Alex Blagg is Awesome

I realize I have like no readers, but for the non-exsistent readers I do have, I would like to make it known that Alex Blagg is a cool, cool blogger and an excellent comedian and an honestly decent person (no matter how sarcastic he is on his website). If you are in San Francisco tonight, go to the 50 Mason and check him out. It's his last performance in the city for awhile he is moving. His stage show is great!!!

If you are in New York, well check him out when he gets there. You won't regret it! O.k, blogging kudos out of the way, I'll get back to making fun of celebrities and explaining what a pop-culture nerd I am.

I'm a pop-culture nerd

So, why is it that I happen to know like five tidbits of useless pop-culture knowledge where the normal person might know one on a particular subject? And why is it that, when called upon, I share said tid-bits ad nauseum? And why is it that said tid-bits bring back bemused looks of "How do you even know that? God you are such a nerd."

Example: Yesterday a conversation took place at work that created such stares.

The Setup: Coworker 1 is talking to Coworker 2 as I happen to be passing by.

Co-worker 1: Yeah, I'm going as the Donald for Holloween but I was thinking of getting a big poofy afro and going as that guy... You know the guy...

Co-worker 2: A Commedore?

Co-worker 1: No, no, the guy with the PBS show a ways back.

Me: Bob Ross?

Co-worker 1: Yeah the guy with the painting show that's it. He was great with the easel and the painter's tray. Whatever happened to him?

Me: He died a number of years back.

Co-worker 1: What of?

Me: Cancer.

Co-worker 1: That's too bad. I wonder if he ever made any money.

Me: Well enough to buy or help fund a wildlife refuge.

Co-worker 2: Really?

Me: Yeah, there was this one episode where he talked about releasing some injured chipmunks he'd help nurse back to health so he could release them into his wildlife refuge.

Co-worker 3 decides to step into the conversation.

Co-worker 3: And you know all of this how?

Me: Mmmm... Well, first off I am a collector of weird and inane trivia, weird little pop-culture things just stick to my brain and two, I didn't have MTV growing up, so PBS kinda took up some of my time.

All three coworkers proceed to stare at me with the stare mentioned above. Then I become utterly aware, that yes, I am a nerd and I will never, ever be cool again. *Le Sigh*

Screw you weather!!

I understand that living in the bay area, I have no legitimate reason for disliking the weather in this area. It's not harsh, it doesn't drive me insane with humidity or hot weather, or cold weather or anything like that, so I should totally shut up. And actually I really do like our weather 3/4 of the year, it provides sunny days for a big chunk of the year, creates enough wind for me to pursue my hobby and is generally agreeable. But I do have a beef with it nonetheless, albeit a very petty one.

Around this time of year, all the way to about March, I have weather-related sartorial ennoi so bad that it often takes a Limited shopping spree and a new pair of boots to deal with. Let me explain. Round this time of year, the weather just fucks with me, mostly because I think it can. So, for those of you not living in Silicon Valley area, the whole area contains probably 5 or 6 different micro-climates within like a 60 mile radius. I live in one, and work in another. Which wouldn't be a big deal if said micro-climates decided to play nice and align their weather patterns in some sort of simbiosis. But there seems to be some sort of sibling rivelry involved that renders my whole wardrobe useless some days.

So in the mornings I wake up and look up at the sky light in our master bedroom (which having one of those can be a blessing and a curse sometimes. On full moons, I might as well be throwing a candle-lit garden party in my bedroom rather than trying to sleep because the moon has illuminated everthing and refuses to go away and hide in a cloud somewhere. It's annoying.) and try to gauge at what the weather will do for the day. At this time of year, it's usually a fog so dense that I don't think it'll clear out for the rest of the day. So I go with a turtleneck, because I'm naturally cold throughout the day, I might as well be proactive for the rest of the day. What does the weather decide to do? It clears up and heats up just a little bit so my turtleneck becomes a cable-knit oven, the better to draw out my sweat and trap it there. Thanks Weather.
The weather, I'm convinced, also has a field day with my hair. Usually, when it starts in on the monsoon season around here I just put it back in a pony-tail, because what's the point of blow drying my hair when it's going to get wet in an hour, then dried out and frizzed out to standard poodle proportions when I get to work? Yesterday though, I thought I had a bi so I let it down and blow-dried it. What does the weather decide to do? Well other than wreak havoc on my sinuses and give me a low-grade pressure headache? It rains and makes my hair look like an Afro humped by a minituare poodle with a sneezing fit while being drug behind farming machinery picking up cotton balls. Except with highlights.

