loose string

"One-way streets and square one, The answers don't come from any one direction"

 

My homage to Mr. Clean

I must say that there have been some positive things that have come out of my current state of discontent.  (Thank you IML for reminding me of that)  I get very anal-retentive-super-organized.  There has been much crabby energy redirected toward organizing and clearing away the clutter.

 

My office/guest room has been filled with boxes and bags and suitcases that were only half emptied after my trips to New Mexico.  I had piles of paper and un-filed bills and books and you-name-it.  There was just enough room for someone to get to the desk but heaven help you if you wanted to put down a drink on the desk while you used the computer.  The bed had been cleared off for my son’s visit but mostly that just involved putting everything that was on the bed on to the floor.  So, the day of the birthday-party-that-was-not-at-our-house, I sat down and waded through the contents of the room.

 

There were pictures to be hung.  These pictures have been waiting since last Fall.  Patiently waiting to be displayed.  I finally got around to putting them on the wall.  I also put up my cat collection shelf.   This sounds very “precious” but it is not all that bad.  I have small cat figures from all over the world that have been given to me by friends and family.  I have a shelf thingy that I keep them on.  This is the only “cat lady” thing that I have.  It is also one more box unpacked.  I filed all of my paid bills and paperwork.  I moved art supplies to my workroom.  It is necessary to keep shoes away from the puppies so I have ended up putting my shoes on the bookshelf or a chair in the kitchen.  I finally had the bright idea to get a basket to put them in and followed through by going to the store and actually making the purchase.  I reorganized the shelves in the office.  I gave that office an ass-whooping of a cleaning.

 

Then, last weekend, I sorted through the massive piles of clothes that have been decorating my bedroom for the last eight months.  I hung up all the clothes to be hung, put things away in the dresser and put together a big box for the AmVets pickup.  I am actually able to see the floor and the chair.  And some homeless people will be the recipients of my castoff clothing.  They will be homeless still but fashionable.

 

Yea me!

 

Next on the agenda is a similar ass-whooping cleaning binge in the disaster area that is the basement.  I have considered lighting a small fire and claiming it against our homeowner’s insurance.  I think that T would frown upon this plan.  I have considered having it declared a national disaster area and having the National Guard and the Red Cross come in to assist in the cleanup but they have such stringent rules regarding the definition of disaster.  I think the prevention of the whining fit I will throw during the process of cleaning would benefit everyone in the US if not the world. Maybe some celebrities would be interested in throwing a telethon to raise funds so I can pay someone else to do this for me.

 

When we moved into the house, combining our two households and two very extensive sets of personal belongings, we dumped almost all of the boxes into the basement to be sorted through at a later date.  I pictured a later date as being something in the neighborhood of two or three months.  Then the basement flooded and everything was moved to the garage and then back to the basement after the waterproofing. Fast forward to almost two years later and there is a big, honking pile of boxes many of which are half unpacked with contents strewn about the floor.  There are things in these boxes that I have re-purchased rather than go through the hassle of trying to locate them in the mountain of boxes.   I am sure that I will find things I had forgotten I ever owned.  I am sure that I will curse myself for packing so much crap that I should have just thrown away instead.  

I am sure once it is done I will have a certain false sense of control and order.  This is the benefit.  If I cannot feel organized and stable and serene at least my house will give the appearance of those things.  It is all about the appearance after all.

posted by: loosestring at 18:40 | link | comments |

Millions weep a fountain just in case of sunrise

There are a bunch of words rolling around in my head.  Just bumping off my brain like the ball in a pinball machine.  They are elusive and erratic and I just can’t seem to get a control on them.  It feels like there is a big idea or the answer to a complicated question just outside my grasp.  I can see it but only from an odd angle and then only for just a moment.  Less than the blink of an eye.  I am sure that if I could just pin the words down - spend a few minutes with them - I could figure something out. 

Maybe it is the key to the meaning of the life and everything.  Maybe it is the cure for cancer. Maybe it’s the perfect wording for the essay I blew on my AP English Exam in 1983.  Maybe it is just the name of a good Thai restaurant. 

I am not sure and it is the not knowing that is so frustrating.  I think that tends to be a theme with me.  I get very agitated and disturbed by the absence of clear answers to complex questions.  There is too much unknown.  I don’t like the suspense of waiting and finding out what is next.  I do not truly enjoy surprises.  The automatic assumption on my part is that it will always be a bad surprise.  Not the “You’ve Just Won A Million Dollars” surprise but the “You Will Now Be Audited” surprise.

I suppose this makes me a pessimist.  Or a realist – depending on your point of view.  My glass is definitely never half full.  Whatever can go wrong will and usually does.  In a spectacular and explosive way.

So, I keep up my search for the ever-elusive happy thoughts.  I look for the silver lining.  I try to match my expectations to my reality.  I try.  I try.  I try. 

But, I am easily distracted from the task.  My mind wanders off and I end up wondering about silly little things that don’t add up to nothing.  I am captivated by events that have no bearing on my world. 

“Is Tom Cruise really batshit-crazy or is he suffering from a chemical imbalance?”

“What does that poor Katie Holmes see in him?  He looks like a meth-addict.”

“What were those idiots thinking about when they turned Oprah away from Hermes?  I know they are French but they have to have known who she was.”

“Is Angelina really pregnant with Brad’s love child?”

“Why do the Canadians always seem to trump us in matters related to human rights?”

“Why is that weaselly little asshole still trying to sell us the same bill of goods on his little war?  Even other Republicans are questioning the validity.  Why are we still listening to him?  Ooooh I want to punch him really hard in the groin but I think the Secret Service is on red alert around him.”

And then I find myself sitting up at 2:00 in the morning watching a movie with Neve Campbell and Matthew Perry called “Three To Tango”.  This is not a good movie but it does provide more material for my speculation/distraction.

“Who thought that this was a good premise?”

“Is Matthew Perry really gay?  I can’t think if I have ever heard of him being linked to a woman.”

“I wonder if this movie was one of the things that lead him to abuse prescription drugs?”

“Why is Oliver Platt in this movie?”

“Neve Campbell is cute and everything but who told her she could act?”

“What is the point of making this whole movie in which the ending is so foreshadowed and obvious as to seem almost unnecessary?”

This is the sort of drivel that distracts me from contemplating the larger issues.

posted by: loosestring at 17:54 | link | comments (1) |

My quest for the happy-thoughts-grail

My mission – if I choose to accept it – is to come up with a series of happy thoughts to invoke whenever the raging malaise overtakes me.  I am thinking and thinking and thinking some more and the list is still fairly short and the items a little thin.  This seems ridiculous.  It’s not as though I live in a country run by an evil dictator bent on denying healthcare and human rights to the people.  I should be happy, happy, happy to live in this the greatest of all nations.  I have given up the news.  I am hopeful that this temporary break from what is a constant source of irritation will be helpful.  Next step on the path to serenity would involve a visit with a mental healthcare professional.  I have recently learned that there is absolutely no benefit to be gained through this pseudo-science so that may not even be an option.

