blaugra

Something Like 20 Questions

Is blogging dead? I don't think so. I just think it serves a different purpose now than it did in 2004.

Was it really such a shocker that Steve Jobs stepped away from his position at Apple? We all know he has cancer.

Could morning "news" magazine shows get any worse? They're basically two or more hours of commercials peppered with talk about the latest disappearance of a woman or tips on how to dress to flatter your figure and OK I GET IT I KNOW I SHOULD WEAR A BELT.  Just cinch it.

Who green-lighted the Glee in 3D movie?  Let's have lunch. This was my first 3D movie I had seen since JAWS 3 IN 3D and guess how long ago that was? The coolest things about the Glee movie were the sweet, sweet Warblers' appearance, with their microphones all sticking out in your face (ew.) And the confetti that seemed like it was falling on your head. The 14-year old me loved it but the cranky present-day me thought it was just a marketing gimmick.

What the hell is finance? I guess I'll find out because my class starts next week. I even had to buy a special calculator. The professor said not to worry, we will learn how to master it. I guess it's time I got a calculator that is not my phone.  I still think it's kind of nerdy.

If you're a really good carpenter or electrician, lemme ask you: when did you know that you wanted to be a really good carpenter or electrician?  What led you to that career?  Did you have a burning desire to make things? Right now I'm sort of fascinated with the trades like that. Is it too late for a career change? And are there any female electricians? Apparently not in my city.

Why was I such a good rollerskater when I was 11 but I can barely stand on rollerskates now? I can ice skate, but I can't roller skate now. What the fuck?

This is my favorite skating song. Of course I skated to the Sugarhill Gang version before the Fresh Prince ruined it FOREVER but this one is pretty righteous:

Kiss Today Goodbye

This morning in the shower while washing my hair (please do not visualize this) I was singing along to A Chorus Line original Broadway cast recording.  Specifically, Sing!  

I just sang Al's part that goes "... Dance...Pants...Wing...Chirp...Twerp...Ping!" and "Ding-a-ling..." which, yes, was performed brilliantly in the "Duets" episode of Glee (which is re-running next week, I think.)

I love this show. I've never seen it on Broadway. Several of the songs make me maudlin. At The Ballet gives me goosebumps. The lyrics are tremendous. I'm not going to sing them for you here. I sing them in the shower or the car.

I'm a horrible singer and was only a slightly better dancer.

In my high school glee club spring concerts I was usually placed as a BACKGROUND DANCER. We didn't perform full musicals, just a number here and there. Never from A Chorus Line. I think Dance: 10, Looks: 3 would have sent us to endless detention. So to be considered a good enough singer to simply spin around upstage, well, that was special.

My mother took a bus trip to New York City when I was 9, and she went to see the original cast of A Chorus Line. She came back with the LP (that's a long-playing vinyl record) and I played it endlessly. And "I used to dance around the living room." doo doo doo doo

If you dig it, this movie is a good story from a few years ago, of remounting A Chorus Line, how the new cast relates to the original cast, on whose stories the musical was really shaped.

The song that's the most beautiful and resonating and bittersweet is What I Did for Love. Recently I watched this video of Idina Menzel just killing it (although sounding a little rushed by Marvin and it's not as good as her Defying Gravity performance at this same presidential event.)  Go ahead and geek out to the show tune:

 

Miller Lite

I went to a show of U2's monstrous spectacular tour-de-force. And it was. I met up with a friend I haven't seen in a year, at her home in Maryland. She and her husband have a cute dog - he's got a big barrel-shaped body and a tiny head, I think they've had him on a diet.  She said the dog's name is Miller.

I'm like, "Miller is a last name, or an occupation, why is that his name?" and she said, "You know...Miller Lite."  Oh yeah, Miller beer. Right. It's a beer belly. I walked into their house and it was like a shrine to Miller Lite beer.  Her husband demonstrates brand loyalty.

Then we packed up her car with a cooler of Miller Lite and two bags of chips and sandwiches and headed to the stadium and "tailgated" among the other fans, the Blackberry/Sprint tents, Amnesty International tent, ONE campaign tent, and a huge amount of security including eyes in the skies.

I last saw U2 during the Unforgettable Fire tour in....um....I don't know.  I couldn't drive to it, I know that. And in recent years I haven't been a huge fan of their music. In fact, the most recent two albums bummed me out.

