So... there's a motherfucking blizzard, y'all.

Dude. For once, the high lords of plains weather got it totally fucking wrong. Three to five inches? I don't think so. Let's try 12 to 14. And wind! Blowing snow everywhere! The state has gone apeshit. The governor closed all the roads. Every.Single.Road.In.The.State. They're setting up shelters along the major highways for stranded travelers. Boo. If I lived close enough to the highway, I'd go invite people to stay the night in my cozy wozy house in exchange for beer. That's right. While my genius mother stocked up on TP, water and pasta, I forgot the golden rule of potential natural disasters. GET BOOZE! The BF and I are draining a bottle of some sort of German fortified wine that you heat (delicious!!!), but soon it will be gone and we will be left with our personalities or four bottles of apple flavored Smirnoff Ice. I want to walk to the gas station about a mile away for a rack of 'stones, but K says no. It's Christmas Eve, so maybe there will be a Christmas beericle, but I doubt it.

In the meantime, we bundled up like retarded yetis (no we didn't, I left my snow boots, real winter coat and gloves at my folks house, so I'm wearing pajama pants and old gym shoes with some awesome knee high wool socks and a hat some cousin left one time) and bounded about our pristine street. We walked up and down the street, unable to retrace our own footprints because of the blowing snow. Yay! Is it weird that this makes me totally happy? I don't like the part about being away from family this eve, or all of the car carnage out there, but I love snow and cold and white and sparkling and condensation on the windows and rocking legwarmers and drinking mulled wine and snuggling in my new Snuggie and wearing out my Netflix subscription. K is frying corn tortillas he found in the fridge (we literally have nothing else - we had planned to be house sitting and cleaned out our food) and has declared them the Christmas chips. I don't know what that means, but the smell of corn and salt is beckoning. Merry Christmas.

P.S. Gary England has been suspiciously absent today. Hmm.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. Please. So I don't have to go to Woodward, OK on x-mas day.

Word on the local news weather street is that there's a big ass storm headed to the OK. By big ass I mean 3 - 6 inches. WOO! Kids play in my book, but everyone's fucking flipping their shit around here. My mom made my dad go buy TP, bottled water and the makings for lasagna in case we get snowed in tomorrow night and can't enjoy our ceremonial Christmas Eve dinner at Outback. I am dead fucking serious. This has been going on for like 10 years now. My brother gets two orders of cheese fries. It's disgusting.

Right, so I wish I had a fireplace. And I wish it would really snow a shit ton. I miss waking up to the sound of plows beeping and scraping up and down the streets foretelling the glorious white mounds of winter wonder.

Christmas brings out the worst in me, but this year I managed to purchase a relatively relevant gift for those in my immediate life as well as string up some ornaments (no tree) and a couple of lights from a window. I know, right?

Also, I'm now even lamer and older than ever before. My parents asked me what I wanted this year, which is retarded since they bought me a car and probably shouldn't purchase anything for me for about the rest of my life (although, I still pay a pretty penny each month for my student loans...), but I obliged and provided them with the most boring, sensible list of old person stuff ever.

Cook's Illustrated recommended toaster

Nike Triax +12 running shoes

matching flatware

comforter cover

Cuisinart hand mixer

I know, right? LAMEST CRAP EVER. What I really wanted was this, these, this bad ass, these guys for my living room, and a weekend trip here with the BF. Being old and sensible sucks. And poor. Being poor sucks too.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

If you need me, I'll flatironing my hair in the tanning bed.

Surely, you've heard about Jersey Shore. It's truly miraculous. Mostly because it's on now that IASIP and The League are kaput for the season. Even the BF is mesmerized by the the awesomeness that is Jersey Shore. I can't really say anything without sounding like a total ass, so I won't. I will say that I'm jealous that all the kids have nicknames. I always wanted a nickname. I never got one. When you have a weirdo first name, I think you're precluded from a nickname since everyone's still trying to figure out how to say your first name. But no more! Behold, the Jersey Shore Nickname Generator. Enjoy.

This was my first result, I shit you not.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Handbellz Rule Edition.

Yes, I'll admit it. From sixth grade through my senior year in high school, I was a handbell playing fool, yo. I even went with my group to competitions and stuff. For realz. I've long thought handbell choirs are one of the greatest mechanisms for teaching people to be a team out there. Basically, a choir consists of a multi-octave human keyboard with one person accounting for maybe four notes total. So, every single person is crucial. There's rarely doubling, so when you're not there or sucking, it stands out, hence the terrific opportunity bells create for group work and commitment. Also, yes, I am lame. I wish I could write music. I would arrange "I Will" for handbells because it's my favorite song AND handbells, well, rule. Anywho, check out this installment from Improve Everywhere featuring some handi (not that kind) action. Agent Davis is a childhood friend. Awesome!

Jean Visitation Hours Saturdays, 1 - 4 PM

Immediately post breakup 06, I dropped like 25 el bees fucking overnight. Like snap your finger and bam! Best.Diet.Ever. When that happened, obviously, I had to get some new threads. I still find all of this mystical and amazing since I was drinking more alcohol than I can remember, which equals some serious calories, but anywho. Now that's been over for a long time and I'm happy again, which means the poundage has creeped up a bit rendering those old jeans useless (I refuse to sport a noticeable muffin top while standing, at least). But just by a little. So, every time I go to my parents house to walk my/their dog, put up Christmas crap, or help them with anything involving the internet, I sneak in to the closet of my old bedroom where I stash the crap I don't want at my house and am too cheap to pay for storage and pull out my old jeans. And try them on. I think one more trip and they're all going to fit again! So, yes, I visit my former jeans once a week. Weird, I know.

let the parties begin!

Larger version here.

Well, I did it people.

I recently conquered two, count 'em two fashion fears. The ever present skinny jean and boots over jeans combo. I'm hesitant since I'm what I like to call voluptuous (others might call it, well, something else) and rather vertically challenged. I can hear Trinny and Susannah, Clinton and Stacey telling me no. Really loudly. But I did it anyway! Kudos, me.

+

+

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me catching on to a trend that surely almost over.

blergh

i have the wintertime sadfaces. big time. for no apparent reason. i'm a joy to be around. ask anyone.