Part of the problem is that when I get to work, the inside of my office is a totally different temperature than the environment I just left, which leaves me a bit confused, and frizzed to say the least. When I get into the office in the morning, the temperature in the office has alternated between meatlocker and sauna almost every other day. And it decides to change throughout the day in much the same way. I come in the office in turtleneck, I grab some coffee wearing a parka, I finish the day in a tank top (or I would if I had such things lying in my cube). My hair goes through somewhat of the same process through the day. It starts out all cute and sleak and proper, it get droopy around lunch, then frizzes out and end the day, lanky and limp but also frizzy. It's so much fun.

You think after 5 years of living here and a year and half of working in the same office, I'd have figured this out by now. You'd also think that by working for a company that makes freaking weather stations, for crying out loud, I'd have a better grasp out of all this crap. But I do not. I'm still just as mystified as ever. Although, this might help...

So now, Fighting Nun, you should have some idea as to why it is that I look longingly in my closet and complain that I have nothing to wear. It's because weather is foiling my best efforts to look presentable on an almost hourly basis. It should make sense now.

The Bloody Munchkin's Media Consumption

Reading - Yeah I know, I'm trying to hurry up. Really I am. But on the plus side, it is now getting interesting, so maybe the pacing will pick up and I'll read it faster. I don't mind how the story weaves in and out from the present to the recent past to the past, and I actually kind of like how the narration switches from Third to First for some characters. I'll just have to see this one through. I'm a completist that way.

Watching - Loved it! One of those children's movies that remembers there are adults in the audience. The humor is very British. Monty Python meets Are You Being Served meets Austin Powers. I mean they use the cauliflowers and cantelopes as boobs joke, which never gets old. Quite enjoyable.

Listening to - I know I'm betraying all that I hold dear to may heart and all, but I really did not like this album too much. It had it's heart in the right place, but it tried to hard. Manda Rin, as much as I love her, was way too screamy and singing in an octave or trying things with her voice that weren't in her range that made the album just a little unbearable in parts. Manda, girlfriend, I still love you, but tone it down and bring your voice back to the glory it once was. Seriously.

Watching - Meh. It was an interesting movie, but for several reasons, I just didn't care. I could dissect the movie on grounds of mythology vs. history. I could go into depth about Paris and Hector and blah, blah, blah. But I will divulge a little theory that I'm totally convinced of: Brad Pitt has Karl Urban's career. Or to put it differently, Karl Urban is the poor man's Brad Pitt, but could probably be better at Brad Pitt's job than Brad Pitt is. While watching Troy, every time Brad was on screen all I could think to myself was "Karl Urban could kill at this role." Argue that it's too much Lord of The Rings good will carrying over if you must, but I won't buy into it. What I'm convinced of is that Brad Pitt has enjoyed being the go-to pretty-boy for too long and isn't even trying. I'm not saying Brad Pitt doesn't have depth, he brought alot ot the table as Achilles, but Karl would just be... depthier? I don't know, I think he would have brought more mystery and darkness to the role than Brad Pitt did. Sure, maybe watching Doom would strip me of this idea entirely, but that's why I haven't seen it yet. If there's one thing all readership must know about me is that I live in a little bubble of a world all my own where all my theories and pop-culture principles hold absolutely true and I try my hardest not to convince myself of anything else. So please. Don't burst the bubble. I also feel the need to launch into the fact that Brian Cox is so totally a HiTG member it's not even funny, but I'll leave that discussion for another day.

Made-Up Band Names: Submission 7

"Shut Up and Dance Mary"

Kinda catchy, don't you think?

Never underestimate the old dude

So I get into work today and I start talking to the new guy in our department (I shouldn't actually call him that, he's been here for two months). He's about ten, fifteen years my senior, but seems to have some of the same tastes in music as I do so he's fun to talk to, and since he didn't grow up in a black hole of culture unlike myself, he's a lot more educated on most genres of music than I am.

So he hands me a couple of compilations he made a friend, the better to share the love of his music and he let me burn said compilations. The compilations were deemed "Post Punk 101" and on first listen they are pretty awesome. Not stuff I've ever actively listened to ever, and some of the stuff on it has been just under my radar for years now, like Generation X (yes, I know that this was Billy Idol's first band, and I shouldn't call myself a Billy Idol fan if I do not in fact have any Generation X music. You can close Outlook now. I get the finer points of the lecture), Talking Heads, and Joy Division. There was other stuff I didn't know existed like The Jam, and and The Au Pairs that I liked. One of the real highlights of the CDs was just some of the band names. They made me happy. Mighty Lemon Drops (Sweet), Siouxsie and the Banshees (O.k., this one I kind of knew about, but the band name still cracks me up), The Ruts, and The Damned. All the band names I come up with are like 15 years too late man. I mean couldn't you see Distracted by Cameltoe on tour with Siouxsie and the Banshees? That would be awesome.