I have just finished the Bob Dylan autobiography.  I got it for Christmas but it seemed to keep getting shuffled to the bottom of the stack.  I had read a number of lukewarm reviews and maybe that was coloring my enthusiasm for reading it.  I don’t generally put a huge stock in the reviews.  There are so many highly recommended books that I read and think, “What was all the fuss about?” and there are many books that get reamed in the reviews that I like quite a bit.  That said; I liked the book.  It was not a straightforward, chronological life story and I think that is what most reviewers had a problem with.  I think it was written very much like a Dylan song.  The points are made and the story is told in an oblique and rambling way.  I think that this a story for someone who is interested in the story that Dylan has to tell and is willing to listen to it in the way he is willing to tell it. 

Before the Dylan I read “A Half Life” by V.S. Naipaul.  I have a bit of an obsession with Indian literature.  With a bit of a stretch, I include Naipaul on my list of Indian authors.  Not a huge stretch but I suppose a purist would say that he is more European or Caribbean but his sensibility is very much Indian.  I think maybe he is a little melancholy for my current mindset.  I am affected by reading in much the same way I am affected by music.  Something upbeat will make me more upbeat and the sad, slow, melancholy stuff gets me moody and too much inside my head.  My head is not always a happy, well-lit place.  It is not a welcoming family vacation spot.

I am currently reading “Me Talk Pretty One Day”.  I know, you all just gasped.  I am not re-reading this book.  I am actually reading it for the first time.  David Sedaris is one of those popularly hyped authors spoken of in superlatives.  I am suspicious of the glowing and positive reviews.  I think my perverse nature causes me to suspect the quality of any work so universally liked.  I am slow to jump on the bandwagon.  I have to say I like this book so far.  I think he definitely has an eye for the absurd and is able to capture the foibles and quirks of himself and his family.  The black humor is always a plus with me.  My family tends toward finding the humor in the blackest of moments.  This is the most useful survival skill I have learned.

My list of books that have influenced the way I look at the world could occupy pages and pages.  If I was to distill it down to the essential it would read something like this:

Charlotte’s Web  by E.B. White

Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut

Candide by Voltaire

Another Roadside Attraction by Tom Robbins

A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving

I think I may have hit upon a happy thought in the middle of this.  It is time to re-read some of these books.  I have traditionally re-read the entire Vonnegut collection every year since I was fourteen.  There is nothing more absolutely guaranteed to set me right.

posted by: loosestring at 20:17 | link | comments |

I am cranky: Day 142

There is much moaning and gnashing of teeth over the current warm weather.  I am perhaps the only person in the entire Midwestern United States that does not mind the heat.   I will admit that it has been toasty of late but I am trying to work out a system to store up this heat for the middle of January. 

This was a quiet weekend.  I like the quiet.  We had tickets to an Over the Rhine show.  It was quite good and surprisingly calm.  I tend to dislike large crowds and yet I still go out to concerts and sporting events.  The masochist in me.  I just steel myself to be ready for the rudeness and say a prayer that I will not strike anyone.  I must say that this crowd was relatively tolerable.  The notable exceptions would be the couple that was having a heated makeout session in the front of the crowd complete with groping and deep tongue kissing and the woman who insisted on sitting with her legs crossed even though that thrust her foot into the standing crowd.  The particular portion of the crowd affected by the foot would be limited to me but after she kicked me with the foot for the 987^th time you would think she would uncross her legs.  I tried to move away from her but there was nowhere to go except maybe to leave the show entirely.  Not an option.

I attend quite a few concerts every year and I have noticed that there are some rude idiots that attend as well.  I have noted multiple incidences of people talking throughout the entirety of a concert.  This is strange to me.  I usually choose to have my conversations in quieter places than the middle of a concert.  The most irritating thing about it is they are invariably right in front of me and they are usually blocking my view of the performers.  Once we sat next to a couple that talked through the entirety of a Neil Young concert.  The seats were pretty good seats, certainly not the cheapest in the house.  You would think they would talk at home where they are not paying $80.00 apiece.  That aside, Neil Young is loud.  Very loud.  It is no small task to talk over his music. Let alone conduct an entire conversation.   We were seated directly in front of a guy who screamed “Sugar Mountain, man!” every couple of minutes.  I realize he was stoned but the idea that the performer at a large venue concert would hear this request and make the decision to play it is ridiculous.

I have noticed that this happens a lot.  You go to see someone that has a fair-sized repertoire.  They try to make the effort to play a decent representation of their music.  Try to mix in the hits with some of the new stuff and maybe a few more obscure songs.  One would assume that, prior to launching a tour, the band has decided on a set list.  They mix it up a little bit as they move from town to town but they have rehearsed a certain mix of songs and that is what they are going to play.  I cannot count the number of times that someone has started calling out requests within the first ten minutes of a show.  They are screaming out the titles of the biggest hits like there is a possibility that these songs won’t get played.  I have seen performers handle it many ways.  Sometimes they joke around a little.  Maybe say something like, “We going to try to play something for everyone here, so settle down.” Or they ignore the whole thing.  I would never be able to restrain my self from launching a stream of wilting sarcasm at the idiots. Yet another reason I will never be a rock super star.

posted by: loosestring at 19:23 | link | comments |

Friday Bonus Post

The list continues to grow.  I am compiling a list of evidence that the Universe is fucking with me and that everyone is out to get me.  Some people meditate or do yoga to combat rage but I just look to make my case in court when and if the time comes.  You should have concrete evidence of your righteousness compiled before you go on the interstate rampage. 

The latest evidence of the nefarious plot to make me a rage-filled, bitter old woman is that while I was compiling my list here for your enjoyment it got erased.  More accurately I opened a file that moved my browser off of this page and effectively deleted any content.  I am so crabby today that I am quite surprised at my restraint in not immediately pitching my computer on to the floor and stomping it while chanting "Die! Die!".  I will attempt to reconstruct my literary masterpiece but I fear that some of the greatness may be lost for good.  I am sorry for you that you have been deprived due to the aforementioned plot.  I assure you that all appropriate measures will be taken to protect you from any future fallout.

