More powerful than two Cleopatras

There is only one person who can get me through the five plus hours I still have left at work tonight (the end of the academic year brings peace to some at a university, but not to my department). And that definitely crazy, possibly racist, certainly reclusive, once in Sister Act II: Back in the Habit person is none other than former Fugee herself, Lauryn Hill. The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill is kind of the perfect album for anything whether it's slumping to the floor of your bedroom when you accidentally find an old picture you and your old boyfriend looking so young and stupid ("Ex-Factor"), sexytime ("Nothing Even Matters"), or windows down afternoon driving ("Doo Wop - That Thing"). Hell, I'll even consider religion when "Tell Him" comes on. It's truly applicable to any situation, except stalking people on Facebook. That should be done in silence. I would say, without hesitation, that it's a musical staple (you will find a small sampling below, but seriously, click your way to a copy).

Ex-Factor

To Shain:

Starting with this one.

Love,

Blythe

The one where no one cares about my blog.

Man, if only I'd kept the genius coming instead of succumbing to the man.

This could've been me!

Hey Clinton, blogbuddy of ZFS, did that ramen come from Chinatown? Zing! Oh, no? Not a zing!? Ok.

Or this!

Lost Ogles, I met you at the NMF and you snubbed me. Then no mention in your 15 minutes of Oklahoma metro fame (which is equal to -25.8 seconds of national fame)? Ok, fair enough.

But, instead, it's just this:

Zach Harrison Memorial Music Monday*

Since I don't have time to keep up with music this year, I went through the ol' iTunes list to see what I downloaded this time last year...

thunderstruck - ac/dc

i'll never leave you - lumidee

and it stoned me - van morrison

hilarious misunderstanding - flight of the conchords

piazza, ny catcher - belle and sebastian

push the little daisies - ween

single again - fiery furnaces

the great idea - we are scientists

dilaudid - mountain goats

what's the use - jamie lidell

naive - the kooks

care of cell 44 - zombies

honesty - billy joel

if looks could kill - camera obscura

alaska - dr. dog

telephone - page france

tulips - fancy trash

solta of frango - bonde do rolo

*I am seriously going to feel like a total jerk when I find out that the real Zack Harrison bit it.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

It's 10.21 CST on a Friday night and I have left the bar. Why? So I can clean my goddamn kitchen. Do you know what's worse than living with one boy? Living with two. And a cat. That eats Fancy Feast. And therefore farts Fancy Feast. I just finished giving my friend a hard time for staying in tonight to clean for a little brother visit and a mere minutes later, here I am, in my pajamas, mopping to Feist while drinking Leaping Horse shiraz from a magnum with the dishwasher purring in the background. Even more disturbing is that I am really enjoying this. Is it because I work with all women? Who are all at some point in menopause city? Is it because my mother was and is a domestic dictator, requiring hotel sterility at all times? Is it because it's undeniably disgusting to leave half empty glasses, half finished dessert plates, empty beer bottles, fancy feast caked plates, and other bullshit all over the common spaces? I dunno. I've sprayed the place down with Mrs. Meyer's geranium scented room freshener and am hoping for the best. Guess what just came on TBS? Sex and the City. What could be better? Ah. Friday.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday

Below you will find a list of music to which I have taken a recent shining. I'm not saying it's good, or not going to show up on an episode of The Hills, or hasn't been in an iPod commercial, I'm just saying I like it.

Lex - Ratatat

The Step and the Walk - The Duke Spirit

Time to Pretend - MGMT

Kids - MGMT

Coleen - The Heavy

Psychotic Girl - The Black Keys

Why Do You Let Me Stay Here - She and Him

Koop Islands -Koop

Take Me to the Riot - Stars

The Bones of You - Elbow

Oh Mojave - The Ruby Suns

Young Bride - Midlake

Polite Dance Song - The Bird and the Bee

Mykonos - Fleet Foxes

Now tell me what I should be listening to.