But the utter crowning achievement of these compiliations was a song I've been wanting for a long time, "Never Say Never" by Romeo Void. I saw Romeo Void on that VH1 show a while back and I was blown away. Had I known that band existed back in my Cyndi Lauper phase, I would've been a much different woman, I'll tell you that. The woman's swagger on this song is just incredible.

So, never underestimate the music collection of an old dude. He might just lay down some learning on your poor, uncultured brain.

Bloody Munchkin's Media Consumption

Still Not Reading - Well I kinda am. I'm only about 10 or 15 pages from my last post. I'm working on it. Geez.
Watching - O.k. Shut Up. This one's Fighting Nun's fault. And besides, the first 20 minutes of Amazing Race is nothing but filler anyway. (With the smallest voice possible) Uh, Ireallylikeitalot. Come on, it is trashy as hell. Jason Lee has sideburns! And Giovanni Ribisi was on last night, who I will one day cover in a crush file because I've had a crush on him (Xenu be damned!) since My Two Dads. And he was all trashy and he wore a wedding dress! It was awesome! Shut Up!
Still Cracking up about - So last night, right at the end, The Amazing Editors caught the best shot ever. The little blond-haired girl on the Gaghan family jumped on the mat and she flashed that little cherubic smile and blinked that blink of innocence and then Fighting Nun and I had to rewind that stuff and go. "I dare you Phil. Break My Heart. Try and tell this face no!" It was the most awesome Amazing Mat Reaction Shot ever. What about the Pony Phil? What about it? It was great.
Listening to - O.k., so first off. The Bloodhound Gang. I can explain. No I actually can't explain why I like it. I just do. It's jokey and perverted but yet catchy and dancy and in some cases it is just wrong. I mean "I'm missing you like a hijacked flight on September 11th." If some way over the top conservative Defense of Families type caught wind of this, dudes would be martyred fast. But I still enjoy it. Stop looking at me like that. And why is it that you roll your eyes when I tell you I like Lords of Acid? Shut up. Franz Ferdinand is pretty awesome on first listen. I might bloviate on the album later. Also, looking forward to listening to The Kitchen. Manda Rin, My Girl Crush is still potent. Why won't you call me?
Tried to Watch - We tried to watch the extended version last night, and after we got through the thirty minutes of Kevin Smith's diarrehea of the mouth (I'm now convinced that Silent Bob was some sort of bet with his friends for how long he could not talk, because based on this introduction, he can't not talk for very long) , we were tortured by some of the worst scenes in cinema history. Thank God the extended edition was the "Version not meant to be" otherwise I wouldv'e written Kevin Smith off as a hack and been done with it, had this been the first thing of his I ever watched.

Also Reading - Flipping through mostly, but last night I read the Francis Black interview (wow, he's an enigma isn't he?), the Billy Joe Interview (He's one of the few guys who gets better looking with age), the Courtney Love interview (Hee! What a freak! I love her.) The one that got under my skin was the Brandon Flowers Interview. Of course Spin had to bring up The Bravery feud, and he was all "I wish it hadn't of happened but they started it, so there." Way to be simultaneously adult and five years old at the same time. Why don't you just call Sam Endicott poopie-pants while you're at it? You know Brandon, don't talk. Just look pretty, wear eye-liner, come off as somewhat effeminate and sing your songs. That's all you're good for...

Fighting Nun's Corner: Work Coffee Sucks

My husband, Fighting Nun enlightens us on why you don't drink the coffee at work:

That damn coffee swell…

What the hell is wrong with the people that make the coffee
around here? Are their taste buds so void of taste that they can’t taste the
crappy bitterness of the brew that just made? Is it so frekin hard when
you make a new batch to take a whiff of the filter, and if it smells like crap,
to wash it out?

I got here at 7:00 today, which I’m grateful for because I
didn’t have to take the train, but I get a cup of coffee and that tasted like
crap, oh well it’s the first batch of the day, just add more sugar and creamer
to mask the crappy taste. Second cup, just as crappy as the first,
probably more, and people wonder why I spend 1.50 for a cup of Joe at
Starhucks.. I’ll tell you why, because their coffee doesn’t taste like it was
filtered using year-old gym socks!