Things that irritate the crap out of me:

1. Billy Corgan.  More specifically that I am unable to enjoy the Smashing Pumpkins due to the presence of Billy Corgan.  Why?  Because he looks exactly like the guy who exposed himself to me on a bus in 1984.  It was the first time I had been flashed and I was traumatized.  I had not lived in Albuquerque for very long.  I was kind of naive and from a very small town in New Hampshire where this sort of thing did not occur.  Everybody knew everybody in the small town and perverts were forced to be more subtle.  They could not just go around publically maturbating  without fear of a public lynching.  They could not slip away unnoticed and unpunished because your father probably was in the Lions with them or their sister was in your class at school.  I did the only rational thing under the circumstances:  I got off at the very next stop. I then burst into tears and called my father to come get me.  I cannot hear a Smashing Pumpkins song without the face of Billy Corgan/my first pervert floating up in my mind.  I have tried not to think about it but the harder you try not to think about something the harder it becomes to think about anything else.  I have chosen to just change the radio station.

2. Dave Matthews Band, Metallica and Coldplay.  More specifically the rabid fans of these bands that try to explain to me that if I listened to a specific song or knew some specific piece of trivia about the band I would be converted.  I do not like these bands.  There are probably a couple of bands that I love that you do not like.  It is okay.  It is what makes this kooky old world of ours so much fun.  We can have different tastes and opinions and coexist peacefully.  Really.

Dave Matthews has that whole earthy-crunchy-rootsy-folksy hype going on but most of the fans I meet are of the Docksider, Docker's shorts and Lacoste polo shirt with the collar turned up type.  Or they really are earthy-crunchy in the drum-circle-loving vein.  Given the choice between dental surgery with no anesthesia or a drum circle, I will choose the surgery.  I do not "get it" and I am okay with that, really.  Coldplay is so overrated and overplayed as to make me want to have them killed.  I do not like the angsty, artsy pose that passes for depth and real content.  Add to that the recent comments from the lead singer in support of "W's bitch" Tony Blair.  I have only two words to explain the aversion to Metallica: Lars Ullrich.  I would like to punch this weinie in the groin everytime I see his smug, smarmy face.  And when he starts whining about the criminals who participate in file sharing thereby depriving him of the kazillions he should make for the sales of his music I want to spit.  I think that all of these bands have enough fans without  proselytizing for more.  They will live without my adoration and patronage.

3. Mozilla -Foxfire.  T has this set as the default browser on our computer.  He touted it's vast superiority and I was willing to give it a shot.  I really don't like it.  The biggest reason is that it searches only in the Google screen and not from the address line.  This is annoying.  When I type in "loo" to pull up the address for this page from memory, it frequently misfires and directs me to goodlooguide.freeservers.com which is a directory of good bathrooms in the UK and Europe.  I don't need this information.  I do not just want to be directed to the first google hit for "loo", I want to go to my site.  Worse than the bathroom site is default site when I type in "sa" and I am directed to the site for "sexaholics anonymous".  Part of this is me but some of it is the program and I just do not like it.  I do not get the universal hatred for all things Microsoft and/or Bill Gates.  I don't think that forgoing the convenience of this perfectly good software will affect Mr. Gates personally and bring about the immediate collapse of his evil empire. 

I know that I can reset the default to Internet Explorer but now all of the remembered pages are in the Mozilla browser and the switch would be a pain in the ass. 

4. The Internet Trolls and Flamers.  There is a blog that I enjoy quite a bit.  The writing is consistently good and the stories and opinions are interesting and amusing.  I look forward to new posts.  The problem is that every time the poor woman posts some idiot troll starts a war in the comments.  It is always over some obscure point that was not the main thrust of the entry and usually something very, very trivial.  An example:  Recently she posted a meme response on "5 Things Other People Love and I Just Don't Get". It sounds benign right?  One of the things she posted was that she didn't care for cats.  Surprisingly there are people who do not like the cats.  She was not advocating for the immediate extermination of the species but just explaining that she probably would not ever be a cat owner.  Some person jumped on that and compared this very simple statement to racial prejudice.  "How can you hate cats?  Why would you not want to snuggle up with my little schnooky, bunnykins?  How dare you have opinions that differ from mine?"  It got a bit ridiculous and was made into a huge drawn out flame war in the comments.  I guess my point here is that I just don't get the need to make such a ruckus over something so small.  If the dislike of cats has made you angry and has changed your opinion of the author in some way, so be it.  Move on.  There are 7,652,896,265 other blogs out there to read.  I guess my biggest problem with this is that I think she does not post as frequently because of all the hoo-haw.  So, leave her alone people!

That said, I am posting this scary picture of T's cat for your amusement:

 

posted by: loosestring at 21:01 | link | comments (2) |

That's right, I'm still doing it

It is Thursday again and that means "Hit Me Baby One Time" needs to be reviewed.

As I said last week, I am a little disappointed in the turn this show has taken.  It started out with such great promise to be the elusive connection that I need to make to Reality TV.  The genre leaves me a little cold as a general rule.  But this show was just bad enough and not too exploitative of innocent people looking for money and fame to pass my standards of decency.  Yes, people are shown in a really bad light but they are people who have been in the spotlight before and they sort of know what to expect.  Plus, it is all for charity, which, by definition, makes it good, wholesome, all-American entertainment.

The biggest problem that I have with this show is the liberal over-use of the term "super star".  I do not think that anyone in their right mind thinks of Wang Chung or Loverboy when they think of the quintessential rock god super stars.  And the pool of willing performers they are drawing from must be shallow indeed considering the relative obscurity of some of the upcoming acts.  These are one-hit -wonder bands or maybe two-hit-wonder bands.  The great purpose that is served by this show is that these bands are finally paying the dues for all of the times we were subjected to their mediocre music.  Most of these bands or performers have in common an oversaturation of playtime on either MTv or the radio.  (Yes children, there was a time when MTv played videos almost all day long)  We were unable to escape their songs. Now they must pay by humiliating themselves or occasionally redeeming themselves on national television for our pleasure.

That said, I will continue to recap this show for my own amusement.  Consider yourself forewarned.

This weeks lineup was lame indeed:

Greg Kihn performing "The Breakup Song"  and then covering "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day

I have not yet forgiven this guy for that lame song and even lamer video "Jeopardy".  This is permanently liked in my mind with the bad video and song "Abracadabra" by Steve Miller.  If memory serves me correctly they were in high rotation in and around the same time.  Jeez.  There was a lot of bad music to be had in the 80's.  The advent of MTv meant that if you looked a little different you could probably get a record released based on your ability to shock and amaze with a video of your song.  Anyway....the first word that comes to mind is "chunkeriffic".  Okay, I know it is not a word but it was probably printed on the side of a least one of the bags of cookies this man had to eat to bulk up this much.  I do not mean to focus so much on the weight.  People age and the junk settles into everyone's trunk but these guys are putting their mediocre selves out there for my amusement and entertainment so they are fair game for the cheap shot.  I actually turned to T and said, "Hey, that guitar player could be one of their kids." and then during the video update they reveal that he is indeed Kihn's son.   The only other notable thing about this performance is that the bass player has the most spastic rock star moves I have ever seen.  They are like the stylized moves of the guys from Devo, but I don't think they are meant to be ironic.  He looks like Porky Pig on Meth.  The cover is a travesty.  Say what you will about Green Day, I happen to like them.  I liked them when I first heard them because they seemed like a natural progression for the Southern California punk rock I grew up on.  They were the next logical step along with bands like Rancid or even the Offspring.  These guys are far too old and far too far from angry-twenty-something to pull off this song.  The lyrics need to be delivered with a bit more anger and cynicism than a bloated, overfed fifty-something is capable of.  Somewhere Billy Joe and the boys are cringing in embarrassment.  Whatever royalty they receive for this performance is not nearly enough.

