ARGH!

I love this song, I really, really, really do. I love the whole album. But it is driving me nuts that, for the last day, I've had the following repeating over and over in my head.

"Oh, how I miss waking up to the sound
To the sound (sound)
To the sound (to the sound)
To the sound
Waking up to the sound of your voice."

(That sound would actually be Keem SCREAMING at me to get up because I have overslept. Kindly added by KEEM herself!)*

I blame Beth.**

It's Barenaked Ladies, in care you're not sure. You'll never guess what the song is called.

*No, I'm not particularly fond of being yelled at when I've overslept. She is very loud and, hello, I am sleeping.

**Mainly because she has the best playlist ever for iTunes and this is one of the songs on the playlist and I REALLY like it. BUT GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD!

Once again the concept of technology eludes me

Last night, while watching Dancing With The Stars (shut up. Keem watches the show and I only stick around because I like ballroom dancing. And Mario Lopez is hot), Joey Lawrence performed a mambo (or something) to Singing In The Rain. For his rehearsal, they go to the MGM lot and actually practice the dance on the set. Keem and I have the following conversation while watching his rehearsal and performance.

DM: I love that movie.
K: Me too. Do we have it?
DM: Yeah, I've got it on VHS. I wish I had it on DVD.
K: We could watch it tonight.
DM: No, I'm tired. Let's watch it tomorrow.
K: We can't.
DM: Why not?
K: America's Next Top Model and Lost are on.

Shut up. We made a deal. I watch ANTM with her and she'll watch Lost with me.

DM: So? We can tape Lost.
K: Uh, no, we can't do that.
DM: Why not?
K (in tone commonly used to explain things to small children): Because, Dana, we can't use the VCR to tape Lost and also use the VCR to watch Singing In The Rain.
DM: Oh.

Two seconds later, when I get it.

DM: Oh!
K: I cannot believe I just had to explain that to you.
DM: Shut up! Let's just get it on DVD.
K: Someday.

Man, do I want Tivo now.

Countdowns

I'm a little panicked. Just a little. But do you realize that November 1st is only 9 days away? Nine. Do you know what that means? No, you probably don't. Well, it means that there is only one month of the year left. One! Where the heck did 2006 go?

November is NaBloWriMo, according to Udge, where Mrs. Kennedy has challenged everyone to write a post each day. You may be, if you've been blogging for awhile, seen the ads for its counterpoints, the novel writing challenge. Well, I'm not up for the novel writing because I have absolutely no discipline, no way of writing descriptions and, most important, no idea what I want to write about. But I think I can manage a post a day. I think it might be fun and maybe even a way to make myself write more which might lead to maybe being able to actually write a novel. Maybe.

November 26th is the day that Keem and I move into our new apartment. I am excited and nervous all at once. Excited because there is no male roommate contradicting how we want to decorate the apartment and it's all new and we can do whatever we want with it (well, other than get another cat or set up a meth lab (not that we wanted to set up a meth lab, of course, but another kitten would have been nice, give Eddy someone to play with and maybe tone down on the constant lectures each day ("Mmmmrow! You've abandoned me! Mmrrrrrrow! I have had nothing to eat all day! Mrrrrrroooooooooooowww! Yes, I have run into the hallway when you least expected it. Why do you insist on calling me Houdini when I do this?). I love the cat but damn, he can be a pain in the neck sometimes)) and that will be exciting! Nervous because, while we've made a lot of progress going through boxes and getting rid of stuff that we won't use (or never used in the 4 plus years we've been in the apartment), time keeps ticking away and I wonder if we'll make it. I'm sure we will but still, it's a bit nerve wracking. However, the chances of me getting heat stroke during this move are going to be almost nil. We're not moving on the 4th of July and we're only moving up one floor and one apartment over. Plus my beloved apartment building has elevators. Yay!

Someone sent out an email last week reminding us that Christmas was only 67 days (at the time of the email). Believe me, that sent me into a tailspin. 67 days? Impossible. At least our move is before Christmas and we don't have to try and shop for family/friends at the same time. That would be insane.

And then, in a little more than 4 months away, is the most horrifying date of all. March 11, 2007. I sent the following email to my boss requesting time off - "Forgot to ask - March 7th-March 12th. Birthday weekend. Turning 40. May commit hari-kari (okay, probably not, that would be silly but there may be alcohol involved in toasting and mourning my lost youth)."