All I do is watch 30 Rock, Parks & Recreation and IASIP. I am awesome, I know.

Well, it's official.

Parks and Recreation is actually good now. Really good. Well done, Poehler. Well done.

I'll stuff your stocking, I'll tell you what.

I tried to do some x-mas shopping yesterday, until I realized I was poor. And besides, what is there that we don't already have? It's insane, really. I find myself making up problems so that I can buy the solution. It's ridiculous, really. And also, I'm flat broke. All. The. Time.

Which brings me to this: Tips 4 Poor People.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: BF edition.

BF came across this - it's on sale for $5 on Amazon - and it rulez!

Tall Boy



Body Request



Power Lunch



DUI

t-day aftermath

I was searching for images to accurately capture my current state of T-day overload and came across this, which doesn't really accomplish my goal, but is sufficiently weird, so there. I came, I saw, I ate Paula Deen's pumpkin gooey butter cake*. I'm now relegated to sweat pants. Marry me.

More later, you know, when I have enough energy to type.

*Not only did I partake on T-day, I definitely liked the mixer clean when making them. OHMYGODSOGOODFUCKYOUPAULADEENFORMAKINGMEFAT.ER.

Stuffity Stuff Stuff

I am at home, lazing about on mismatched sheets (my new thing is mixing up striped sheets with floral pillow cases - I know, crazy!) enjoying the remainder of my morning before T-day preparations commence. Last year, I pretty much made everything for my fam plus the BF and a stray uncle, but this year, we're headed to the homeland (Woodward, OK) so I'm not responsible for it all, just a few items. Crudite with lowfat yogurt dip, gooey pumpkin butter cake, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, and corn pudding.

But before that, here's what caught my eye and I thought I would share because, well, I'm nice like that.

NPR did one of those last minute bits on this blog, My Parents Were Awesome. It's endearing.



The Muppets are blowing up. And Rocking out.




Shoes. I like to live vicariously through those who can both afford and manage heels like these: Elle Shoe Blog.


Duh news of the day: Junk Food Turns Rats Into Addicts.

Listening to: How Long Has This Been Going On? - Ella Fitzgerald

RIP BreakUp 06

Well, it finally happened. The exbf and I engaged in exchanging pleasantries at birthday time for the past few years. Last year, it took him almost a year to respond to my fab ecard. He did, though, and wished me a good one on my 28th this year. So, I followed suit earlier this month, but nothing. No acknowledgement, no nothing. I think that means we can officially stop doing that. Which is great!*

*I would not suggest listening to Nick Cave while thinking about past relationships as I am now. Just trust me.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Amazon Black Friday $5 Special! Edition

Dudes, Amazon is selling all kinds of good shit for only $5! As if my iPod has room to store everything. Oh well. Maybe someone will get me a new one with more capacity for Jesus' b-day, but I doubt it. In any case, here's what I've downloaded so far:

A Charlie Brown Christmas - Vince Guaraldi Trio (This is a new one with more stuff. Yes, I have the old one. And the record too.

Odyssey and Oracle - The Zombies

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes

The Definitive Rarities Collection - Nina Simone

And I have plans for many more. I just need time and $$.

Also, I downloaded "Bad Romance" (Lady Caca) and "I Can Transform Ya" (Chris "Ladybeater" Brown) for the ol' work out mix. Helpful tip: if you are trying not to be such a lard ass, do not, I repeat, do not get it into your head that it's ok to eat at Greek House even if it's the first time in many months and you've been good all week. JUST DON'T.

Currently, I'm laid up on the couch like a beached gyrowhale, fending off impending heartburn from the massive amounts of garlic and onion consumed watching my favorite movie on the CW (34 local) Home for the Holidays. It's about dysfunctional families eating gross food wearing terrible coats yadda yadda yadda Holly Hunter's character makes out with Dylan McDermott's. And it got me to thinking about how awesome making out can be. Just making out. Sometimes, I think it's kind of weird, because we're adults and can get down to business if we want, etc. But there's something about making out. And the final scene of the movie.

FU TLC (or I am not unlike Andy Rooney in my hatred of all things)

Saturday mornings, when the BF is out serving the public volunteering or other productive pursuits, I like to laze about in bed, swaddled in the down comforter, space heater pointed directly at my feet, and fire up some TLC so that I can catch what I missed Friday night, namely Say Yes to the Dress. There. Now you know my dirty secret. Right, so this bright Saturday morn, I click on the new flat screen and sure enough, there's Randy*, sobbing! And all is right with the world, except for one thing. We all know that Jon and Kate Plus has hit the skids and apparently Monday night is their final show (year right). TLC has chosen to inform everyone of this with a fucking annoying countdown at the bottom right of the screen. Great! Just what I want on a Saturday, something that tells me exactly how many hours, minutes and seconds until the weekend is over and then some. Thanks TLC dudes!

And then OU got punked by Texas Tech. In a related story, does anyone want my OU/OSU tickets for next weekend?

Also, I went to see 2012 with the BF and my mom because she wanted to go as part of her b-day weekend. OH MY SWEET LORD. I really have no words to express how ridonk this movie is. Worse than Bird on a Wire and Beverly Hills Cop III combined. It was a fucking insult. Good thing my mom paid. I'll leave you with three (one hyphenated) words: No more Pull-Ups™!

But, in a related story, Amanda Peet is my new (although I've suspected it for some time now) celebrity chick crush. Girlfriend went to Columbia, was in a Seinfeld episode, starred in a movie with Steve Zahn, has an adorable bebé, and can rock bangs like nobody's business.

Some good news: only two days of work this week! Yeehaw!


*This makes sense if you watch, like me. Oh, you don't? Because you're cool and have a life? Oh. Ok.

Great story as for me.

November is known for its holiday, no? Not t-day, but Liz day. Mom declares the entire month her birthday month. Basically, she just talks about how it's her birthday month and none of us do anything until her actual birthday, which happened to be yesterday. The family (plus my lil bro's GF and my BF) gathered at her favorite restaurant in town (which also happens to arguably be the nicest restaurant in town) to commemorate her umpteenth 35th birthday. [Brief back story: my brother worked at this restaurant for three years or so and knows most people who still work there, including the bartender, which also happens to be the youngest brother of L-Ma.]