Club Nouveau performing "Lean On Me" and then covering "Thank You" by Dido

Often, these bands are ones that I do not immediately recognize.  This is one of those.  I do generally remember the song once I hear it.  Let's just say, it is highly unlikely I would have owned any of these albums.   (Okay, I owned The Knack but that is the only one so far)  This is a weird band.  They are known for a cover of an old R&B song.  It was a pretty good song the first time around.  I do not know that their addition of some synthesized drums and some choruses of "we be jammin'" actually added anything of value.  Whatever.  They are not particularly impressive.  The female singer has kind of a weak voice.  This song is an anthem, it needs a strong, soulful voice.  My son points out the idiotic moment when one of the male singers makes the cheesy hand-to-ear-in-mimicry-of-a-phone and mouths "call me" to a female audience member.  Okay, I am sure she wet herself with the excitement of that moment.  The best/weirdest thing is during the video update when the lead singer explains that his goal is to become a professional dominoes player.  Huh?  What?  I guess.  The cover is a truly awful cover of a truly awful song.  These people are killing me with the Dido already.  I do not like Dido.  I think her songs sound like jingles for feminine hygiene products.  Why must they cover them?

Glass Tiger performing "Don't Forget Me When I'm Gone" and then covering "Everything You Want" by Vertical Horizon

This was another of those bands that I was unsure I knew based solely on the name.  The song, however, is unmistakeable.  They are those Duran Duran/Wham wannabes from Canada.  I remember now.  The moment they hit the stage I turn to T and say, "They are all members of the HairClub for Men".  The have those unmistakeably carefully combed hairstyles designed for maximum coverage.  Gone are the 80's big hairdo's and turned up collars.  There is nary a bit of leather in sight.  The bass player has one of those 3 foot long wallet chains, so you know he is hip.  Or maybe just security concious.  You never know when you might be pick-pocketed on stage in the middle of a performance.  The video update reveals that the lead singer is also a spokesperson for his wife's line of salad dressings.  Now there is an upward career move.  The cover is really weird.  The singer has changed into a "hip" and "sylish" silver pleather jacket.  He is mincing and lisping through the whole song.  It feels like tribute to Boy George.  Vertical Horizon is not one of those bands I have a strong opinion about.  They are okay.  But they at least have the macho, rock star moves down and this song is meant as a manly statement of love gone wrong not a statement about the manly love that dare not speak.  It was just off, off, off.

Billy Vera performing "At This Moment" and then covering "Truth" by Ryan Cabrera

This guy is known for a song that was made famous through an 80's sitcom.  The episodes of Family Ties in which the Michael J. Fox character is lamenting the loss of  the Tracy Pollan character and moons over her photo (cue music).  It is an okay song.  He actually performs a pretty straight forward version and his voice is doing fine.  He is not a handsome man and he was not a handsome man.  He is getting my respect for being a balding man who chooses the "Captain Picard" -do over a bad combover.  The cover is just lame, lame, lame.  Why do these people keep covering American Idol songs?  This is not a song that I am familiar with but I can state with confidence that he murders the part that is in Spanish.  It is so obvious that he is singing it phonetically and has not a clue what the words mean.  And not convincingly like ABBA or the guy from the Scorpions.  Just bad.

Thelma Houston performing "Don't Leave Me This Way" and then covering "Falling" by Alicia Keys

This lady is working it.  She has the short, blond mini-dreads and the short dress revealing her long legs.  She is channeling the Tina Turner vibe and doing a pretty good job of it.  And she has a good, strong, soulful voice.  Maybe she could talk to girlfriend in the other band.  Anyway.  You can't have grown up in the late 70's and missed this song.  Disco was everywhere. I was not a huge fan but the nostalgic idiot in me appreciates the kitsch of it all.  She is really cute and obviously having a blast.  The video update shows her with her grandbabies.  She looks damned good for a grandmother.  The cover is the only really good one all night.  I am not all on board with the whole Alicia Keys musical genius thing but this song is okay.  Miss Thelma is working the short dress again and she is working the song.  Her version is a little blues-ier and little more soulful.

I think I have revealed our vote: Thelma Houston.  And the audience is not filled with tone-deaf morons this time so they agree.

I will address the issue of the host and the fanatic audience the next time.

posted by: loosestring at 07:16 | link | comments |

How many lives are living strange?

The rumors of my return to sanity have been greatly exaggerated or at least a bit premature.   Today I am up in the gun tower sighting down the barrel of my sniper’s rifle and the voices in my head are screaming, “Do it!”. 

Ahem.

I am poised to go off on some poor, unsuspecting person without warning.  I am currently exercising a great deal of restraint in my dealings with the various idiots I have been forced to interact with in my job capacity.  Most of the biggest offenders on my idiot list are various employees of our customers.  They would probably not respond kindly to being told to pull their heads out of their ass and try to do their jobs with some degree of efficiency.  They might become former customers should I speak my mind.  Since one of the things I get paid for is to be nice to these people I am trying to do so.  I suppose it is the least I can do.

There is a lot of anger and rage and general crabbiness in my Internet world lately.  Many of the blogs I read regularly have launched tirades of one form or another.  I think the sunshine and warm weather have put me on overload and I have crossed from happy to bitchy. 

This kind of sums it up:

Noel Gallagher on what he sees as the futility of Live 8:

"Are they hoping that one of these guys from the G8 is on a quick 15 minute break at Gleneagles [in Scotland] and sees Annie Lennox singing 'Sweet Dreams' and thinks, 'F**k me, she might have a point there, you know?' Keane doing 'Somewhere Only We Know' and some Japanese businessman going, 'Aw, look at him... we should really f**king drop that debt, you know.' It's not going to happen, is it?"

And you know, when Noel Gallagher makes sense, it is a sign of my impending mental apocalypse

posted by: loosestring at 18:32 | link | comments (5) |

An elephant's faithful, one hundred percent

Hello, hello.  I am back.  I have been in a bit of a funk lately.  I decided that foisting my crappy moods off as worthy blog material was not the best thing to do.  So here I am now, refreshed and rejuvenated - better than I ever was.