I am going to be 40. Forty! How is this possible? How? I'm sure everything will turn out just fine and I'll accomplish what I need to do but I'm still in a little bit of shock. It seems like only yesterday that I was 5. Oh, wait, that might because that's how I act sometime.

Anyway, hope you all have a great day. I'm done panicking. For now.

Oh, and the recent date I'm counting down to is Beth's birthday on the 26th. But I'm not panicked about that. There will be karaoke on Thursday and Manny's on Friday and scrapbooking on Saturday (and probably Friday and Sunday as well) and karaoke on Sunday and I don't work on Monday so I can actually sleep in! Woo-hoo!

I am running out of transcripts and I am bored so I am inflicting a meme on you. So there.

Hi. I stole this from Diana awhile ago. I just never got around to posting it. Nothing overly exciting has been happening lately so here you go.

Three Things Meme:

Three People Who Make Me Laugh (besides anyone who writes a blog that I read (oh, I guess that would be all of you!):

Beth – When I was laughing hysterically, bent over wheezing, we had the following conversation.

DM: Oh, my God, you’re going to kill me.
Beth: Yes, that’s my plan. I’m a paid assassin hired by Jeff (my (sob) former roommate)).
DM: You are the slowest assassin in the world.
Beth: Yeah, but you’re having a good time, right?

Keem – especially when she confronted by my less than logical personality. We have had many an argument over things like blueberries or hair accessories. She usually wins.

Last night, as she was flipping back and forth through the channels:

DM: No! Flip back! Back!
Keem: I am the flipper. You are the flippee. See?

She flips me off.

DM: That is not funny.
Keem: You laughed! Therefore it is funny!

James, Liz and Bryan (technically, yes, you could counter with “But that’s three people. You can’t use one entry to describe three people” and I would reply with “Did you see the above about Keem where I mentioned my less than logical personality?” And if you think you can say “Well, you said Keem usually wins” let me remind you that you are not Keem and cannot threaten me with the horror of taking the bus to work) – They are hilarious separately but if you put the three together, they are Superheroes of Laughter. Add Beth and I’m sure to snort.

Three Things I Can Do:

Make people laugh. This is, incidentally, one of my favorite things to do in the entire world.

Suspend disbelief and enjoy just about every movie ever made without questioning. Yes, I may say “Hmm, I’m pretty sure I know what’s going to happen next” or “Hmm, this quite possibly may be the dumbest movie ever” but I’ll still probably enjoy it. Especially if it makes me laugh. Or there’s a car chase. Or a sword fight that may or may not involve stairs. And someone with an accent (preferably British) who may or may not be sword fighting while making snarky quips while driving either a getaway car or a pursuing car.

I should probably mention that this viewpoint is not applied towards books. I get really ticked off if books are predictable, stupid or written badly. I’m not sure why that is.

Collect things. I have the following collections – A&W mugs, green glass, pandas, 5,000,000 books and now the newest one which is frogs. I used to collect smiley faces but that got old fast. That many yellow smiley faces staring at you gets really kind of creepy after awhile. I still have a few of them (actually, I may have all of them. They might be in a box and one of these days I will open the box (since Keem and I are moving, we decided “Hey, why don’t we go through some of these boxes now that we’ve been living here for four years?”) and then scream loudly because they will be staring at me. With that look. You know, that blank smiley look that says “Hi, Dana. We’re going to get you now.”), including the small stuffed one that has approximately 30 t-pins stuck into it. My former boss looked at it and said “Dana. You are insane.” And I said “You’re just figuring this out now?” I kind of like that one.

Three Things I Can't Do:

Stop reading. I have found myself reading cereal boxes or sugar packets if I am desperate enough (Mom wouldn’t let me read at the table. Which is just cruel). I have also learned to read upside down from this same time period, when Dad would read the paper and I would keep my sanity by reading the folded over section. This has awed many a stock owner when I start reading their statements (and etc) upside down.

Be logical. I understand the concept of logic but if it doesn’t correspond with what I want, I will dismiss it. I can sometimes reach the same information as a logical person (such as Beth and Keem) but my brain takes a much different loop. It’s kind of like balancing a checkbook. I know how to do it and can explain it to someone else; I just can’t do it for myself.

