Well, here we are, folks. Another Valentine's Day is upon us. Now, I know there are folks split down the middle on this particular day. This video illustrates that very point (click on everything, especially the "Mystery Video").
Personally, I don't really care. One might think that, at nineteen years of age, with no prospects, I'd be in the "hate" category. But hate is such a strong word. Yet, for folks like me, there doesn't seem to be a "wishy-washy-Charlie-Brown" category. I don't like to be the cynical bastard in any situation, but I shall say this: Valentine's Day? Pure bollocks.
If you aren't telling the people you love that you love 'em every day, then you are a worthless slimebucket.
So go on, be a doll, wait a few days, THEN make a big deal for your loved ones. Chances are great that any gesture, big or small, will make a bigger impact on any other day of the year than the biggest Greeting Card Lollapaloosa of the year.
Of course, it may make this guy mad... ...but whatever.
So, whether you love it, or ya hate it, have a happy one, or something.
See this? I love this. Amen.
Reginald Kitty is not amused. He did, however, enjoy the song.
Well, another Monday has come and gone. I tend to get a little sad at the end of a Monday, only because it's another week until it comes around again. Sound pathetic? Psychotic? But Bachelor Monday only comes around every seven days! Bachelor Monday (it's a fun day!) is a very big deal around our house. The evening starts at seven o'clock, and has been known to stretch past midnight. It's like this every Monday.
See this? This is the sign that another Bachelor Monday has successfully been wrapped up. So what? I bake, and cook a meat-free dinner every Monday night. It's tradition! Tonight's Meat-Free Monday treat was meatless stroganoff. Tasty!
Of course, the end of Bachelor Monday was much less depressing, since we also had Sunday night's finale of Downton Abbey. How about that Miss O'Brian? We at Fusspot Farm are convinced she'll kill herself in series two. As for Thomas, I hope his eventual demise is slow and cruel; there must be justice for Mr. Bates! We are also glad that Edith got what was coming to her. And what is to come of Cousin Matthew and his mother? If you didn't watch it, this won't make sense. If you did, you'll probably agree, and draw some similarities between Mary and Katherine in Wuthering Heights. Am I alone in that one?
I have to say, I have enjoyed Dame Maggie Smith more than anything about the series. I haven't enjoyed a performance from her so much since I saw The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie... She's one of the few contemporaries (I say few, really it's only Smith and Dame Helen Mirren) to Dame Judi Dench, whom I love to bits.
You can imagine, then, that with Bachelor Monday AND the season finale of Downton Abbey, the lack of awesome forthcoming television was beginning to sink in. That is, until SNOW distracted all of that glum-glummery from our brainboxes. Photos, naturally.
Of course, since our very old house still has it's original aluminum windows, and my bedroom is on the North side of our house, I'm in for a very chilly night. All six windows in my room, and the one in my bathroom, look very similar to this. Yes, that ice is on the inside of the window.
You may notice that these windows are very close to my bed. Yes, I have giant Paul McCartney posters in my room, 'cause I'm cool like that.
It is currently fifty-five degrees in said room; I'm in for a very chilly night, indeed.
*Tuesday Morning Update!
I awoke this fair morn to find feathery ice on my office windows. It looked like this...
Yeah, that's on the inside, too.
So, here I sit, happily sipping my cider... ...checking news updates, when I happen across a status update from my mother on Facebook. I quote "...likes One Night Only, and 9 other pages." Hmmmmm. I blame this on the lad at the restaurant we picked up a quart of cole slaw at last weekend. I sat in the car and waited while mother went for the salad. When she got back in the car, she said, "you should have gone in with me! There was a guy that looked just like that one guy in that British band that you blogged about. He was cute!" After an incredulous look from me, she said, "I may be old, but I'm not blind!" Well, here's to you, Mr. Craig. They say things go better with Coke...
So, here I sit, firm in my belief that this was a fabulous start to a very busy week.
Why so busy, you may well ask? Here's a clue...
I've been waiting to use this video for months. Never fear, I shall be using it again. It's my blog, and I can!
What about that golden shot at the forty-eight second timestamp... look familiar? Like I told my mother just this afternoon: it's so refreshing to see folks that subscribe to my brand of crazy.
