine?? Gah!) Erin has brought herself into the blogosphere and the world of jewelry making. These forces combine like all good combining forces: into candy. Orrr a great blog. Roll the quotes:

These are the nonoffensive phrases my friends and family use to describe their wonder and amazement each time I lose my keys, forget some important event, or misplace a giant kitchen appliance (fine, it was a refrigerator, but I've only lost two in my lifetime).

Now I have to work my oxidizing nerve up all over again, and also buy more eggs.

Notice - I am NOT creating this blog for expert jewelry makers, or Pretty Good jewelry makers or EVEN Not Very Good but Still Managing to Sell that Junk jewelry makers.

These dangly bits are considered by me to be lovely adornments and should not be confused with 'wobbly bits', which generally refer to cellulite-prone body parts that are to be hidden under a sheet while getting dressed next to your sleeping lover.

For more on Erin and her lovely creations which will soon be in an Etsy store near you, visit http://makingprettythings.blogspot.com/

odds and ends

or, if we're speaking in Jeopardy categories, which we should be. always., "Potpourri."

We were awokended in the wee hours of the night/morning/i don't know because i can't read the clock without my contacts in by the ferocious growling of our dog all the way on the other end of the house. Now, Penny is a snorer and sometimes an active dreamer, but intense growling is not part of her nighttime routine. The doorbell, as it does for most dogs, exhibits a very dramatic reaction, as does the opening of the side-yard gate, arborists, little old ladies passing out Mormon magazines, and the occasional child walking home from school. Needless to say, she is territorial. So when growling to raise Beelzebub's goosebumps commences in the middle of the night, we naturally assume we're about to get: robbed, tied up, fed our own fingers and toes, and then hacked into pieces by a very bad baddie, in that order. Being the brave, modern woman i am, i sent my husband out in his underpants to investigate. It was worse than a bloodthirsty killer and all the more worthy of such a chilling growl of defense: it was a possum, smaller than our cat, moseying through the leaves. DANGER! We've done the possum dance before (it's nothing like the foxtrot) and haven't had an issue since. This was probably a rogue wanderer but he/she continued in the tradition of his/her forepossums by making sure we got no sleep. Once you're awoken (or awakened or wokeded up) with your life flashing before your eyes, it's hard to drift back to dreamland.

Second. i had jury duty today; i arrived at 8 and left at 4 and was not chosen to serve. i was the 5th person called to the box in the morning and was fully prepared to serve. In the end, the defense excused me and i'm pretty sure i know why. The potential jury was presented with a hypothetical situation by the defense. Say a police officer testified, 'it was night time,' and a civilian testified, 'it was day time,' and there was no physical evidence to corroborate either claim. Would you have a bias toward or against one of the testimonies? i raised my hand, in the complete assumption that there would be others in agreement. Mine was the lone hand. (cue tumbleweed) i was asked to explain, and i said that i would be more inclined to believe a police officer's testimony in the case of a 'he said/she said' situation. "Without knowing the background of either person?" the defense attorney asked, "simply because the police officer is a police officer?" Yes. A police officer's testimony is more credible to me, i said, because i trust the institution that installed that individual as a police officer. If the civilian's background included a similar level of credibility, then i would have to decide between the two testimonies or discard them both. But without backgrounds? Yeah, i'm going to go with the officer of the law. Do i think there are shady police out there? Yup. i also think there are moral mobsters. But i'm going to err on the side of the person sworn to uphold the law and trained to observe and assess situational details. The defense attorney posited my perspective to a few other jurors and their responses were along the lines of, 'Noooo! i wouldn't be biased, i would be fair and uphold the judicial laws of America, KALLIE.' It was really annoying and kind of surreal. i honestly didn't expect the rest of the jury to completely throw me under the bus. Here's the thing: from the time we're old enough to understand 'blue uniform' and 'badge', we're taught to unilaterally trust police officers, are we not? You get lost from mommy and daddy in the park? Find Officer Friendly and it will be okay! (And his cousin Firefighter Friendly is busy getting your kittycat out of the tree!) But now that you're an adult and paying taxes and dealing with things like the safety of your neighborhood, we want you to treat police officers like every John or Jane you ignored or were scared of in the park that day 30 years ago. Huh?? Whatever, Mr. Defense Attorney. You were shifty and in gross need of a haircut. And whatever, Other Potential CoJurors. You were all lying because you wanted to be picked for the Varsity Jury Team.