Stop snorting. Oh, it is so irritating but if I laugh hard enough, I start snorting. Many conversations with the people that make me laugh will end with “Stop making me snort, dang it!”

Three Things I'm Doing Right Now:

Training someone on how to work the counter. Trying to keep from strangling her because she is an IDIOT! My God, you’ve been working here as long as I have. It’s just like processing a phone transaction, only face to face. Sheesh. The nice thing is, while she’s helping the stock holder, I’m working on this in Word (since I’m not allowed to be online during calls because of annoying people who decided to ruin the internet access for everyone because they suck (and this is why I’m going to be very slow catching up on blog reading because I can only do this on lunches and breaks)).

Practically devouring a bag of quite possibly the best granola ever. It includes dried cherries, cranberries, raisins, almonds and pecans. Oh, and some rolled oats as well. Because apparently you need that for the granola part.

Trying to figure out if I want to do the following – get my hair cut (I want to say chopped but that would defeat the purpose of growing it out for the last year), talk to my doctor about some lap band operation that is less invasive than gastric bypass, apply for an operations manager position (tempting but I’m not sure I meet enough of the qualifications), update my resume (because even if I don’t apply, it would be smart), come up with something for Thursday Thirteen and stage a revolt that would end up with my being proclaimed Queen of the Universe officially (except that I don’t really have that many followers and I’m not sure I can pull it off. Maybe we should start small, say President? It could be a write in vote. Except I’m really not sure I want to be President. I mean, I know I’d do a better job than Bush but the whole point is there’s a big difference between being the Queen of the Universe and the President). Maybe I’ll just stick with this meme and the Thursday Thirteen.

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die:

Go to the United Kingdom. Convince Rowan Atkinson that it would be in his best interest to marry me and then introduce Beth and Keem to Hugh Grant and Colin Firth and we would all live happily ever after and travel lots and take many pictures and go to many movie premieres. Or not. After all, Rowan Atkinson is married and I’m not a big fan of the breaking of marriages. Maybe he has an equally zany and rich brother. Or knows Stanley Tucci well. That’s a thought. Or maybe just go to the United Kingdom.

Get my driver’s license. I did say I wanted it before I was 40 but that’s less than 6 months away and I don’t think it’s going to happen any time soon.

Buy a frame for the cross stitch thing I made for Diana and mail it to her.

Three Things I Hate The Most:

Tomatoes. They are evil. And Raspberries and Peaches are equally evil. I am also not fond of kiwis but they are not as bad as tomatoes, raspberries and peaches. Tomatoes & company are the spawn of Satan. Kiwis are a distant cousin of Satan and only really just see him at the family reunions.

Stupid people that distract from the enjoyment of karaoke. These are, but not limited to, the Black Hat Mafia’s entourage that like to get into fights with people, extremely drunken people who are even past the “Hee! Let’s laugh at them a lot!” stage, weird people who are creepy, karaoke divas and also the occasional racist (they don’t last long. Bryan has no qualms about kicking them out right away).

Fundamentalists. They give born again Christians a bad name. Just because I am born again does not make me a freak that thinks I’m better than everyone else because they are different. George W Bush is really high up on this list but I hate him for other reasons.

Three Things That Scare Me:

The thought of Jeb Bush becoming our next President. Actually, the thought of anyone with the name of Bush becoming our next President. I’m all for another Clinton, though.

Vampires. They’re out there. Lurking. Quite possibly in my freezer.

Clowns. They are creepy. No one could ever be that happy. Well, other than me on happy pills.

Three Things That Stress Me Terribly:

Money and my lack of it. Trying to calculate how I’m going to get out of debt anytime soon.

Math. I just don’t understand (well, this would be more complicated math. Not basic math like 1+1 = 2. That I know). This might be related to my previous stress item somehow.

Having to wait somewhere without a book. I get twitchy.