Reginald Kitty believes my life is boring. After reading this post, I must concur.
Do you ever have days where you just feel ruddy brilliant? You think to yourself, "my life is pottering along splendidly! I'm warm and snuggie in my comfy wittle house, with my cozy little writing projects, and my dog with OCD. I've got tea in the kettle, pasta in the pantry, and Splenda in the bowl. Add all that to your 'A' in algebra, and you're life is just friggin' ducky!" At least, that's what I think to myself. So, imagine my surprise when I log into my Blogger account to write up a spiffy little post (more on that later), to find that the last post published was from January 19th. "Didn't I have one scheduled for January 20th?" I ponder. I must investigate! Reginald Kitty can read the writing on the wall. It spells out M-O-R-O-N.
One might imagine that, after two years, and 266 entries, I would have figured out how to make a post on my own bloody blog by now. For those of you who are unaware of the process, you have to push the GIANT orange button that says "PUBLISH POST". Someone forgot to do that. That someone was me. Yup, college really does a world of good for the mind, doesn't it?
So, without further ado, here's a post that was supposed to be read eleven days ago.
January 20, 2011
Guilty confession: I'm having 90's radio night. There. I said it. Child of the 90's, what can I say? As I sat down to write this post, I thought to myself, "right, girly, you need mood music!" And off to YouTube for my late 90's/early 00's (is that what we're calling the last decade?) rememberies. By the way, that's pretty much what this post will be about: memories of a not-so-distant childhood (if you want to call it that, 'cause it sounds really stupid coming from someone my age). Why do I need music to remind me of it? I was there, after all. It just seemed the prudent thing to do.
Anyway, on with the merriment! I'm pretty sure this thinking process started with Rolos. (Hang in there, we'll all make it out of here with minimal damage if you just take direction.) For the first time in far too long, I actually sat down with some of the awesometastic, caramel-y, chocolate-y goodness. As I unwrapped the golden foil from the glossy sweet, I gently set the featherlight wrapping aside; I'm thinking this was a reflex action, as I wasn't really aware that I had done it until I noticed there were five wrappers stacked neatly on top of each other. I looked at those wrappers for a moment as a distant, foggy thought entered my brain. "I wonder..." I picked up the wrapper on the very top of the pile, admiring my psychotic talent of not ripping the candy's foil (it's a thing of mine, not to rip the foil, but to unfold it. If you haven't yet discovered, I was/am a strange duck), I began to gently smooth it out into a full square. Yes, it was coming back to me now. I began folding the foil into an envelope, and the entire process came back to me like I had done it just a few days ago. Before I knew it, five Rolo wrappers turned into a memory from when I was very small...
Yes, I minted my own play-money (I'm refraining from making many political jokes). I remembered playing Pirates, or Gypsies, or, on occasion, Caesar/Judge Judy (you would be surprised how many children didn't understand the concept of the Judge Judy game. It was very simple, actually. I was Judge Judy, they were plaintiff/defendant. This meant that I would point at them and yell "that's irrelevant to your case!" I made a few of the weak ones cry. It was eventually a game I played alone, but enjoyed no less). If you ran out of coin, you just ate more chocolate! It was a perfect plan.
Pleased with remembering a little tidbit of my younger years (that just sounds ridiculous coming from someone my age), I started my evening blog rounds. When I ran across this post of 90's Childhood's Greatest Hits, I chuckled to myself. "How silly," I thought, "childhood! We're technically still in it! Oh, what piffle." Then, I started to read the playlist (and contemplate the extinction of the mixed tape, but that's neither here nor there). I was shocked. Reading over the titles brought back a flood of memories I hadn't thought of in eons. Like a kid I knew that was absolutely obsessed with the Spice Girls. She never shut up about them, or the Spice Girls bicycle she got for her birthday. It felt like there wasn't five minutes to go by without her shouting "girl power!" on the playground. I didn't know her as well as some of the other kids did, so I didn't have to deal with her too much, but she did rather wear on the nerves.