Sunday was a bittersweet day.  I am still fluctuating between all of the good and funny memories of my father and the not-so-good and downright bad ones.  This coupled with the fact that Father's Day was a thorny subject for me has made me swing wildly back and forth on my Mood Swing (new from Ronco.  My parents announced their divorce on Father's Day the year I was twelve.  I should say, my mother informed us of my father's decision to leave on that day.  I know it was a long time ago but the timing could not have been more poorly planned.  These kinds of things tend to stick with you.  Especially if you are a bit crazed and smack dab in the middle of puberty when they occur.  I also have the memories of my father teaching me to read using the Dr. Seuss books.  In my mind the Cat in the Hat and Horton will always be connected with my father.  That is pretty nice.

posted by: loosestring at 22:23 | link | comments (3) |

Crazy Love

Lately, I have been thinking about places I have worked.  Not in terms of compiling a resume or anything. Just because I have way too much free time to think about these sort of things while I am at work waiting for the day to be over.  Once I have read all the blogs and re-checked to make sure someone has not posted while I was reading another blog. After the online newspapers and various web newsources I read have been exhausted.  After I have played 652 hands of free cell and 756 games of word twist.  After I have done the approximately 25 minutes of legitimate work that is required of me daily.  After the office supply cabinet has received it's daily housekeeping.  After I have re-organized my mailbox into 65 folders with 42 sub-folders.  After I have re-checked the blogs to see if anything has happened in the hour that has lapsed since last I checked them. 

Then I think about stuff. 

Today I was thinking about an electronics company where I worked for a couple of years.  It  was owned by a Japanese man.  He was quite a nice man to work for most of the time. There were many other not so nice people that worked there but not more than you would expect in a company that size.  The owner was a very soft spoken, decidedly Christian man.  This was not so cool in that we were not allowed to dress up for or celebrate Halloween at work because it was against his beliefs.  It was cool in that he was very compassionate about the people that worked for the company.  Anytime any employee was having personal problems the company tried to help out.

There was one man who worked there that was schizophrenic.  I do not mean he was quirky or a little off, he was a certifiable paranoid schizophrenic.  He was a very quiet Japanese man who was quite skilled in the Electronics field.  He was also convinced that the airplanes overhead were spy planes from the CIA.  This was problematic because we were very close to Ohare Airport so there were many, many airplanes overhead all day long.  This caused him to make staggered, zig zag patterned movements whenever he was out of doors.  He was a heavy smoker and was required to smoke outside.  You would think that the paranoia would trump the nicotine addiction but it did not. He would huddle along side of the building while he smoked trying to remain under the miscroscopic roof overhang so that he could not be easily spotted.   He dressed in thrift store clothing and always wore his pants pulled up to just under his nipples.  He had a haircut just like Moe from the Three Stooges and wore coke bottle thick glasses.  Imagine one of those really bad anti-Japanese propaganda posters: he looked like the character they portrayed.  All the worst stereotypes.

His paranoia made him unable to fully function.  He could not pay his bills because he would claim the government had stolen his money. Usually he had just spent it all or hidden it somewhere and then forgotten where.  He ended up getting evicted because he had not paid his rent in months.  Finally the company stepped in and got him some help.  They got him hospitalized and medicated and paid to get him an apartment.  They deducted his rent from his check and paid it for him.  Every day he had to go to the secretary of the president of the company and get his medication.  They really tried to help this guy get his life back together.  It was the way the world should work but usually does not.

Somewhere along the way, I became part of the group within the company that was helping him.  He had to interact with several of us for various reasons.  It began to be very apparent that he had developed a bit of a ccrush on me.  He would come and ask me about things that he knew other people handled.  He would come and get change from me everyday for the soda machine, even when the soda machine took dollar bills.  He was always hovering around my desk or around the door when he knew I was due to arrive.  The office began to refer to him as my boyfriend.  I tried always to be kind but professional.  I wanted to reinforce the idea that he and I were co-workers and anything else was out of the question.  I had no openings in my life for a crazed stalker.

Every year we had a large Christmas party for the whole company.  It was usually a big affair with dancing and presents and festivities.  It was actually a lot of fun.  That year we office drones were enlisted to help out in various functions.  The day of the party we took turns in shifts getting everything done so that we would all have the opportunity to go home and get dressed for the party.  I took the earliest shift and went on my merry way.  I arrived later when the party was scheduled to begin and I was greeted by my little stalker friend at the door.  He had taken obvious pains with his appearance.  He had on a cravat-style tie and a double-breasted navy blazer.  Think Thurston Howell on Gilligans Island.  That was the look.  In my memory he is also sporting a yachting cap but that can not possibly be true.  Anyway, he was waiting at the door for me when I arrived with my boyfriend.  I said hello and introduced them and continued on my way into the party.

For the rest of the evening he shadowed us.  He sat at the next table over where he could have a clear view of me.  He was watching us like a hawk.  I was starting to feel uncomfortable.  He was a little guy but he could get all psycho and rush my date with a steak knife.  He might think he is a CIA spy bent on depriving him of the woman of his dreams.  That CIA is pretty sneaky about the ways in which they break a man down.  I started to relax and enjoy myself after a couple glasses of wine awhile.  The formal, sit-down-dinner portion of the evening moved into the socializing-portion.  Everyone was moving around and talking.  The DJ was getting started.  I was feeling less like a target because I was up and moving.  Harder to hit the moving target.  He continued to shadow us though.  Just slightly off the edge of any group of which I was a part.  But I was determined to enjoy myself and make the most of this yearly opportunity to get drunk and act like an ass.  I proceeded toward that end with great enthusiasm. 

There was, of course, all of the bad DJ music.  There was a Chicken Dance and a Hokey Pokey and I think even a Macarena.  There was the Electric Slide.  I was pulled up onto the floor for the Electric Slide not because I possess superior dance skills but precisely because I do not.  I am a hopeless dancer when it comes to following a pattern of steps or anything more complicated than shaking my ass and waving my arms.  I can do a mean Chicken Dance though.  We were all getting loopy and drunk and laughing and loud.  They played a slow song and all the couples came out to the floor.  They followed it with another because I think they wanted us all to calm the hell down. 

During the second song I caught sight of my little friend making his way toward us.  He was making a direct line through the dancers, straight for me.  I was a little nervous.  However, he approached and bowed and asked if he could cut in.  I nodded  that it was okay and I was handed off.  He took my hands in his extremely sweaty and shaky hands and proceeded to waltz me formally around the floor.  He was trembling the whole time and staring pointedly over my shoulder to avoid eye contact.  It felt ver much like a Junior High dance. I was towering over him.  I am only 5'3" so I am far from tall but this guy could just see over my shoulder.  I was probably wearing heels but nothing too high.  It was all very sweet and formal.  When the song ended he bowed very low and took my arm in his to deliver me back safe to my boyfriend.