Three Things I Don't Understand:

Parents who allow their pre-teen girls to dress like tramps (aka Paris Hilton). I’m sorry, but your little girl doesn’t need to be wearing a shirt that says “Foxy” or “I love boys” or something stupid like that. And she certainly shouldn’t be wearing a mini-skirt. Or massive amounts of makeup. I’m not saying she should have to dress like a nun but please, that’s just wrong. Actually, I’m against all women dressing like tramps. There’s nothing wrong with a little cleavage but control yourself a little, okay? No one wants to see your thong. There’s a huge difference between classy sexy and “Hi! I’m a whore!” And no, I do not believe if a woman dresses like this, she deserves what she gets, okay? I’m just saying let’s show a little restraint. Allow for a sense of mystery.

People that get all snobby when you mention a television show or a certain author or a movie. I get that not everyone likes to watch TV. I get that not everyone is into Nora Roberts (or Sidney Sheldon or whomever). I even get that not everyone likes the same movies as I do. But c’mon. It’s one thing for Beth to say politely, when asked if she watches a certain television show, “You know, I really don’t watch a lot of TV.” But it’s another thing to give that “I’m so much better than you” look and say “Ha ha ha, silly mortal. I don’t even own a television.” Yeah. Bite me. Or “Oh, I don’t waste my time on books like that. I only read the classics.” You know what? Earnest Hemingway is considered a fantastic author and many of his books are referred to as “classics.” But I can’t stand reading anything written by him. It’s all a matter of taste.

Why all of my answers for this meme are 400 words long? Sheesh. Run on much, Dana?

Three Skills I'd Like To Learn:

How to pull my ideas for books out of my head and on to paper so I could finish a stupid book and then be rich and famous.

To be calm and collected, even when nervous. I have a tendency to babble.

To use my powers for good. It’s so rough being an evil genius.

Three Ways To Describe My Personality:

Dorky.

Goofy.

Adorable (you’ll notice that I left modest off of here, right?).


Three Things I Think You Should Listen To:

The musical stylings of Bryan McDonald. I realize that this will require a trip to Minnesota so you can come to the Chalet but I’m okay with that. It would be fun. Think of it as blogging material. And we could scrapbook!

The little voice in your head that tells you not to do bad things. I think it’s called your conscience.

Birds. I like birds. They chirp. You should go to a pet store and listen to them. It’s fun. And sometimes they will do tricks.

Three Things You Should Never Listen To:

The musical stylings of boy bands. I hate boy bands. Girl bands are kind of annoying as well. And no, the Beatles are not considered a boy band. This doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy the occasional karaoke rendition of “I Want It That Way” because usually the people singing are mocking the boy bands. And that, my friends, is a good thing.

The little voice in your head that tells you to do bad things. I’m not saying that I have a little voice in my head but there are some people who have come very close to getting pushed off a 50 story building (okay, no, I’m afraid of heights but my very favorite Gary Larson cartoon is the one with the guy who says to his friend something about do you ever have that thought about pushing someone and his friend looks a little scared and yes, I’m not very good at descriptions. I know this).

Crickets. They irritate me with their smug cricket sounds. Plus they will sometimes hide in boots and scare the crap out of people. That is wrong.


Three Favorite Foods:

Chocolate. But only milk chocolate. And only milk chocolate that has something in it, such as nuts or fruit. Or, even better, fruit and nuts. I loved the Chunky bar.

Bread. And butter. Or, even better, with garlic butter and cheese and maybe some green olives. Because bread by itself is kind of boring. The more exciting bread the better. Super Target actually has Portuguese artisan bread and that makes me happy because the bread is thick and crunchy but yet soft. Yum. It makes really excellent Supreeze Bread.

The baseball steak at Manny’s. Top sirloin, medium, with garlic butter over the top. Do you know how you can tell if a steak is really, really good? When you don’t need A1 or Heinz 57 sauce and can just close your eyes and savor the steaky goodness.

Three Beverages I Drink Regularly:

Water. Water is our friend. I have even got to the point where I have started to crave it. Which is disturbing.

Mountain Dew. It’s supposed to be just on Mondays and Fridays and whenever I am over at Beth’s but sometimes I will have it on a Wednesday. But only because I am really tired. Not because I crave the lovely ambrosia that it is. Really.

Diet Sobe Elixir. It’s not regular but only when I go to Quizno’s because they have it in the fountain and I will actually pass up Mountain Dew for this. It is a refreshing cranberry and grapefruit fruit beverage. The fact that I like the flavor of cranberry and grapefruit combined frightens me a little.

