Quodlibets

Small Note

To Mavis:  Yes, yes, I think I might die of excitement if it were an Obama/Edwards ticket.  I don't want to think about it, because it makes me feel like I might pee my pants or fall over from happiness or start singing loudly in public or acting like a lovesick fool.  In the long run, it might also be very, very bad, because I'd be so VERY attached to that candidacy that it might be a set-up for a heartbreak.  It might be out of control.  It might make me crazy.  I can't say, because as I said, I'm totally avoiding that thought.  I'm pretending that the likely veep is Biden, and that's keeping me sane.  It's totally pretending, because who the hell knows?  Obama doesn't even have NH in the bag yet.  Sigh.  I'm thinking about politics far too much. 

Happy Rock Band Holidays!

This will go down as the family's rock band Xmas.  My brother and dad have the new game, and boy howdy, it's fun.  I personally prefer to be the singer, and I did some singing today.  My sister filled in on drums and guitar, as did the brother.  The dad stuck to bass and guitar.  Seems no one else is brave enough? to sing. 

I think I've badgered my brother into giving his old Xbox 360 to Sam, but really it's for me.  I want to get Rock Band and spend hours singing.  I can't lie.  I absolutely love it.  It's not like karoke AT ALL, because a) no audience of strangers, b) there's a real voice singing behind you and c) everyone else kind of sucks at their instruments too.  Plus, they're all concentrating on their notes, so they're not paying attention to you.  I.  LOVE.  IT.  I'm going to splurge, I think, and get myself Rock Band as soon as it can be found in a store.  Is this a dumb idea, considering I don't want the other instruments?  Just the mike, please.  Maybe.  But I'm not sure I can be dissuaded just yet.  We'll see.

Anyway, hope your Xmas was as rockin' as ours!

A Joke

A joke told by a flight attendant upon landing in Chicago:

Papa Bear and Mama Bear are getting divorced.  During the custody hearing, the judge asks Baby Bear, "Baby Bear, do you want to live with Papa Bear?" and Baby Bear says, "No, because he beats me."  So the judge asks, "Baby Bear, do you want to live with Mama Bear?" and Baby Bear says "No, because she beats me."  Exasperated, the judge says, "Baby Bear, who DO you want to live with?" and Baby Bear says "The Chicago Bears, because they don't beat anyone."

Welcome to Chicago, folks!  Seriously, it's good to be back home, even if the Bears suck.  My eyes always devour the city on return from anywhere not here, and this time was no different, even in the drizzle and dark.  I'm sorry there'll be no Progress Report Monday, but I will definitely post that tomorrow, although it'll be night before that happens.  But then regular posting should resume on Wednesday.

My packing list

No, just kidding, I do not think you would like to read that.  But the fact remains that I haven't made one for this trip, and I'm not sure if that's because California doesn't seem like a whole other place where they might not have your stuff, and last time we traveled we went to a place that was a whole other place that definitely wouldn't have your stuff and where am I?  Oh yeah, it doesn't seem so imperative to list when you're going somewhere that can provide everything you could possibly need.  And we'll have access to those places that will provide for our needs.  So yeah, anyway, I'm going listless.  For those of you who know me, this is like other people shooting up heroin and having sex with five people in one night.  It's risky behavior, and I'm sure when I don't have, say, underwear, I'll be sorry for it.  No, that probably won't happen.  It won't be underwear I forget.  It'll be something else completely necessary and completely irreplaceable, something that I can't think of right this moment.  Sam, maybe.  I'll forget Sam.

Anyway, as you can tell, I am traveling.  And usually, I am against traveling with my laptop, but what with the fantasy football and the blogging, I find myself not wanting to beg computer time from Sam.  I went out and bought a foam sleeve thingy, so I can slot my mac right into my normal carry-on (the computer drastically reduces the amount of book space, which is depressing.  What if I finish one book and bring the wrong replacement.  I usually carry 5-6 books around on any given day, just to make sure I've got the right one around.  This computer?  MESSING THAT UP.), and so that it will be easy to pull out and have x-rayed.  And then in CA, there is the magical thing called wifi that will enable me to jet-laggedly post when we land.  So never fear, fresh entries for all the days I'm gone.  I only mean fresh as in new, you understand.  I can't promise anything original and exciting.