While awaiting our entrees, we decided to think of the most awful drink one could order to be jerks. Dad busts out his iPhone and finds an article that says Manhattans, cosmopolitans, mojitos and lemon drops are the worst, but the BF pipes up that maybe we should order a Cleveland steamer. I had a personal record scratch moment, but everyone else just kept talking. About Cleveland steamers. Because they had no idea what they were saying. Until Dad looked it up. But not before practically screaming Cleveland steamer several times within earshot of small children (not that they would know, but kids sure do grow up fast these days). Soon, Dad is showing Mom the definition from Urban Dictionary on his iPhone. They're both laughing and Dad is compelled to mention dirty Sanchez.

SWEET JEBUS! Who are these people?

I'm not sure if the BF was trying to find a way to embarrass me or my family into ending things or what.

Help me internets (please).

How do you know it's the right time, or at least a relatively ok time, to get a dog?



I really, really, really, really, really, really, reallyreallyreallyreally want a dog. Like bad. However, there's always an excuse not to commit to the whole thing. Like, they're expensive, messy, smelly, poopy, peey, furry, sheddingy, dirty, disobedient and potential relationship enders. All kinds of relationships. Ones with shoes, yards, fences, corners of couches, landlords and more.

On the minus side, I work about 20 minutes (with no traffic) from where I live, leaving me little time at home mornings and evenings. My typical schedule has me leaving the house about 7.20am and returning about 7.30 - 8pm. That's a lot of time away from a pup. However, I do have BF who offices at home, so it could be doable...

On the plus side, I am sure that I was more active without even trying when I had Zealand (dog lost to breakup '06). He was a big, goofy guy who needed lots and lots of walking and interaction with other folks and animals. So, there I was, day after day, him dragging me through the two mile loop at the dog park. Two miles a day, rain or shine, winter or summer adds up to a healthier me.

And yes, dogs are pricey, but I think the act of financial restraint and saving for something other than yourself is a worthwhile pursuit.

I feel like if I wait for everything to properly align, the soonest I'd get an animal is when they bring kittens to the old folks home.

So, in closing, I'd like one of these please.

Dear boots, now that I have you, I have no idea how to wear you.

Congratulations, me! I am now the proud owner of two pair of boots. The aforementioned black heeled boots, and now a pair of flatish brown boots. I literally have no idea how to properly wear either pair. I had grand visions of pairing them with stylish skinny jeans and dresses with unique tights, but at the end of the day, skinny jeans involve the word skinny and tights are, well tights. So, yet another trend fail.




For more on trend fails, see my battles with skinny jeans, dresses and leggings, dresses over jeans, flowy tops, ironic Converse, dark nail polish, and sideswept bangs.

Things I hate #83

Pumping gas when it's colder than a witch's titty out there. HATE IT. I pumped approximately 0.98 gallons just so I could get home. I'll deal with tomorrow's commute tomorrow. When it's still just as cold. BALLS!

Goodnight, Sunday.

Yesterday, I was watching TV on the local NBC affiliate when Linda Cavaneck started talking about some sort of supermarket sweepstakes thing. Not sure what the rules are, but you could win either a $200 gift card or a grocery grab shopping spree! Whee! So, I started thinking, what's the best strategy for one of those things? As if I would win. Anyway, I decided I'd hit up the spices aisle, rake all of the olive oils and expensive vinegars into my cart, grab up all of the nuts, hit the specialty cheese case and then sprint over to the health and beauty section to stock up on razors (they're fucking expensive and only four blades, nothing like these bad boys) and then snatch up all of the Excedrin I can find. The whole scenario would be choreographed to mimic the season five, episode four of Designing Women, "Miss Trial", where Julia serves on a retarded jury, but more aptly, Charlene wins a free for all shopping spree at a record store and invites Suzanne to be her partner. Pastel sweatsuits are deployed. Brill.

Love you ladies!

And that's what I'm thinking about this Sunday evening.

Seriously, what is up brain?

Last night, I went to sleep. All normal like and stuff. But, my night brain went to work creating a truly bizarre sleep movie that I can only remember bits of.

Andrew Bird is my tour guide on a night cruise of famous swimming pools. He drops a tiny boat into still, black celebrity pools (the first was one from a movie I could recognize in my dream, but can't remember now) and we paddle in a circle while he narrates the history. And he talks exactly like he sings. Here's a sample from the song "Sovay."

I was getting ready to consider my next plan of attack
I think I'm gonna sack
the whole board of trustees
all those Don Quixotes un their B-17s
and I swear this time
yeah this time
they'll blow us back to the 70's
and this time
they're playin Ride of the Valkyries
with no semblance of grace or ease
and they're acting on vagaries
with their violent proclivities
and they're playing ride
Ride of the Valkyries
sovay,sovay,sovay
all along the day

Right, so, he paddles about, using newly created words to expound upon water and whistling. Very AB*. Suddenly, my mom is there, but she's a cartoon version and looks like Meg Griffin with Sideshow Bob hair. She wants to get off the boat because we've come to a stop at whatever hotel/monstrosity in Vegas has the "Venetian" canals and gondoliers.

I wake up thinking that Sideshow Bob's hair really isn't all that much unlike my mom's.

*Listen to "Armchairs." This was the only version I could find. I don't know who or what this is, but it's decidedly less weird than my dreams. Also, this song is good.

Oh you

Eldridge, English and Jones out for OU

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Do you want your heart ripped out by a song?

Then listen to this. It's been haunting me.

I Love You, But Goodbye - Langhorne Slim

Things I've been thinking about

• What are the dudes doing that just chill at the gym? You know, the ones that just pace around machines with their workout clothes, but absolutely no intention of working out except to adjust a seat, sit down, then get up again? Are they just scoping people out? The problem is, I stare at them and all their weirdness, which I'm sure they take as me staring at them because I'm into them. What I'm really doing is desperately trying to do anything besides think about how many minutes are left.

• My seriously fucked up dreams. Ones in which my mom gives birth to a kitten. One in which my boss's daughter has progeria. One where my boyfriend is pregnant and I'm super pissed because I thought he was on birth control. Another one with Philip Seymour Hoffman on a boat. One where the spider from Charlotte's web turned evil and promised to kill me, someday, so I spend the rest of the dream scared shitless that a talking spider is trying to murder me. What is up, sleeping brain?