Back to Basics/I will fix my header someday/It's Friday I'm in Love

Dear Bee-Spot reader(s),

Due to the overwhelming response to the recent lack of quality posts, or any posts, not that any post was ever quality, actually, there has been no response really, but that's neither here nor there, do you think I blog for you? Blog is art. Or something. Right, so I'm returning to my old schedule of posts to ensure that I bring you the contents of my Diet Coke addled brain thrice weekly - ZHMMM, Cringesday/Robert Goulet Wednesday News Round Up/IFIIL, in case you forgot.

It's Friday, I'm in Love with:

The Thymes. My first semester at Smith was pretty rough. Classes were actually difficult! The then boyfriend was a total asshole. Three feet of snow! To make it through, I practiced some serious retail therapy. Since there's no point of dressing nicely in -14 degrees or at a women's college, I opted for beauty products. This little store called the Cedar Chest was rife with all kinds of smelly goodness and remains one of my all-time favorite stores. It's where I first discovered Thymes products and we've been in love ever since. I've tried every scent, every format, everything. I think I even applied for a job at their company (I have. Please hire me!). If you have a lady in your life, or a dude that likes to smell like a lady, get yourself online and snap up this stuff, stat (unless you're lucky enough to live near a store that doesn't suck - they have a surprising amount of products at Central Market in TX)! The not too floral Olive Leaf is probably my favorite smell. Besides things that are deep fried. The rollerball cologne fits perfectly in your purse for those times when you've been at a bar all night and you smell like a frat basement and you're pretty sure you're going home with someone and you don't want to scare them off. Just roll it on. I suggest Filigree.

Here's to happier times at the bee-spot!

b

Things I hate: #4

I hate a lot of things. The idea of chewing on wet paper towels. People who don't accelerate immediately at green lights. Samoa Girl Scout cookies. Weddings with no alcohol. White tights. My Chemical Romance. Uni nigiri. But last night, a previously overlooked (or blocked out) transgression forced itself upon me. I attended Zanzibarfest (you can find it on MyFriendSpaceBook) to benefit a local recording studio that works with many of Norman's bands, including the roommate's. I saw some old school Norman kids, had a free beer, watched toddlers fall over in a community garden, listened to some local music and was subjected to hippie dancing. Holy hairy chai scented balls does this annoy me! I just don't understand. The amount of unrhythmic flailing was dangerous. You could've put an eye out with that. Just because you have on several long layers of non-matching billowing fabrics doesn't mean that twirling and contorting in them is actually conveying some sort of transcendent experience. Also, you're all doing the same dumbass dance, you non-conformists. And finally, you pretend it's all spontaneous expressions of your surroundings, but you totally practice in front of your mirror every night.

I want to trip them. I want to dress them in GAP from head to toe. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against hippies really, it's just their dancing. It's worst than the skankiest of sorostitute grinding. I'd rather do the electric slide on hot coals than watch this shit. I thought my own personal hell was a place with no Diet Coke, but apparently it's a Phish concert.

I bite their heads off first.

Have you ever been at work, enjoying a nice snack of animal crackers while returning emails, finishing super fun reports, etc when you drop one of the crackers down into your cleavage? And then you push back your head to see how deep the little monkey has fallen, then pull your shirt from your chest and reach into to the depths to retrieve it? And then a new faculty member pops into your office to learn about health insurance options while your hand is very conspicuously rooting around between your boobs? Awesome.

Guess what, homeskillet(s)?

I finally watched Juno. It took me longer than baby Juno's gestation, but I finally did it. And it wasn't easy, either. It was late, like 9.45pm on Monday night, which is about 45 minutes past my third grade bedtime, which is also my current bedtime. I didn't think I'd make it, but fortunately, my 184 Diet Cokes per day habit made it possible. I won't bother anyone with a review because it's old news, I just wanted it known that I finally bent to the will of Ellen Page and Michael Cera. And that stripper/writer chick. Or whatever.

Believe me, you don't have to be a pregnant teen to eat like that.