Or when the Disney Channel put up the "Ooops! I Did It Again" video on their website before it was supposed to premier on MTV (or wherever it was going to show up), so my sister and I waited over four hours for it to load on our lousy dial-up service (I seem to remember that we were both very disappointed at the end of that long wait).
Or - dare I say it - when I was the envy of every girl I knew because I had secured tickets to an N*SYNC concert. In the midst of thinking back to being a wee bit shorter, a wee bit dumber, firm in my belief that I was the hippest cat around, I was jerked back to the present, and reminded of this interview I saw recently (2:38 timestamp, if you don't care to see the whole thing)...
I'm sure that the Backstreet Boys has been outranked as favorite concert; I know for a fact he was one lucky bastard and got his grubby little mitts on a seat (well, I say a seat... it was a standing room only gig, but whatever) to see Paul open The Joint in Las Vegas. We tried for a pair of tickets, but the odds were really, really, really against us. A 4000 capacity venue, countless people on the lines... I believe it set a record at the time, selling out in under four seconds. As an aside... Pet Sounds? Revolver? Oh, you speak my language, Mr. Ross.
As I was contemplating the intricate weaving that makes up a life, the final blow was dealt. From the other side of my screen, across the desk, and another screen, my mother says, "hey! You remember him!" She turns her computer around to reveal a picture...
Fellow 90's kids may remember Danny Tamberelli from the Nickelodeon network. I remember Danny Tamberelli as the reason I watched the Nickelodeon network (some things never change). No, really. When his contract expired in 2000, I stopped watching kiddie television. This was around the time my passion for HGTV started, so I had something to fall back on, but that's not what we're talking about at the moment. We played the "what happened to him?" game on TMZ, did my mother and I. As the page loaded, and I was greeted with the "...and here they are now!" photograph, I felt my eyes sharpen around the edges. I think it's pretty safe to say that I'm making a direct quote from myself when I restate: "I think my childhood was just raped." (Oh, yes, laugh it up. It's all so funny, until you realize our generation will one day be in charge of your pension checks.)
So, with the last traces of Drops Of Jupiter leaving my ears (stupid here forgot Train existed up until she heard "Hey, Soul Sister" on one of the two radio stations available in this po-dunky little town), here I sit, slightly jaded, but wiser.
What have we learnt from this sequence of events:
*I can, in fact, still fold a mean Rolo coin. *I plan on sharing the aforementioned skill with my niece when she gets to be a little bigger (I'll also teach her the Judge Judy game, if she so fancies, though I shall warn her that it may make her unpopular). *My mother has since asked to be taught how to make these, and, if I find myself folding Rolo foil, she'll keep our newly-minted treasure (for reasons unknown). *While looking back can be fun, it's not something you should do often. *I stand by what I said during last week's episode of The Bachelor. I don't care if you're getting a private concert from Train at the Hollywood Bowl, that you've had a one-on-one date with the Bachelor (PART TWO) to a spa, they've let you play dress-up with a bunch of fancy frocks (by the way... she had all those dresses to chose from, and she picked that one [it's just a picture, not a video. At least it shows you, though]?), you're still getting screwed if they don't play Drops Of Jupiter.
I leave you with this...
It's a wonder our generation has any brain cells left.
I wrote out a post somewhat similar to this almost a week ago. As with anything you write, I went through the period of "is this good enough?" (Believe it or not, I do actually have some kind of standard for posts [it had to be developed, naturally... I mean, please, don't go back to the earlier posts and expect a standard of quality]; some make it, some don't, and some have to be reworked to hit par.) I went back and reread it. Every day. Tuesday through Saturday. Five times over the course of this week, if not more. As time went on, I disliked the post more and more. Basically, the standard is "if somebody else posted this on their blog, would I bother reading it?" Every day, I answered, "no. You wouldn't. Chuck it, and start over." I wondered what I could do to make this post better. After all, words can be changed, photos removed and replaced, paragraphs edited or eliminated. So, here we go. Round two! I hope this turns out better than it's predecessor. Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Well, here we are. I still don't know what's going on with this post. I have decided I'm not going to read it over. The time for dawdling has long passed. I'm actually quite pleased with the way it's turned out, but you can just never be too sure. I've got no clue as to what the hang up is, I'm just a little hesitant on this go 'round. Which is just silly; it's not like this is the first post I've ever made, for all that's good and cheesy. We'll just have to see. Reginald Kitty is not amused.