• I've decided that "Modern Family" and "Park and Recreation" are, in fact, worth watching. Also, let me profess my secret love for "Castle." Imagine this in my Oprah voice - LOVE IT! It's truly terrible. Bad acting, stupid stories, a horribly appointed apartment, but still, fuck me if I'm not watching Monday nights at 9.

• The $8 car wash is definitely better than the $5 car wash. Worth all 300 extra pennies. The black 'trix is still shining.

• I'm enjoying September in November. It's been sunny and 70sish all week. Had I not had a vomit inducing, brain melting migraine for two days of it, I forgot where I was going with that. Migraines suck (but are always better when referred to as meegraines).

• I'm afraid of watching and not liking "Precious."

• I like to listen to these songs:

Bitter Heart - Zee Avi

I Don't Know What To Do - Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johansson

And It Spread - Avett Brothers

Horchata - Vampire Weekend

Johnny Got A Boom Boom - Imelda May

Home - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes

Roots of The Industry - Hoots and Hellmouth

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: The madness continues edition.

Right, so, I've been really, really, really trying to incorporate at least 30 minutes, if not an hour of cardio daily in my effort to not be such a lard ass. The up side is less jigglyness and realized value of super-expensive running shoes. The downside is a continued proclivity for TERRIBLE FUCKING music. I mean, craptastically awful. Check this shit out.


I'll be honest, I don't know who half of these people are or how I hear them. Except the old school Shakira. I heard new school Shakira and she was talking about being a wolf or something retarded and I flashed back to awesome Spanish class era Shakira and took an iTunes trip down memory lane (expensive). But, turns out "Estoy Aqui" good running music. So, there you go. Also, if there's anyone left out there who reads this (I know there are at least two and one is my mom), PLEASE HELP ME!

In a related story, I went to the OU/K State game Halloween. I dressed up as an OU fan e.g. I actually bought an $11 OU t-shirt and wore it public. Something I swore I'd never do. I rarely even wear Smith garb (mostly because people think it's a made up school). Basically, I have no school spirit for any school. I'm so much fun! Hang out with me! Anyway, it was a lovely evening, OU played perfectly for about 47 seconds, the band did Thriller, I got in some cardio climbing up and down the stadium stairs ten thousand times (we're up on row 67), and then we met some friends for a beer at Brother's on campus corner. They have cheap pitchers. Woo hoo! Since I'm trying to not be so lardassy, I'm trying to drink less. So, I actually only had about 1.5 solo cups of beer over two hours, which equals not even tipsy. You hear me? Good. I'm looking around, taking in the scene of oldsters (it was homecoming weekend) drinking it up and eyeing all the coeds in their retarded sexy anything getups. Two grey dudes are walking arm in arm toward the door. One tells the other to hold on, there's a big step here. I smile and think, someday, I hope I have a friend who will still hit the bars with me when I'm 80. Cut to us leaving. Our booth was directly in front of the front door, next to the big step. Cut to me falling off the big step and slow motion rolling onto the cold, brick floor, laying at the feet of ID checkers/bouncers and the owner of the bar. The moral of this story is, had I known that was going to happen, I'd have just said fuck it and had a pitcher. DAMN!

Happy Halloween Y'all

I dressed up as myself on Saturday for work today (everyone else is in pumpkin t-shirts, cat ears, etc). Holey jeans, holey sweater, pony tail, Tivas. I rule.

*no one has gotten the joke so far.

We never went to the bar at Red Lobster

Where have I been this time? you might ask not give even the slightest shit about. Well, I will give you 10 guesses.

A) Developing a very special, very new product: the home pap smear. Seriously, every effing time I turn around, I'm making an appointment (six months in advance) to see my gyno so she can charge me a bajillion dollars to swab my bajingo. I'm over the two hour wait and am all set answering awkward questions about my sex life and lady parts. Hence the home pap smear. A medical degree is not required to successfully carry out a smear. Mainly, one only needs to be comfortable with her own body and voila! Dollar dollar bills saved, y'all. Send it off to a lab and you're good till next year. I am so serious about this.

B) Storyboarding my own fan video for "Party in the USA."

C) Perfecting my one woman version of "The Nightman Cometh."

D) Searching for the perfectly wearable pair of black boots to go with winter skirts and dresses. (I settled on these because I am part old lady - they're Naturalizers. Huzzah!)


5) Waiting in line for tickets to the This Is It premier.

6) Misunderstanding the new Facebook format.

7) Living in an alternate universe powered by beautiful and creative blogs, or, the total opposite of this pile and my life. Secret: I cannot stop reading home designish blogs. Blogs about food and cooking. Blogs about pretty stationary. Blogs about other people's boyfriends and perfect lives. Blogs about cities I'll never live in. Blogs where everyone's photogenic, creative, surrounded by succulents and vintage furniture. It's a sickness. And I don't think there's a cure. Don't get me wrong, I don't begrudge these people their diligence and creativity. I'm simply jealous. See here. And here. And here. And here. And here. And here.

H) Dating Jon Gosselin.

I) Knitting a baby gift for Kourtney Kardashian.

9) Blocking out OU's pathetic season.

10) Being lame.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: I will tread your mill edition

So, my pretties, this is what I've been clogging my ear holes with at the gym. It's terrible. Horribly embarrassing. But, somehow, inspiring. This group is exactly 31.5 minutes, which means I get to listen to it twice!




*Click to enlarge, but beware, you will confront the likes of Miley, Lady Caca and Chris "lady beater" Brown. I warned you.

Dear Miley, get out of my g-d head (it's a party in the USA)

You know how I know I'm old?

Two ways:

1. Went to slickdeals.net to look at coupons on a Saturday morning. Yeah. Believe it. Found coupon for 10 pair of Victoria's Secret Pink underwear for a mere $25. Almost creamed my current underwear at the prospect of so much panty for so little $$. Went to mall to purchase.

2. Did underwear fashion show (for myself, I would never subject others) and promptly turned into my mother. The bargain drawers were simply too low cut in the front and high cut in the back. I thought barely covering your ass market had been cornered by the thong, but I guess not. I actually uttered these thoughts aloud, sealing my fate as an oldie.

