Thursday, September 30, 2010
We've been very busy indeed this week!
Seester, Q, and I went out to see the Fireball Run crowd, including such lovely cars as the Batmobile, and the Delorean. Unfortunately, regardless that we were waiting for them twenty minutes before they were even set to arrive, we had missed them by an hour.
All we got out of it was a photo from the Stuart Title guy of the Flux Capacitor (and even then, it's only a guess, since he had no idea what we were talking about)...
...but we still had a lovely day, regardless!
In other news, we had a dope dog at the house today.
It's best not to ask why the dope dog was here, but more to consider it a perk to my Daddy's profession. That being said, Ellie didn't find anything in the car she was searching (which, by the way, does not belong to us)...
...but she certainly did find the pot her handler planted in the wheel afterward...
She also got to play in our front yard after she had finished working...
...which really annoyed our three little girls after Ellie left...
Have you seen Dick and Jane and Vampires at your local bookshop yet?
I bought it.
Yes, it's as awesome as you think it is.
Don't believe me? Here's a sample illustration...
I was hoping to find a trailer for this book, as I have with the other Dick and Jane funsies; this time, no such luck. I did, however, find this incredibly hilarious video. These guys know a little something about the Fabs (take particular note from the 1:14 to 1:50 time stamps... I had to pause the video I was laughing so hard)
This seems like the perfect intro to talking about Paul!
Are you excited?
Some lucky ducky pre-ordered her copy of the super-dee-duper, awesometastic, HOLY-CRAP-THIS-IS-EXCITING Band on the Run remaster. I'm proud to say I'll be getting the Deluxe version; I suggest everybody check it out, 'cause it WILL be worth every single penny. What I find most exciting about these Paul remasters is that the same team that remastered The Beatles catalogue did Paul's, too. And, if you haven't guessed, I'm REALLY happy with the Beatles tracks; of course, it's been too long since we got to talk about those... don't think I've forgotten, either! I took copious notes (six double-sided, tiny-print pages worth, actually) during our South Padre Island trip, and haven't had the time this week to talk about it. Next week, though, we're going to delve into that, never fear. I'm looking forward to it... it's the perfect excuse to go all nerdy about each album.
On that note, I've discovered the iTunes equalizer presets, and have just gone nutty playing with them.
This has been keeping me entertained for, quite literally, hours at a stretch.
Not only testing the different options (bass/treble enhancer/reducer, vocal booster, acoustic, et al), but testing them on our different Bose systems; you'd be surprised at how different the full size Bose sounds from the headphones (AKA, Rodger and Allan, respectively). Two different worlds.
However... this has turned me into a spoiled little monkey, indeed. If I feel like I need to dust off a vocal, I just go into the presets and have a ball! I've got page after page of notes about the different options with certain songs or albums, and I'm trying to make up my mind on a few right now. I'm having a particularly hard time with this song...
I've switched between Spoken Word and Bass Reducer for the last three days.
We're going out of town again in the not-so-distant future.
The pressure is ON.
I leave you to ponder the meaning of life...
...and this adorkable clip of The Precious ('cause NOTHING gets done around here without him... it's the LAW).
I swear, if that man got any cuter, I'd just have to curl up in a ball and die.
As an aside, I am ashamed that Blogger does not recognize Batmobile, Delorean, iTunes, funsies, adorkable, or awesometastic as words.
For shame, Blogger, for shame.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
We packed up and headed down to South Padre Island for a week... now, as someone who doesn't like tropical weather/scenery/lifestyle in general (that, and I have a tendency to go stark raving crackers on SPI), I was more excited about our leisurely trip home through the Texas Hill Country (I love it down there, it's so peaceful). Though the pictures don't reflect that, here are some snaps from the last week...
And now, some highlights of the week:
*You can no longer climb the jetty in Dolphin Cove; this was a major disappointment.
*We saw nine seagulls without feet (maudlin, but true).
*H-E-B Grocery does not, in fact, stand for Holy Edibles, Batman; this was also a major disappointment...
that is, until we looked at the Wikipedia page. Now it's just a great laugh.
*Organic milk doesn't really taste all that different from regular milk.
*Half battery on your iPod will last you from Fredericksburg to home. Yes, it will.
*According to a British lady, I've got great taste. I think it's one of the best compliments I've ever gotten.
*San Antonio has a violet farm. I spent money.
Would you like to see my pretty new flowers?
Of course you would!
*I should really clean out my computer bag more often.
What you're looking at:
1) Our LOVE tickets from May.