Damn this coffee sucks!

Made-Up Band Names: Submission 6

This week's band name is...

Distracted By Cameltoe, singing their hit song "Your Muffin Top has nothing on me".

(TM Weird conversation Fighting Nun and I had at the gym)

Green Day!!!

So as I said earlier, Fighting Nun and I went to see Green Day at the Warfield on Thursday. I'll just come right out and say it. Best concert of the year. This concert experience is actually vieing for the title of best concert ever, but The Mighty Mighty Bosstones at Bottom of the Hill still has that enviable position. This one is in the top three for sure.

Here's the quick rundown of what I loved, what I liked, and what I disliked.

What I loved

The opening band!!! So, The Network. The people sitting next to the people we were sitting next to said that the band was actually Green Day in costume, totally covered as not to show thier identities. I'm not sure how to go about cooberating that story, but that was Billy Joe singing. It had to be, which makes this the best opening band ever!! Let me explain some things about this opening band's show. One of the dudes wore a mexican wrestling mask, another dude had on something that looked suspiciously like a Mighty Morphin Power Rangers helmet. And then there were the strange guys who looked to be straight-jacketed together playing the cowbell. That alone, was worth the price of the ticket. It was awesome.

The teenage girls - Right after Green Day started their set, Billy Joe drug these two girls, no older than thirteen, maybe younger, onto the stage to make sure they wouldn't be in harms way during the concert. I started living vicariously through those two girls. I'd look over at them during certain parts of the set, and they were giggly, bouncing up and down in their pink concert t-shirts, at one point they were given some of Tre Cool's drumsticks. How awesome is that? Green Day had an awesome lights and pyrotechnics show, one I haven't seen the likes of live ever. I'm talking flames shooting out of the stage, sparks raining down. Anytime the flames started shooting out, or the sparks came raining down, some roadie had to usher those girls to a safer part of the stage. It was all back and forth, back and forth like some crazy game of Red Light, Green Light.

The profundity of musical instruments - I've had this long standing belief that the more musical instruments you can drag onstage, the better the stage show. This concert totally proved my theory. You wanna know what is more awesome than dragging a keytar on stage? Two keytars. Red ones. More awesome than that was the cowbell playing dude(s) (explained above). Because what everything needs is more cowbell. (I know that joke's worn out but that won't stop me from using it.) And there were trombones, and trumpets, and just all sorts of awesome things. Bring on the musical instruments!

They played the old stuff - I was under the impression that the whole night would be only stuff off their American Idiot album, and yeah, the first set, that's exactly what they played. Which was fine. I rocked out and I enjoyed it, but I knew I would feel complete if they just played Longview. And the first encore, they did, and the second encore that played a bunch of other stuff too. Tre Cool came out and did a solo to the "All By Myself" song (You know that song that was hidden at the end of Dookie?) It was awesome.

They were just having fun - Being at a concert is work if the artist you are seeing makes it seem like he's working. Case in point, Zwan. Billy Corgan wasn't about having fun, he was about showcasing his art. He took that concert way too seriously. Hell, he takes everything too seriously. But the point is, if you treat a concert like work, all the people going end up treating it like that. But Green Day got that this was about fun, and that's what they did up there. They had fun, they entertained and they rocked the house. Those guys single handedly brought the fun back into fun-loving punk. I respect that.

What I liked

They played covers - The second encore they just went crazy, there was a strange medly, and they let the touring guitarist sing "Rock the Casbah" and there was a Billy Idol cover. It was great! The draw back was that it was detracting away from them playing their old stuff, and it went on for way too long. Back in the day, when I was young, naive and in college, I believed that an artist should play their whole back catalog. I was like, If you have four hours worth of albums, you should play all four hours. I want to hear it all. Now, I'm like, dude It's a weeknight and we've got work the next day. Could you like wrap this up soon? I'm utterly glad they played for as long as they did, showing the love and all, but it got to a point where enough was enough. I like that you are going to rock all night, but could you please give us an approximation of how long that might be? I got to figure out how to plan my next day.

What I disliked

I like that Green Day is politically motiviated, and I like the fact that American Idiot was a smart album that showcased that, but made a point artfully. It wasn't jamming the message down our throats. I appreciate that. But there were a couple of pointed statements made by Billy Joe that were. And that's not what I paid good money to hear. I don't know. That's just how I feel about it. Leave it at home, don't bring it to the concert...

