Month: January 2005

Debuted the Tapioca song last night; very much enjoyed doing that. Wrote another song “Lifeline”. When I emerge from the grip of my hormones I’ll blog some more.

2019 says I recorded Lifeline, here it is.

Our DVD player is having a Buffyverse induced Near Death Experience. Must Get Cleaner.

I’ll keep this short as I am working on a migraine and the screen is yelling at me to go away. Yet more Buffy; we watched “Crush” and the five of us (John had just got back from “Night and Gay” with the VLGC) delighted in the dialogue, which is pretty funny. James Marsters is not much of an actor, but that doesn’t prevent you from staring at him.

Paul and Keith and I vacuumed and carpet cleaned yesterday because the living room carpet was disGUSTing. Then the boys rearranged the furniture. As we have now given up on the notion that we are pretending we don’t watch TV (and we still don’t have cable) the chairs in the room now look at the TV, which is sitting in the fireplace (which doesn’t work because we’d have to spend an awful lot of money to get it to code). I like the image of a tv sitting in a fireplace. Suits me, somehow.

One of the benefits of the furniture rearrangement is that the living room now has enough space for Keith to do kata in, which he is doing; Kira just skulked off in disgust as he is bounding about punching the air and Kira is not at all convinced this is safe.

Off to Kinko’s or somesuch today to photocopy the Glorious Nosebleed.

Paul’s off to work.

I should find some other domestic project to do before I take off; the living room is making me feel all cheerful.

Rob and LJ over for supper last night. Everybody is in really good shape and we had a fine time.

Email fwded home from work….

All names redacted to protect the hoo hoo’s.

Subject: If you change the word “You” to “Beer”…

Did I ever tell you Beer’s my hero?

Beer’s everything, everything I wish I could be.

Oh, and I, I could fly higher than an eagle,

for Beer is the wind beneath my wings,

’cause Beer is the wind beneath my wings.

…

Oh, the wind beneath my wings.

Beer, beer, beer, beer is the wind beneath my wings.

Fly, fly, fly away. Beer lets me fly so high.

Oh, Beer, Beer, Beer, the wind beneath my wings.

Oh, Beer, Beer, Beer, the wind beneath my wings.

The temp said we should substitute “Weed” instead. Man, ya gotta love Vancouver.

Great concert, Tom L, Peggy, Tom U, Mike J and Agnes J in attendance. He did perform Michael, Michael, Michael and Berkeley Springs and a new waltz that had me practically crying, it’s so pretty. He also sang one song in French and did a ‘world premiere’ of a new tune.

The concert was recorded for Radio Canada and the APTN, so the Vancouver audience (I really like Vancouver audiences) was even more well behaved than normal. I only heard one cell phone go off but it was one of those subdued rings and it was during patter, thank god, and the person carrying the phone was obviously mortified… did I mention my cell phone went off during a fellow comedian’s spiel the other night? I was pretty choked, but she handled it very well.

I have a fairly full dance card today but Paul is wanting to top it up with a meal invite for somebody- he just hasn’t figured out who he wants to feed. Hope they like pork chops, whoever they are.

2019 sez don’t you love how Paul would just say OKAY YOU’RE COOKING DINNER FOR EXTRA PEOPLE and wow I’m not seeing much of a happy marriage here no matter how hard I look. but hey I smile and keep trying.

I am not feeling that sociable at the moment but I imagine I’ll perk up later. My right hip hurts so much it’s hard for me to think about anything else right now. I walked down to Farm Town to get bacon with Paul thinking that would loosen things up but I’m not happy now.

I’m shipping off my French books to Brother James (sometime) and the darnedest thing happened. I got to thinking I should look at them and found a poem in the back of Teach Yourself French Grammar. After I fix it I’ll post it.

I was going to say that this was a picture of the moose that bit my sister, but this would confuse the hell out of the people who don’t know I don’t have a sister and equally do not know that it is a Monty Python reference. This apparently is from ‘someplace in Canada’ which you will have to admit takes vagueness to a new realm. There are apparently other pictures of the moose standing in the kiddy pool before it decided to lie down. What is it with me and meese? Why do I love them so? It must be the rack.

my mom sez I really need to be more regular about posting… kay.

Had a massage at work today. I think it’s really cool that they’re doing that for us. Anyway, it’s midnight. Another low energy class – but the comedy was wicked sharper, kind of interesting that way. Bought rye bread at Cobs Bakery on the Drive, Keith says it is very good.

Pic is of my teacher. He doesn’t actually look like this very often. He has the most infectious snicker I think I’ve ever heard. He doesn’t laugh out loud very often but the snicker is extremely effective.

Street person asked me for money for food, so I handed over a free bun I got at Cobs. She actually thanked me (well, she said she was hungry, and it was a fairly substantial thing, whole grain and full of dates.)

