I left behind a weekend of celebrating Mother Earth and the horror of a possible world of only One. Square. To. Spare. [Edited to add: Oh...thank god!...she was kidding. Jokes, Sheryl's got 'em. Resume to your regularly scheduled wad of TP.]
I left behind a weekend of my annual 29th birthday, also known as Stop Talking About Tequila Day, by celebrating with Mav, Morgan, and DP in appropriate fashion that consisted of me dipping my toes in a very deep fountain. I'd like to think it was the Fountain of Youth.
Soon, I will leave for Vegas. I will be in the company of good friends. I will lie in a pool by the Eiffel Tower. The rest as "they" say Stays.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Friday, April 20, 2007
It's the New Beastie Boys' Album, Check Your Citation
Perhaps it is because I am a librarian that proper and correct citation is always essential, no matter the setting. In person - alright, use your air quotes (and hand parantheses if you must) - but it should go like this:
"Hey, hey, hey....it's [whoever just entered stage left]!" (you know, as One may say in everyday conversation) should really be, "As Fat Albert says, "Hey, hey, hey....!"" or more correctly, "As Bill Cosby wrote in the character of Fat Albert says, "Hey, hey, hey....!""
...if one where being Bartlettian about it. Sticklers, there's one in every happy hour crowd.
But more seriously, it kind of tousled my librarian's bun the other night watching American Idol when Blake (He of Morrissey-esque pouty singing mouth) picks a “Tim McGraw” song. [Ed. note: The quotes here representing sarcasm - the favored use of the accessory actually.]
Blakissey could have named any Tim McGraw song and I would have kept my head in my (citation) book because what are the chances I am going to know a Tim McGraw song. But when I heard the song title, “When the Stars Go Blue.” Well, I pushed my glasses up my nose and had to adjust my rabbit ears - and the TVs - because that song title sure sounds like a lovely little ballad by one Ryan Adams. And sure enough there he drawls, "Dancin' when the stars go blue..."
My ears half smiled as I was reminded of how beautiful that song is.
He (Blakissey) did a lackluster delivery of the song - his performance was too affected. That song needs to be soft, the lyrics coaxed gently. For that, Tim can leave the big band at home and The Corrs can dump Bono in the trashcan. (I am reminded of their version, although better than Tim's, but Bono get out of my ear buds already.) And apparently some One Tree Hill kids sing a version too but I'm sick of this already.
I'm not here to bash karaoke! I'm here for citation purposes.
That song is Ryan Adams, originally sung by and penned by. It should be properly cited as such, don't ya' think, Idol?
What's next? Are you going to have Gwen Stefani sing her song, "It's My Life"?*
*It's Talk Talk circa 1984.
"Hey, hey, hey....it's [whoever just entered stage left]!" (you know, as One may say in everyday conversation) should really be, "As Fat Albert says, "Hey, hey, hey....!"" or more correctly, "As Bill Cosby wrote in the character of Fat Albert says, "Hey, hey, hey....!""
...if one where being Bartlettian about it. Sticklers, there's one in every happy hour crowd.
But more seriously, it kind of tousled my librarian's bun the other night watching American Idol when Blake (He of Morrissey-esque pouty singing mouth) picks a “Tim McGraw” song. [Ed. note: The quotes here representing sarcasm - the favored use of the accessory actually.]
Blakissey could have named any Tim McGraw song and I would have kept my head in my (citation) book because what are the chances I am going to know a Tim McGraw song. But when I heard the song title, “When the Stars Go Blue.” Well, I pushed my glasses up my nose and had to adjust my rabbit ears - and the TVs - because that song title sure sounds like a lovely little ballad by one Ryan Adams. And sure enough there he drawls, "Dancin' when the stars go blue..."
My ears half smiled as I was reminded of how beautiful that song is.
He (Blakissey) did a lackluster delivery of the song - his performance was too affected. That song needs to be soft, the lyrics coaxed gently. For that, Tim can leave the big band at home and The Corrs can dump Bono in the trashcan. (I am reminded of their version, although better than Tim's, but Bono get out of my ear buds already.) And apparently some One Tree Hill kids sing a version too but I'm sick of this already.
I'm not here to bash karaoke! I'm here for citation purposes.
That song is Ryan Adams, originally sung by and penned by. It should be properly cited as such, don't ya' think, Idol?
What's next? Are you going to have Gwen Stefani sing her song, "It's My Life"?*
*It's Talk Talk circa 1984.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Dust Bunny Hunt
I spent Easter Sunday nursing squished toes and cursing the shoes that hated them so on Saturday night. I made a mental note that those shoes are only meant for sleeping. Certainly not for trying to get your be-bop, seagull-in-a-flock, goody-two-shoin', rebel-yellin' on for an 80's cover band. The toes have threatened to jump ship to someone without a high heel shoe fetish. (They hear Naturalizer is making cute shoes now.) So I gave us the Easter treatment - a dye-job for the piggies and a chocolate egg for me. Everyone is happy these days.
I went with that feeling (of happy feet...cue the tap-dancing penguin, if you must) and opted not to go to the baseball game of which I had tickets to. You know, it snowed the other day so not feeling the baseball park vibe just yet. Yet instead of doing my part to ponder Nothing, work my thumb muscles on the remote, and rest my eyes every two hours in typical Sunday fashion, I took it upon myself to....clean.
Like any Good Housekeeping devotee, I did my annual top (of the refrigerator) to bottom (of the floorboard) home-cleaning ritual. I tore through my closets and filled a lawn-size bag with clothes for Goodwill. I moved some furniture around in my sunroom. Mopped the wood floors. Organized some papers.
I can say there is a place for everything now. For now, I went with that good feeling of the day - this Easter - and danced around my house to the new Kaiser Chiefs, admired my toes some more, and rewarded myself with another chocolate egg.
I went with that feeling (of happy feet...cue the tap-dancing penguin, if you must) and opted not to go to the baseball game of which I had tickets to. You know, it snowed the other day so not feeling the baseball park vibe just yet. Yet instead of doing my part to ponder Nothing, work my thumb muscles on the remote, and rest my eyes every two hours in typical Sunday fashion, I took it upon myself to....clean.
Like any Good Housekeeping devotee, I did my annual top (of the refrigerator) to bottom (of the floorboard) home-cleaning ritual. I tore through my closets and filled a lawn-size bag with clothes for Goodwill. I moved some furniture around in my sunroom. Mopped the wood floors. Organized some papers.
I can say there is a place for everything now. For now, I went with that good feeling of the day - this Easter - and danced around my house to the new Kaiser Chiefs, admired my toes some more, and rewarded myself with another chocolate egg.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)