In other news, I spent almost all weekend thinking up terrible recipes that Sandra Lee (busty, blond "Semi-Homemade" chick on the Food Network) would perpetrate in any given situation. It's a wonderful way to pass the time when Shain goes shopping with you and hates everything that you show interest in whether you express it aloud or not. Let's say you've rented Juno and have decided to invite a few friends over to watch. Sandra would suggest dumping several cans of peas into a blender with onion soup mix for a special babyfoodesque treat to be served in adorable sippy cups. For the main course, abortion stew is started by dumping a bag of frozen, chopped onions, canned tomatoes, brown gravy mix, one bottle of beer, six quarts of the highest sodium beef broth you can find, 8 ounces shame, two cups of relief, and three pounds stew beef into a crockpot. Let the ingredients heat on low in the crockpot for no more than a trimester - you might want to complete this step in advance. In fact, why not pop in an Arrested Development DVD while you cook. The aborted series features two of the film's stars! To finish, top each heaping serving with a mixture of one jar mayonnaise, one container sour cream, one package taco seasoning mix, two tablespoons of bottled lemon juice and a dash of MSG. Sunny D cocktails - two ounces Sunny D, three shots of McCormick's tequila, ice, two tablespoons bottled lime juice, a dash each of A-1 and Tabasco - should be served in chilled baby bottles. To create a great tablescape, you need look no further than local resources! Simply stop by Planned Parenthood for condoms to toss down the center of the table, as a reminder. Check your own medicine cabinet for extra pregnancy tests from that last scare and line them up and down the center of the table to create a faux table runner. Cloth diapers will make wonderful napkins! Start up the movie and join your companions as they watch the witty banter fly faster than the Gilmore Girls without their Adderall on the bullet train.

Mmmmmmyeeeech.

Actual Sandra Lee recipe: Italian Beef

1-2-3-4 tell me that you love me anymore (like you ever did)

I am not so good at the blogging with all of the working and the sleeping and the solitary drinking and such. Apologies. My job continues to dominate 80% of my time that I don't spend thinking or talking about my job. The other .01% of my time I spend bitching about everything else, including this blog and the lack thereof. However, this weekend, I took a little break from my self imposed prison of work and bitchiness and ventured out into my community with the following results:

1. Apple Store, Penn Square Mall, Oklahoma City, OK: My dad called to let me know that TurboTax had felled our mighty eMac from 2004. Surprise. He was freaking out because now he had no computer with which to go online and order a new computer so that he could complete filing in a timely manner. I suggested that instead of ordering a computer and taking a day off work to await its arrival that we go to the Apple Store conveniently located near a J. Crew. He agreed, with reservation - about what, I don't know. We completed the purchase after about 500 hours of luddite torture inflicted by Dad toward myself and the poor, annoying apple guy who says he will email the receipt and call us when the additional memory stick has been installed - yes, we had them do it. When we return to pick up the computer, the concierge/dumbass asks for our receipt. I say it will be emailed to us with our Apple Care information. Dad then completely freaks out because it dons on him that without his old computer working, he can't possibly check email to print out the new receipt. FOR REAL! I calmly try to tell him that he can access his email from any computer and that we need only to turn on the new computer so that he can log in to gmail. He thinks this over and clearly thinks that he has spawned a complete and utter retard for thinking that email can exist on more than just one's personal computer. Seriously, folks, it's amazing I can even read. Also, he has a Ph.D.

2. Meacham Hall, OU, Norman, OK: Later that night, Darryl/Craig Robinson, the endearing warehouser from The Office performed his stand up routine at OU. It bordered on totally lame and awful and made extensive use of a Casio and the word "panties." I could make better jokes in my sleep, if I were funny. Later that night, we saw him holding court over a mixture of fratsters and sorostitutes (who probably don't watch The Office unless it's on in the background while they're blowing dudes with their boat shoes* still on) at the bar. Ew.