Katie’s at Jana’s and Paul hasn’t come home from hanging around with Mike J – he said something about going for a beer after work. It is SO nice to live with a guy who does what he says. Mike J is such a positive uptempo kinda guy, it’s great that they’re holed up someplace comfy hangar flying, the way they always do when they get together.

later….

I guess I don’t have too much to say on the world today. Paul doesn’t want me to post any more pix of Katie as the world is full of stalkers and bad men. Okay. I guess when I have really cool pix of my daughter I’ll just say so and people can email me for copies.

The Gorey epic is in my hands (well, not literally, or it would be hard to type) and it really is a wonderful thing.

Off to Comedy class tonight and Don Ross tomorrow. We have 6 tix reserved. Paul managed to trade the night off so he’s going, thank goodness…. somebody has to pay for my beer.

I have rewritten The Tapioca song to tighten it up; I am SO looking forward to debuting it at the sing song on Sunday.

Did the Buffy obsession thing last night and watched the commentary version of the Restless episode (which for anyone who cares is the last episode of Season 4). I had really liked the episode when I saw it the first time but the commentary was like a revelation. Joss Whedon is one powerfully weird guy. Also read the synopses of the first Angel season and now understand why Angel was so very freaked out when he came back to Sunnydale after Buffy went to visit him in LA.

Thank you fellow Buffyverse denizens for your kind offers of loaning various seasons.

Came home last night and Keith was perusing all the juggling links I had forwarded from Rob of Nine, who seems to be under the impression that I can learn how to juggle. Three balls, two hours. (But what do the men attached to them think?) I know that juggling is exceedingly good for your brain – all the studies say so – very integrative, don’t you know – but these days my thought processes are a lot like a time lapse mpeg of a whacked beehive. I am not sure juggling is the right therapy.

I am typing with a grimace this morning, as I ‘unnecessarily mutilated’ my left index finger last night while slicing biscotti. (And I should learn how to juggle? Let me start with knives, or fire at very least). At least Paul will have biscotti to take in to his coworkers- that was the plan.

I suspect that the only thing wrong with me is hormones. I am at that weird twilight state where I am still a girl, but the testosterone is starting to kick in very hard and ugly from time to time; not that there’s necessarily more of it, there’s just less of the girl stuff. Perimenopause sucks a mop!!!! There, I said it.

More Buffy. We are now officially at the end of season 4. To deal with the fact that that kids raced on ahead I’ve now read all the synopses of the episodes up to the end of season 6.

I’ve only lost 5 pounds since my most recent foray into attempting to be healthier but all of my clothes fit better. I calibrated that hideous bathroom scale against the one at the pool and was pleased to discover that I had been unduly harsh on myself. No tattoo until I hit 155 pounds and stay there for a while. That’s my reward, at least one tattoo. I know that once upon a time I weighed 132 pounds (oh, and you should HEAR Katie roar on the subject of how unfair it was that I was ever skinny, which is pretty funny) but I have studied all the health stuff, and the goal is to get myself thin enough that diabetes, stroke and heart attack are removed as being red alerts and stay plump enough that (this line deleted, and you can probably guess why).

Tori, a goddess among women, has agreed to sell me the Glorious Nosebleed, her visual meditation on Edward Gorey, for an undisclosed sum and valuable considerations. Sue and Elizabeth are smiling, wherever they are. They are the folks who got my family into Gorey in the first place.

Off to Mike’s for a soak this evening; hope I find two minutes to work on my bits, I need another three for tomorrow night. “I see that the Vancouver cops have arrested a whole bunch of Hell’s Angels. I hear jail is just like the clubhouse but the TV isn’t as new. I mean, all the guys sitting around the TV are the same. The lawyers will argue that it was all a terrible mistake; how were they supposed to know they were bribing the wrong cops?”

“Valentine’s Day is hard on married people. After twenty-five years it’s hard to find a new way to say, “Thanks for helping with the mortgage. PS Did you take out the trash?”

I am getting campaigned on here, the kitties are demanding breakfast. Why don’t you just evolve hands and leave me alone?

(moderate calypso beat) If comfort food is what you crave

(mmmm tapioca)

Don’t cook tapioca in the microwave

(nooo tapioca)

My husband said “You’re crazy, I’m not eating that!” (no tapioca in the microwave)

“It could not be eaten by a starving rat!” (no tapioca in the microwave)

Tapioca, tapi-o-ca; no tapioca in the microwave x 2

Pulled it from the pot, it made a scary sound

(no tapioca in the microwave)

Bounced twice when I dropped it on the ground

(no tapioca in the microwave)

Tapioca, make you choke-a; no tapioca in the microwave x 2

Now double boilers may seem like a grandma thing

(no tapioca in the microwave)

Harder than waiting for the bell to ping

(no tapioca in the microwave)

I’ll call NASA with a great big smile

(no tapioca in the microwave)

I’ve got a solution for those thermal tiles (no tapioca in the microwave)

Tapioca, tapi-o-ca; no tapioca in the microwave x 4

2019 sez check out all the changes! took ‘crazy out’ and tightened all the verbiage for singability

Cute, hunh?

