Category Archives: music

Red Sox Fans Are All Douchebags, aka Don’t Box Me In

I go to ther­apy not far from Fen­way Park and Ken­more Square, a land of ample metered park­ing.  Usu­ally.  But it’s base­ball sea­son, and as I came out of my ses­sion, the SUVs were roam­ing like mad cat­tle, foam­ing and froth­ing and honk­ing and worst of all, NOT USING THEIR SIGNALS TO INDICATE LANE CHANGES.  (Care­ful there, E., your pet peeves are showing.)

I got to my car, got in, turned on the igni­tion, and had not yet even turned on my blinker when bang, one SUV WHIZ backed up right on top of me and BANG another crept up behind, both of them glar­ing at one another so hard that they com­pletely ignored that between them, they’d made it impos­si­ble for me to get out of the space, because each of them had encroached at least six inches along­side my bumpers in an effort to claim the whole space.

I tried look­ing at one.  Then I tried to look at the other.  I honked my horn, even, because in Boston, this is uni­ver­sal for “Get out of the way, one of you ass­holes, because I can’t fuck­ing get out of the space.”  I also glared over my glasses.

Appar­ently, they were both from the sub­urbs and did not com­pre­hend, because nei­ther one budged. I there­fore got out of the car.  After all, I had fif­teen min­utes more on the meter, and there’s a lovely cof­fee place not that far away.

blc’s not going out, in a man­ner of speak­ing.  And Red Sox fans?  Don’t fence me in.  (I love Bing & the Andrews’ Sis­ters’ ver­sion too, but ooh, David Byrne.  How can you not love David Byrne singing that song?)

I don’t know when, but I am trying

I’ve been sick with the flu or a cold or some other plague and in my fevered uck­i­ness last night, I was lis­ten­ing to iTunes on the lovely new head­phones the BH got me as I clicked desul­to­rily ’round the Inter­net, read­ing about Maine Coon Cats– and Tori Amos’ Win­ter came on.

I had for­got­ten about Tori Amos.

It’s like for­get­ting about rain­bows.  Or light­ning.  Or that punch in the chest you feel the first time you real­ize you’re in love.

Today, I’m lis­ten­ing to the entire cat­a­logue on my iTunes and just feel­ing punched in the chest over and over– and oh, friends, it is glorious.

When you gonna love you as much as I do?” Yeah.  It’ll be a while before I for­get that again.

OMG!

The Back­street Boys have a new song! Why did nobody tell me this until I was lis­ten­ing to the Top 40 radio sta­tion in my car?!?

Yes, I AM totally seri­ous about being excited. I am unashamed about my love for the Back­street Boys, Brit­ney Spears, and Kelly Clark­son. I will have you know that I can rec­og­nize a song penned by Kevin Richard­son (the older, dark-haired one, and a Broad­way actor in his own right) before the first melodic “Ye-ah,” thank you very much– doesn’t mat­ter if it’s Celine Dion or some­one else I’d never oth­er­wise lis­ten to singing it. And I once heard LIONEL RICHIE sing a KR-penned song. Bliss, I tell you. Pure bliss.

Come on. You’ve watched Amer­i­can Idol, or real­ity TV, or eaten squirt cheese or whipped cream straight from the can at least once in your life, right? And you LIKED it. Admit it. I bet you’ve even acknowl­edged the awe­some­ness of Cool Whip right out of the freezer, straight, on a spoon. Oh, wait, maybe that one’s just me.

I will admit “Boys” is per­haps not the best name for them any­more (check out Howie’s reced­ing hair­line in the video, which has les­bian vam­pires, and spinny dance moves, and NO KEVIN RICHARDSON AAAAAH HE WAS MY FAVORITE, what does he MEAN he wants to have a fam­ily and life???) but still– there’s melody, and a dance beat, and MAN, this brings me back to vir­gin daiquiris at the Bahama Beach Club in Saugus.

Ye-ah.

Oh, hunh, what?

Why yes, that was me singing at the top of my lungs this morn­ing in my car.

Why yes, that was “You Are the Sun” by Lionel Richie.

What, you love that song too?

And any­thing else by Lionel Richie?

Well then– bop along at your lap­top with me. Because you … you are the sun, you are the rain …

Kids these days …

The hus­band upgraded the ver­sion of Word­Press I use yes­ter­day, which involved a fair amount of cussing at the site host server– #&*&%^&%$ timed logouts and non-intuitive lay­out and fucked up con­tra­dic­tory upload and ftp client server sec­tions, GoDaddy can Yo Mama as far as the BH is con­cerned– and then a cer­tain amount of $&^$%*&* and site-related HUNH? once that was done because one of the con­fig files had a typo of some sort in it.  I almost sort of stayed awake, though, (and got some dishes done) and though I’d never have fig­ured out what was wrong once the upload of the new pro­gram was done and it turned out all was not right in the con­fig files in Den­mark, I’m going to play around on the back end of this here lit­tle blog with the new fea­tures and plu­g­ins and add-ons for the next week or so.

So… if some­thing new bugs the crap out of you or doesn’t work right or … what­ever, just let me know.  Right now I’m all “Three columns!” and “I did just fine with­out all these new fea­tures!” and “It didn’t do that before!”  I’m start­ing to sound like Grandpa Simpson.

Now, where’re my pants?

(Also, and com­pletely unre­lated, I may have spent an hour I’ll never get back watch­ing the newest episode of Glee on the Hulu this morn­ing.  Not that I care.  Jane Lynch could star in a show about paper bags and I’d watch it.  Although … I was a drama club geek in high school, so no mat­ter the field hockey team and vale­dic­to­rian shit, the urge to Hey, kids, let’s put on a Show!!! *Insert Jazz Hands Here* runs strong in my blood.  Not that I can sing for shit, but there are always roles in musi­cals for that pre­cise pur­pose.  Bon­nie in Any­thing Goes and Eulalie MacK­ech­nie Shin in Music Man, any­one?)