So, if you need to reach me, I'll be living the dream.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Commute Edition

Here's what I've been listening to in the car. Boring, no? Yes, a little. I especially love "Tiny Apocalypse" and "Fear." Good stuff.




*Click to enlarge.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Oh, Mimi Edition

I do love me some Mariah Carey. But like old school Mariah. Size 10 shoe, crazy curly hair, rope swinging, roller coaster riding Mariah. I don't like post "Honey" Hello Kitty, let me slip out of yet another ensemble and into my bathtub with a towel on, butterfly chasing, straighhairweirdface Mariah. I'd kind of written her off my music radar. Which really saddens me. I spent many an afternoon after school singing along to Vision of Love full blast on the living room stereo until my parents got home (I sounded just like her! true story!). The other night, I was driving home from work at, you know, probably 11pm, which is totally normal, and needed to stay awake. Instead of listening to my carefully cultivated CD collection (RIP listening to iPod in the car since new car doesn't have the right equipment and I will NOT fuck around with the FM transmitter bullshit thing) of indie lady drivel, I ventured to the dial. Did you know that KJ103 still exists? It does! And some more stations too! It was wonderful! Until I heard this one song. "Obsessed" by traitor Mariah. The lyrics are so fucktarded, fucktastic, fuckified that I have to share them. Behold, the lyrical genius that is Mimi, well partially. She's 1/3 responsible for this mess. I've highlighted the best parts.

OBSESSED
(Mariah Carey - C. Tricky Stewart - Terius “The-Dream” Nash)

I was like, “Why are you so obsessed with me?”
So oh oh oh oh
So oh oh oh oh
So oh oh oh oh
So oh oh oh oh
Will the real MC please, step to the mike?
So oh oh oh oh
So oh oh oh oh
So oh oh oh oh
So oh oh oh oh
All up in the blogs
Saying we met at the bar
When I don’t even know who you are
Saying we up in your house
Saying I’m up in your car
But you in LA and I’m out at Jermaine’s.
I’m up in the A
You so so lame
and no one here even mentions your name
It must be the weed. It must be the E
Cause you be popping hood
You get it popping, Oh
Why you so obsessed with me (Boy I wanna know)
Lying that you’re sexing me (when everybody knows)
It’s clear that you’re upset with me
Finally found a girl that you couldn’t impress
Last man on the earth still couldn’t hit this
You’re delusional, you’re delusional
Boy you’re losing your mind
It’s confusing yo, you’re confused you know
Why you wasting your time
Got you all fired up with your Napoleon complex
Seeing right through you like you’re bathing in Windex
Boy why you so obsessed with me?
You on your job
You hating hard
Ain’t gon’ feed you
I’m gonna let you starve
Gasping for air
I’m ventilation
You out of breath
Hope you ain’t waiting
Telling the world how much you miss me
But we never were
So why you trippin’
You a mom and pop
I’m a corporation
I’m the press conference
and you a conversation
Why you so obsessed with me (Boy I wanna know)
Lying that you’re sexing me (when everybody knows)
It’s clear that you’re upset with me
Finally found a girl that you couldn’t impress
Last man on the earth still couldn’t hit this
You’re delusional, you’re delusional
Boy you’re losing your mind
It’s confusing yo, you’re confused you know
Why you wasting your time
Got you all fired up with your Napoleon complex
Seeing right through you like you’re bathing in Windex

Oh, how I long for the days of yore. Maybe "Someday" she'll come around. Single tear.

And so the summer of celebrity death continues...

RIP

Not that I care. I'm an All My Children kind of girl.

Gmail report: cloudy with a chance of SPAM.

I've been all down in the dumps lately. Maybe it's dumbasses who won't let the President speak to the school kids of America. Maybe it's gay fish/Kanye's outburst toward dear, sweet Taylor Swift. Maybe it's how fucking terrible Norman tap water tastes this time of year. Maybe it's that my iPod is full, but I have like one kajillion songs I'd like to add to it. Maybe it's knowing that this season of Mad Men is almost half over. But, probably, it's the theme I choose for Gmail. I picked the tree one, which somehow means it's always rainy or storming in my inbox. I'm switching to planets. Wish me luck.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Rain rain go away edition.

I suppose I shouldn't complain. There was a stretch this summer when I had forgotten rain. When the OK was more dried up than a joke about Joan Rivers' vajayjay. Anywho, now it won't stop raining. Rained all day Saturday. I actually had tickets to the OU/Idaho St. game, but pussied out. Neither wet t-shirt nor pancho is a good look for me. Instead, I let my parents purchase the game on Pay-Per-View and watched my mom down Keystone Light out of a pilsner glass. Surreal. It rained again all day Sunday. ALL DAY! I remember many rainy days in Mass, but here it seems to storm and be done with it, so this hovering rain put me in a mood. It also made my hair crazy. Like lion's mane crazy. Girlfriend needs a haircut, which costs $$... but this is about music.

Rainy days and mondays always get me down. Not really. Rain gives me an excuse to indulge my inner (and sometimes outer) sad bastard.

Billie Holiday
You Go To My Head

Air
Ce Matin La

Ella Fitzgerald
How Long Has This Been Going On

Edith Piaf
Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

Carla Bruni
Quelqu'un M'a Dit

Nina Simone
I Got It Bad And That Ain't Good

Astrud Gilberto
Corcovado

Otis Redding
My Lover's Prayer

Tom Waits
Ol' 55

Serge Gainsbourg
Les loups das la bergerie

Hope Sandoval
On the Low

Jeff Buckley
Everybody Here Wants You

Miles Davis
Freddie Freeloader

Well, it's official.

2% pay cut, among other things (e.g. no retirement contribution match) for at least nine months. When you're as poor as I am, 2% is a big deal (like a student loan payment and/or rent). More than that, there's the idea that working your way up and through a complicated job with a huge personnel issue is rewarded by the expectation of more work for less money. Yes, I still have my job, which is good, because the Department of Education and Citibank would be pretty sad if I found myself unemployed, but what am I working for? Another round of salary reductions? Constant fear of a reduction in force? Working in HR is difficult, since I catch wind, but not details of these decisions and have ample time to obsess. Also, there will surely be exceptions to the official rules to wrangle our budget, and I will have to process them, all the while living on less myself. Life isn't fair. I know this. But I was so hopeful. So hopeful.