Oh, and don't tell me to put books in my suitcase.  I know that; I will definitely be doing that.  But when you're strapped into your airplane seat and looking at dismay at the book in your hand and your other 5 books are in your luggage somewhere in the belly of the beast, there's not much you can do.  And I'm in the utterly sucky position now of being in-between books, which means I could bring two stinkers on the plane and moan pitiably about how sad my life is.  Poor Sam, is what you're thinking now.  And you're not wrong.  I'm not good with the planes.  The book thing?  Only making it worse.  Cross your fingers and hope I make the right selection.  It's so much pressure.

Saturday morning tidbit

Guess what's rocking the EfroMano household right now?

If you said "Lily Allen", you win.  If nothing else, maybe I can exhaust this album by listening to it exhaustively.

Sigh.  I'll bet you in 12 hours, I'll still be hearing Lily Allen in my head.

Maximum Xmas enjoyment

Did anyone see the footage (on the news, I would guess) of the incredible back-up on 88 last night?  All because the outlet malls at 88 and Farnsworth opened at midnight to offer deals.  Sam and I had wondered who in the hell would shop at midnight on Thanksgiving, and I guess the answer is, all of Chicagoland.

I don't shop on Black Friday.  I did go to the grocery store to get a roll so that I could make a turkey salad sandwich (delicious, by the way; not quite as tasty as chicken salad, but an able stand-in) and drink some D to the C, but that was the extent of my venture into the shopping world.  S works retail, and I talked to him around one.  He said the store was very, very slow; his workplace isn't in any sort of shopping district, so I can't imagine many people are flocking there.  For the three years I worked retail on Black Friday, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I almost liked it.  Retail is a pain in the ass when people are assholes and you're busy, but there is an adrenaline rush to working that kind of rush.  It is what it is.

In fact, my nod to the Xmas season is the growing pile of ornaments at my house, and the Xmas music happily playing on my car stereo.  The tree is going up this weekend (and here is where we get Maximum enjoyment--I like to have it up as LONG as possible.), and out my window I can see wonderful Christmas lights every night already. 

I shop online more and more, because I'm looking for unique things, and I find a LOT of cool stuff online.  I don't know that I would venture out to stores anymore at all if it weren't for the fact that one of the things I want to buy S is very much a tactile purchase.  I'm hoping to get that done by Tuesday morning.  In fact, I'm hoping to have all my shopping done within the next week or so.  Not sure if that's a reality, but it's a goal, anyway.  I probably won't meet it, only because of the stocking filling.  That shit is a pain in the ass.  But a fun one, I guess.

So yeah.  Turkey eaten, Xmas here.

Lust (Book?)

I want Chuck Klosterman to be my boyfriend.  Right. Now.

That is all.

Dinner and a Concert (or, Our breath was apparently not bad enough to repel Aunt Ida)

Last night I went to see the Dixie Chicks with my college roommate, Rita.  Before the show, we went for dinner at a Greek restaurant.  I told Rita that Greek was very garlicky, if you got the wrong (or right, I suppose) thing.  We both ordered gryos, which aren't so bad as they are, except for the exceptionally delicious tzatsiki that you simply must use if you order gyros.  Now, I understood that my breath would be toxic, and that even worse, any burp would be beyond disgusting.  I warned Rita, I really did.  We stopped at Walgreens for some gum (and mints, in my case), and as Rita was bending down to grab the pack of gum she wanted, she burped.  And then a sound like a cross between a grunt, an exhalation of pain, and a moan of disgust came out of her mouth.  Yep, it's that gross, I said.  And laughed hysterically.  (Last time I went for Greek, I went with my sis, and we ordered Skordalia, which is basically garlicky pureed potatoes.  I think we nearly killed the people next to us at the play we went to afterwards.)