We all know that talking music is something I can really get into, and this blog is the biggest and bestest outlet to do that with. I mean, do you think people want to hear me waffle on about this drivel if they're face-to-face with me? No. They don't. Believe me, I've tried. Let's be honest, though, I don't know much about it; I don't play any instruments (I've never had the patience for it), I can barely carry a tune (with or without a bucket), and I don't understand the jargon as well as I'd like to think I do. What conclusion can we draw, then? I'm just really opinionated. I find it's similar to watching HGTV, or DIY Network. Maybe you know, or maybe you don't, but my dream profession would involve working with houses; architect, general contractor, interior designer, or just good ol' fashioned flipper are all things I could really sink my teeth into and enjoy the hell out of. Unfortunately, numbers make me weep like an injured kitten, so I must settle for something outside the first ring of joy. However, if you make the mistake of watching home improvement shows with me, I'll annoy the pants off you in the first fifteen minutes, guaranteed. Favorite phrases to use during home improvement shows: "that's a waste of space"; "that architect should be shot"; "...would have worked better"; "there aren't enough windows"; "or, what would be really cool..."; or, my personal favorite, "that doesn't look like a load-bearing wall". How did I arrive at this longwinded conclusion? By trying to figure out how on earth I was going to tackle talking about the genius that I have discovered in Ryan Ross and Jon Walker (proving that I am, in fact, late to every party). Honestly, I'm still trying to figure out what to say. One ill-fated blog attempt under my belt, this one with no prospect of improvement, and I still have no idea where to even start. With one long swig from my Imagine mug, I shall toss caution to the winds, and just write whatever comes to my brainbox.
I do a lot of research on a band if I like them. Sometimes, part of the fun of the music is knowing where it came from in the first place (trivia, snippets of wisdom, stories from the writers, or, sometimes, the artists themselves are thoroughly entertaining). Stuff like this? JACKPOT! GOLDMINE! Big bucks, no Whammies! Imagine my reaction when I discovered there was a part two. Of course, band research doesn't ever really stop. There's always something new to discover about the folks that bring such pleasurable sounds into the doldrums of your everyday life. Interviews are always my favorites, so imagine my surprise one evening last November, when, in my insomnia-fueled psychosis, I run across this one with a couple members of the Plain White T's (writing playlist favorites for years), out to promote their fresh release, "Wonders Of The Younger" (it's not "Big Bad World", but certainly on par with "Every Second Counts"... but that's not what we're here to talk about). I suggest you fast forward to the thirteen minute time stamp, for those of you who don't really care what Tom Higgenson has to say about festival season at home and abroad (if you do care, you will note that, while he mentioned Lollapalooza, he blatantly ignored Cochella and Bonnaroo)...
I've seen and read enough about Tom Higgenson to know that if he says something has a '60's vibe, odds are great that I shan't be disappointed. On this advice, I had just found a brand spanky new, shiny-tastic toy to play with.
Oh, what fun!
Since I have terrible issues sleeping (who are you to judge me?!), I spent several nights enjoying interviews, exploring their catalog (limited though it is), reading articles and reviews, and, generally, having fun with my latest discovery. In all of this research, I'd have to have been a right dunderhead to not recognize, as Mr. Higgenson so kindly informed us in that interview, that the Ross/Walker team had been engaged elsewhere before their latest venture. Panic At The Disco, they called themselves. Yes, I had heard of them when their first album came out. It was, apparently, some big deal at the time, blah, blah, blah. I wouldn't know. All I needed was a thirty second preview on iTunes and a look at the man-liner (yes, I know it's usually called guy-liner, and, by calling it man-liner, it ruins the play on words... I think man-liner describes the practice better)... ...and fourteen year old me thought nothing more of it.
I was assured in my research that their second release, "Pretty. Odd.", was a far cry from that original material. And, as was evident by the Young Veins promotion, the man-liner was a thing of the past. Of course, if we're going to poke fun at where they were at four or five years ago, I must be willing to do it, myself... Oh my God. I haven't seen this picture in a long ol' while. What a couple of bumbling idiots.