Right, so, do I use this as impetus to see what else is out there? Do I seriously look at grad school now that I know I'll be just as poor working as I would in school? Do I look into selling my eggs? Do I hang out at retirement centers and befriend oldies who will add me to their life insurance policies? Do I move back in with my parents and save as much as I can to fund some sort of real change? Or, do I just tread water and hope for the best since I do actually like my job, the people I work with, and am not through learning what I'd need to know to be marketable in this area. I could do other stuff, sure, but I just invested over two years learning benefits and compensation.

Ugh. Sad panda. I don't know what that means, Shain says it, so I repeat it.

In which I have two family related stories.

Oh, hi there. It's been a rough beginning of the semester. Shit has hit the fan at work. Turns out higher education in Oklahoma is not, in fact, recession proof. Employment is the new poverty. Also, I've obviously been in mourning since OU's ridonk performance the other day. And I ate at Cheesecake Factory and fell into a coma. Oh, and I've been trying to follow both Top Chef and Project Runway. So yeah, I've been pretty preoccupied. Apologies. To my imaginary fans. However, in the past two weeks, two moderately entertaining things happened involving the fam.

::Story #1::

Flash back to the summer of 1999. A young Bee-spot is head over heels in love with high school boyfriend who has earned a dork award that requires him to travel to DC for two weeks. Two weeks without seeing each other! Oh the agony. Right, so you no one might or might not know care that my old bedroom window was essentially used a door for parent forbidden shenanigans throughout my tenure. I was quite used to late night visits from high school boyfriend. Sometimes, we would watch taped episodes of Jeopardy!, sometimes we would stare into each others eyes, professing our tiny love, and sometimes we'd, well. You know. Do it. Anyway, the night before HSBF leaves for DC, I hear a knock on the ol' window. There he is, out in my yard, brandishing a curious red gift bag. He thrusts the bag through my window and tells me that he's purchased a few items for me to help me withstand his absence. Aw. I peer inside to discover a treasure trove of very naughty items. It was the first time I'd seen anything of the like. I could've stocked my own Christie's Toybox.* I honestly didn't know what to say or do. I kissed him goodbye, opened the bag and shoved the vibrator between my mattress and box spring. I hid it because it was the only thing I recognized and knew I needed a safe place for it. The other things had no meaning to me at the time, so I shoved them deep in the depths of my bottomless closet thinking that even if someone found them, they too would be unclear of their purpose.

Flash forward to 10 years later. My brother rarely texts me. When he does, it's usually to tell me to leave him alone or he confuses me with someone who can sell him drugs. I joke. Sort of. I receive a text that says something like you'll never guess what Dad found. That's right. While my brother and dad were attempting to repair my old bed (it's a 100+ year old four poster monstrosity that's very fragile), they pulled off the mattress to uncover, yes, a 10 year old dormant vibrator. Awesome! I asked my brother what Dad did with it. Apparently, it's waiting for me in the desk drawer.

::Story #2::

Oh moms. And the internets. Hilarity always ensues. Mom's school district refused to show Obama's don't quit school speech (big surprise/Oklahoma is awesome!), but she was determined to have the text available for herself and any interested student and wanted to print it out as soon as it was published. Cut to me showing her the magic of cut and paste and word and font size and printing. It was a miracle. Now she wants to email the link to her super conservative brother. Ok. She frequently emails me, so I don't see why she'd need my help for this, but she thinks she does. I watch her close every open window and application on her computer. Weird, but ok. Then she opens Internet Explorer. Um, ok. Then she types yahoo.com into the browser. I think to myself, weird, since I set her up with a Gmail account. Next she types Google into the Yahoo search field. Yeah, it's true. She Yahoo's Google. Then she proceeds to Google Gmail. I died a little. Also, if you know me, I think this explains a lot about me.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Marry Me Edition.

As mentioned, I went to a wedding earlier this month. It was atop Mt. Magazine in Arkansas, which doesn't sound like much, but actually, it was quite lovely (it looked like this). There was too much drinking and cavorting, some hiking, a wee bit of dancing, etc, etc. In preparation, L-ma, the groom's sister, wanted to create a little mix tape of weddingish songs. I came up with what I thought was a kick ass list, which I will share with you. Note: these are relatively recent songs. A complete list of the best weddingish songs of all time would be completely different. This is love light. Yellow highlighted = my favorites.


Brand New Start Little Joy
5 Years Time Noah and the Whale
Nothing Even Matters Lauryn Hill (Featuring D'Angelo)
Parentheses The Blow
Harvest Moon Neil Young
To Be Alone With You Sufjan Stevens
Wild Horses The Sundays
Find Love Clem Snide
Mushaboom Feist
Lover Devendra Banhart
All I Wanna Do Jamie Lidell
First Day of My Life Bright Eyes
Little Romance Ingrid Michaelson
Butterfly Nets Bishop Allen
Nothing Matters When We're Dancing The Magnetic Fields
Great Day Paul McCartney
I Will Follow You Into The Dark Death Cab For Cutie
Sweet Thing Van Morrison
Our Way to Fall Yo La Tengo
When It Don't Come Easy Patty Griffin
P.D.A. (We Just Don't Care) John Legend
By Your Side Sade
Loving You Is Sweeter Than Ever Susan Tedeschi
Good Hearted Man Tift Merritt
Say Yes Elliott Smith
By Your Side Beachwood Sparks
Magic In The Air Badly Drawn Boy
You Are The Best Thing Ray Lamontagne
Words Cannot Describe Mirah
Let My Love Open the Door M. Ward
Make You Feel My Love Adele
This Will Be Our Year Ok Go
If We Can Land a Man On the Moon, Surely I Can Win Your Heart Beulah
Question (LP Version) Old 97'S
Gotta Have You The Weepies
Fly Me To The Moon Frank Sinatra
Closer Travis
I'll Be Your Mirror Clem Snide
I'm the Man Who Loves You Wilco
The More I See You Sondre Lerche
Us (Album Version) Regina Spektor

So, that's all I got for now. What am I missing?