He spent the rest of the evening watching from the edge of the dance floor.  He did not ask to dance again and he did not stop smiling for the whole evening.  If only all men were so easily satisfied.

posted by: loosestring at 06:45 | link | comments (5) |

And now we resume our previously interrupted program...

I am losing my enthusiasm for this show.  The shiny is almost all gone.  I don't know if I will continue to do these reviews.  I will watch next week and if it is as lame as this week I am done.

That said this week's line up was pretty crappy - and not in a good way:

Wang Chung performing "Everybody Wang Chung" and covering "Hot In Herre" by Nelly

The initial reaction is typical: these guys have gotten old.  They don't look too awful though.  The singer (Wang?) still has the same hairstyle.  Who does that except Mick Jagger?  The guitar player (Chung?) has the long, grey, curly ponytail look.  This is not a hairstyle for a rock star it is a hairstyle for a roadie.  Oh wait, these guys are not rock stars.  The song is okay.  Let's face it though, this was a stupid song then and it is a stupid song now.  It has none of the kitschy nostalgia of a "Come on Eileen" or a "Safety Dance".  Where are those guys?  Not on this show apparently.  The song is okay.  The cover, on the other hand, is a bizarre choice.  The original is performed by a stylish, hip and charismatic young man. I have a soft spot for Nelly, can you tell?  This is so un-hip and stilted that it is painful.  The phrasing is so over-enunciated that any hip, seductive melody is lost.  I kept thinking of those old recordings of William Shatner doing "Rocket Man" except this was more like Anthony Hopkins was performing the song.  Yes, just that stiff. 

Sophie B. Hawkins performing "Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover" and covering "100 Years" by Five for Fighting

The first thing that I think when this woman takes the stage is, "She should have gone to the bathroom before she came out."  Her choreography is vaguely reminiscent of the "pee pee dance". It is awkward and spastic.  I think she was shooting for seductive but she missed.  The song is okay but she does not have a strong voice.  Even with a microphone it is difficult to hear her.  Maybe this is a blessing.  When she goes over to talk to the host between songs, she appears to be slightly inebriated.  Maybe just a little high?  The cover is awful.  The song is awful enough but she just does not have a strong enough voice. She should pick a key and stick with it.  She is over-emoting in the worst possible way.  I think she imagines herself to be a little bit Janis Joplin but she does not have the heart or the range to pull it off.

Cameo performing "Word Up" and covering "1985" by Bowling for Soup

This is the most potentially amusing performance scheduled and it does not disappoint.  The singer is sporting a bright red codpiece over shiny, black vinyl pants and has some very bizarre red head dress on. The bass player has Gene-Simmons-style platform shoes on and would be about 4'5" without them.  The song is pretty good.  It is a goofy, catchy little tune and they do a faithful rendition of it.  The very best part is that they have a Key-tar player.  I love the Key-tar for the sheer badness of the concept.  Completing the performance is the Temptations-style choreography that is the perfect touch.  The crowd goes wild.  The cover is okay.  They definitely make the song over in their own style.  Where the original is a poppy little song the have made it a little more funky and have slowed it down. 

Howard Jones performing "No One Is To Blame" and covering "White Flag" by Dido

This guy is no longer sporting that overblown, big-hair, new-wave hairstyle he used to.  Thank God he has had the decency to let that go.  He has short, white hair that is fairly non-descript.  There is that weird little, psuedo-Mohawk bump running down the middle of his head though.  Whatever.  He dresses fairly hip.  The song is done pretty much straightforward.  It is okay.  His voice is just not all that great.  He lacks the charisma that can make a not-so-great voice work.  The catch up video shows that he has become some form of Buddhist.  I think it might be the Tina Turner kind.  I am freaked out a little by them because they were all over my campus when I was in college.  They seemed very cult-like.  Sort of like Moonies.  Anyway.  The cover song is okay.  I am not a fan of Dido.  Just don't get it.  This is just a so-so cover of a so-so song.  Really dull.  It sort of has that Coldplay feel to it and you don't want to know what I think of Coldplay.

Irene Cara performing "Flashdance (What A Feeling)" and covering "Out Of Love" by Anastasia

You know, she looks pretty good.  She has taken care of herself.  She is no longer waif-thin, Coco-from-Fame fabulous but she is doing pretty well.  She does not, however, have a terrific voice.  It is okay and the performance is very much like the original version.  The cover is very weird.  I think Anastasia was an American Idol contestant.  Maybe she won.  I do not know the original of this song but the cover does nothing for me.  She is making a debut with her new band.  She is joined by two, attractive women singers.  They seem to be a cross between Destiny's Child and En Vogue without the power.  They are all about the short skirts and high heels and kicky hats and belted jackets.  It is not really unattractive but it is not rawly sexual either.  The song features some singing by the other ladies and they seem to have better voices than Cara.  That is a good thing. It is also mercifully brief.

We took a poll among our viewing audience (T and myself) and voted for Cameo.  They did not win.  Irene Cara did.  I am not sure what show the audience was voting on but they were very wrong.  They should be ashamed of themselves.

So, as I said, this may end here and we may all heave a sigh of relief.  Next week's show is the deciding factor.  I am sure they are quaking in anticipation.  My seal of approval is very influential.

posted by: loosestring at 18:16 | link | comments (2) |

I just wrote and inadvertently deleted a very long post about "Hit Me Baby One More Time".  I am so irritated by my boneheaded move that I am going to wait until tomorrow to re-write it.  

posted by: loosestring at 07:53 | link | comments |

I loved them until they loved me

Four be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.

Four be the things I'd been better without:
Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.

Three be the things I shall never attain:
Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.

Three be the things I shall have till I die:
Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye

Inventory – Dorothy Parker

posted by: loosestring at 05:45 | link | comments (4) |

Your One-Stop Etiquette Source on the Internet

I have a gripe, a complaint, a pet peeve of a sort. 

I have tattoos.  Several tattoos.  They are in various places on my body including my upper arm, my shoulder blade, my lower back, my thigh and my ankle.  This being the season of warm weather, I tend to dress in less concealing garments.  I do not wear a bathing suit to do my shopping or for a night out on the town but a short sleeved top or tank top and shorts or a skirt will reveal several of these tattoos to the public.   I am not dressing provocatively, I am just attempting to dress appropriately for the heat and humidity that are inherent in the Chicago-style Summer.  I love the heat and even the humidity.  I like not having to bundle up in 2,486 layers and wait for my car to warm to a habitable temperature.  I look forward to the Summer.

