Plant, Palmer, and Page: Sounds Like a Rock and Roll Band

The other day B and I were on our way to dinner with friends. B likes to listen to either (a) talk radio or (b) sports. I prefer to listen to neither. Unless it is talk radio. Then I make fun of the callers, even if I have no clue what they are talking about. B loves this.

So on this particular day, B was listening to actual sports. A football game to be exact. I did not think I was listening until I heard the announcer say "Robert Plant just fell on the field" or something like that.  This intrigued me:

Me: Did that guy just say the player's name was ROBERT PLANT?

B: Yes, but it is just his name.

Me: Well, I know.  But now all I can think of are women in black dresses and the player snapping his fingers singing "Simply Irrestible" (Note: I may have sung a verse or two here).

B: What? That's Robert Palmer not Robert Plant.

Me:  That's right. Easy mistake since they were in a band together.

B: WHAT? No they were not.

Me: Um, YES THEY WERE.

B: No. You are crazy.

Me: I am going to look it up.

Me: ...

Me: Huh. I may have been thinking about Robert Page and Robert Plant.

B: Oh. Were they in a band together or something?

Smartass.

 

Ramblings of a Riddler...A Horn, Iced Tea and 1993.

I was driving behind a mini van when I noticed that the driver and the passenger are in some sort of argument. The driver gives the passenger a shove. Then, out of nowhere, the passenger whips out a huge musical horn (like a big band horn) and blows it at the driver. Because it is so big, though, it is really blowing in front of his face and not by his ear. Just like that it is gone. Where did it go? Where did it come from? Was I seeing things?

***

I was so hot after the walking house tour this year that I decided I needed two Starbucks iced teas. Since they were both for me, I just got one straw. I met B at the car and told him I was glad he was there so it looked like I had bought him one, even though I hadn't.  We were driving off when I see B out of the corner of my eye pick up the tea to drink. Of course he has the one without a straw. Of course I watch to see what will happen. He tries to find the straw with his mouth three times before looking down and then looking at me and saying "How many times were you going to let me do that?"  Is forever a good answer?

***

I told B that I won my first win of June, a CD. He responded by saying "Way to win a prize from the past."  Yes, 1990 is supplying my prizes these days.

***

Crime Watch Wednesday - Pump Up the Jams, Turn Off the Cats

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday brings us the tale of someone who was fed up with being awoken at 5:30 a.m. every day, and we are not talking about B.

A woman contacted police at 5:30 a.m. to report loud music that she believed was coming from the newspaper delivery person's vehicle. Sure enough, the police responded in 15 seconds and found that it was indeed the newspaper guy's car. The suspect was very sorry.

Maybe the lady could have just asked the newspaper delivery person to turn down his radio? She was already up.  You know, lady, the police have better things to do than ask a guy who is rightfully regretful to turn down the tunes.

For example, perhaps the cops could take care of those crazy street cats that are always tearing it up around midnight while I am just falling asleep. You know the ones I thought were going to get Brad? I am pretty sure if I approached them, they would just claw my eyes out.

Or what about the two dogs behind us that bark for hours on end. That is fun at 7 am. On a Sunday.  THAT IS MY DAY OFF PEOPLE.

Or what about the three cats I have in my house that occasionally act like street cats downstairs while I am trying to sleep and although I have visions of things shattering all around the house, I am too tired to get up and yell down "KNOCK IT OFF!" which never works anyway.

Or the bad karaoke singers who decided to sing show tunes just as we were going to bed at 11:30 p.m. one night?  We had to shut our window on a nice balmy summer night.

What is my point? I will tell you.  The newspaper delivery man is on your block for maybe five minutes tops.  Street cats? They fight ALL NIGHT LONG. It's their gig. Grumpy dogs? HOURS.  Inside cats that think they are streetcats?  A good half hour or more.  Crazy karaoke singers? I don't know, I shut the window.

