Monday, December 12, 2011

But the reindeer’s won’t let me join in any reindeer games...

Ok, I don’t mean to be a lame-o and keep on the bad song subject, but with it being the season for Christmas music, I think it exposes us to a special kind of audible nastiness that needs to be addressed. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas music, but I do take issue with the way some of these songs are getting sung. I’ve noticed that a lot of the irritants are coming from more modern versions of classic standards. It almost seems like the artists I’m hearing have decided to lay down the tracks without actually checking what the words are, they just sing what it sounds like to them, or what they think it might be. I mean, there is nothing like honoring the Christmas season with a hastily recorded, half-assed version of Jingle Bells, right?

For instance, I keep hearing a version of “Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow” that has this interesting interpretation, “When we finally kiss good night, how I hate going out in the snow, but if you really hold me tight, all the way home I’ll be warm…” What?!?!? I’m sorry, but “Snow” and “Warm” don’t rhyme any way you say it. I would think that somebody would notice and take a second to wonder if there might be a word to indicate bad weather that actually fits in the line. A word like, I don’t know…storm? I would also like to take this opportunity to point out that the plural of “reindeer” is not “reindeer’s”, but in fact, “reindeer”. Maybe all of Santa’s reindeer’s should have spent less time mocking Rudolph and more time on their grammar. My favorite is a version of “Run Rudolph Run” by some bozo that mixes up a line that is supposed to say “baby doll”, but he says “Barbie doll”, which doesn’t seem like a huge deal until you apply it to the whole line: “a little baby doll that can cry, sleep, drink and wet”. Now those activities are all fine and good for a baby doll, but until they come out with a Rehab Barbie I don’t think that other idea is going to fly. And whoever the dumb bum was that wrote that obnoxious “Snow” song they sing repeatedly in White Christmas obviously never lived in a place where it actually snows. Nobody who has had to shovel 3 feet of snow off of their car would ever say, let alone SING:“I want to wash my hands, my face, my hair with snow”.

In closing, I would just like to say, if I were Mary, and I had just had a baby, and some little snot-nosed kid came around playing a drum, I’d kick him in his Rum Pum Pum Pum!

Friday, November 11, 2011

...but the horse with no name won't shoot the sherriff

I love music. In the car, at work, at the gym (at least I think I would like music at the gym, assuming I ever went). It is virtually impossible for me to cook without a little opera or Tijuana Brass to get me in the culinary groove. Cleaning? Bring on the Lady Gaga or They Might Be Giants. I love dance music, old music, fun music, guilty pleasures! Almost every activity is better when paired with a song or two.

But what if your activity is accompanied by a nasty, obnoxious, all-around HORRIBLE song? For instance, America’s “A Horse With No Name” , which ranks #1 on my personal DNL (Do Not Listen) list, followed closely by, “I Shot the Sherriff” and every song EVER performed, previously and in the future, by Gordon Lightfoot. What do you do? I, personally, sing Barry Manilow’s “Copacabana”. Not because I am particularly fond of this song, but because studies have shown that it is the antidote to every poisonous song known to man. It’s true, you can Google it. Ok, don’t Google it, but just trust me.

Now, as with every strong medicine, “Copacabana” can have adverse reactions, and must be sung in small doses. Side effects may include: vomiting, nosebleed, the urge to sing about everything you are doing to the tune of “Copacabana”, booty shaking; and in extreme cases, brain damage. If you have “Copacabana” stuck in your head for more than 4 hours, contact your physician immediately, as this can be a sign of a serious condition that can become permanent if left untreated. Dirty looks from the driver in the next car is a definite sign of overdose. Song badness is a very serious condition and should not be left untreated. If you find yourself assailed by any song on your personal DNL, please apply the “Copacabana” technique immediately.

I will be sure to let you know when the over the counter tablet version of Copacabanafren is available so that actually singing the song won’t be necessary. Until then, “Her name was Lola, she was a show girl”…

P.S. I know it’s early in my blogdom to ask for reader opinions, as my readership is quite small(but mighty!!!) , but I want to know your personal DNL’s. Keep your Copacabanafren handy as this could get painful!

Sunday, September 18, 2011

...but I can't find the right spot on my foot.