The problem is this: people are obsessed with tattoos.  They ask questions.  The same questions over and over.

1. Why did you get that tattoo?
2. Did that hurt?
3. How many tattoos do you have?
4. Where are the rest of them?
5. What did your Mom/Dad say about that?
6. What does that (indicating Celtic knotwork armband) stand for?

This is annoying.  It crosses the boundaries of what passes for polite conversation in my book.  I will emphasize that these are perfect strangers.  People standing in the line at the grocery store.  People in the museum or park.  People with whom I have absolutely no in-depth relationship.  These are fairly personal questions.  I think that some of them are on a par with asking someone about their secrets.  Tattoos are a very personal choice. 

Then there is the constant inquiry about pain.  Let me say, once and for all, that it does hurt to have a tattoo done.  It is a relative type of pain though.  Not worse than childbirth, more painful than having your teeth cleaned.

The really aggravating thing is when people walk up and touch a tattoo.  It is on my body.  The fact that there is ink and a design does not make it any less my actual flesh.  I am right there where you are touching.  I have had guys walk up in a bar and run their hands over the one on my shoulder like that is perfectly acceptable behaviour.  I have had strangers on the bus or train touch the band on my arm like that is perfectly acceptable behaviour.  I have also had creepy, drunk guys grab my upper arm obstensibly to check out the tattoo but really just to run their hand along my breast.

I want this to stop. 

One could make the argument that tattoos are a form of body decoration that invites comment or attention.  One would be wrong.  Most of the people that I know that have tattoos got them for personal reasons.  Often they have meaning that is not something that you would share with strangers.  They do not void the need for personal boundaries or polite conversation.

posted by: loosestring at 05:16 | link | comments (7) |

Michael Jackson Acquitted of All Charges

I am really unsure of how I feel about this.  I have to say that I am generally not interested in this type of sensationalized, celebrity scandal.  I think you would have to have crawled under a rock for the past year not to be somewhat familiar with this case but I have not sought out the information.  Every time you turn on the television or log onto the computer or pick up a newspaper you could not escape the details.  It was everywhere.

I am usually unwilling to believe the worst about people.  I have some opinion or general feeling about certain people and I have a hard time changing that on the whim of a rumor.  For instance, when everybody was talking about how OJ killed the wife and the boyfriend, I just did not want to believe it.  Not just because my general feeling was that he seemed like a nice guy. (I never met him in person but he did not seem to be one of those people that had crazy drug rumors swirling around or at least not around anywhere that I ever heard about them)but also because I thought that it seemed like another case of a famous person having some ugly thing happen in their life and the media going into a speculation frenzy.  I thought that it seemed highly unlikely that he would have been involved.  Then he got in that white Bronco and the images of that were everywhere.  That was the act of a guilty man.

Similiarly, when the rumors started swirling around about Michael Jackson molesting little boys, I did not think it could be true.  I thought it was a combination of this oddball famous guy that people did not like because he did not fit precisely into a familiar mold and that he was rich and vulnerable to this type of craziness.  I did not think too highly of his music.  Not a huge fan.  But he had his audience and it wasn't hurting anyone.  The plastic surgery and the general air of behaviour that people did not think was normal was enough to make me think he was being unfairly judged.  Then he settled with that first kid and my opinion had some flaws.  Then he made babies with women that he did not want to live with - basically he bought the babies from them - this was getting weird.  Then the interview came out in which he stated that he thought sleeping in the same bed with children was acceptable anytime.  Those were the words of a man in some sort of crazy denial.  Someone with such a problem that they were rationalizing and tap-dancing to keep up the illusion of "normal".  He was starting to sound very guilty to me.

I really believe that, as one juror said, he molested some boy, somewhere, sometime.  Maybe not this boy.  The stories all seemed a little shady from both sides.  Even the abridged and fleeting versions of information that I was hearing seemed a little bit screwy.  There was a lot of misinformation being strewn about and character assassination from both sides.  Nobody seemed like they were telling the absolute truth.

I wonder why I have an opinion in this matter.  Michael Jackson is not someone whose music I admire or enjoy.  I have no particular feeling about him as a person.  I react to my belief that celebrities are unfairly targeted and made to live too much of the unpleasantness of their lives in the public eye.  The scandalous rumors about any celebrity live far longer than any reports of charity, kindness or happy events in their lives.  The public or the media or someone has decided that what we really want to hear about is the bad news.  Maybe it is meant to balance the seeming good fortune that celebrities enjoy.  They have lives that seem to be fairly easy and financially secure if not lavish.  We need to see that bad things happen to them and then we are supposed to feel a little bit better about our own non-celebrity lives. 

That is all the energy or thought I am going to put into this matter. 

I am sorry that somewhere there is someone who was probably molested by this man and they are never going to have an easy time should they choose to prove it.  The waters have been muddied by opportunistic freaks looking to cash in on this rumor.  The more times he is found innocent of this behaviour the more bullet-proof he becomes.

posted by: loosestring at 05:49 | link | comments (2) |

That Town

That town was a clumsy, immature lover

Careless with my affection

Heedless of my heart

Bruised hands

Blackened eyes

Skinned knees

Concussions

 

That town was a mind-altering substance

Warm, bright skies on fire

The smell of rain steaming off an August sidewalk

A thousand traveling faces

Clouds of verdant smoke

Paranoid delusions

Hangovers

 

That town was an eye-opening education

The beginning of the end of youth

Thousands of lost souls

Disregarded, burnt out,

Left behind, anesthetized

Angry, brutal

Menacing

 

That town was another place called home

posted by: loosestring at 18:06 | link | comments (1) |

My New Favorite Show

It is Thursday.  Or Friday depending on how you look at these things.  I mean, if you look at the little date header above this entry it says Friday, June 10th but it is not quite Friday as I write this.  Regardless, I have watched the latest "Hit Me Baby One More Time"  and we are going to review this puppy now.

The line up this week was awesome:

The Knack performing "My Sharona" and then covering "Are You Gonna Be My Girl?" by Jet

First thoughts on the initial appearance is that these guys actually don't look too bad.  None of them has gotten obscenely overweight or particularly bald. They look like rock and roll guys.  They look a lot like they did in the early 80's.  So far, so good.  Although the music is performed fairly well the voice is just weak.  Probably it was always weak.  I can't say I ever saw them live in their heydey.  I did own the album.  Most shows that they would have appeared on would have had them lip-synching.  They are not awful but they are not great either.  They have no rock and roll moves.  My favorite moment is during the little video  interlude when the singer says, "I am always thinking about writing new Knack songs."  Funny, I haven't heard anything from these guts lately.  I did see them doing the State Fair circuit a few years ago.  The cover of the Jet song is good music but bad/weak vocal, again.  This is a rocking song, lots of energy.  The words are fast, the singer is slowing it down with his phrasing.  Not in an effort to make it his own but because he just can't quite get up to speed.  He also does not know the words very well.  Even I cann tell that he is singing the wrong ones. My son asked why they would be performing this song.  I think they are trying to choose the genre that would most approximate where they were before in the music world.  This is a kicky, punch drunk howl of a song and so was "My Sharona" in it's day.  Unfortunately, this is not the day or the year for them to cover this song.