3. East Lawn, OU, Norman, OK: Later, later that night, we returned from the disappointing "comedy" show to whine and complain about the lack of interesting shit to do in Norman, the boyfriend stumbled upon the fact that Voxtrot would be performing at OU, right where we had been a mere minutes earlier. We finished our Keystones and braved the streets filled with the remnants of OU's first scrimmage to listen to approximately 1.5 songs before they finished. Oops. They are darling! Like all good hipsters, they are mini. Super cute, teeny tiny musicians. Oh well, random indie bands are always clamoring to play in Norman, so there'll be more... Actually, if you read this (ha!) and you're from the area, the Norman Music Festival happens the 26th. The line up isn't bad including British Sea Power, The Polyphonic Spree and lots of not totally sucky local acts.

Enjoy: The Start of Something - Voxtrot

4. Cain's Ballroom, Tulsa, OK: Mr. Shain and I hit the turnpike for a quick trip to Tulsa to hear my favorite Feist perform Monday night. Shain is truly dear sometimes, but I don't know why, and frankly, it scares me. He picked me up from work and promptly handed me a Boylan lime seltzer, my favorite, for the trip. I thought for sure this meant that he was the Silvio to my Ade. After a pit stop at McDonald's so Shain could stuff his face with the new southern chicken sandwich (what does that even mean, McDonald's?) we arrived in Tulsa to get lost in the totally dead downtown area. It was weird. We were afraid to park, but we did and made it inside. Now, I love Feist and you will not convince me otherwise. I have Let it Die and The Reminder memorized. I will fight you if you say she sucks unless it looks like I cannot win. Right, my point was that I suspected, as we entered the venue, that the Urban Outfitted attendees did not share the same kind of love. I was right. Instead of singing the The Park, she railed the audience for their behavior to the melody. I imagine this is not unusual for her, that she probably rehearses admonishments for mid-western audiences, but I got her point. Shain thought it was preachy and tacky. What was actually maybe more tacky was her outfit - I couldn't decide if her white fringed mini dress with white leather booties topped with beaded Native American inspired necklaces was an homage to her surroundings or just bizarre taste. More disturbing was the continued audience behavior. This chick beside me totally flipped her shit on the security guy near us chatting up a totally drunk girl. The security dude actually told her to shut the fuck up. I was stunned. But then I returned to the hypnotic effect of the music accompanied by this super hot piano player and the boyfriend's doppleganger on guitar (he seriously looked quite like him). She played all the old favorites including new versions of Inside and Out and Let it Die. She forgot a verse of Mushaboom, but came back with a fantastic encore of Sealion Woman. One of the most compelling things about the whole show, besides Shain's clothing choice which involved a stuffed in t-shirt and vest, was the shadow imagery projected on the back of the stage area. Usually, I hate that shit, but now, of course, I want to change careers. We got home about 2 and I headed into work by 8. Awesome, but worth it.

Enjoy:
So Sorry
Gatekeeper

5. My Bed, Norman, OK: I went to bed last night a about 7pm and woke up at 6.30 this morning. Hence the bloglessness. I'll try to be better about reporting my totally boring life and inane observations, but no promises.




*Has anyone noticed this trend? WFT? They are the summer equivalent of Uggs, I suppose. I will never understand and assume that's for the best.

crap sandwich

Yesterday, I started my new job at the old job. I was so nervous I forgot to brush my teeth, I only used ACT mouthwashy stuff. I had to break into a coworker's emergency toothpaste stash. This morning, I forgot deodorant. I predict I will forget my bra tomorrow.

In a related story, do you ever suddenly move away from where you lived for six years and kind of inadvertently cut off communication with all of your friends because the last six months you were there you were essentially 180 degrees from your real self, then drink some wine one night and look at their Facebook pages (like a douche) and realize they're all just fine without you and you want to cry a little, but can't because that would be stupid?

In another related story, have you ever had a boyfriend who's in law school and they get real frustrated and throw books around and stuff? And you feel really crappy because there's nothing you can do about it except say, well, that's why I didn't go to law school.