2) Meat Free Monday literature from July's Paul concert in Denver.
3) Apparently I bought a pair of hose for LOVE, too.
4) Eisenhower's birthplace brochure... during The Great '09 Paul Pilgrimage from Tulsa to Dallas.
5) In the middle there, is the Internet access code for the our hotel in Lamar last October.
You'd think we like to get out and go... or, more accurately, that I like to blog when we go.
Overall, even through the sun, heat, humidity, and stupid people, we had a great time!
And you know what? I got to spend time with the Remasters while we were gone,
so prepare for some serious fangirling soon.
Aren't you excited?
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
I've still got work that needs doing, yet, here I am, thinking about television.
Allow me to explain... well, technically, it's my blog, so you don't have to allow me anything. You get the point, though.
At the doctor's office this afternoon, the television in the examining room (because folks can't keep themselves entertained for two ruddy seconds without television in this society) was on the Disney Channel. I thought nothing of it as the title of the show flashed across the screen, and the show stared up. It went a little something like this...
Even though the program was muted, my mother and I observed the horrific acting, and terrible haircuts... one of them looked like a Justin Bieber/Bobby Sherman mix...
...and it really disturbed me.
Then, no one has Paul's hair...
It took me forty-five minutes to pick out this picture. I feel this time was incredibly well spent.
Hair styles aside, this got me to thinking about a couple of things... yes, that's what we're going to talk about.
What in hell happened to Disney's quality? I mean, sure, you're not going to get the original Mickey Mouse Club back (and I had to sing the song to spell Mickey... I'll bet you did, too)...
...but even since I was a wee naif, the programming has lost it's "cute kid show" factor. Now it's just inane drivel.
I thought to myself "well, after all, it's been many a year since you watched kid shows, you silly monkey. You just grew up, that's all."
I tried to think back to the shows the Disney Channel played when I was little; if it wasn't something specially commissioned for Disney, it was - get ready for this, it'll blow your mind - actual Disney cartoons. Shock of the decade!
However, the shows that were made specially for the station were still better than the drivel I saw on the boob-tube today.
I thought you'd never ask!
This got me to thinking of other live action shows from other channels (read, Nickelodeon).
There was Repair Man (Man, Man, Man)...
(I hadn't seen this since it was new, and it still made me laugh.)
Or, one of my favorites, The Adventures of Pete and Pete...
There's not much I can say about the difference, except, for my niece... Quincy, sweetheart, come over to Aunt B's, I'll set you straight.
In the meantime, I'll just be stuck with my boring old Britcoms...
And now, it's time for the Funny Anecdote Of The Day!
I was actually at the doctor's to get some vaccinations... you know, the standard four-jabs-in-less-than-a-minute drug bomb. I don't even remember what all was injected into my system, but it's supposed to keep away cooties, and that's good enough for me.
When the nursy-nurse was finished, she stuck on the band-aids...
...and told me I had done well.
The conversation went something like this:
Nurse: You did very well.
Me: Do I get a sticker?
Nurse: We don't have stickers. Do you want a balloon?
My Internal Monologue: BALLOON!
Me: You got blue?
Nurse: Dark blue, or baby blue?
Me: Baby, please.
Nurse: It'll be waiting for you up front.
And lo, when we got back to the office, a baby blue balloon was waiting for me.
At nearly nineteen years of age, I marched through the semi-full waiting room, balloon in hand, and head held high. I regret nothing.
It's now floating about on the ceiling of my office.
I'm quite pleased with it.
Monday, September 6, 2010
When we first moved into this neighborhood, it was mostly the youthfully challenged... every house was full of old people. Really, there were only two kids in the neighborhood, and I was one of them. We never got along, though; she hated me, I hated her, and life continued.
I really liked that set up.
Now, though, the old people have died.
I really don't like that set up.
Families. They and their little screaming rugrats have popped the quiet bubble that I associate with suburbia, particularly this little slice of it.
Squealing, running, jumping, and other annoying things that children do (if you cannot guess, I don't like children [except my little niece, of course, but she doesn't count, she's family]. Don't look like that, I didn't like children when I was a child, either) now ring through the street, the backyards, and everywhere else their incredibly loud voices can permeate.
When my sister and I were little, if our mother had heard us scream the way these kids do, she'd have come out with the gun, and a keen aim. If it had been a false alarm, we'd have been thoroughly beaten.
Since they've moved in, gone are the Saturday morning lie-ins, the peaceful gardening time, or the evenings out in the back courtyard, just looking at the stars and pine trees.