Three shows I watched as a kid:

Electric Company.

Superfriends. I was crazy about Aquaman. But despised those stupid Wonder Twins.

Batman. Adam West Batman. Sigh.

I also remember HR Puff N’ Stuff, The Bugaloos, Sigmund (?) and the Sea Monsters and Electra Woman and Dyna Girl.

Three People I'd Tag:

That blonde chick

The guy in the corner over there

That lady who cuts in front of me at the supermarket.

In other words, if you want to do it, do it. If not, hope you had fun reading. This has kept my sanity when not being able to go online.

The week keeps getting more interesting

Alternatively titled As if a gas leak wasn't enough.

So yesterday I hear voices chattering. A quick check indicates that they're not the ones in my head (yes, I'm kidding) and are coming from people around me. I hear the word "Fire." This is not a good word, just so you know.

Anyway, there was a fire yesterday in a building about a 1/2 mile from us, across Concord Blvd. It was fairly large, a four alarm fire (I'm not exactly sure what that means but there were four fire departments called into deal with it). I did manage to get some pictures on my break but have to upload them one of these days (this, of course, would mean getting my computer fixed). Meanwhile, here's a picture from www.wcco.com.

Wake Up Call

So, last night I took my Seraquel a little later than normal (after Heroes, which rocked, by the way and I love Hiro even more than I did before. My devotion grows each week) and it took awhile to kick in. I finally went to bed at 11:30 and was visited by Eddy sometime in the night. This consists of him walking up my body to meow at me. He wanted affection. Do you know how frustrating it is to have your cat demand attention from you and so you pet him because, yay, he never spends any time with you and then he allows you to pet him for, oh, 30 seconds before he walks away? And then you spend another five-ten minutes trying to persuade him to come back and he doesn't because he's going back to Keem's room because he really loves Keem and not you. It's very frustrating. Trust me.

Anyway, I'm tired this morning. Groggy. Lethargic. Want to crawl under my desk and take a nap. After almost falling asleep on a few stock holders (I can always tell there's a problem when I start slurring my words), I decided to get some tea. That would help, right? It's Orange Spice tea and so it is spicy and orangey and chock full of energy for a lazy Dana. I'm ready to pour the hot water into the cups and then I hear it.

A voice, echoing throughout the darkness and grogginess. A voice speaking a truth that can not be resisted. A voice that pierces the tiredness sharply.

A voice saying "Gas leak. Gas leak. Evacuate the building!"

Uh, yeah. That's not exactly what I had in mind, God, when I offered you that little prayer of "Oh, Lord, please let me wake up."

The next 30 minutes were spent in the parking lot. Fortunately I did grab my book (I wanted to get my cross-stitch but felt that would take too much time) and I was able to read. We then journeyed to the nearby VFW for approximately another 30 minutes. And then it was all over. The wait, I mean. Not the building.

Apparently there was a strong smell but nothing overly dangerous. We're all alive. Back at work and ready to finish out the day.

And I'm still tired. I just had my tea. Let's see if that works better. Not as exciting but a lot more tastier than all of that fresh air I was forced to ingest.

Karaoke Revisited - Part 2

The first part of this is here. I am now covering karaoke from more recent evenings:

Unknown Sunday

Craig is singing.

DM: It’s “Arthur’s Song!” Yay, Arthur!

Then I applaud in a most dorkish manner. There may have been an interpretive dance. I’m not saying.

The same night, we were discussing the Tomato conspiracy that took place. Beth and I were discussing how I could avoid the tomatoes. Beth feels that I should request a sandwich that doesn’t have tomato in the name. I could order a turkey sandwich, request bacon and no tomatoes. I feel that, since all I want on the sandwich is bacon, mayo and lettuce, I would have to order a turkey sandwich, add bacon, no tomatoes, no turkey. I think they would mess it up even more.

Craig: Why don’t you tell them that you don’t want any bloody tomahtoes?

I am not sure why I found that so amusing now.

Also, Craig is singing again. Beth has walked away. It’s a slow night, the only other person there is Random Guy (whose name is also Matt but that is too many bloody Matts so we’re sticking with Random Guy). Not wanting to make eye contact with Random Guy, all my attention is focused on Craig.