What in the hell am I supposed to do with all of this G-d okra?

I ask you. Seriously. The garden continues to spew forth the slimy stuff for which I have no culinary answer. I would fry it, but that's time consuming. How come the tomatoes can't make as impressive a showing? They're tiny and sad and green.

So, I guess I took an unscheduled blog break. A blogcation, if you will. You won't? Ok. Things that have been keeping me from this blog:

• I had a birthday! I'm now 28 and bitter instead of 27 and bitter. But at least I'm not 30. So, there's that.
• I watched some peeps get married in Arkansas. It was actually quite nice and beautiful up there on Mt. Magazine. I'd like to go back.
• I watched Top Chef Masters. Did you know that Rick Bayless is from OKC? Rock on.
• I have been consumed by work. Back to 60 hour weeks with nothing but commute, work, commute, sleep, commute, work, commute, sleep. There's not even time to drink excessively. Sadcakes.
• I've purchased a couple of cookbooks that will no doubt gather dust while I eat at Chick-fil-a too many times. They're actually great books, though: Simply Organic and Mark Bittman's Kitchen Express.
• The summer roommate moved out.
• I've watched lots of movies: Julie and Julia (as a Smith grad, it's required viewing), which sucked except the parts Meryl Streep was in; Funny People, which was unfunny and awful; The Goods, which was surprisingly hysterical.
• I've hotly anticipated and subsequently analyzed the return of Mad Men - it was as good as ever. New episodes are pretty much the saving grace of Sunday nights.
• I got a new car. It looks like this. The events that caused this purchase are boring and complicated, but who cares! I got a new car! WOOOOO! (By new I mean new to me, it's gently used. Also, it'd better last me at least 100,000 miles or I'm screwed.)

So, all in all a good August thus far. But I'm exhausted.

Oh, and did you see this? Good thing I got season tickets. You know, until we fuck it up.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Zooey Deschanel is hot and talented, so I hate her edition.

She and Him's rendition of The Smiths "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want" is pretty good, unless you are a senseless hater of Zooey and co. Maybe it's because my birthday is coming up and I feel super old because I want a Kitchenaid mixer and super lame because I'm this old and can't afford it. Or maybe it's the haunting, heartbreaking, unfettered lyrics that express better than any song I've heard lately what we all want.

She and Him - Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want

Loungeapalooza

I had a friend back in the MA named S. She introduced me to many things, knitting, fried clams from The Bite in Martha's Vineyard, Le Creuset cookware and lounge pants. I made fun of her (to her face - I'm nice like that) penchant for donning lounge pants as soon as the sun went down before settling in for some Gilmore Girls or Veronica Mars, but little did I know she totally knew what was up. I've settled into this routine where, basically, I either wear work clothes, gym clothes or lounge pants. I'm not sure if that means I'm old (turing the big 2-8 shortly) or lazy or resigned to my life as a suburbanite or what. But fuck me if I don't love a good pair of lounge pants. I feel terrible for deriding S back in the day. She and I could've curated a kick ass collection of lounge pants. We could've sewn our own! Bought the expensive ones from Anthropologie! I didn't know! I was so young back then. Young and compelled to be properly dressed at all times. What I'm saying is, I've rounded a corner. Loungeapalooza baby.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Indie Edition

Yeah, I saw Away We Go. Yes, I want to marry John Krasinski and Michael Cera at the same time, but only as Zooey Deschanel or Jenny Lewis. Sure, I own The Royal Tenenbaums. And I have sex dreams about Luke Wilson that involve Coconut Records. Who doesn't? I am a walking fucking cliche of a mid (late) 20's woman who went to a liberal arts college and fancies herself "open minded" and shops at Anthropologie. FINE.

Today at the gym, I listened to the following:

Wake Up - Arcade Fire

A Man/Me/Then Jim - Rilo Kiley

Magpie To The Morning - Neko Case

Cath... - Deathcab

Honey - Erykah Badu

Love Letter To Japan - The Bird and the Bee

Gatekeeper (full mix on Open Season) - Feist

Walcott - Vampire Weekend

Watch this:



And this:

My Mother's Red Hat w/Alicia Silverstone & Alanis Morissette from Alicia Silverstone

I would totally go see that. Especially if Paul Rudd was in it.

How Romantical!

Since I'm part cyborg, I get skeeved easily by outpourings of emotion, especially if they involve people who think they love each other and want to make everyone know about it. I hate that.

I think this dude does too. Check out the vid he made to propose to his girlfriend. Apparently he conned her into seeing an "artsy French movie", but instead forced her to sit throug this, which includes a Daniel Beddingfield* song and many changes of skivvies. I'm not sure which is worse. Here's the full story.



*I joke. I love Daniel Beddingfield.

We are the world,

and we are seriously fucked up.





Seriously. 24 hours dedicated to a funeral for someone who wasn't even real royalty? I say this because Princess Di's funeral coverage was totally warranted. Duh.

Case in point:

Happy 4th Y'all

Drink of the day: Hendricks and tonic* with cucumber.

*In honor of MJ, I won't stop till I get enough.

Song of the day: July, July! - The Decemberists.

Activity of the day: Being all American and shit.

Dudes! Check it!

I wish I could take credit for finding this, but alas, I cannot. I can, however, pimp it and hope that you think it's funny too, like pee in your pants a little bit funny. If not, we probably shouldn't be friends, but probably for very different reasons. In any case, enjoy...

http://www.candyboots.com/wwcards.html

A Few Things:

1. A sink, unlike a vagina, is not self cleaning. Just because the nature of this apparatus is to contain soap and water and facilitate the cleaning of things, it does not mean that such actions will result in acceptable vessel cleanliness. You actually have to dump in some Comet (I like Bon Ami, but it's not sold in Norman grocery stores) and scrub the sink. I know, counter intuitive. But try it.

2. I sliced my thumb open yesterday with the new chef's knife I bought upon recommendation from Cooks Illustrated - it's the Victorinox 8" Chef's Knife with Fibrinox handle. The knife is freaking awesome at only $25. The slit in my thumb is not. My boyfriend has a JD, which, during medical situations, is apparently akin to an MD. Who knew?

