Analyst Is Typing

Random, Random, and Random...

• I was in an "online chat" with one of those automated "online chat" customer service machine thingy's this morning. I would have called an actual person (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA--oh, sorry...I'm sure that somewhere, within that company, an "actual person" speaks to customers...I wasn't implying....oh, fuck it, yes I was...), but when I called them, it was "all lines are busy". Wow....a major company that doesn't answer it's phone...must not be a lot of competition if they think they don't have to talk to people. BUT ANYWAY...on the "chat" with the computer, long periods of NO conversation took place while "Analyst is typing" appeared right above the dialogue box. The analyst is a very, very, very, very, very sloooooooow typer. Also, because the analyst is a machine, and I am what you might call a "conversational" writer, I was all, "Hey, can you get me an itemized list of that charge on my bill?" but I think the machine interpreted that to mean "Go to a high bridge and jump off." I momentarily entertained the idea of messing with the machine by continually typing "RedRum!", but, on the off chance that "Rosario" was an actual person, I refrained.
• OH! There is a new Elvis Costello album out! Woooooo-Hooooooo! It's super-good...If you're reading on blogspot, see the linky-doo on the right side of the page to listen to bits of it. For the rest of you, go here for Secret, Profane and Sugarcane.
• Last night, I was actually watching paint dry. Woooooo-Hoooooo! Paint drying! Um, yeah, sorry...but anyway! When I moved into my apartment, I bought a gallon of high gloss paint in a color called Bitter Chocolate. It is the darkest, richest, brown paint in the history of brown paint. Damn, I love Behr. As I buy things or find things for the apartment, a lot of them are getting painted Bitter Chocolate. The 20 dollar unfinished dressers from Ikea? Bitter Chocolate. Kitchen Shelves? Bitter Chocolate. Curtain Rods? Bitter Chocolate. Wooden tray that I bought 20 years ago? Bitter Chocolate. Baby blue bookcase found at a Junior High School building auction? Yeah--that ugly thing was the first to be transformed. I really, REALLY love the unified look of things--it's freaking Gorgeous, OK? Very calm, very zen...Plus, I got my curtains up--kind of a natural-colored linen tab curtain, also from Ikea, and they are fabulous. I got a couple of paintings up (including "perros con sombreros"--oh, the whimsy...!) and it's starting to look like a really cool place. I LOVE my apartment. LOVE it!
• If you're looking for a little light reading, check out "How the Beatles Destroyed Rock n Roll: An Alternative History of American Popular Music". OK, maybe it's not "light" like you are thinking "light". Maybe the handsome heroes in the book are actually some of the so-called "bad guys". Maybe there are no "romantic" sex scenes like you might find in your other summer beach-reading materials. So what? How could you possibly resist that title?
• I'm thinking I might eat nothing but chicken burritos and watermelon for the duration of the summer. Just sounds good for some reason.
• OK, I might throw in an occasional hunk of beef, but not a burger--gotta be prime rib or a steak or something...girl needs her protein you know.
• Please, no dirty jokes about "girl needs her protein". Thank you.
• Wait, wait...I happen to know that a couple of you, at this very moment, are doing the "Girl needs her protein" nudge-nudge thing while you sit in your comfy chairs with your filthy minds. Let me just take this opportunity to say one thing: OhMyGawd I love you sick fuckers...

Self-Imposed No Fly Zone

Wow--it's been a weirdly invigorating couple of weeks.  I don't know exactly how to describe it.  One little thing happens, and that little thing reminds me of a rush of other things that happened 20-odd years ago, all of which are just like something that is going on right now, only now I know better, because I already went through this exact thing, 20-odd years ago. 

 

The difference being, I was a complete idiot then, and now I'm less of an idiot.  I hope.

 

 

It's like a million little puzzle pieces are falling into place, and an actual picture is forming.  Not a moment too soon!  I've been wandering around, wondering "WTF?" for a couple of years now...I'm glad all of those past experiences, in which I had originally self-destructed (with the help of copious amounts of alcohol and sex), are sort of playing themselves out again--I didn't ask for a re-do, but I guess I get one, and that is cool.  I'll do better.