Speaking of leaving it at home, I appreciate that being high and going to a concert go hand in hand. I'm a child of the hippie generation. I get that, but it just seems disrespectful to me that you need to get high during a concert, making other people smell the crap and giving them a contact high just by proxy. If you want to get stoned and go to a concert, that's great. But can you get stoned before, in the privacy of your own home where you aren't subjecting countless others, only yourself.

Well That's it. Great Concert, amazing band. An incredible four hours spent...

Bloody Munchkin’s Media Consumption

Not Reading – I’m trying to get through it, but it’s really not going anywhere. I’ll try and speed up the process so I’m ready when my prize comes to my door, but no promises…

Anxiously Awaiting – Today bitches! Somewhere, a black nail-polished, spiked-hair punk wannabe suburban teenager and his friend are crying right now because Fighting Nun and I got their tickets.

Watching – Aw, I really liked the father and son-in-laws team. They were all team-work and no drama. I bet they have awesome family get-togethers.

Listening to – I’d link to stuff, but it’s been kind of a mish-mash lately. I re-listened to The Postal Service album, Kaiser Chiefs, the new Gorillaz album (which I consequently still don’t like). Guess I got to make a new music run soon.

Frustratingly Watched – I get to blame Fighting Nun for this. I don’t dislike the premise, just the execution. Fighting Nun hit the main problem of the movie on the head. This is what happens when engineers think they can write a script. Nothing against engineers, but some things are better left to writers, and this script was one of them. I’m all for the Show don’t Tell philosophy, but some things could use with some exposition and this movie was one of them. And when Fighting Nun has to stop the movie and explain what was just said, it leaves the realm of decent cinematic journey into utter frustrating work. I was anxiously awaiting some sort muddled symbolism akin to Pi, but that never happened. By the end, all that was left was rage and frustration. Not worth it in my opinion.

Giddily Watched – If you have not seen this movie, remedy this oversight immediately. Watch several different iterations of it, turning subtitles on and off, language dubbing on and off, any way you choose, it’s awesome. I contend that messing with the language selection and subtitle features doesn’t detract but adds to the fun. I’m convinced this film is ripe for some sort of drinking game, I just haven’t figured it out yet. And, dare I say it, this film might have captured the best man-boob bounce-and-jiggle ever (you’ll know what I mean when you see it), and yes I’ve seen Fight Club. Also, dancing with axes? Genius!!!

Band Names You Can't Make Up

So I'm cruising my e-mail, seeing a new Pollstar alert, checking the local venues for cool concerts that have popped up, and what should my eyes see but a band called "As I Lay Dying." Excuse me, but what? "As I Lay Dying" Are you serious? I know I've created some shitty band names, but this? Is... well, It. Is. Wrong. It's just wrong people. Why don't you just rape and pillage all of Faulkner's work (which I could argue was all about raping and pillaging anyway, but I'll save that debate for another day) and have your number one single entitled "A Rose for Emily." And your big stage act could involve a kid who utters the phrase "My mother is a fish" over and over again and a decomposing corpse laying in a bed?!?!?!

Moral of this tirade? Never, ever name your band after a piece of literature that is canonized, (albeit for what I think is no good reason, but, again, an arguement for a different day). Next thing you know there will be a band called Uncle Tom's Cabin. If you're going to steal a band name from someone, go ahead and steal from me. I'll let you, and besides, I think my band names are pretty cool....

Made-Up Band Names: Submission 5

The band name for the week:

Broken Rickshaw with their hit single "Big Mama has gone, left me holding the potstickers." (TM Me)

(Bye Big Mama, I'm totally bumming that you left. My weekly chinese food run will not be the same without you. And I'm totally missing your Afro Mama picture. Cause you had a kick-ass afro back in seventies.)