In the time it took you to make that call, you could have just thrown a pillow over your head and gone back to sleep.  Or I don't know gone to work, like the delivery guy who is trying to earn a living to support his family or his drug habit. Doesn't matter.

Your far more annoyed and less sleep fulfilled neighbor,

Just a Rapper that Doesn't Rap But Boy Does He Know How to Sell

There are always a cast of characters outside the main courthouse. Usually it is homeless guys, but occasionally there are people that are trying to sell you something.  Typically that "something" turns out to be their homemade music CD.  I cannot even imagine what such things sound like.  So far I have been able to contain any impulse buying.  However, I recently met up with quite the salesman.

After crossing the street, I see this guy do a little dance that ends in a flourish and with his one arm out holding a CD.  You know I am a sucker for some street dancing.  So I laughed:

Me: Well, I like your presentation.

Him: Oh, baby I like  YOUR presentation.*

Me: Thank you, I am not interested in your CD.

Him: Are you sure? It has some good rapping.

Me: No thanks.

Him: But they call me the "Nerd Rapper."

Me: Wait! Are you calling me a nerd?

Him: Yes.

Me: Huh. Well I don't like rap.

Him: Me neither. That is why I only rap about important stuff like politics.

Me: I don't much like politics.

Him: Me neither. That's why this is about ufology which is about how aliens are invading our religion.

Me: I don't really believe in aliens.

Him: Me neither. That is why this rap is about education.

Me: You have a comeback for everything, don't you?

Him: Yeah, baby.

I have to give him props for trying and for making me laugh after a very difficult morning in court.

No, I did not buy the rap-that-isn't-rap-but-about-politics-or-aliens-or-education CD.  Probably my loss.

And for no other reason than I mentioned the word "rap" enjoy this funny commerical I only recently saw courtesy of Katelin:

*Yes that was said in a totally "I'm gonna sex you up" way.

If My Dreams Were a Plot to the Movie of My Life

I would do a lot of running as I would be chased a lot. Sometimes I would get caught. Mostly I would not. Usually I would get tired.

I would find myself inexplicably deserted topless in South Africa. I would find a scarf, cover myself up, find a payphone and after hitting the one and only button, continuously repeat "American Embassy" until the next scene showed me back in the US with no further explanation.

My mom and John Mayer would get in a fight at Thanksgiving dinner. He would try to show off by speaking in a different language. My mom would talk back. John Mayer would inform me that my Mom was actually speaking Turkish while he was speaking Yiddish so he could not understand her. However, he would be massively impressed with her intelligence. I would set aside my belief that he is a douche and we would all leave happy.

The dinosaurs would roam the earth again, recurrently throughout the movie. We would all run through the alleys to escape while the overhead speakers on the telephone poles would blare "The dinosaurs are coming, The dinosaurs are coming" in case we did not know.

The cats would be crying all of the time.

I would get chased by murderers and spend an inordinate amount of time running, screaming and hiding.

A man would want to change my dad's arm (played by another person of course) into a two clawed slimy thing (kind of like MaryAnn's arm when she turns in True Blood). However, my dad would be given the choice to have them do mine instead, which he would choose. This procedure would involve amputation. Since I have never had my arm amputated before, I will choose to pretend it feels like getting stitches and so it will. My "dad" will faint at the scene. I will never get to see my claw.

I would then be on a table being forced into an ultrasound even though I am not pregnant. They will get my cooperation by waterboarding me. Then another woman will jump on top of me and do CPR like movements to my stomach chanting "make a baby, make a baby". Later, I will review an ad I placed in the paper that looks like an obit except it is pink and has a unicorn on it. It will announce the "end" of the baby that never existed which will be named something like Email Text Chain and will state that although I claim there never was one, the baby is now gone.

The movie will end with me trying to drive up a freeway ramp that goes straight in the air while in a convertible. Miraculously, I will not fall out of the car.

And there will be choregraphed scenes, probably involving music.

Who wants to be my producer?

*All of the scenarios above are from actual dreams I have had. Some, like the dinosaurs, since childhood. Most of them recently. I am not on any drugs.