 

 

Unfortunately, again, these are things that don't get blog coverage--the back-stories are too long and complicated, and, in the interest of privacy of the parties involved (ahem...we were up to some SHIT, is all I'm sayin'--things I will not be sharing with my children, unless maybe Dr. Drew gets involved...) we'll refrain from telling the "real" stories...

 

...though you may find me tip-toe-ing around the fringe from time to time. 

 

Besides, it would take me months to introduce all the characters.  I was actually telling one of the stories to someone who KNOWS many of the parties involved and even they went a little blank on the significance.  No matter--it all makes sense in my head. 

 

To my dear friends, let me just say that if and/or when you all become my novel, NO, you may not have royalties, and also, I'm sorry.  So very, very sorry.  We were too interesting.  Please don't kill me for not doing a better job disguising your identities.  Oh, and also, Robert Pattinson is too pretty to play any of you in the movie.

Reason #22 Why I Might Be A Bad Influence On My Children

I attended a high school choir concert with my daughters this weekend--it wasn't their school, and none of us knew anybody in any of the choirs, it was just a "thing" we had to do for school, cuz they get credit in their music classes for seeing other live performances. Last semester, the credit came from seeing The Academy Is and We The Kings at the Cabooze on Halloween night.

No, that's not Reason #22.


The concert was of the "pops" variety, where instead of requiring the discipline of traditional choral arrangements, they let those whacky kids play around with popular music.

16 songs into it, there was an intermission.


Let me say that again. SIXTEEN songs into it, there was an intermission. Sixteen songs was about half.


I'm not entirely sure about this, but I believe that you can go to see the Rolling Stones and not expect 30 songs....so it would seem that for some reason, the choirs around here just like to show off. I mean, the Rolling Stones can play their whole damn library in one shot if they want to and nobody's going to bitch--they're the Rolling Stones. They've earned it.


ANYWAY...



There were some truly delightful highlights. And there was some dumb stuff. Think Glee Club Corny. It's a high school pops concert, what-are-ya-gonna-do?

The 16th song, the last one before the intermission, was 'Livin' On A Prayer', which I consider to be one of the stupidest songs ever. I don't really care that pretty much everyone in Bon Jovi can retire because of how hugely successful that song is, and good for them, but, I think that particular song is far too corny for human consumption and should not be performed by anyone, anywhere. Ever. It should also never again be played on a radio, or on anyone's car stereo within my earshot.

But that's just me.


On this beautiful Saturday afternoon, the sun was shining, and it was warm and gorgeous outside. Inside the auditorium, shivering at the hands of some sadistic maintenance person who opted to set the air temperature to "bone chilling", I sat watching a large group of high school students in costume, singing AND DANCING to 'Livin' On A Prayer'. I sat mostly still through the entire song--didn't pull out my phone and text people about the horror of the moment with any "OMG, they're singing f*cking Livin' On A Prayer'" or anything like that. I was a very good girl...very respectful. It took every ounce of strength in my body.


After the students cleared the stage, I leaned over, looked at my daughter and said, "Yeah....we need to ditch..."


To which she nodded and definitively replied, "Yeah."


We got up and left, weaving through a lobby full of people who were all happy as banana cream pie to be there and (mostly rightfully) proud of their kids, hoping they wouldn't notice us hurrying toward the nearest exit. Once we were back in the daylight and I was sure none of the performer's parents were anywhere nearby, I exhaled my distaste, threw the kids in the car and took them to a fast food restaurant, where we laughed about the concert and also about the dude who hit on my at the ketchup station, as the children described a scenario of hooking up with someone you met at Burger King and therefore having to go back there every year on your anniversary. God, I love my children. We have a lot of obligations--school stuff, work stuff, family stuff, friend stuff. Sometimes, it's nice to be able to call something "Lame" and blow it off, together, eat food that's not good for us and see which one of us can be the snarkiest. This is my family. My beautiful, beautiful family.