Things White People Love #34, St. Patrick's Day

There's nothing immigrant hating WT's in Oklahoma like more than celebrating St. Paddy's Day. It's the perfect time of year to bust out your "Kiss Me I'm Irish" t-shirt, green and white striped super gay Dr. Seuss hat, guzzle some overpriced green beer and try to get laid by female counterparts wearing very tiny green t-shirts and tinier pants with even tinier brains. If you're a little higher up on the socio-economic ladder, you carefully scour Abercrombie or American Eagle for that perfectly fitting, peck revealing polo, primed for a festive popped collar. If you're even higher up on the ladder, you've most certainly spent the week before perusing Urban Outfitters and other vintage t-shirt sites for the perfect, gently worn, super ironic, tight fitting tee for the occasion. If you're me, you hate all of you.

Hope you had a car bomb.

T.C.O.B.

So, where have I been, you no one might ask?

1. Stuck in traffic on 2-35 North.
2. Mourning the end of The Wire. I've Netflixed Friday Night Lights, Freaks and Geeks, Lost, and now The Wire. What's next?
3. Getting a promotion at work, which means I feel increasingly guilty about using company bandwidth to support this habit. Also, I actually kind of have to do stuff now.
4. Contemplating a haircut.
5. Spending some QT with Mr. Shain and Rockband. Spending some QT with Shain and my dad at a forensics tournament. Yeah, it's weird.
6. Hating on the mega-churches that have sprung up all over the metro.
7. Buying reusable grocery bags from eBay because there's no place I can think of that would sell them here.
8. Watching Ade get presumably whacked on the A&E Sopranos marathon. I'm glad it was Sil.
9. Getting lost in the aisles of Sam's. Did you know you can buy three pounds of Cinnamon Toast Crunch for only $6? Shiiiiiiiiiit.
10. Drinking too much Lion's Head. Not going to the gym.

OHMYGOD WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE: Part II.

Oh, to be an Oklahoman. This morning, as I was listening to NPR, the local news had a story about State Rep Sally Kern spewing hate. I was going to post it, but The Lost Ogle beat me to it. Jesus Christ on a stick. There is a war, a recession and American Idol. Who has time for this shit?

Sally Kern is a jerk via The Lost Ogle.

OHMYGOD WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!

This morning, as I was taking the detour off Sheilds that led me to a detour off whatever street that was which made me want to kill someone, I was listening to a little NPR. I hear the familiar and strangely hypnotic voice of the StarDate lady. Usually, I block her out or become entranced, I'm not sure which, but this time, something caught my attention. Namely the fact that, potentially, we're all going to die because this star's going to explode our ozone layer and stuff. Bad news bears, but wait, it gets better. This other star might explode, but instead of the ozone crap, it would cause a gamma ray burst, which would exterminate life on earth in a mess of fires and storms and deadly particles oh my! This is what StarDate lady says exactly:

"Luckily for us, gamma-ray bursts seem to beam into space from the poles of the exploding star. The poles of Eta Carinae don’t aim our way, so we’re probably safe from this doomed star."

Probably safe? Holy ozone depleting deadly particle riddled balls! This woke me up right in time to realize just how ugly downtown OKC is. Really. Don't visit.

BREAKING NEWS: I had a dream that no one is interested in.

Since I've driven this blog into irreparable disrepair, I can now post even crappier content without fear of alienating readers. Because there are really no readers. So...

Last night, I had this dream. I finished a puzzle of the alphabet, each letter on one piece, making a long train when completed. Suddenly, someone handed me a hamster. I understand that these are the hamsters sent to every US tax payer by the Jordanian government in thanks for something I can't recall. The weird thing about these hamsters is that when you place them on the puzzle, they deposit little turds on various letters, spelling out important messages. I can't remember what the message said, but of course it probably holds the key to life.

An open letter to February.

Dear February,

You sucked harder than what it must be like to endure a Jessica Alba movie if you are blind. You brought the stomach flu, the other kind of flu, a UTI, a lingering cough and an unshakable malaise that has resulted in me watching an inordinate amount of TV swaddled in my comforter craving Girl Scout cookies. To top it all off, you had the audacity to be 29 days long this year.

Blow me,

B

P.S. March is going to rock my figurative balls off. You can count on that. So far, it's already better because there was an awesome thunderstorm last night. Also, I found this song which makes me happy. It's the little things.

I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You - Black Kids

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Beer instead of music edition.