There are tons of oooh-aaaah posts and photos about the shows, the set list, the sets.  But I'm here to show and tell you what I saw and heard.

Standing under the giant spaceship set, 30 minutes before showtime. I can not stress how amazingly amazing this set is. Even if you dislike the band, if you have any interest at all in sets, lighting, sound, engineering...go you must.

We had tickets in the (RED)Zone which means we were on the floor, but not in the inner circle. One of the benefits of (RED)Zone tickets was "your own private bathrooms" which I was REALLY excited about.  I thought they would be one of those really nice trailers with real bathrooms in them, rolled out onto the football field. No, a line of port-a-potties so we didn't have to walk up stairs.  A good thing because we also had personal Guinness vendors which dammit I couldn't deal with because I

Do you wanna touch me? Yeah. Oh, yeah.

I saw this photo in the news today and was, like, wow, THAT'S what Joan Jett looked like last night?  Because what I saw was like a little gray insect with a whiter-than-white dot of a head. 

The horrible seats are not the worst part of Musikfest shows.  Or the fact that we bought our $50 tickets at 10AM on the day they went on sale to the general public, because we were too "cheap" to join the special club that costs an extra $200 for the privilege of buying tickets earlier to get better seats.  Or because the high-priced VIP section in the front was half empty, populated only with people who were related to corporate sponsors and not really into seeing Joan Jett.  Or because it was so bright and sunny at 7:15 when Joan's show started that the jumbo video screens weren't visible. Or the two big freight trains that rolled by on the tracks next to the field.  Or the bugs swarming from the stagnant canal next to the tracks, demonstrating why the venue is nicknamed "Mosquito-Platz" and making me all scratchy today.  Or the two-mile walk to the damn place. Or the port-a-potties that smell like urinal-cake and drunken piss and guys who don't lock the door lock so innocent women with active bladders like me open the door to see one of them peeing. 

No, none of those things are the worst.  Not when I was unabashedly shaking my rump, as it turned

Now, I know.

I got a new widget.  Do you see it, at the left?  The one with the world map?  I need to learn more about world geography because I keep screwing up all the countries in the middle east.  Wait, I can't take full responsibility for THAT.   I also always, always get confused in South America.  And not that I think the United Nations is visiting this little site, but I do know that people hit on it all the day long for one reason or another.  So I waited to see where the people came from.  I was expecting New England, the Midwest...but not Serbia.  And sadly, I didn't even know exactly where Serbia was.  Now I'm on a quest to learn about Serbia, and why they're interested in Eddie Vedder.

on the DL

At the Dalai Lama's lecture this morning, I had so many monkeys in my mind I could barely focus.  I'm not attempting to be Buddhist or even enlightened but was curious about seeing the spiritual leader of Buddhism so I can round out my religious education a little.  I've seen the head of the Catholic church, Il Papa, zooming through the piazza at the Vatican in his popemobile.  And for Judaism, well, I have my mother-in-law.

I'll talk about emptiness and happiness another time.  This is what was really going on in my mind:

9:30 am :  HOLY shit, that's the freakin' Dalai Lama.  Where's Adam Yauch?  I bet he's here somewhere. I can't believe I'm checkin' out the Dalai in the same arena where I had front row seats for Adam Ant. 

9:37 am :  Wow, this chanting bit is going on too long.

9:42 am : Chanting is done.  HHTDL said to the chanters, "Thank you. A bit long." Hey, he's funny!

9:56 am:  Oh piss it, he's speaking in Chinese.  Wait, an interpreter.  Can't hear interpreter.  OK that's better.  Even spiritual leader types have technical difficulties.

10:05 am:  What's with all these people arriving late?

10:06 am:  What's with all these people getting up and leaving?

10:07 am:  Why would you wear high heeled white mules to see the Dalai?  OK, focus.  Karma, wisdom, suffering.  OK. Let me write those words down...

10:08 am: Wow, all those monks in saffron colors are so pretty.  Those would be great colors for a dining room.

10:25 am:  Why can't people sit still?  Seriously. Why did you come if you were just going to get up to go get coffee, sit down, then get up again to go to the bathroom.  OK, focus.  COMPASSION.  Write it down. 