I recently went and had a foot zoning done by the wonderful Janice. It was fabulous! The idea behind foot zoning is to be able to heal and maintain your body by stimulating certain parts of your feet. For instance, Janice was able to show me how to rub my toes to help stimulate circulation around my eyes to make my baggage look not quite so horrid and huge. She realigned my ribcage and eased the tension in my hips. I’ve heard of people getting abscesses drained and kidney stones obliterated from a single foot zoning session. Foot zoning is said to have spiritual healing properties as well. It is supposed to help get rid of emotional toxins and help you be more “centered” and “balanced”.
So after an hour of Janice stimulating, circulating and invigorating I felt great! I was rested and my chakra sufficiently centered. On my drive home I felt as if there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. And then I had a thought…if we can heal our bodies and minds by correctly manipulating our feet, can we in turn cause DAMAGE to our minds and bodies by INCORRECTLY manipulating our feet??? As someone who spends a lot of time on her feet each day this is a great concern to me. What punishment am I inflicting on my body each hour that I’m on my feet at work? If I have to stand on my tippy toes to put something away am I, in fact, making my eye bags bigger? Is every step I take pounding my kidneys into oblivion and shutting down my lymphatic system? And that’s just the physical damage! What emotional and spiritual harms am I creating by merely walking around each day? I know running can make me crabby, but is bad arch support making me crazy?!?!
After all these thoughts came flying my way, I naturally came to the most logical conclusion. I’m never walking again! Ditto on standing, running and skipping. River dance is right out. It may seem extreme but it’s the only logical way to maintain my physical health and emotional wellness. I just can’t afford to have my last ounce of sanity sucked out through my poor innocent tootsies.
So if you need me I will be home, pampering my feet and apologizing to them for the years of abuse and neglect I have inflicted upon them. And maybe, just maybe, they will let my heart keeping beating for one more day.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

...but I really have to pee.

I really hate it when I go into a public restroom and they have those automatic flush toilets. Sure it's great that I don't have to worry about touching that disgusting flush handle and all the associated disgusting public germs that are on it. Not to mention I don't have to happen unsuspectingly on any surprises left in the toilet by the previous non-flusher to occupy that particular stall, but still I hate it, and let me tell you why. Have you ever tried to use one of those paper toilet seat covers (guys aren't going to relate to this, probably at least not the guys I know). Ok, so you just get the seat cover situated, but before you can even get the pants unbuttoned the automatic flusher kicks on and WHOOSH!, there goes your seat cover down the drain. So you try again, this time thinking that you can outwit the flusher and pre-unbutton the pants before arranging the seat cover, but to no avail. In fact ,this can be worse because you might actually try to get contact only to have the seat cover flushed away a moment before touchdown and then you are sitting bare-assed on a public toilet seat which is exactly what you were trying to avoid in the first place! Anybody who knows me knows that if I'm using a public restroom at all it's because it's a real emergency and any delay (ie, a toilet seat cover being flushed down the toilet) can be quite disastrous. That's all I have to say.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

...but I have too much hair.

Ok, per requests from a few of you, I'm going to try and start a blog. To alleviate the pressure of a first blog posting I'm going to cheat and use a little rant that I wrote a few years ago. Enjoy!

"The thing you have to remember about doing home improvement projects is that it will take you twice as long and cost twice as much as you originally planned." This is the advice my father in law offered to us before we started our home remodel.
My father in law is a wise man. I believe that the less hair a man has, the greater wisdom he accumulates. I don't mean to say that since a man is bald, he must be old and he's been around the block a few times so he must be wise. This isn't it at all. Without a head of luxurious hair to hinder him, the wisdom is absorbed directly through the scalp. (Don't believe me? Ever heard of Ghandi? Buddha? My Uncle Ted? All very great bald men, well, except for uncle Ted...) So you can imagine that a man like my father in law, who has not a lot of hair left, must be considered fairly wise.
Now there is an exception to the Wise Bald Man Theory (or the WBMT as I like to call it), and that is: THE COMB-OVER. This is not what I call a wise decision. Any man who grows his sideburns and or ear hair out three feet for the express purpose of combing it over and around his balding head is a FRAUDULENT WISE MAN and should not be heeded. If this man tries to offer advice, you must jam your fingers in your ears and run away screaming. A man who chooses to adopt such a ridiculous and humiliating image instead of embracing his own shining beacon of knowledge and light, is a sad man, a misguided man, a man to be pitied. The one thing he most definitely is not--- a wise man.
But my father in law is indeed a wise man. Unfortunately, my husband and I, being burdened as we are by our full heads of hair, weren't able to take his advice seriously. We jumped in head first, gung-ho about our home improvement. Now I can honestly say that I hope I never see a box of loose tile or a paint can in my home again. And even if I wanted to I couldn't, because we're out of money. Don't doubt the WBMT!