Anyway, after the gum stop, and Rita's realization that the burps were going to be far more disgusting and smelly than she had thought, we headed over to the concert.  I've never seen a "country" concert (though are the Dixie Chicks country or really just pop?  I vote pop, though I think the audience might disagree), so I was a little nervous.  It turns out I had nothing to be nervous about.  The crowd was pretty mixed--cowgirl types and older couples and young-ish women like Rita and I.  And occassionally, a country bumpkin or two.  In fact, there was a country bumpkin next to me, that I swear to God had never been to a concert before.  Her clapping was VIOLENT.  I feared for my face, as the way she was clapping brought the back of her hand FAR too close to it.  And it can't have felt good, right?  It must have hurt, clapping so violently.  Rita and I nicknamed her Aunt Ida, because, well, she seemed like she was fresh off the farm. 

And then!  During the most boring song of the show--the drippy love lullaby thing on the new album--Rita and I were exchanging some thoughts about the show, and Aunt Ida angrily tapped my on the arm and said, "SHHHHHHH."  I mean, good god.  It wasn't like we were gossiping.  We were sharing thoughts about the show.  And the song was seriously boring.  I said, "Oh-kaaay." and shut up, but then I hated Aunt Ida and spent the entire rest of the show thinking of some sort of revenge.  It occurred to me that breathing on her might be the best revenge ever, but I couldn't see how to make that work without looking like a nutjob.  Regardless, I never did get any revenge.  I just spent the rest of the time fuming and making fun of Aunt Ida with Rita. 

As for the actual show, the Dixie Chicks were very good.  Natalie Maines' voice is better than you would think it would be.  And they are very adept musicians, even if they did have forty million people playing instruments behind them (all men, interestingly, except for the two other string musicians).  I have a hard time resisting songs with strings included in them, so I'm pretty much a sucker for the Dixie Chicks in general, but I have to admit that hearing their version of "Top of the World" live gave me chills.  It's one of my favorite songs they do (it's a Patty Griffin song), and I was so glad I got to hear it.  We also heard "Landslide", which in general I find unobjectionable on the album, but was sort of lackluster live.  It's not that it was bad, but it felt sort of like the girls were just going through the motions on it.  The two highest energy songs that we saw (okay, I have to say, I left before the encore.  I mean, I left during "Wide Open Spaces" because a) I'd heard "Top of the World" and b) I was tired and c) Rita seemed ready to go.) were "Not Ready to Make Nice" and that annoying "Earl" song.  The crowd seemed to really love both those numbers, and the songs sounded pretty damn good.  "Make Nice" is a good sort of anthem for the Dixie Chicks, I guess.

I have to admit, that sitting there, I couldn't help thinking about the kerfluffle that has kept the Chicks in the news for the past few years.  I felt pretty damn good supporting them, because frankly, they are only so reviled because they're women, and they dared to say something that might have been a little too liberal for the conservative country crowd.  I really do think that at least some of the scorn heaped upon them is simply due to the fact that they are women, who are only supposed to look pretty on stage and sing pretty and keep their pretty little mouths shut otherwise.  Which is disgusting and sad, and if there's any sort of good to this whole thing, it's that the Chicks can still fill arenas--the UC was pretty frigging full--and fill them with people who obviously adore them, like overzealous Aunt Ida next to me.

Anyway.  I'm not sorry I went, and I'd probably go see them again, if the opportunity presented itself.

I'm totally buying these

S sent me the link to these wonderful toys earlier.  I can't really explaint them, but suffice it to say that even if you think they're disgusting, they're probably good for a laugh.

The accessory all the nerds want

You can't truly understand what this is until you go to the website selling it. 

It's far more nerdy than you can possibly imagine.  It'd be a great gag gift, in that you wouldn't actually wear this thing anywhere, but would stick it on a shelf, and when fellow Star Wars nerds came to your abode, you could show it to them in a fit of pride.

And then put it on the shelf, hidden maybe? so that when normal persons came to your house, they wouldn't have a chance to see just how nerdy you are.