You may not know this about me, but I like beer. A lot. More than liking beer, I like to complain about the lack thereof here in the Sooner state. After spending a million years in the MA, I grew accustomed to the multitude of microbreweries dotting New England and beyond, their microbrews available in package stores, bars and restaurants. I miss a lot of things about New England like seafood, liberals, snow storms, independent video stores, all varieties of Cabot products, villages, mountains, soft serve stands, but I think I miss the beer most of all. I would vote for McCain if you offered me a Harpoon UFO at this point. Oklahoma's liquor laws are more mysterious than why No Country for Old Men won best picture last night over There Will Be Blood or why I'm so attracted to Helen Mirren. I guess I'll just never understand. In the meantime, if you're headed to the NE or are already there, pour one of these out for me.

Harpoon UFO - so wheaty.


Long Trail Double Bag - so malty.



Smuttynose Old Brown Dog - so brown.



Magic Hat #9 - so magic (and apricot).



Brooklyn Pilsner - so golden.



Rapscallion Blessing - so comes in an awesome brandy snifter like glass that you can steal if you bring a large enough purse.

So You Think You Can Dance Audition Tape #4,679

BREAKING NEWS: Mr. Shain may not be so bad.

Today, or yesterday, I don't really know, longtime bee-spot reader and friend/hater, Mr. Shain, formerly of *The Life & Times, sent me an email. Within this email was a link to the website Stuff White People Like. Maybe you've heard of it already, chances are, I don't care. In the meantime, the site provides a bit of hilarity during a long day at the office blogs. To tell the truth, and listen carefully, because I am rarely honest (also, you guys are the most awesome readership ever!), it's more a site about what yuppies like. I can get behind that as some day I aspire to be a yuppie, but until then I will drive a Camry instead of a Prius. Anyway, my point is, this list makes sense if you live in Connecticut or Vermont or maybe Edmond. For the rest of us (especially here in Oklahoma), I think there's a different list to be had.

George Bush
Matchbox 20
Cracker Barrel
Jack and Ron on 98.9
Buying American
Lake Hefner
Sam's Wholesale Club
The Blazers
local banks
Diet Coke/Pepsi
The Lake (where ever that might be)
Gary England/weather preparedness
Bricktown
Edmond Public Schools

My boringness has reached an irreversible apex:

This is what I'm doing right now:

1. Watching onions brown as I make French onion soup. I actually bought a nip of Courvoisier to add to it.

2. Tab is open to Politico, waiting for the primary results.

3. Double fisting; Diet Coke and white wine (pinot grigio).

4. Listening to Fresh Air as Bart Ehrman discusses why religion is whack.

5. Wondering why my Technorati rating has gone from an all time high of 59 to 37.

6. Cursing Martha Stewart for buying the rights to Emeril's stupid fucking bullshit cooking show.

7. Thinking about how awesome Frontline could be tonight.

I don't even have kids, how have I become so utterly lame? Good lord.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Oklahoma Edition.

There are shows happening! Not many, but some. And they don't all suck!

2/20: G. Love and the Special Sauce w/Tristan Prettyman - potential Vh1 fare, but could be ok. (Cain's, Tulsa)

2/25: Jonathan Richman - sort of a throwback, but a good one. (Opolis, Norman)

2/27: Citizen Cope - remember that Pontiac commercial with the infectious song? It's him! He has other good ones too. (Diamond Ballroom, OKC) ALSO State Radio - they're all political and shit. (Cain's, Tulsa)

2/29: Built to Spill - I dunno, could be worth it. (Diamond Ballroom, OKC)

3/8: Wilco! - sold out. Jerks.

3/16: Blitzen Trapper - saw them with The Hold Steady. I would recommend, but what do I know? (Opolis, Norman)

3/17: Islands - but will I have enough money for all of these shows? (Opolis, Norman)

4/14: FEIST! - you all know I love her with all my (psuedo-commercial indie) heart.



And much more including Xiu Xiu and British Sea Power. Check it out at www.oklahomarock.com because I am too lazy to write it all down and they change things all the time.