Side Note: my mother laughed hysterically when she saw this picture. I'm not sure whether I should be glad it got it's intended effect, or offended by the retrospective hilarity that ensued.
Male make-up aside, I decided to try out their new sound; after all, the more the merrier, right? Besides, with a few years in the rearview mirror, surely maturity will win out, right? I mean, we've all grown from man-liner and... well, whatever my personal contribution represents. Yes, I believe we have. I have to say, Ryan Ross is rockin' that Monty Hall suit. Nothing screams fun like heavily checked waistcoats. The sad part? I'm serious.
When I did my traditional YouTube search (I'll type in the band name, and watch the very first video that comes up), and watched this video...
Due to technical difficulty (i.e., they don't allow embedding), you'll have to click here to see it. Do so. You won't be sorry.
We now resume our regularly scheduled programming.
...I was blown away. It reminded me of something... And we all know I like to be reminded of that.
"Pretty. Odd." charmed the pants right off of me; although, since I do all of this research in the early morning hours, I probably wasn't wearing pants, anyway, but you get the point I'm making. NEVER!
Of course, going about it in the wrong order, what with learning about The Young Veins first, then the later, pre-split material (confusing, but not inaccurate) from their prior gig, I shouldn't have been surprised. Regardless of the fact that Brendon Urie may or may not annoy me (which, apparently, defies some kind of universal law, like gravity, or the butter-side-down theory), the only other thing I disliked about the album was that there simply wasn't more of it. There. I said it. They left me wanting more, just like Col. Parker and Brian Epstein made their respective acts (credit where it's due, and all that). All I can say is look it up for yourself. Chances are, if you enjoy reading this blog, and you haven't heard this album yet, you'll be glad you checked in here today. You don't have to thank me, but checks may be payable to... Reginald Kitty is not amused. He will take your money, though.
As for what I know about the split, I kinda stopped paying attention when I read this in an interview (BAND RESEARCH!) with Mr. Ross on that very subject:
"Brendon's more of a Peter Gabriel fan, and I'm more of a Ray Davies fan."
When I read it, I nearly had a heart attack. Ray Davies, the mastermind behind the one and only modtastic Kinks?
As in, "The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society" Ray Davies? Let's be honest, we all know the Ray Davies Mr. Ross was talking about. I just couldn't make up my mind which photograph to use, so I figured, "use 'em both!"
This explains so much! Thus, we have this... If you don't recognize the musical genius of this songwriting team, your ears must be made of some impenetrable substance. I'd get that checked out by a doctor, if I were you.
To be frank, the songs are New Millennium elysium. Their debut album, "Take A Vacation!", is what I like to call a perfect album. The odds are very great that you will not touch the fast forward button once during a listen through this album, meaning you can just leave it on. No fiddling about with checking or unchecking in playlists, or wasting battery on your iPod by twiddling about to skip something that's slightly unpleasant. Just set it to play straight through, and you won't hear a sucker in the bunch. Though I fall into a very small niche in the market, they've got the sound I look for. If my grandmother, who died in 1966, were to hear this album, she'd want to head to the nearest now near-extinct, Rob Gordon-esque record shop and pick up a copy for herself. I saw an interview that was posted on the Young Veins website in which they were asked what music influenced their sound. Do you realize how refreshing it was to not only know every band they mentioned, but to actually own every album they talked about? I almost wept over my keyboard. I take this as official confirmation that we have encountered a most rare sighting: fellow anachronisms!
Regardless of this depressing Twitter message (is Twitter not the most useful/creepy/totally screwed up tool ever?)... I firmly believe that, as a team, or solo, they've both got nice, long careers ahead of them. There's so much growing and wiggle room with these guys, it makes me feel like a topless puppy just to think about it. Apparently, I'm not the only one. This Twitter response from the official Plain White T's feed backs me up.
Mr. Walker has already released a delightful solo EP of home recordings; if you loved "McCartney" in 1970, you'll love this, too. I was instantly reminded of Paul's classic solo debut as I listened to Mr. Walker's latest efforts. Go on, spend five bucks, treat yourself. Though I haven't bought it yet, I've been playing the fool out of it.