I May Not Be a Lyrical Genius, But I Am Pretty Sure This One is About Sex. A Lot of Sex.

Okay, I will readily admit I am not a lyrical genius. Hell, I didn't even realize that Cyndi Lauper's song "She Bop" was about masturbation until I was an adult. An adult! I honestly have no clue what I thought it was about before that, bopping to music?

However, over time, I really started paying attention to lyrics. Maybe it is the hidden 14 year old in me still writing poetry. Or maybe it is the budding writer in me trying to find meaning in everything. Don't we all have a budding writer in us? In any event, my analysis of lyrics applies to old and new songs.

Apparently, not everyone shares this analysis. Some people, um B, take the words at face value. Kind of like me with She Pop or Olivia Newton John's "Let's Get Physical." (What do you mean that wasn't about exercising).

So the other day, B and I were driving home and listening to some vintage Prince, Little Red Corvette. Around the time of these lyrics, I start analyzing out loud:

~'Cuz you had a pocket full of horses

Trojan and some of them used~

This prompted me to say to B:

Me: Gross! Who carries used condoms in their pockets?

B: What are you talking about?

Me: Um, this song and the girl with the used condoms.

B: What makes you think she has used condoms?

Me: "you had a pocket full of horses, TROJAN and some of them USED"

B: I don't think so.

Then came these lyrics:

~I guess I shoulda closed my eyes

When you drove me to the place

where your horses run free~

Me: That's her vagina!*

B: You are crazy.

Me: Am I? What about these lyrics?

~'Cuz I felt a little ill

When I saw all the pictures

Of the jockeys that were there before me~

Me: Those are her past lovers.

B: Uh, huh.

~Move over baby, gimme the keys

I'm gonna try to tame your

little red love machine~

Me: VAGINA!

~Honey you got to slow down

Little red corvette

'Cuz if you don't

your gonna run little red corvette right in the ground~

Me: He is talking about AIDS.

B: NO HE IS NOT.

Me: Okay, maybe an STD.

B: No.

Me: What do YOU think this song is about?

Am I wrong here ladies? Gentlemen? What is this song about in your view?

*Well, okay, it may actually have been about her bedroom, but yelling VAGINA was much more shocking.

**I still think vagina is a viable option since he was calling lovers jockeys and all.

Flashback Friday: It's Never Too Dark to Wear Shades

When I was a small child in middle school, we made a time capsule. Okay, I wasn't small. It was 1984 or 1985 so I was about 12 or 13. In any event, we filled out a piece of paper that, today, would be considered a meme on the internet. It had information about us, what we liked, what was happening that year, etc. The goal, I believe, was to open it the next year. My memory is actually fuzzy on the specifics.

You know who's memory is not fuzzy? My mom's memory. That woman is as sharp as a tack, whatever that means. One time I mentioned the time capsule and she reminded me what I put in it. Yes, she remembered after all of those years. I wish she had forgotten.

Apparently, I wrote that my favorite song of all time - ALL TIME - was Corey Hart's "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night."

Wait...what?

I must have banged my head as a child. However, for your listening and reading pleasure, below is a video from You Tube complete with lyrics. Check this gem out:

Now I am kind of confused about some of they lyrics. Let's start with these:

And I wear my sunglasses at night, so I can, so I can

Keep track of visions in my eyes

Honestly, that may be the only part of the lyrics that make some sort of sense to me. I mean if you are wearing sunglasses it blocks everything from your sight so you can only see the visions in your eyes (or head). Wait? Sunglasses only cut down on glare? They don't make you blind? Well, there goes that theory.

Now about these lyrics:

Don't switch the blade in the guy in shades, oh no

Don't masquerade with the guy in shades, oh no, I can't believe it

'Cause you got it made with the guy in shades, oh no

Before I discuss these, I want to note that I believe this song is a love song. Don't believe me? Just take another look at that last line "you got it made with a guy in shades." Sounds like a love tune to me.