Third, Matt Damon is a brilliant actor. He really is. i can't wait to watch Good Will Hunting on the Turner Classic Movies channel with my grandchildren. Except by then tvs will be embedded in our fingers and our phones will be biologically programmed in our thumbs.

Fourth, we're going to see how long we can go before we turn on the heater this year. Place your bets.

Fifth, my favorite, favorite, favorite boots are on their farewell tour, since i've more than worn out the $13 i paid for them. They can't be worn in inclement weather, given the deteriorating soles. Get your tickets to the swan song.

rite of awkward

Dear Ten Year High School Reunion,

You were weird.

You declared ten years had passed and we, the graduating class of FHS in the year of our lord 1999, should therefore reunite, we who had little in common beyond sharing formative years in the institution determined by the state of California as the adequate option pertaining to the address our parents chose for their homesteads. 

When we last saw each other, we formed our bonds mostly immaturely: economic status, height-weight ratio, and clarity of complexion were all criteria alongside more trivial matters like disposition, interests and hobbies. So upon leaving high school and, for most, the homes and identities of our families, we forged our own identities and learned to make friends with like-minded people. Then for one night (or 3 days) you put us back in a room together and we all interacted on this foundation: once upon a time we were friends because we kinda dressed the same. Now, we may or may not have anything in common. That's awkward. It's fun too, but awkward. You're a strange system. 

Anyway, thanks for reminding me that The High School Boyfriend is totally overrated, that High School Popularity leads to cigarette smoking and conspicuous thinness, that my peeps were and are the best peeps, and that i really, really suck at small talk.

Sincerely,

Kallie

song #3

Oh baby, top 3. Here we go.

The number 3 song in my top 15 songymost songs is "Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. i heard this song on the radio when i was living in San D and Whitney was savvy enough to know i needed the whole album. i love the guitar/drum intro of it and the beat in general is sublime. The lyrics, though minimal, are a little confusing if you don't the story behind the song. Karen O, the lead singer, wrote the song about/for her then-boyfriend Angus as he was leaving to go on tour with his band. According to internet lore, 'MAPS' is an acronym for 'My Angus Please Stay.' i like listening to it because it's so musical, but i LOVE the lyrics of the chorus: "Wait! they don't love you like i love you." It's so devoted and so desperate. The thing about being married to the spouse i have is that everyone adores him to the utmost, but i feel the same way about Josh as Karen felt about Angus. No matter how he's worshipped, none of 'them', the faceless fans, loves him like i love him. Here is the official music video, watch it! it's the 3rd best song ever. i promise.

Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Sesame Street goes Mad

"Good work, sycophants" has to be one of the best lines ever uttered by puppets.

questionable fences

We got a note from our neighbors in our mailbox today, asking us to please clean up our front yard asap as it is an eyesore. i'm pretty upset about it, mostly because i'm already embarrassed by the state of our yard on a daily basis and to have a stranger point it out only drives the point further. i'm also upset because there's very little we can do about how ugly it is. There's no sprinkler system to water what little grass there may or may not be from month to month, and we can't afford to put one in anyway. We're trying to make house payments and car payments and pay for the air conditioner that died, and in between those bills we eek out what few projects we can handle on the inside of the house. The front yard was in shambles when we purchased our home and will require a major overhaul to beautify it, as in, completely excavating it and rearranging everything. Until then, we have no desire or ability to dump a hundred dollars here and there into making it semi-presentable. If you know what our parents' yards look like you know what kind of standards we come from. Suffice it to say, we hate our yard too and no neighbor can possibly be more embarrassed by it than we are. We know ours is the ugliest house on the block and knowing that sucks. But we don't have a functional bath tub. And there's mold growing where the dog likes to lay all day. And there are portions of dirt floor. And there are areas where there's no real ceiling. And when it rains we have to come home from work to divert the deluge from flooding our living room. Not to mention less drastic but nonethless bothersome items, like the fact that if you're not careful, you'll hit your head on the sink when you're on the toilet, or the presence of cheap wood paneling where there should be insulation and dry wall, or the shower door with the fugly crane embossed on it. When they bought their home (the same time we bought ours) there was already grass and landscaping. When we bought ours, it was a wreck. The only thing growing at 1142 Walnut was the pot the previous owners were growing in the garage. That should give you an idea of the kind of upkeep that wasn't happening before we took possession. We do take pride in our home, but when our hands are tied, where is that pride supposed to go? It sucks.