Untitled: The ending of a short story

He was right there at the rock, their rock.
“How’d you find me?”
“Wasn’t very hard. This was my spot. Until I brought you here, and then it became our spot.”
“The place you told me where everything makes sense.”
“You know, I came here the night I found you with Nicki, wearing her thong…”
“Please don’t bring that up again.”
“I waited here, at this very spot for hours that night. Waiting for you, waiting for things to make sense.”
They stood there for a long moment, an unspoken understanding of sorts lingering in the air between them. Brian started to say something, he wanted to say something about regrets, about not coming to the spot that night, but he thought better of it. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?”
Jade looked at him inquisitively. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at. “You mean that day at school when I elbowed you in the neck by the lockers? I thought we’ve relived that one enough for the both of us.”
Brian shook his head no. “That was the day we first met. I’m talking about the first day I saw you.” Jade looked at him intently with her dark piercing stare, trying to size him up.
“It was the day we first moved to town, my mother was driving down First street, past your grandmother’s, looking for my aunt’s house. There was this crowd of students assembled outside, all looking somber. I saw this very beautiful, very sad girl walking down the street alone, walking away from the group.” He closed his eyes, visions of that day flashing around him. The gray clouds, the brown grass in all the neighbors’ yards, the aging neighborhood, and then the girl. “She was crying, the tears were streaming down her face, but she was trying to compose herself, she was striding away purposefully, but really fast as if the most urgent thing was hundreds of feet away. It wasn’t until gym class that I realized the girl with the pink stripes in her hair, the black nail polish and a Nine Inch Nails obsession was the same girl as the one on the sidewalk. It wasn’t until the homecoming party that I found out that the reason you were crying was that you had just lost your grandfather. What I can’t get, what I’ve always wondered about is why you walked away. It always looked like you were fleeing from something.”
Jade looked at him, with tears in her eyes where there was once a piercing gaze. She was amazed that there had been another witness to that moment, and the one witness happened to be Brian. “I couldn’t breathe.”
“What?”
“I couldn’t catch my breath. Friends, classmates, people who wouldn’t give me the time of day three days before were hugging me, acting like I was their best friend and they had all the answers, and they didn’t. It was crushing me, and I couldn’t breath. So I walked away.”
Another long silence sat there between them.
“Do you love him?”
“How could you even ask that?”
“Jade, please. Do you love him? Are you happy?”
“I wouldn’t be getting married if I wasn’t. I don’t do things I don’t mean.”
“No empty gestures.”
“None at all.” More silence.
“I guess I owe you an apology for what I said back there.”
“It’s not me you should be apologizing to. I know why you said what you said. It’s because things between us…” She took a breath, unsure of what to say.
“They were left unfinished.” It struck them both at that moment that they could still finish each other’s sentences. That they still knew each other’s thoughts. It scared Jade just a little to know that he could still read her. She let that knowledge, and the feelings that went with it, linger in the air for a moment.
“And that’s how they are going to have to stay.” She wanted to say more, everything, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good.
He wanted to ask her, he had to ask her if she still loved him, but he knew in his heart where that line of questioning would lead. Like so much in their relationship, it went unspoken.
And so it was that they left the rock, the spot where all things made sense, where they made sense, and where they came to try and make sense of each other. They went back to the party, where he apologized to the guests, to her family, to her fiancé. The party ended. The days went by. A very beautiful wedding took place a few months later with Brian in attendance. Months turned into years. Brian finally went back to school. Another wedding took place, this time with Brian at the end of the altar and Jade in attendance. Babies were born that grew to children. Pulitzers were to be had by one of them. The other would realize fulfilling work in a non-profit organization. Life went on, Brian and Jade remained friends, things made sense, they made sense on their own without the assistance of the rock, but things made sense with them together, as life long friends who would never visit the rock together again.

Acceptance

You are walking up the street to your car, your Venti Chai in hand, thinking your thoughts. You look at a store front window, the store with all the baby things in it. You see a multitude of signs posted, festival this, art faire that. It catches your eye for a brief moment, some poster about a charity walk. You don't read it, but it strikes something inside you. You keep looking at the store front window, with the pink piggy banks and the baby socks and the small soccer balls and you get it. You get the natural progression of things. You didn't want to truly accept it, call it post-adolescent idealism or whatever you want to, even though you've known it in your heart for awhile.

You see it written, the two little rugrats, the mortgage, the soccer practices, the ballet recitals. You see it all laying out in front of you like a big canopy that you can stitch and sew together as you choose. And for the first time ever in your life, you are not scared of it, trying to deny your future. For the first time in your life, you are utterly accepting, embracing this future you knew you'd have all along. You've discarded the dreams of being picked out of a crowd by someone who truly sees your gift and allows you to tap your potential as a full-time writer (be it movies, tv, or books) so that you no longer have to toil in obscurity. So what if you'll toil in obscurity, it will be with this beautiful man and possibly two beautiful kids and it will all make sense. And you've already been picked out of the crowd by someone who sees your potential and believes in your writing full-heartedly, your husband.