However, I am not quite sure what "don't switch the blade" means? Is there a knife involved? Is this a song about domestic violence? Also, I think masquerading around someone wearing shades is perfectly acceptable because they CANT SEE YOU. Oh, wait. That's right. You are just not as bright or something.

Speaking of bright...I think I lost half of my brain cells analyzing this song that I thought was super cool in the 80s. So cool, it made it into a TIME CAPSULE as my favorite song EVER.

I need therapy.

If you want to check out the actual video with Corey Hart, follow the link below. The video will not assist you much in figuring out the lyrics unless watching Corey sing into a phone "don't switch the blade on a guy in shades, oh no" while the cops approach means something to you. If it does, and you can explain, please let me know. I have a time capsule to edit.

I wonder where they buried it...

check out the you tube video here (sorry, it will not allow to embed in the post).*

*Tell me that is not a catchy tune.

**How funny are some of those comments on You Tube?

Flashback Friday: Got Any Lube?

B suggested that I also write about things that happened in my past on my blog. Since I love taking suggestions, at least those that I like, I thought "good idea." And here you have it, my first "flashback". So retro.

Do you ever wake up singing a song in your head? I do. Almost every day. In fact, today's song was Alanis Morissette's "All I Really Want". The other day, it was "I Want a New Drug" by Huey Lewis & the News. You are probably thinking, "Huey Lewis and the What?" and with good reason. Just trust. I was a preteen and it had a catchy beat. Well, it did then. I hear it now and I kind of cringe. It also had some very deep lyrics that went something like this:

I want a new drug.

One that won't make me sick.

One that won't make my eyes swell up

Or make me feel three feet thick

One that won't make me nervous

wondering what to do

One that makes me feel

like I feel when I'm with you

All ALONE with you

Profound right? Yep, I did that from memory.* Please, hold your applause until the end.

Now, when I was a preteen, I apparently liked to break out in song while walking down the street. So, one day, my Mom and I were walking down the street when I started singing this song. My Mom, however, heard something different:

Mom: Did you just say you want a lube job?

Me: WHAT? A lube job? Um, NO. I said I want a NEW DRUG.

Mom: Oh [as if it was perfectly acceptable for her daughter to be singing about drugs]

Mom: Well it sounded like lube job and I was concerned.

I can only imagine what my Mom's inner dialogue was at that time:

Did I just hear my daughter say she wants a lube job? What on earth is she singing? Does she know what lube is? HOW DOES SHE KNOW WHAT LUBE IS? I am going to have to start monitoring her music. Crap! Now I feel like those crazy moms in Elvis times. Or like those parents in that Footloose movie. Wait, I''ll just ask her what she's talking about...

Meanwhile, here was my inner dialogue:

A lube job? Mom has lost her mind. Why would Huey Lewis & the News sing about an oil change?

*Yep, those lyrics from my memory are all messed up. Whatever. That is how I remember it folks. All of the correct words are there, just in the wrong places. Welcome to my brain.

All He Wants to Do is Dance...

Usually when I receive our local neighborhood paper, I have to scour the crime watch section to find a gem. Not this time. This time, the heading said it all:

Man Denies Dancing

Intriguing. What is wrong with dancing, I thought? Surely it cannot be a crime. Why would the man deny it? Must read on.

Apparently, the police were called with a complaint of a man dancing in the rain at 3:30 a.m. When the police arrived, the man denied that he was dancing and stated that he had just been riding his bike. The police told him to move along.

Um...okay. Let's review. The man was accused of dancing, not singing. It was the middle of the night. It was raining. How the heck could the person reporting it even know it was happening unless the man was tap dancing or had a soundtrack or the person was an extreme busybody? Last time I checked, dancing was really quiet. Was the reporting person just miffed that the guy seemed to be having fun in the middle of the night while he/she had to get up the next day for work?