Kids watching Cowboy Bebop. Off to the Pool later. I am desperately trying to think of something funny to take to my comedy class. I am feeling about as funny right now as the proverbial rubber crutch.

The critter is a tarsier.

2019 deletes broken links regarding American economy

Okay, I am a freaking alarmist. I ask again… who’s gonna head for the exit first? The pressures on the US dollar are immense.

I hate my metabolism. I am the only person I know who can gain weight in her sleep. My husband says it’s because I keep waking up in the fridge.

REMOVED IN 2019 BECAUSE RACIST, HOLY SHIT

Much Buffyverse last night. Things are humming right along. A coworker says when that’s all done I have to see Firefly. I’m game. We’ve spent more quality family time since Christmas than we did the entire previous year. And no commercials; although it does make it interesting, the wrestling match for the remote when somebody wants to take a whiz or grab a bite or (as is actually more likely) the verdammt phone rings again. And again. And again.

We got a whole 6 hours of sleep last night. Without waking up. No biggee to you maybe, but it seems like we’re finally coming out of the slough of insomnia. Pic is something random.

1. Tie balloons to car.

2. Drive like hell.

3. Watch people freak out.

2019 sez this isn’t funny

I’m taking a little break from blogging this am – more this evening.

Pic is another one of Katie. Can’t get over how pretty she is; I have difficulty believing, these days, that I spawned her, but I do have a clear recollection of the event and the sequelae.

The planet sized coincidence that I referenced earlier, and could not talk about at the time, came to the Karaoke bar last night. I have now been in more interesting positions than the Kama Sutra, and usually without resorting to sex.

If anybody cares, I sang Norman Greenbaum’s Spirit in the Sky and Talking Heads’ cover version of Al Green’s Take me to the River. I hit most of the notes. My performance, if such it can be called, of Spirit in the Sky was rendered doubly agonizing by the dj pulling the plug on the power halfway through the song so I had to do it all again. People insisted! It was very funny. Karaokus interruptus can be a good thing I suppose.

Paul performed very creditably on Billy Joel’s You May be Right, (and he sure got a LOT of guys singing along with him) and then was horrified to learn that, due to the magic of Digital Signal Processing, he could have picked a different key. His lower lip protruded, trembling, for a moment, but he resolved to do better next time and has started compiling a list of songs he wants to do. I don’t even know what key I’d pick if I could, since I don’t read music. I just play guitar and invent songs and open my mouth and hope I don’t sound too much like the congress of a banshee and a rock crusher.

Props to Sabrina, who sounded bleeping awesome doing Van Halen fer gosh sakes. Found out that New York New York would have gone over well.

Did you know that Karaoke was actually invented in Taiwan? I don’t know whether to commend the occupants of that tiny hardworking island nation (screw the mainland, the Taiwanese ARE different) or commend them to the new subdivision going up in Hell.

One of my former coworkers, Neena, was there with a bunch of folks from Creo. Neena, not that you’re likely to read this, but your hunktastic boyfriend has a superb butt.

We closed the bar. I want you to know that it’s been at least 10 years since I closed a bar.

Mike sang Space Oddity and Tori sang Over the Rainbow and Angel by Sara McLaughlin. Note to self. Never do quiet tunes for Karaoke. It’s not worth it. The raucous songs do better with the crowd.

And what, pray tell, was the golden maraschino on top of the evening? They had LIONS WINTER ALE on TAP. We ordered two pitchers, which between 4 people isn’t much, and it was exactly the right amount for a good time and still be able to drive home. And what was the angel on the tree? We called Katie, whom we had dropped off at Janna’s, and she wanted to come home, so we fetched her.

I have a tremendous headache today, but no spinal involvement, so it isn’t a hangover. I get headaches when I scream, or sing loud. I did a LOT of screaming and singing loud last night.

Props to the guy from Creo who sang Oops I did it Again. We laughed until we cried. And to the guy who channeled Jim Morrison doing Love me Two Times, a simple ZOW will suffice.

 

Modern Drunkard reports that Jack Daniels Old No. 7 has had the alcohol content reduced twice over the last several years, while the company maintains the fiction that they continue to manufacture it in accordance with tradition. I am now a signatory to the boycott. Some of the boycott comments are quite amusing.

You are also invited to read (on the same site) the disquisition on alcohol and Star Trek.

So that bottle of Jack which we are very slowly finishing off will definitely be our last. Keith will be horrified.