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Saturday, February 26, 2011

Muzak-ak-ak-ak-ak

The mall muzak is totally tits.

While the three months prior to Christmas gave birth to the worst playlist ever amalgamated (really, how many Christian Aguilera Christmas songs does one suburban shopping mall need), January has sprung forth with all eighties...all the time.

Non-stop eighties could be something incredibly horrible. It could be a non-stop John Cougar Mellancamp and Journey thrill-ride. It isn't, though, and that's the most exciting part about it. I never thought that I would be the kind of person that would analyze what was being played in the mall for the thirty-five seconds it takes me to get from the mall entrance to the candle shop, but here we are.

Not only have I heard Thomas Dolby, A Flock of Seagulls, and this beauty from Dale Bozzio and her pals...


but I've also heard Echo and the Bunnymen more than once. Now, I know that I've written previously about how boring it is to hear about how people liked a band before they were mainstream, but I can't help but wonder what the hell Echo and the Bunnymen are doing in the mall at this stage in their career. They've got some serious street cred! Every Goth Kid, Hipster, Aging Goth Kid, Aging Hipster, and up and coming angst-wrought teen has listened to at least one song and connected to the writing and the tone that this band as created. Dustin and I even share a song. It's one of the 4.5 million songs that we identify with our relationship.





I can't imagine that when the band was writing "Ocean Rain," they envisioned what it would be like to listen to this while shopping for underpants and Very Bradley handbags.

Maybe tomorrow, on my way to work, the mall will be a flutter with Bauhaus, Joy Division, and Depeche Mode. I'm sure that that will be blend nicely with the Dog Bark-ery and the mall walkers. Best Blogger Tips

Friday, February 25, 2011

Le Yawn

A Short List of Things that Completely Bore Me

1. Incessant talk about your children. Really? I mean, you have nothing else going on in your life? Yes, I get it, a child has sprung forth from your loins. Do we have to keep talking about it? I'm sure you love your kids, but the world really does keep going around even when they're asleep.

2. Planning your life around a television show. I can't begin to explain the kind of rage/sadness/boredom that courses through my body when someone tells me that they can't go somewhere they want to go because there's a television show they NEED to watch. Unless that television show is going to tell me how to reunite The Smiths or pick winning lottery numbers, I'm pretty positive I could miss it. Besides, I'm sure you can catch next week's Jersey Shore for another load of homoeroticism from "The Situation."

3. Rachel Ray. I was going to say Kelly Ripa, but I feel as though Rachel Ray has got to be one of the most boring people I've ever come across...and yet, she has somehow managed to gain fame. If she were a color, she'd be ecru. ECRU!

4. Racism. I'm really tired of the notion that people are still judging others based upon their racial heritage. Historically, racism was fueled by fear of the unknown, but now we have the Internet...a device/medium that allows us to completely fill our minds with people, places, things, and perversions from all across the great big world. The unknown is known, so stop boring me with your archaic bullshit about people that look different from you.

5. Telling me about musicians, "Selling Out." I don't care if you knew the members of KISS when they were still breastfeeding, I'm not impressed by the notion that you're more than a fairweather fan. Most musicians/bands would be lying if they said that they didn't want to be rich and famous, so why does your opinion of their Sold-Out-Status matter? If the White Stripes had never released, "Seven Nation Army," I probably would have never heard of them, but because I started there, that some how makes my fandom less relevant? Fuck off.

6. Ed Hardy. Without even delving into the cultural significance of the ilk of individual that partakes in Christian Audigier's crapola, we really must address the obvious: that shit is ugly.
It doesn't even come close to having an alibi.

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Thursday, February 24, 2011

You Can Pick You Friends, and You Can Pick Your Nose, but You Can't Pick Your Parents


These are my parents: The lady on the right and the guy in the middle. In this photo, they're taking a segway tour through Gettysburg and they readily posed for this picture. Then, they showed it to people.Best Blogger Tips

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Petal Pushers

It's February and I'm ready for flowers. Last year was the first year, since I moved out on my own, that I was able to have any semblance of a garden. I was incredibly eager to plant and bought flowers in early April (too early): hardy Begonias that lasted through the growing season. I was so thrilled with their color palette that ranged from a deep blood orange to a bright and juicy lemon. Come to think of it, why is it that women talk about colors in such sexy ways? I don't talk about sex in such a sexy way, just saying (I think I almost look at sex as a science experiment or something). There have been a million studies and surveys about the way that women speak of colors while most men (well straight ones) tend to see things in terms of the primaries. When we talked about this in high school, I remember asking a male classmate what color he thought cerulean was. He looked at me like I just spat in his face.





Anyway (Nana's getting side-tracked), when the whether started to get warmer, I had Snapdragons, Petunias (including an amazing Creme Brulee Petunia that was this amazing tan and brown that I'd never seen before), Marigolds, these colored tree flower things that had a big and fancy name, some kind of colored leafy thing that got really huge and overtook the hanging basket, Basil, Lavender, Cilantro, Habanero peppers, Roma Tomatoes, and Red Peppers. Looking back, I had too many things for a budding green thumb's first try at an apartment pot-garden (not that kind of pot garden). The sunlight was too intense for some, I didn't have enough space for most of the plants, and the tomato blight did a number on my solitary tomato plant. It wasn't the most beautiful garden, but I was intensely proud of the things that did grow, and I learned a lot about gardening within my abilities.