Fun fact of the day: Did you know, that in 1780 or so or sometime near there but not exactly then, there was a brief country named Franklin in what would be Tennessee and that the leader was named Nolichucky Jack? Me either, until very recently.

Documentary of the day: No End in Sight. This movie was quite invigorating. I want to make Rumsfeld live with my mother for six months, he's so evil.

Fear of the day: The BF just shaved off his winter beard. Will he be the same?

Book of the day: The Tale of Genji. Daunting? Yes. Worth it? Also yes.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with the most wonderful time of the year! No, not when all of my STD tests come back negative, but... wait for it... Girl Scout Cookie time! They're everywhere and they're delicious, so head out to your nearest Wal-Mart because these little ladies are sitting at a table in front, mopping up the drool from the "greeter," waiting to take your money. I only eat Thin Mints, Shortbread and Peanut Butter Patties. I am a boring purist. It would take at least $5 to get me to eat a Samoa because those things are gross and even look gross. MMMMMMMM!

I suppose it's Valentine's Day or some crap.

I was sent home from work today. Asked to leave. No kidding. It appears that somewhere between about 12am and 6am this morning, I totally lost my voice. I can only eek out a barely audible whisper, sometimes accompanied by an errant croak. It's very sexy, trust me. A large portion of my daily work includes talking on the phone and meeting with people face to face (a large percentage of them international students), which proved to be quite difficult by hour three and due to my poor coordination resulting in gesticulations that were probably inappropriate to most cultures. I was sent packing. I arrived home to flop in bed and watch Knotting Hill, Sliding Doors AND Raising Helen (with chocolates sent to work by a software company). Valentine's Day complete. I guess. I was informed last week the the BF doesn't celebrate V-Day, instead choosing to participate in "Meat Week" which maybe means he's gay, I don't know. It also might mean he reads College Humor* or this website. I'm just hoping I get a steak tomorrow night or something.

I'm not going to lie, I was kind of bummed about this. My past V-Days have always been shitty (one includes pink eye, another when I got someone the worst gift ever - a beta fish, another - actually, I can't remember them anymore, must've blocked them out), so not having one is probably best for me. Also, I reviewed the state of my mental last year and have decided that I'm ahead this time around, so all is well even if there are no flowers and crap. So, have a good one. Or don't have one. Or have a crappy one. It all evens out in the end.

*The other weekend, I was playing this retarded (sorry, no other word will suffice) made up drinking game and I had this great, what I would think College Humor worthy idea (if College Humor sucked, well, sometimes it does). Picture this, beercreditreport.com. You know, for all of your friends that abandon wounded soldiers all over your place. Or drink your Stella and replace it with Natty. Or totally cheat during pong by making their partner drink or by being a girl. You know, that kind of shit. If this already exists (because I am clearly too lazy to use Google), just humor me, ok?

Friends (or whatever), help me save my 5th favorite TV show. Please.

Good Idea #78

It seems that come May or June or July or probably August, I, along with the rest of the United States excepting those who actually desperately need it, will be the recipient of $600 courtesy of a recently passed congressional stimulus package (insert joke about stimulating packages here). I was debating whether or not to use the surplus to pay off one month's interest of my student loans, a deposit on a new place, those glasses I've been needing or... shit from SkyMall. It will be a tough decision.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday

Saturday night, in spite of my aforementioned condition, the BF arranged a little date chock full of what passes at culture here in the Sooner state. We made reservations for dinner and a movie at the Oklahoma City Museum of Art. The museum offers a prix-fixe menu and tickets package for NPR listening dorks like ourselves. The movie featured this week was "I'm Not There," the un-bio pic about not Bob Dylan, but yes. A few weeks ago, I saw "There Will Be Blood" as mentioned on this blog, not that anyone reads at this point. I wasn't sure how to react to the film. Was Daniel Plainwhatever really a bad guy? Was he the worst guy ever? Did the Radiohead dude steal his musical ideas from "Woman in the Dunes," a 1960s Japanese movie? In any event, the movie raised questions, made me think, made me squirm and all that shit, in the way a movie should. "I'm Not There" caused pretty much the same reaction, but in the way a movie shouldn't. From the moment it began, I couldn't wait for it to end. The film was so fucking inconsistent, and not in its narrative conventions, but in the choices the writer/director made about alternately hitting the viewer over the head with obvious retardedness then complete and purposeful cryptic crap. I wanted to like this movie. I expected to like it. However, it was utter crap, and I rarely say that. The only redeemable aspect, of course and obviously, was the inclusion of Dylan's music, in his own voice and through various covers. We could all wax interminably about Bob, so I will leave all of that to the pros. I will just mention a few songs that struck me and have continued to play in my head since the movie ended. Way too long after it began. I'm curious if others who have seen if share my reaction or think I'm completely off my (folk)rocker.

Download these:

Going to Acapulco - Jim James & Calexico: Sadly charming and perfectly haunting. Just when I think MMJ is a one trick pony, this collaboration revives my love for both groups.

Just Like A Woman - Charlotte Gainsbourg with Calexico: Charlotte was also in the movie, portraying Dylan's estranged wife, Sara. She's the only character who was even remotely compelling. Her breathy rendition of maybe my favorite (albeit everyone's) Dylan song quietly wrings the sexism out of the lyrics.

Lay Lady Lay - Bob Dylan: Ok, I lied. This is my favorite Dylan song. I shall dust of Nashville Skyline.

Positively 4th Street - Johnny Rivers: What's not to like?

One More Cup Of Coffee - The White Stripes: I wonder if Bob ever wished he sang better, or at least had a voice just as distinct, but in a tolerable way.

Simple Twist of Fate - Jeff Tweedy: Oh dear. Involuntary emotional surge during the last verse. Heart hurts. Also, isn't nice to actually understand the lyrics for once?

The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll - Mason Jennings: I bet Jennings wished he wrote this.

In other news: other songs I like at the moment.

Harvester of Hearts - Rufus Wainwright: Happy V-Day!

At 7 - Britta Persson: I hate that I find myself drawn to songs like this. Blech. Yay!

Mother's Child - Crystal Moustache: Weird5000.

Lake Erie - Nat Baldwin: This guy's from the Dirty Projectors, not that you couldn't have figured it out.

New Soul - Yael Naim: Yes, this is in a MacBook commercial. Blow me. It's still a great song.

More Cover Mania!

In The Aeroplane Over The Sea - Matt Pond PA: Never gets old, no matter who's doing it.

Thirteen - Wilco: This song breaks my heart over and over again. There's an Elliot Smith version as well, which literally makes me tear up.

Always On My Mind - Ryan Adams: I'm still waiting for my ex-boyfriend to dedicate this to me.

I am so out of touch with everything:

2080 - Yeasayer: It turns out this is pretty interesting. There's definitely a Beach Boys resurgence happening. (Besnard Lakes, Cass McCombs, and others, I would say.)

Oh, also, of course, I bought the Vampire Weekend full length album. Even my dad loves it.

Live Blogging the Grammy Awards

6.58pm - Oh, the Grammy's are on? Does that mean there will be new episodes of The Office? What day is it?

7.02 - Boring. Boring. Boring.

7.34 - Boring. Amy Crackhouse wins again.

sometime in between - Beyonce booty shaking like a maniac with an old lady wearing a skin-tight space suit made of foil aka Tina Turner.

8.11 - Boring. Where's Cracky Whorehouse?

9.02 - Why do I know all of the words to "That Old Black Magic?" The BF is looking at me strangely as he puts in ear plugs.

9.05 - They're showing Dexter on CBS?

9.09 - I love me some Stevie Wonder, but the guy needs a sighted stylist.

9.12 - The BF's fart is more exciting than Alicia Keys' performance.

9.18 - Kanye just got told! By Vince Gill! Not even Vince Neil! Don't fuck with Oklahomans.

9.41 - There she is. She makes Nicole Richie look fat. She's also wearing the inside of a Victorian casket. Pretty...

9.forever - Boring.

And the winner is...