You see your path really clearly for the first time, and you think, fuck psychics, fuck horoscopes, it's been laid out before me forever. And it feels right. You know this in every fibre of your body, it just took a second for your brain to come around to it. You think back to moments before, on the other side of the street, to where you and Fighting Nun were standing earlier, coffee in hand, getting ready to depart for the day, him to the train station, you to your car. And right before you say goodbye, you kiss. A sweet gentle brief kiss, nothing new in the kiss, nothing new in the way you feel after the kiss, but you embrace how you feel, how comfortable it is to be with him, how great it feels to be together. Even though you know it's a romantic cliche, somehow when you kiss, it feels like everything for that moment is totally right, and calm, and balanced, and it's such a warming feeling.

And you are brought back to the present and you wonder if that moment, if that feeling brought you to this one, this one of acceptance and hopefulness about the future. And you know that it did, as did the moment before that, when Fighting Nun told you his dream involving Xhibit and a Lion man, as did the moment before that, and the moment before that. Because every moment that preceded this one was to reassure you that the moments that proceed the one your having now will be just as good, just a fulfilling, just as worth it as they all have been. And now you've fully embraced it. And you walk a little taller, with a little more love and calm in your heart, knowing what you now know.

Will (But Probably Won't) Kill for Green Day tickets

Dear Ticketmaster;

What exactly do I have to do to ensure that I get tickets for the upcoming Green Day show? Just what exactly do I have to do? I've tried jumping through your internet ticketing service hoops, your automated telephone service (their on-hold service? Not the worst, but kind of intolerable. Good Day Mr. Fogelburg. I said good day sir!) to find out what I could do to get tickets before they went on sale to the general public. Yes, I know it's a dick move, but it's the same dick move thousands of The Killers and Queens of the Stone Age fans pulled on me so I couldn't get tickets to their shows the day they went on sale. So this time I was going to take a pro-active role. I was going to find out exactly what it was I had to do to score tickets before they went on sale. And it all ended in this "You can't get tickets unless you have this super secret code and we're not going to give you the code because your not special enough" kind of elementary school popularity contest.

So I'm asking, I'm asking nicely Ticketmaster. Just what do I have to do to ensure I will actually have tickets for this concert, pre-sale or not? Do I have to do some insane "Simon Says" endurance test/competition thing, or maybe you are looking for bribery, or, as I am want to believe, is all of Ticketmaster part of an insane, possibly satanic, cult that requires a flesh sacrifice of some kind before they will dole out tickets? Do some of the Ticketmaster interns require hand-jobs in order for me to get tickets, because if that's the case, I think an Indecent Proposal-esque arrangement between you, Fighting Nun and myself can be arranged. I might even be able to arrange some assassin like training if murdering is what is involved to get tickets.

So TicketMaster, I'm begging, I'm pleading here. What do I have to do?

Wish I was Windsurfing;

The Bloody Munchkin

On Hold

During my 27 years on this earth I've had to be on hold on the a lot. A. Freaking. Lot. Insurance companies, car companies, the pizza guy. They've all put me on hold which means I've had to endure every kind of strange on-hold musak human kind can think of. If the devil was to devise a special hell just for me, I think it would involve having me be put on hold while listening to the most god awful music known to man. It's like water torture people! If it is going to be my own special little hell, I've decided I'm going to be prepared for it and have started cataloging and rating the selection of music certain on-hold systems have used in an attempt to see what I can tolerate for the longest amount of time. Items listed here start from most tolerable to tearing-hair-out-and-running-for-the-hills, what-insane-batshit-crazy-music-is-this, Gah-I-can't-take-it-anymore.

1. William Tell Overture repeated over and over/Classical Music Medly - On the whole, it's pretty tolerable. I realize that I don't listen to classical music very often, so usually when this happens, I take time to reflect on the music, taking a second to enjoy a flourish of some sort. It's almost a refreshing forray, if it wasn't for the fact that I was put on hold.

2. Classical Music Medly with intermittent "Please Keep Holding, Your Call is Important too us!" interruptions - This is a bit more annoying, because, just when I decide to turn myself over to the music blaring out of the ear piece, just as I'm engaged, they decide to cut it off and let the little robot voice of call waiting hell announce that you still aren't talking to a real human yet. So not only are you on hold, you have to be reminded that you are on hold, and that your call will be taken in the order received. You know what? I got something for you to receive right here Ms.-robot-voice-biznatch! Shut your cake hole and let me listen to the music in peace. But only if it is the classical stuff.

3. The oldies station broadcast - No offense or anything, but there is rarely a moment I want to hear "The Lollipop Song" coming out of my earpiece, and if by some wierd chance I do want to hear that song, I would also want to watch River Phoenix, Corey Feldman and the gang lip-synching to it. So no real need for blaring it in your on hold system, A'ight.