Craig: La. La. La.

He thinks the song is over and goes to put the microphone away. Then he sees more words on the screen and realizes that he’s not done yet. He grabs for the microphone but it has become tangled up in the stand. He ends up having to lean over to sing the last few lines of the song. I start laughing, of course, because it looks ridiculous and he knows it.

Craig: You! You hush now!
B (returning): What?

I explain what happened. Craig is making shushing noises at me.

Craig: You just had to tell her, didn’t you?
DM: Yeah. I’m blogging it.
Craig: ARGH!

He may not have actually said ARGH. I exaggerate on occasion. Not that anyone would notice.

Random Guy wanted to know if he could sit with us. Beth and I quickly explained we had friends sitting with us. And we did. Off playing darts. And then, not long after, they abandoned us. And we were afraid that Random Guy would return and want to sit with us. He did end up sitting at the end of the table, next to Craig. And then he proceeded to occupy Craig’s time with every possible thing he could ever tell anyone. And I, of course, listened to some of it for the purpose of blogging.

Random Guy had recently cut his hair so he went from having a mullet to short hair.

RG: No. Dude. Seriously. Three of my female friends hit on me today.

I find this very hard to believe. First of all, while his haircut has upped his potential attractive points, he only moved from “horribly scary” to “frightfully scary.” He is not an attractive man. He’s rude, annoying and also Beth overheard him telling Stubes about how his girlfriend left him and that’s why she deserves getting beat up by her new boyfriend. Yeah. I so want to date this guy.

RG is singing “The Dance.” Badly. Beth and I are trying very hard not to laugh at him.

B: This is a sad song.
DM: Yes. Yes, it is. As I laugh hysterically.

After Random Guy finishes singing, Craig turns to him.

Craig: Nicely done.
DM: Are you on crack?

I am surprised I said this out loud and where RG could overhear me. I will rarely ever say anything negative about someone’s singing. Oh! We interrupt this post to bring you an update on Random Guy. He's not only annoying to us. Bryan decided to tell him that he wouldn't be able to sing karaoke anymore unless he purchased something. Seems the guy only drinks water. It's okay for me to just drink water though, because Beth drinks Coke and we tip extremely well. It's one of the reasons why we get the special mugs and I am allowed to ransack the garnish tray for olives. Anyway, Random Guy got ticked off by this and has not been back. Darn.

We return to our regularly scheduled post.

I am singing the song “Wonder.” I’m not sure why I thought this would be a good choice. While I love the song, it’s a bit high for me. There’s a section where all you sing is “Mmm.”

DM: That makes my lips tingle. And not in a good way.

Another night, maybe the same one? Doesn’t really matter. There is a girl who decides she’s going to sing Melissa Etheridge’s “Come To My Window.” Damn good song.

Beth grabs my notebook and writes down the following:

I would crawl inside just to hear you breathe. Hold the hand of death.

Apparently, breathe and death now rhyme (It’s supposed to be “your breath”).

I add the following:

And also, apparently, we chose this song just so she could scream – not because she knows it AT all.

Sunday, October 2nd

Saturday, I went over to Beth’s to scrapbook and spent the entire time organizing my stickers. This is amazing for me. I am not an organized person at all. Of course, if I hadn’t organized the stickers, Beth would have killed me. I did leave them scattered all over her table.

She is going through pictures of her family and holds up one. It’s of a handsome man who looks like a 40’s movie idol.

DM: Ooh. Who’s that?
B: My grandfather.
DM: Wow. Your grandfather was hot.

She shows me a few other pictures of him.

DM: I was so born in the wrong time zone. I mean time. Argh! Era!
B: Yeah. Just think of how much better your life would have been if you were born in Mountain Standard Time.

Other random Bethisms:

B: There’s my Mom. With a cracker. No. That’s Jesus’ flesh.

B: I think I’m going to title this page “The day my Godmother decided to take me out to get pictures of me that make me look like a whore.”
DM: What?
B: She took me to Glamour Shots.
DM: Oh. Okay.

I grab for a piece of paper.

DM: What was that again?
B: I can't repeat it. It was fun and spontaneous and you have ruined it, man.