10:30 am:  These bleachers are cold and my sit-bones hurt.  My yoga teacher said that, "sit bones," I love that.  Maybe I should go back to yoga.

10:34 am:  I smell B.O. wafting up from smelly hippies, and the guy behind me is eating something crunchy out of a crinkly bag, and the freakin' Dalai Lama is speaking.  Didn't he have breakfast?  Geez! Has he no respect?  Seriously.  Am I taking this too seriously?

10:45 am:  HHTDL makes jokes.  This guy's hilarious.  But could he tell me to calm down?  Could he just say into the mic, "Laura, be calm?"

11:00 am:  Why do people have to wear clothes that jingle-jangle with every movement?   Plus, I'm hungry.  But I had breakfast.  Gum, where is my gum?

11:03 am:  Where is everyone going?  Arrive late, leave early?  What the hell are you all doing here if you're not going to listen?  Settle down people!   OMG I'm SO irritated!!!   Laura, settle yourself!

11:10 am:   I really feel like this treatise thing is really repetitive.  Oh, look, a girl wearing a Burberry schmata!

11:13 am:  I think one of the monks on stage is asleep. That's funny.   Wait, what was that he just said about "contaminated karma?"  Fuck. I have to get out of here. STOP CRINKLING YOUR SNACKS.  A girl just fell off her flip-flops on the stairs and sprained her ankle.  Serves you right for leaving early.  OOOH that was NOT compassionate!

11:20 am:  I really really have to get out of here.  I hate everyone and my ass hurts.

11:27 am:  Dalai's funny.  He just finished up a bit about afflictions and then he said, "OK.  Break!"

Now we're on lunch break.  THANK GOD. I can't eat lunch here.  It looks crappy and there are waaaaaay too many lines.  I have to get out of here, I can't breathe.  I can't breathe  - I CAN'T BREATHE!

I left my friend with another friend (so I didn't just bail on her) and drove away to the familiar, where I could be alone and with some iced coffee and sushi and I contemplated a cookie in the shape of a flower with orange sprinkles on it.  Next time I go to see a big spiritual honcho, remind me to pack my klonipin.

another one from the fruit basket

I work with lots of different groups of people.  There are those with whom I'm formal but personable, and those with whom I'm loose and crass, and everything in between.

I was at the workplace of a fellow with whom I'm professionally casual, and he's dad-like toward me.  So there's a comfort level, but also a boundary.

He picked up a banana and said, "Do you want to split this with me?"

Noooo...

"Aw, come on.  It's good for you!"

I know, I just don't like the bananas all brown-spotty.

He peeled the banana and showed me, "Look, it's fine, it's not bruised!  Have some!"

Banana pusher.

The sight and smell of an overripe banana is so unappetizing, unless you're going to make pancakes with it.

"What's your problem?"

I really don't like soft bananas, I don't like the texture.

"Oh, I know, you like 'em HARD.  Heh, heh, heh, heh"

Now with other people I have fun with in other workplaces, I might retort with a sophomoric, "That's what she said."  But this banter was not in our usual rep.  I gasped and walked away, I didn't want to go in that direction with him.  He said, "You started it! heh heh"

Now how did I start that?

My little heaven

Today is my anniversary of wedded bliss with Salty D.   

In all the years we've been stuck to each other, we are fortunate to have laughed ourselves silly far far many more times than we've wallowed in misery. This is a good marriage. 

The only major conflicts and fights we ever have are about finding parking spaces. Everything else is easily resolved now.  It took a few years to get that right.  I'm not sure we'll ever get the parking lot fights resolved but it ain't worth going into therapy. 

So I feel kind of sad for people who break up after a year or so of marriage because "It didn't work out" or "It was too hard."  If you have a good thing before you move in together and sign papers, then you need to give it more of a shot than just a few months. That's my sweeping generalization.  Relationships are hard, just like life. 

Celebrities, I'm not talking to you, because if you didn't do shotgun weddings and divorces six months later the magazines would not hold my interest, so, keep it up. 

We decided to stop buying each other gifts.  Today, D. says "it's all about the boobies." 

We're going on a poker run/bike rally for Breast Cancer.

Last nite we went out so he could get the best veal parmagiana in the whole wide world - yes, just a mile from our house - and I had a piece of chocolate cake that the owners made that was the most incredible slice of chocolate heaven EVER.