4. The oldies broadcast with intermittent "Please Keep Holding, Your Call is Important too us!" interruptions, or advertisements, or with little blurps about how well the company is doing, or how they are trying hard to meet my customer service needs - This one can really bite the fattest part of my ass really. O.k., so not only do I have to put up with Do-wop music, but I also have to put up with some chode Mr. Robot Voice telling me that his company appreciates my business, please buy more things? They can just bite me.

5. The Countdown - The countdown, no matter what music accompanies it, is one of the most torturous things about an on-hold service, because not only do you have to put up with Ms. Robot Voice, you have to put up with Ms. Robot Voice telling you exactly how long the wait is, which is some perverse sort of torture if I've ever heard it. The most excruciating sentence ever uttered by a voice, human or computer generated has to be "Thanks for holding. Your call is important to us. You have approximately 5 minutes and 30 seconds for your call to be recieved." Knowing the approximate time that should pass before you hear an actual human voice again just makes hearing the umpteenth variation of "Muscrat Love" that much more excruciating, because then I'm staring at my watch every three seconds waiting for the allotted time to pass so I won't have to listen to the drivel imminating from my phone while wanting to throttle Ms. Robot Voice or the server that generated her until there is no more life in the robot voice and/or computer. Gah!

6. Fleetwood Mac/Stevie Nicks solo work, Stevie Nicks even within a thousand yards of an on-hold system - You know, given that I am the product of hippies and have had to hear every incarnation of Stevie Nicks music, you'd think I could tolerate this one, but one tennuous call to the autobody shop where they put me on hold only to hear "I am like the wind" and I realized that no, no I could not tolerate Stevie Nicks while being on hold. I could not even do the opposite of tolerate, I could only sit, paralyzed with the phone by my ear, slowly letting the awefullness bore into my brain like a bad earwig, slowly, deviously, taking over all comprehension skills until all I could hear was that, that voice *shudder*. This one's going to take awhile for me to recuperate from. I'll tell you that much. *shudder again*.

So yeah, being on hold sucks, the on hold music can sometimes suck even more. Word to the wise, when put on hold, have your headphones and your iPod nearby to circumvent the damage done by listening to the on-hold music otherwise you will unknowingly enter some perverse circle of hell you didn't know existed. Your brain, your heart, your musical tastes, your sanity will thank you later.

Car Trouble

About a week ago, Fighting Nun and I were at a 7-11 and this car pulled up and, right before it pulled into the parking lot, it died. And not just a sputtery "I don't think I got any more in me chief, I've lived a good long life, don't pity me my death" kind of death. This was a sudden death. The "One second we were having a good conversation and the next thing I knew he grabbed his chest and fell to the floor", the-transmission-just-fell-out-and-is-now-residing-on-the-pavement kind of death.

Fighting Nun looked over at the car and was all "That's a bummer but that was a woman driving it, so go figure." You'd think that that would get my feminist side all in an ire, but it was part honesty and part sadness that made me refrain from a diatribe. Because truthfully, that could've been me, and probably will be at the rate my car's going. And also because Fighting Nun knows it. The number of times Fighting Nun has looked at my tires because I told him the Tire Pressure Warning Light won't go away and the car feels kinda lopsided? Three. Number of times I was almost riding on the rim when he took a look? Three. Yeah, I know, not a good ratio.
I get that to be an independent woman, we should take care of this kind of crap, that we should pay attention to our car's needs, blah-blah-blah. But honestly this car crap? That's part of the reason I got married. Yes, emotional fulfillment, someone to spend the rest of my life with, that too. But honestly, the reason I got married is so I'd have somebody tell me what car trouble I'm having, and to kill the hairy, multiple legged creatures that have taken up residence in various corners of my house. I think that subconsciously, that's why all women get married. They just don't want to admit it. Men get married because it means they get to have sex on a routine basis and they no longer have to pay for it, but that's a different topic altogether. But the point is, we all have needs that another person in our lives can help solve, and my needs just happen to be car related.

And don't give me the whole "betraying my fellow feminists by not taking responsibility for my automobile" schpiel. I've got more important crap to worry about. So what if the air conditioner stopped working, one of the license plate lights burned out, the brakes are starting to make a screeching metal-on-metal sound, and the electrical system starts turning lights on and off at wierd intervals. Fighting Nun will tell me when I need to get it fixed. Right?