Now, the neighbor's children are squirting water at each other in their inflatable pool, or jumping on their trampoline (DEATH TRAPS!), or tormenting our dogs by dangling their feet over the rock fence.
I really dislike these new neighbors. Mostly because my bedroom faces the rock fence separating our yard from theirs.
This is the view from my bedroom window.
If you look behind the giant cotton wood tree, you'll see the trampoline.
I really hate that trampoline.
Imagine my surprise a couple of evenings ago when I went to my room to tidy up (laundry is FUN, children! No, really) and hear, not only the screaming neighbor children, but loud, bass-y, unfamiliar music.
I harnessed my Mrs. Kravitz skills, and peered through the blinds to find a boombox (children of the 90's, unite!), and the little heathens bounce-bounce-bouncing on their trampoline, boppering about to the noise.
Oh, Rich Fulcher, you never fail to make me smile.
I stood at the window and listened for a few minutes, trying to decipher the song; soon enough, I had a eureka moment.
I have just experienced something called the "Generation Gap".
I've got no idea what they were listening to, just like, generations before, mothers and dads everywhere wondered who Elvis, Buddy Holly, and Chuck Berry were, who The Beatles were, on and on, until that moment of dawning comprehension, where I stood there, like an idiot, wondering what in hell they were listening to.
I mean, I've never been part of the hip crowd, but I couldn't grasp the concept of their music.
There are two ways of viewing this: either I'm uncool, or their music is uncool. I'm going with the latter.
I contemplated my own musical awakening, examining my age at that time, in comparison to theirs now; I discovered that they were about in the eight-to-ten range, as was I. I also wondered why they didn't have an iPod.
When I was nine years old, I had already worn out two walkmans, and two boomboxes.
By the time I got my first iPod (it was a 512 MB shuffle, bless), I had worn out another boombox, and five portable CD players, not to mention countless sets of headphones. Admittedly, I used them to listen mostly to crooners, and the Harry Potter soundtracks.
Maybe it IS me.
I think theses kids should get iPods for Christmas this year. If they promise to wear them all the time, instead of blasting their radio, I'll chip in.
I am convinced that they were trying to get back at me for keeping the radio up so loud when I'm home alone (last time, I went on a George Harrison/The Who kick, and I don't think they understand). My mother has been trying to convince me that, just short of full volume, you can't hear the radio from their backyard. I'm not so sure of that.
Hell, by the time we're all old, they'll have come up with something to make up for our hearing loss caused by Steve Jobs (or, in my case, Bose), so let's just blast away! Not long ago, I read a saying that went something like "Maturity is knowing that the volume control also turns to the left"... I don't think I want to be mature, then.
So, neighbor kids, this is not the end of it, I guarantee. While you're listening to Justin Bieber, or whatever the hell that was, I'll be here, waiting to educate you. When you hear that awesome guitar solo that sends your little brain cells in fifty different directions coming from my Bose stereo, and I find you glued to the big windows in my office, then, we'll talk.
In the meantime, Pete and I will be waiting.
The whole time I was watching that, I was thinking of Jean and Lionel in their little row boat (it's the first four minutes of the video, but if you'd care to keep watching, it's the bestest television show ever, and you need to see it before you die. Make a note of it)...
In other news, it's Labor Day!
Happy Unofficial End Of Summer!
It may not feel quite like fall yet, but I'm keeping tabs. It's coming, just in its own sweet time.
Maybe I took this picture from my bedroom, too. Why should you ask?
Honestly, I'm more than a little excited about it.
So long, summer!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Perhaps you'll remember my reference to MLIA in the Defense Of The British Male post last month.
I have only recently discovered the wonders of this website, and, if you haven't already checked it out, not only WHAT IN RUDDY HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR, but you probably need to if the rest of this tale is going to make any sense. Just make sure you come back, 'cause it's actually pretty addictive... let's just say, I've taken to keeping it up in a window and refreshing it throughout the day.
Go on, I'll wait while you read the first few pages.
While we're waiting, here's my favorite moment from season four of The IT Crowd...
Speaking of things that have been referenced in previous posts, who here remembers The Freddie?
Oh, come on. I'm sure you do.
That's jogged your memory, hasn't it?
Incidentally, my mother is now doing The Freddie. I love her.
How, you may well ask, do these things come together?
I shall tell you.
I take all of my college courses online. I've used the computer as my main mode of edu-ma-cation since sixth grade, so I'm incredibly comfortable with the format.