Haddaway performing "What Is Love?" and then covering "Toxic" by Brittney Spears

I will admit my ignorance connecting the artist with the song.  Of course, once I heard it, I knew the song.  I just never knew who sang it.  I was never going to be looking for the album so what did I care?  We all remember this song.  It is most easily recognized as the song in the Saturday Night Live skit where the two lame-o wannabe hipsters bob their heads to the beat of this song as they strike out time after time.  Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell. The intro video to the performance actually shows a clip of the skit.  Then the singer comes out and mock head-bobs in homage.  Just for a minute, but he definitely gets the joke.  He is pretty good.  The song sounds like you remember it.  The voice is strong and very clear.  This song was also an anthem in all the gay bars I ever went into around that time.  It is clear he had found his audience.  The video catch up shows that he owns some sort of retail business now, maybe a jewelry store.  He is also an avid golfer.  I did not realize that gay men golfed.  Gay women, goes without saying.  The Brittney cover is performed in imitation of the video.  He crawls/slithers out to the middle of the stage.  Once there he writhes and moans and grabs his crotch.  He has all of Brittney's moves down pat.  The unfortunate thing was that this song reminded me of karaoke at the gay bar.  There was always some 300 lb transvestite who needed to get up and sing a Cristina Aguilara song after the fifth cosmopolitan of the evening.  This was entertaining in much the same way.

Tommy Tutone performing "Jenny(867-5309) and then covering "Small Things" by Blink 182

You remember this song.  I think the video was played only slightly less often than the Flock of Seagulls video.  As they come to the stage, you can't help but notice that Tommy has gotten white Andy Warhol hair.  It makes him look slightly albinic.  Laboratory mouse.  This image is not lessened by the fact that he wears sunglasses all through the performance.  Maybe an homage to Corey Hart?  The voice is strange.  I am pretty sure he was never a great singer but his voice has not gotten better with age.  They do a pretty good version of the song.  The guitarist is sporting the hairdo that Richard Marx used to have.  It is a little odd.  They don't look old so much as washed up.  Like they should be playing a Holiday Inn lounge out by the interstate.  During the video interlude we learn that Tommy works writing software for an financial company.  For some reason, they show him with his guitar at work.  Like he need it to write computer code in a cubicle.  It is so very rock and roll.  The cover is bizarre.  Clearly this man has not figured out that this is a song for twenty-somethings.  Given that he is a forty-something, he is 20 years too late.  Maybe like that drunken, white trash uncle who was always trying to be cool by buying you and your friends beer.  It is creepy.  My son assures me that he has blown the lyrics and quite noticeably.  But he is grinning like he is down with the young folk.  He is really bad.  I am sure they could have made a better choice.

The Motels performing "Only the Lonely" and then covering "Don't Know Why" by Norah Jones

I remember this band when it was Martha and the Motels.  They had their moments.  Her voice is so-so.  She was never a strong, clear singer.  She is doing  a pretty good job with this song.  She has aged fairly well.  She looks cute, the hair is not old-lady.  She is wearing a long-tailed tuxedo jacket that is clearly meant to camouflage her booty.  It does the job fairly.  I can appreciate the need for the camouflage, it's not as if she has appeared in a muu-muu.  She still looks hip.  I must comment that it is just Martha.  There are none of the original Motels to be seen.  There is not really anything edgy or new wave about the version of this song that they perform.  The video interlude shows her doing theater at a supper club somewhere.  It is some sort of bizarre, Cirque du Soleil wannabe act.  Really strange but you do what you gotta do, right?  She looks vaguely embarassed during the interview.  So, I think she was trying to make the cover song over into something more in the kicky, new-wave style.  It just did not work for me.  They speeded up this dreamy, drowsy little love song and it lost all of the charm of the original.  I did not like it at all.  She would have gotten points from me because she was wearing Converse sneakers but anything she made up in wardrobe she lost in performance.  It sucked.

Vanilla Ice performing "Ice Ice Baby" and then covering "Survivor" by Destiny's Child

Okay, so this is the one with the most potential for amusement.  The man has made himself a walking caricature.  He does not disappoint.  While the song itself is true to the original if maybe a little updated to the current rap sensibilities, his antics are hysterical.  It is sad, sad. sad.  This white boy is not a gansta rapper and no matter how baggy his jeans are or how crooked his ball cap is, he is never going to be.  He looks as though he has consulted with Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit on wardrobe.  One question: what is with the towel hanging out of the back pocket?  It looks like the towels barbacks tuck into their pockets.  I kept thinking he was going to start polishing glasses.  I am amused to note the Lance Armstrong "Live Strong" bracelet at the end of his very tattooed arm.  It seems incongruent.  The crowd is loving him.  They are bouncing and singing along.  He ends with the line we are all waiting for: "Word to your mother".  The cover seems a bizarre choice (even in light of the Haddaway choice)but I assume that heplans to put his new-found gansta spin on it.  I am right.  The song itself is okay.  The choreography is just downright weird.  There are some moves lifted directly from the "Ice, Ice, Baby" video and then he is carefully performing some new moves to mix it up a bit.  He does have a backup dancer and a DJ.  This seems like kind of a small posse for a dangerous gansta rapper.  My son points out that he is wearing one leg of his pants rolled up a'la LL Cool J from 6 years ago.  But the crowd is loving him.  The crowd seems to be made up mostly of white twenty-somethings.  Maybe they have fond memories of the song from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle movie.  Anyway, awkard dance moves aside, the songs are probably the best of the bunch.  Before we go to the announcement of the winner I predict that he will win.  He does.  The money goes to the Make A Wish Foundation.  Good for them.

I found out that this show is only scheduled for a three episode showing.  I think they have decided to extend this given the reception.  They have been replaying the shows on Bravo, so if you miss it on Thursday they replay it a couple of times. Next week will be Cameo, Howard Jones, Irene Cara, Sophie B. Hawkins and Wang Chung.  I have heard rumors that they have Night Ranger coming up and I cannot wait to share my story about "Sister Christian".

posted by: loosestring at 07:35 | link | comments (2) |

I forgot the best part of this anniversary story.  The first thing I did when I got home yesterday was to launch into a tirade/lecture about how T had not dug up the dandelions in the backyard.  Just the type of thoughtful gift that every man is hoping to receive.