She shows me that iTunes is now letting people purchase movies. This is evil of them but, fortunately, none of the movies are ones that she just has to have. One of the movie titles intrigues us enough to watch the preview. It is called "Scorpius Gigantus" and it frightens us. Not because the movie appears to be scary at all but because it is quite possibly the dumbest idea for a movie. We decide to watch part of the preview. It is beyond cheesy.

We journeyed up to the Chalet and, while waiting for karaoke to get started, heard this on the juke box.

“Stop the senseless killing. Can’t you hear the roses cry? How many flowers have to die?”

I am confused and a little frightened but amused enough to Google the lyrics. Have I mentioned that this was definitely a country song? It's by some guy named Brad Paisley? Pailey? Something or another?

Long stem things of beauty
Created by the good Lord
Cut down in the prime of their lives
Boxed up, wrapped in paper
Delivered to your front door
Just to wind up in your garbage can outside

(Chorus:)
Tell me how many flowers have to die
Before you give this love another try
I've asked you to forgive me at least 9 dozen times
Tell me how many flowers have to die

I'm crazy and I'm desperate
I had you and I blew it
And right now I've got nothing left to lose
I've got a Visa in my wallet
And I'm not afraid to use it
How long the needless violence lasts
Is really up to you

(Chorus)

Stop the senseless killing
Can't you hear the roses cry
Baby, how many flowers have to die
Tell me how many flowers have to die

I may have to analyze the lyrics of this song someday. Not today. This post is long enough.

Bryan enjoys bad movies and we were sure to tell him about Scorpius Gigantus.

DM: Yeah, we watched the preview. You have this scorpion that looks like it was made out of papier-mache scurrying around. Completely cheesy.
Bryan: Do you know how to defeat a papier-mache scorpion?
Beth: Fire.
Bryan: No. It takes a stick and a blindfold and someone has to spin around 3 times. Turns out papier-mache scorpions? Filled with candy.

Last night, Beth brought up a DVD for Bryan. Her dad found out that Bryan likes to watch bad movies and thought he might enjoy it. The DVD is filled with 4 horror "classics" and Beth read the synopsis of them to me in her Horror Movie Announcer voice (which she's quite good at, by the way. If she ever gives up her career at NABABNA, she could make a killing (pun intended)).

B: There's "Attack of the Giant Leeches," "She-Demons," "Bride of the Gorilla" and "The Sound of Terror."
DM: Can you really call them horror classics if I've never heard of a single one?

She shows the DVD to Bryan and his eyes light up while he is looking it over.

Bryan: Well, as a karaoke host, I am quite familliar with the sound of terror.

It was a good night. There were some new people there last night, two girls (Somorae and Treasure (and neither of these names are made up, apparently) and their friends. Somorae became a bit intoxicated and was very amusing, with the dancing and the excited clapping. There was also the start of a running joke involving Treasure and Bryan.

Treasure: I was born in 1985.
DM: Shut up. I graduated in '85.
Bryan: I lost my virginity in 1985 (pause). What's your mother's name?
Somorae: He boned your mom.

Treasure: You have a gap tooth.
Bryan: Yes, I do.
Treasure: I have one as well. Daddy!

Treasure: Daddy? Why didn't I get a present for my birthday this year?
Bryan: I named you Treasure. That's enough.

After the bar closed, Somorae was talking to us while her friends waited by the door. It was pretty funny watching them wait as she was telling us everything about her fiance Tim once being a rescue swimmer for the Coast Guard to her job for the government. She's very animated and I really enjoyed her antics last night. We hope they come back.

Also, I went to Josh's birthday party on Sunday. Once again, my sister has done her part to make sure I never want to have children. 1 child (if Josh), enjoyable and amusing. 2 children (Josh and other child), tolerable. 14 children (Josh and 13 of his friends/classmates), terrifying. It wasn't too bad until it was time to open the presents. I was supposed to document who each present came from. Fine. I can handle this.

Josh sits in the middle of the floor. Kari sits next to him to hand him the presents. Josh goes to open the first present. And then the swarm of children attack. Ripping at paper and shoving and screaming and making me cower in fear.

DM: Yeah, children, you're all freaking out Auntie Dana a little bit.

Josh is somewhat shy and I don't see him that often. It usually takes a little while for him to warm up to me. I found it amusing that, after the party was over and we were waiting for Daddy to show up with the car, Josh comes over to me and grabs my hand.