That being said, you have to introduce yourself (as I would assume you would have to in a real class, or something like that... I can only go by the horror stories... I mean, what I've seen on television) in a threaded discussion forum as a credit for the class, as well as respond to other folks' posts.
I put in my usual I'm-very-boring-but-have-to-do-this-anyway introduction, and scroll my way through the other I'm-boring-too-but-we-get-credit-for-this-crap posts.
I saw a post titled "THE Morten Beamish*".
I was intrigued. Naturally, I clicked it. This was what greeted me:
"My Name Is Morten As You Can See And I Am The Best Dancer In This Classroom."
There were four other posts in response to this, but the authors just didn't seem to get it. I am convinced they live in very dark little boxes, void of awesome things like string cheese and sarcasm.
I immediately went into WordPad (yes, I keep my own records of everything I do, what's your point? Mock my method, mock Tommy Jefferson, kids!), and typed up a response to this kid.
"I'll believe it when I see you do The Freddie.
By the way, if you aren't already a regular reader of mylifeisaverage.com, you will want to check it out. Trust me."
You must understand that, outside this blog, if I'm writing something (besides my creative ventures, of course), I sound like a lawyer. It's probably because I picked up my sister's writing style over all the years of looking over her shoulder as she typed away at the poor schmuck on the other end of her venomous vocabulary (for years, her theme song was Elton John's "The Bitch Is Back"... Elton even played it for her live, but that's another story entirely). That being said, I was very unsure as I clicked the "Post" button, and submitted this snark-arsed remark.
Imagine my surprise when, this very eve, I open up my personal class email to find this waiting for me in the inbox (marked with "low importance" next to it):
From: Beamish, Morten
To: Nastyface, Archibald Heatherington*
Subject: RE: THE Morten Beamish
I will send you a video of me doing the Freddie then:].
And I Love MLIA. Best. Website. Ever.
I feel I've accomplished something today.
Believe me, if there are any developments, I'll let you know.
In the meantime, have an awesome song from The Who.
*Names changed to protect the ignorant... I mean, innocent.
Fifty billion bonus points if you can tell me why I chose to change his name to Morten Beamish.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
In totally unrelated news, just this moment, the birthdays on BeatlesRadio announced that today was September 1. I didn't believe the announcer until I looked at the clock... it's 12:25 AM. Technically, BeatlesRadio, technically.
Speaking of Beatles radio stations, I somehow still get Beatles-A-Rama on iTunes Radio.
I have no idea why, but I'm just going to go with it.
Believe it or not, we're not here to talk about Beatles radio stations.
I know, I even shocked myself!
Today, we're going to talk about the infamous Snuggie.
You know you've seen them in the shops, and you know what you've thought of them...
Well, prepare yourselves for the latest in Snuggie Ugly.
Are you ready?
'Cause it's a good one.
Ladies and germs, it's the Santa Snuggie.
Please, take a moment and look at the link, I'll wait.
I have only one question: they feel like they can spend ten minutes of QVC airtime on the Santa Snuggie, but they won't show the coolest Menorah ever?
Come on, QVC, use your thinkhatches!
It's now time for "Weird Stuff That's Been Floating Around In My Brain This Week"!
Are you excited?
We went to the picture show on Saturday (my brain still thinks that talkies are awesome, and decides to call the movie theater "the picture show". I don't know why it does that, but it does. I do not question this anymore), and this here advertisement was playing...
It was, until some random kid starting singing along.
Now you want to go back and watch it again, don't you?
We also got hold of a bottle of HP Brown Sauce.
I am incredibly exited about this.
BROWN SAUCE! BROWN SAUCE!
However, we have no idea what we're going to put it on.
Thank you, creepy kid, I'll keep that in mind.
How about some funny advertisements?
I thought you'd never ask!
Deb's girls LOVE peanut butter!
I think Deb's girls love melted chocolates more.
Government is so wishy-washy, Charlie Brown.
I don't know what the Bush Tax Cut expiration has to do with Abbey Road On The River, but I'll go with it.
Which brings up an interesting point... you know they track your viewing history so they can advertise junk of interest to you, right? (If you were not aware of this... SURPRISE!) Apparently, my browsing history thinks I live in the UK.
My work here is done.
I shall leave you with this song, which, having not heard in about ten years, I start singing right out of the blue the other day while baking.
Sometimes, I wonder if you, dear reader have a boring life.
I'm sorry if you do.
Ricky The K's Solid Gold Time Machine
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