If you're not going to buy it, at least listen to track four (I'm listening to it as I type this sentence, actually). You'll probably buy the album if you do.
I leave you now with a video that continues to tickle me (I can't help it, I'm big on wordplay)...
Fifty billion bonus points if you can guess my favorite plural noun.
OK, I lied, I read the whole post over. Again. Sue me.
And a ride in a helicopter... You know blogging has become a part of you when your dad says 'you'll have pictures for the blog!' in a really excited tone.
I consider it one of the perks to my Daddy's job. Hey, I think I see our house from here!
I have to say, the whole time I was there, I couldn't help but think of various scenes from Bachelors and Bachelorettes past (after twenty-one seasons, it infiltrates your brain)...
Now, I have been in many an aircraft carrier (The Lisa Marie, Air Force One... maybe you've heard of those two), yet I had never been in the air before today. "Hmm, if only Ed were The Bachelor..."
Overall, the helicopter was quite a fun experience!
Reginald Kitty is not amused. Probably because he didn't come with us.
I couldn't resist, this video had to be included...
Should old acquaintance be forgot?
Yes.
And never brought to mind?
Most definitely.
We're a little bit too Rock 'N' Roll for Auld Lang Syne, so how about a swingin' alternative?
As a personal Hogmanay to myself, I like to recap the year before it's final hour.
Not only is it a chance to reflect on the last three hundred sixty-five days (or -sixty-six, whatever), but it can make for some pretty interesting blog material.
There are always things that don't make their way to the blog (directly, anyway); take, for example, the televised images of 2010.
Here's a small sample of what was lighting up my television screen this year...
Five minutes into this film, I paused the disc, and loudly exclaimed "I HAVE FOUND MY PEOPLE!"
...the sounds filling our headphones...
...and the memories that tie it all together...
A small breakdown of adventures, if you're interested...
February - Fort Davis/Midland-Odessa area (feel sorry for us)
March - Phoenix for PAUL!
May - VEGAS, BABY! Oh, and Red River.
July - Denver for PAUL!
August - Albuquerque day trip (oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that)
September - South Padre Island/San Antonio, Austin
October - Colorado for fall foliage, Austin/San Antonio
December - Colorado Winter Excursion (yeah, we haven't talked about that yet, either)
And, of course, another holiday season without killing people!
HOORAY!
How much of the year we skipped in this silly little post, I don't know; I'm sure it's quite a lot, since you can cram all kinds of boring drivel into that time frame.
And, I have to say, as far as years go, 2010 was beautiful. If you'd have told me last year that I was describing this year as beautiful, I'd have to have asked what was going to happen to make it so.
So, for last-year-me, the only thing I can tell her is I don't have any sodding idea. I just know it was great.
And, going into 2011, I've got a good feeling. Every day, in every way, it's getting better.
So, from everybody here...
Yes, even Reginald Kitty. That does not mean he is amused, though.
...we wish you a rockin' new year, and hope you'll stick around to share in our year, too (we've got some pretty gear stuff planned, so it shouldn't be too terribly boring. Besides, if you're reading this to begin with, we're all probably cut from the same bolt of crazy, so it's all kosher)!
Well, folks, this is it. In our family, December 24th means Christmas; we don't do that silly wait-'til-Christmas-morning bollocks, we get straight to business. All of the annoying Christmas music, the wrapping and buying of gifts, the decorations, and general festive goop leads to this one night.
So, while it may be a little early for the rest of the world (except our European friends, of course; thank you, time zones!), we'll be having a Wonderful Christmastime...
...sending you a lovely Christmas card...
When I was little, I thought the lyric was "instead of letting the postman read it", rather than "instead of letting the postman bring it". I have always been suspicious of government agencies.
...and thinking of world peace...
Now, I know we haven't really kept this tradition up as well this year as last, but I find it fitting to draw your attention to my favorite Beatles Christmas record (the 1966 Pantomime), as it's just so charming.
That damn Podgie and Jasper bit kills me every time.