Later today we're going to see a band at a tavern and some guy named Tommy Ramone is gonna be there.  I'm pretty sure my intestines will fall out of my body when I see him.  So, that will be a good time for sure.

And now I'm running late as usual, so I must make myself suitable for D. and his mistress (the motorcycle.)

I got mad dance skills. Not.

During one of my over-ambitious moods I registered for two evening classes.  Yoga, and Flamenco dance.

Not one of my wiser decisions.

Yoga is on Tuesday evenings.  It's fantastic, focused on flexibility and relaxation, nothing too taxing, feels like a massage. 

Beginner's Flamenco is on Wednesday evenings. 

Doing them at the same time is really confusing me.   

Yoga requires grounded feet, balanced.  Barefoot, quiet, soothing.  Flamenco is all about the balls of your feet and making lots of noise with your heels and trying to coordinate your arms one way and your feet another. 

I'm running into the same problems I did with tap class.  When the instructor says to me, "Use the BALL of your foot, not the TOES!"  I'm like, my toes are my ball.  My abnormally small feet are retarded.  In tap, I couldn't make the right tappy sounds because of that.  Then again, a bum mechanic blames her tools.  In the middle of my first Flamenco class, I got so frustrated. 

There were real dancers there, wearing loud Flamenco shoes and cute Danskin ensembles.  I should have just shown up in full costume, I would have felt less ridiculous than posturing in my frumpwear. 

The teacher, at our first class, shows us a cool combination move, then she's gets all Debbie Allen, going "and a 5-6-7-8!  GO!!"  and all the Danskin girls are stomping toward the mirror with attitude all over their faces and perfect steps like they're freakin' Carmen. 

THEN...there's me, hiding in the back, flailing about and tripping on my feet.  "Stick out your chest!"  Ok, I got that part.  I also mastered the Flamenco fingers, so when in doubt, stick out the chest and do the fingers and fake the rest.  Am I the only beginner here?

I've taken lots of dance classes - ballet, modern, ballroom, tap, square (my youth group in church held square dances - I know, it's a miracle I didn't marry a cousin considering the way I spent my teen years) - and yet the only dance I've mastered is the one where you get up on the bar, raise your arms and yell Whooooooooo!   

The really excelente thing about the class is that I can't think of anything else when I'm trying not to fall on my ass. 

I admit that one reason I decided to take Flamenco is so I can get the cool dress someday. 

elements of the ridiculous

I went for my pre-beach pedicure.   And I'm SUCH a spaz. 

As I unzipped my Uggs, I apologized in advance to the nail technician for my pre-beach pre-wax hairy legs so that she wouldn't go into shock.  She kept her professional cool, but the other clients were horrified.

I spilled my refreshing mineral water all over the nice girl getting her own pedicure next to me.   She said it was OK, but I know what it feels like to wear wet denim.  It was so not OK.  Then everyone laughed at me because I neglected to bring my own flip-flops and I had to leave the salon to go to work, and I could not shove my abnormally small feet into my Ugglies for another hour or so. 

Therefore, I had to walk through slush and ice in those awkward, really thin pedicure shoes that were like made for size 9 feet. I tripped all over the sidewalk and my pretty little christmasy red toes turned blue.

I decided I should go to Target to get all the last minute items for my trip to Mexico and Christmas that I needed.  As usual, when Christmas shopping I see too much fun stuff to give myself. 

I had to try on a pair of silver leggings on sale.  I thought, how glam-rock chic are these!?!  Maybe, just maybe, I needed them.

Fortunately, they did not fit.  Look how I'm trying to make them seem slightly attractive.   Look how stunted my feet are.

Then, I noticed all the crap that manufacturers say "makes a great gift!" 

Like the Listerine Teeth Whitening Kit. Gee...thanks for thinking about my stained teeth, Aunt Mary!   

There's a house near me that is THE number one holiday light display in the eastern half of the state.  But during the daylight hours, it just looks like a troubled, slightly insane person lives there, someone like Edward Scissorhands (but without the blades for fingers because then he couldn't do all the intricate wiring):

Finally, another sad development in outside Christmas decor - the deflated inflatables!

Santa's not dead - he's just resting.