DM: Hi, Josh.
Josh: Come here.

He drags me over to a machine where you can make a souvenier quarter.

Josh: Money.

Yeah. He is so his mother's child. Suckered me out of a buck 25. And then I had to make one for myself so I can scrapbook it, of course.

Afterwards, there was the playing on the sidewalk while Daddy and Mommy loaded the car. Josh was walking up and down the bench and posing like a monster and also showing off his muscles. I might be slightly biased when I say that he is the most adorable child in the entire universe but I think that's okay.

Hope you all had a good weekend! I did but I am exhausted.

Karaoke Revisited

Both Beth and I keep small notebooks in our purses so that we can keep track of what we refer to as blogging material. We will jot down ideas about future posts, conversations that might take place and, of course, our karaoke song lists. We used to, like many karaoke participants, write down our song choices on a little piece of paper and turn it in to the karaoke host (this would be Bryan. Some will also refer to him as a karaoke jockey or “KJ”)). However, as a dedicated tree hugger, I frown upon the wasting of paper and decided to save a tree and write my list down (it has been pointed out to me that using a notebook also requires the use of paper. I believe I responded with “Shut up.” I am known for my logical and well thought out arguments). After awhile, we were pleased to see Amy and Angie take to carrying notebooks around as well. Beth also keeps a list of songs for Bryan so, when he asks what he should sing, we have a list for him to choose from (Candy Man is on this list but he rejects my requests for him to sing this. However, my plan is that I’ll get all of you to travel to the Chalet and ask for him to perform the song. It’s hilarious. Quite possibly the best Sammy Davis JR imitation ever. He also does a great Bono impression).

Anyway, I had a point to this. I’ve been having some problems with my notebook (the stupid spiral thing was breaking and it was very irritating) so I was excited to find a notebook I purchased quite some time ago. While looking through the notebook, I found the following post, one that I had never published. And, while clearing out the annoying notebook, I came across some things that Beth and I had written down more recently but that also had never been posted.

So here goes. This is the first post. You might notice a couple of things that make it obvious how long ago this was written.

Textures

I have a thing for texture. Beth thinks I should do a list of all the things that I have a thing for. That would be an awfully long list but here’s a few things:

1. Bobby’s hands (I’m trying to establish a footnote system and it’s not working out so I’ll just put a number in front of the specific points I am making).

Cheese.

2. Diet Coke (someday, when I am a little braver, I will blog about a dream I had involving Diet Coke and you will all be amazed at how damn sexy a beverage can be (I actually did post this. It’s here)).**

Men that shave their heads or have crew cuts.

Rubbing my hand over the head of a man who has a very short crew cut (this falls under the texture category).

Very soft leather (again with the texture).

3. Matt has an extremely soft black leather coat. It is very hard for me to keep from stroking it when ever he sits next to me at karaoke (he leaves it on the back of his chair). The Sunday before last, Matt came in, left his coat on his chair and leaned over to ask a question. I, however, was distracted by his coat and didn’t hear him. As I was stroking it, I said “Soft. Pretty.”

Matt started laughing. “Dana,” he said. “When someone asks you how you are, you may not want to reply ‘Soft. Pretty.’”

“Oh! Is that what you said? Oops!”

I just said to Beth that I didn’t know how to end this. Her response was “We’re caught in a trap we can’t get out. Because I love you too much, Baby.”*

Works for me.

*Michael was singing Suspicious Minds at the time.

Okay. So let’s look at this. One, while I did have a thing for Bobby’s hands, that was quite some time ago. I had a bit of a crush on Bobby. Long over. Which is a good thing, considering that he’s married and has a small child now.

Two, I’m not drinking Diet Coke at karaoke any more. I started drinking water probably over a year ago.

Three, Beth and I haven’t seen Matt (this is the Matt that used to comment on our blogs all the time and called Beth his little sister, not Matt who works at the theater with James and comes up to karaoke every once in awhile) in what? Well over a year? The last time we saw him was shortly after we got back to Portugal. And then he vanished off the face of the Earth. He joined a cult or was kidnapped by aliens or something like that.

I've found some more recent notes but I'm going to put them into a separate post. No point in overwhelming everyone. Hope you're all having a good week.