Then I began to ponder...is dancing in the rain, or dancing in public at all, really a crime? Is calling the police justified if there is no nuisance allegation such as loud noise? Well, I am here to tell you in my new little town apparently it is. One day recently I went to the library to research city ordinances on an unrelated subject. Unable to find my exact ordinance, I ended up reading almost the entire book. Way in the back I found an ordinance about singing and dancing not being allowed past a certain time at night, no matter the noise level.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am now living in the movie Footloose.

Could someone please send Kevin Bacon* or Chace Crawford** my way? This town needs someone to shake it up! We need to put an end to people getting busted for boppin'!***

We need to be able to dance in the rain!

Well, not me. I prefer to sleep.

In other news, apparently relaxing on an air mattress in the bay of a lake will also get you trouble. Who knew?

*And I mean the Kevin Bacon of 20 years ago

**Chace Crawford is the new Kevin Bacon for the remake of Footloose, have you heard? How timely is this post?

***That is a phrase right from Footloose. No, I don't regularly use the term "boppin'"

Marching to the Beat of My Own Head

The other morning suddenly I heard a big band start playing yet when I opened the window to find the source, it was quiet. I thought nothing of it. I then proceeded to walk downstairs and to my car all the while hearing nothing. However, in the moment right before my car door shut I heard it again. Quickly rolling down my window, I again found silence. By now I was thinking that I was a character on Ally McBeal and maybe big band was my theme song.

Later I shared this news with B:

Me: I think my life is a bad episode of Ally McBeal.

B: why do you say that?

Me: I keep hearing theme music.

B: Huh?

Me: I hear big band music and then it stops. I am trying to figure out what it means.

B: huh?

Me: like in the morning on the way to my car...but when I open the window, I can't hear it...

B: You know there is a nearby high school and it is probably their band practicing.

Me: So early in the morning?

B: Yes. That is when high schoolers practice.

Me: Huh.

Me: DAMN I wanted to be Ally McBeal!

The One Where I Sing...

Friday was my uncle's birthday and we have this long standing tradition where we call each other on our birthday's and sing happy birthday to each other. That is it - no cards, no gifts.  Just a phone call and a song.  It is quite a special tradition actually.  The fact that many family members over the years have gone to great lengths to see that it is carried out such as calling us to remind us that it is the other's birthday does not diminish the tradition at all.  There has only been one year that I missed it entirely and that was because I had been dumped by my long term boyfriend and probably spent the day (a) crying, (b) wondering if he would take me back, (c) crying, and (d) asking others if he would take me back.

As an aside, how cruel is it to dump someone right before the Thanksgiving holiday? Nothing more painful than having to go to a family event that your ex used to attend with you, without him, only to be asked where he is while you make sad puppy dog eyes and your cousin is behind you making the cutting her throat sign to the person inquiring so that you won't (a) cry, (b) wonder if he will take you back, (c) cry, or (d) ask the people there if he would take you back.  Cruel, I say.  

In any event, that was a long time ago and really has nothing to do with last Friday when I called my uncle.  Pure digression.  So, on Friday, I call my uncle and as usual, I launch into the birthday song immediately.  And this is what occurred:

{phone rings}

Uncle: Hello

Me: {sings Happy Birthday}

Uncle: Why thank you darlin'.  I am in another city today with an astronaut, Mike so and so, and I have to give a speech.

Me: Well, good luck with that.

Uncle: Yep, I am walking up to the podium right now.

STOP

He was on his way up to give a speech in front of what I imagined to be a lot of people about an astronaut and he took my call? And listened to me sing?  That is craziness.

I immediately hung up and called my Dad and informed him how crazy his brother was. We had quite a good laugh.  Then my Dad said:

Dad: Well, I am ironing a shirt right now. I know it is not an astronaut or anything, but...

Me: Very funny...I will let you go.

Later, I had the opportunity to ask my Uncle why on earth he decided to answer the phone when he was about to give a speech.  His response? "I always answer my phone. I don't know how to turn it off."

Phone issues must run in the family.