Creme Brulee Petunia

Now that we've had one day above fifty degrees, my mind is already taking me to the time when I will bust out the potting soil and make the blessed trip to Bedner's Nursery in Cecil. I love the winter, the snow, the sweaters, the boots, the cold, and the sinus infections, but...when it's late spring and I get to walk through Bedner's with a cart full of flowers, I can't really think of a time where I feel more fulfilled and at home. Unless of course I'm at the Indian Buffet. I know that eventually my growing abilities will grow into my enthusiasm. Until then, I hope to listen to experienced gardeners, read lots of books, grow plants within my skill set and hope that my gram is giving me some luck: she was a lot better at this growing thing than I am.

Gram had an heirloom rose bush (with the most fragrant magenta roses I've ever seen), a huge lilac bush, a yard full of Tulips, Morning Glories, Catnip, Hostas, and one of those weird bleeding heart plants that made me uncomfortable when I was a kid. I mean, "Bleeding Heart?" It's spring...not Nuclear Winter. How morbid. I think that the thing that she really had, besides skill, was patience and contentment...and that's definitely something I'm lacking. This year, I hope that I grow along with my garden.

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The Kitten With Many Names. Day Five

Veruca


Turn Ons: Attention from the Other Cats, Passive-Aggressivity, Treats, Hiding Under the Daybed, Getting Lost in the Kitchen, Chasing the Broom

Turn Offs: Strangers, Being Pet or Held by Humans, The Vacuum, The Coffee Grinder



Veruca has several names. When I found her at PetSmart (I have since learned to not visit the orphan cats unless I want to become an animal hoarder), she was a demure little kitten. Now, she looks like a stout little linebacker, and she earned the name, "Kitten The Hutt." When we were thinking about names for her, Dustin wanted to name her Truckasaurus and I wanted to name her Doris. In turn, she's been Truckasaurus and Trucker...because Dustin won't let it go. Her official Christian name is Veruca, but we rarely, if ever, call her that. She answers to Kitten mostly...but secretly, I still want to call her Doris.

When I brought her home, she immediately adopted Bertrand has her mother (who wouldn't adopt that homo? He's like a big motherly queen.), and definitely turns to the other cats for affection and comfort when she's scared. She tries to cozy up to Vendetta, too, but usually that ends with an injury. She loves Dustin the most of the humans in the house, but tolerates me to pet her once a week...in his absence. When company comes over, she's a ghost. What a little turd. 

Kitten the Hutt is not amused with your antics.

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Sunday, February 20, 2011

Whole Lotta Charlotte. Day Four

Charlotte



Turn Ons: Petting and more Petting, All types of Human Contact, Cleaning Herself to Hairlessness, Petting, Cleaning herself, Petting and Digging her Nails into Flesh.

Turn Offs: Being Forced to Stop Cleaning Herself, Not Being Petted, Having to Share the Attention, the Other Cats.



When Dustin and I first saw Charlotte, she was in a cage at PetSmart. We didn't want any more cats, but we often went to look at her. After a month of her being in the same cage at the same PetSmart, we were concerned that she would never get a home. It seemed, to us, that cats never stayed that long at PetSmart. Dustin was steadfast in not getting another cat, though, so we didn't adopt her. I adopted her.

As a surprise for Dustin, I adopted her and brought her home. He acted sassy, but he loved having her and she loved being around us. As time wore on, she got weirder and weirder, though, and become moody and distant at times, while being needy and clingy at others. She started grooming and hasn't really stopped since. She's bald from the back legs down and has a bald patch on her side. We've tried almost every remedy we can think of, short of a lobotomy. As I always say, if I can't afford my own lobotomy, I'm sure as hell not getting one for the cat.

She's a sweet girl that makes every guest feel welcome by rubbing up against them incessantly and making us look like bad parents that never pet her. She also has that incredibly knack for cozying up to people that aren't that into cats. She's totally brazen about it, too, and you have to love that kind of moxie.

A Good-Looking Cat About Town.
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Gee, I think You're Swell-eanor. Day Three

Eleanor


Turn Ons: Agility, Avid Curiosity, Cheese, Catnip Spray, The Electric Keyboard, Cheese, Jumping on the forbidden counters and tables, Knocking things over, clawing inappropriate furniture, Chasing Bertrand, Cheese, and Very pleasant head scratches.

Turn Offs: Being Held, Not Having Cheese, Getting yelled at for scratching up said inappropriate furniture, Being Chased by Bertrand, and Dirty Water.


The Demure Trashcan Look.

When we got Eleanor it became a slippery-cat-slope. Dustin and I had made a habit of visiting cat orphans at PetSmart and Petco and when we spotted Eleanor, we were sort-of looking for a cat. She was playing in her cage and was able to completely pick up a toy and hold it with her paw. Dustin was completely in love with that, and the little diamond pattern on her nose. I knew that was it. When we were naming her, we put a bunch of names on post-it notes and decided whichever stuck to her, would be her name. Her middle name is Blanche, the second post-it that stuck to her. I often wonder if she's more of an Eleanor or a Blanche. What a lady.

Eleanor went through a stint of randomly pooping on things (unbeknownst to her)...which was really fun. She pooped on Dustin, which was incredibly amusing but kind of distressing, too. Just when we thought we were at our wits end with the bowel issues, it mysteriously cleared up. We still attribute it to that three-year Rabies vaccine they eventually took off the market.

Since the grossness subsided, I've really gotten to know Eleanor as our most cat-like cat. She's inquisitive, mischievous, cunning, intelligent, independent and defiant. She wants pet when she feels like it and doesn't care about my feelings. She's also incredibly secure and full of self-esteem. A real motivator.


Errrbody is so happy!



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