Monday, May 26, 2008

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Memorialize this, bitches.

Lacey and I went to see the documentary Young@Heart, featuring a chorus comprised of darling elderly folks rocking out to Coldplay, Sonic Youth and The Clash among others. Turns out, the chorus practiced in the community center not half a mile from my apartment in Florence/Northampton, MA. I walked Zealand (dog stolen by ex) daily around those parts, but I never knew such things were happening inside. I am now, of course, terribly homesick. I long for a burger at the Northampton Brewery, a trip to Pop's package store, a walk at the dog park, shopping in Thornes, parties on Eastern Ave, beers at the Dirty Truth, debauchery at Hugo's, and taking naps on the boathouse deck at Paradise Pond. Oh, to be young again. But I'll never be young again. Instead, I can only hope to be as kick ass as these folks as I go gray. The film follows the group through their rehearsals for a performance at the Academy of Music in Northampton, interspersed with snippets of chorus members' lives. Lenny can't sing his way out of a paper bag (not to mention drive on the highway), Joe faces cancer with astounding honesty, and Eileen is a 92 year old sex pot. In spite of the inevitable heartbreak, it's quite inspiring. And so it goes. Below, a tribute to Joe who passed before the concert by his former duet partner:

In the spirit of summer music, take a listen to these:

Jamie Lidell - Multiply

Coconut Records

The New Pornographers - Electric Version

Thursday, May 22, 2008

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).

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

To Shain:

Starting with this one.



Tuesday, May 20, 2008

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!

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:

Monday, May 19, 2008

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.

Friday, May 16, 2008

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.

Monday, May 12, 2008

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.

Friday, May 09, 2008

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!


Monday, May 05, 2008

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.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

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.