Farewell, Vida Boheme

Patrick Swayze passed away, and i'm sad because there are only about 5 movies which i MUST watch every time they're playing on basic cable, and 'To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar' is at the top of that list. It's a silly, formulaic movie about three drag queens stranded in a tiny, small-minded town, but i love it, mostly because of the leading man. Patrick Swayze played Miss Vida Boheme, the 'drag-queen-with-the-heart-of-gold' who was best friends with Wesley Snipes' character, Noxeema Jackson, and maternal mentor to John Leguizamo's Chi Chi. i'm not an expert on drag queens, but i know enough to think he nailed the performance, which also nabbed him a Golden Globe nomination. As legend has it, he showed up for his audition in full drag and improvised a 30 minute monologue inspired by the bullying he endured as a kid taking ballet classes from his mom in Texas, and when Steven Spielberg watched the audition tape, he didn't even recognize Patrick. He'll mostly be remembered for his dancing, and i think it's a shame that he passed at a time when dancing is come back en vogue in mainstream pop culture, what with competitive dancing shows and musicals on tv and movies. i hope in his last years he was pleased with its resurgence. Anyway, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy and i'll watch 'Too Wong Foo' a little wistfully from now on. 

There's something in the water...

...and it was put there by my mother.

i don't have a huge circle of friends/acquaintances. It's about half a dozen college pals and half a dozen family members and local pals. Out of that dozen, at this moment in history, THERE ARE 5 BABIES IN 4 WOMBS. By next summer, the population of my social circle will have increased by almost 50% and NOT by me going out and making new friends (which i suck at anyway). If you ever had an interest in learning to sew miniature clothing items, come over pick up a needle because i can't keep up with the demand.

masochism via Sydney Pollack

i need to remember that i have seen 'The Way We Were' enough and i don't need to watch it every time it's on TCM because it's two hours of 'ohhhhh, Robert Redford is heaven' and 'man am i glad i have straight hair' and 'i love Robert Redford' and 'i don't get the political references, but Robert Redford can politically reference me any time he wants' and 'why does Barbara Streisand wear her eyeliner like that?' and 'i don't think Brad Pitt would be anywhere near as famous if he didn't resemble Robert Redford so much' and 'yeah, marraige is complicated' and 'croquet sucks' and 'it's hard to drool over Robert Redford when your husband is watching' and so on and so forth until the end where Katie's all "Stay until the baby is born" and Hubble's all "You never quit" and the brushing of the hair off his forehead and that damn song in the background and it's JUST SO SAAAAAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

song 4

Now is the time for song 4 of my Top 15. This is 'Clark Gable' by The Postal Service, who share their lead singer, Ben Gibbard, with Death Cab for Cutie. i figured a Ben Gibbard song would fit in well on my Top 15 and i discarded several slower, more sentimental ones in favor of this gem. i like it because it's fun, romantic, pensive, frustrated and enthusiastic. And i'm a sucker for 'story songs'. And i like old movies. And back in the day my friends and i would make movies. So, it was kind of a no-brainer. The double clap makes it a fun car song and i love how there's a marker snap sound after he sings 'the marker snapped'. (i know, that sounds incredibly trite and unimaginative, but it still makes me smile.) Here is a fan video, enjoy!