3. I now own Diane Von Furstenburg luggage courtesy of Mom approved retail therapy. Now, for somewhere to go...

4. MJ was most likely a child predator. How come we are forgetting this?

5. Should I bother going to Dfest? My beloved Cake will be there.

6. It's Lacey's* birthday! She's younger than me, but much more accomplished. I should've called her about my injury instead of my lawyer.

7. Stoned wallabies!

8. In spite of simultaneous over and underwatering, our garden has produced several green tomatoes and a few baby peppers! Woo! Soon, I will be forced into consuming fresh vegetables out of guilt. Boo.

9. Lacey's birthday reminds me that mine will arrive shortly. I remember freaking out when I turned 26. I'll bet my 26 year old self is feeling stupid because now I'm turning 30 - 2, which is a much bigger deal because I am unmarried, unchilded and unPhD'd.

10. I need more workout/running songs. Seriously, all I can bust it to is Beyonce. There has to be an alternative. If I hear "Single Ladies" one more time... I will break into a weird robut dance.

11. Speaking of robuts, whatever happened to David Cross?

12. I'm breaking up with Mark Kurlansky. After struggling, literally, for years to finish Salt, I attempted to spice it up a bit by bringing The Food Of A Younger Land into the bedroom. Total backfire. Either I'm not as cerebral/hipster as I thought or he's overhyped. I prefer to go with the latter, but suspect the former is true.

13. I am dreading the 4th of July, as it is the New Years of the summer. I'm not a "lake person" and that appears to be the only option in these parts. Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?

*If you have not yet read her blog, you should. She is far more entertaining than I in that she is actually capable of entertainment.

When, I ask you, when?

As I sit at my desk, eating cold lo mein out of a mug staring down another 14 hour work day, I am wondering, when will someone notice the awesomeness that is this blog and correctly infer that there could only be more awesomeness in the person behind it and make me famous? When?

BREAKING NEWS!

1. something pretty fantastic, should the stars align properly, is going to happen to me in one to one and a half months.

2. jon & kate 8 = 0

3. the white house has a flickr page. it's pretty awesome.

Too late?

I was watching daytime TV yesterday at home (e.g. not at work) because I had a migraine that was literally trying to liquefy my brain and came across a commercial for Juicy Juice Brain Development juice stuff for babies. Now, aside from sounding gross (mom! can I have a some brain development?), I'm wondering - is it too late? I could really use some brain development right about now. Could I have some after coming home from the bar and just call it even? I think this warrants investigation.

um. seriously?

Yesterday, after a mindnumbing 10.5 hours of work*, I commenced the long commute home, planning to veer my car toward the ol' homestead to walk my** dog with my mom to stretch out my legs after desk jockying for so long, but instead, ended up at happy hour with the BF. As I was sitting outside, drinking an IPA, feet up in the chair across from me, staring into the setting sun, I looked down at my chest, because, well, why not, it's awesome, and noticed something out of place.

At some point earlier in the day, I had been chewing gum. I don't know when I ceased chewing this gum. But, I guess I did, because there it was, stuck between the top of my dress and my cardigan. I thought, for a moment, maybe it's not mine! Maybe someone else threw their gum at my lady lumps. But no, it was green gum. I only chew green gum.

How did this happen? When did this happen? Was I talking to someone, and suddenly, the act of moving my chaw to masticate became too much of an effort and I simply let the gum drop out of my mought while I thought, huh.




*My job really isn't that bad. Sometimes days get long.
**This is my dog from high school who resides with my parents at their behest. I would prefer her to live with me. Claire, the dog, would prefer to eat bacon all day long.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Modern Girl's Guide To Breaking Up Edition

I'm not breaking up with anyone, for now. Except maybe Fiber One bars. However, I do enjoy a good break up song. Yes, there are lots of oldies but goodies, I like these newer ones, though. This is, by no means, a complete list:



Single Again - Fiery Furnaces



Breaking Up - Rilo Kiley



Wake Up Alone - Amy Winehouse



Let's Not Belong Together - Pete Yorn



Irreplaceable - Beyonce



Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Stars



I Think I Need A New Heart - The Magnetic Fields



Come Pick Me Up - Ryan Adams



No Children - The Mountain Goats



Song For The Dumped - Ben Folds Five



Broken Heart - Spiritualized



I Am Trying To Break Your Heart - Wilco



Nothing Better - Postal Service



Smile - Lily Allen



Woke Up New - The Mountain Goats



I'm Waking Up To You - Belle & Sebastian


Foundations - Kate Nash



Grounds For Divorce - Elbow



The Ice Is Getting Thinner - Death Cab For Cutie

No Whine Oh-Nine

You may not remember this. Turns out I'm not getting married to anyone, including myself.



While I kicked it up a notch at the gym, I didn't reach my goal, yet somehow managed to purchase a Le Creuset dutch over sometime in March. Don't ask. I extended my deadline through August and started a bootcamp class at my gym last week. Two days a week, one hour, 5.45 am. AWESOME! Right, in addition to doing something at the gym or outside every day but Sunday. I've actually been able to do it, and have been rewarded by gaining a pound. And being rendered a paraplegic.

Yesterday morning, we did stripper squats. Like 10,000. Naturally, I was quite good at them. What I'm not quite good at now is sitting up in bed, walking, leaning over, bending, driving, breathing, getting out of a chair, living. FUCK! That shit hurts! DOMS is kicking my ass. How am I supposed to run tonight so that I don't suck ass even worse tomorrow morning? F U vicious cycle! I will prevail. It's only six weeks. I can do anything for six weeks, especially if it involves not getting a hair cut, washing my car, or paying bills.

Also, how many ibuprofen is too much? Are too much. I think i just got my answer.




Bath time!

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: The Hangover Edition

Have you ever been super pissed at your boyfriend on a Friday night, slammed your bedroom door all pouty like a five year old, popped in Religulous, opened a bottle of shiraz, called your friend sobbing, made midnight pasta, got on Facebook and made nonsensical comments, spilled said pasta all over your 600 threadcount sheets (that your boyfriend doesn't appreciate anyway) and woke up to a text message from your mother asking what's going on? No? Just me? Ok.

Seriously, dudes. It was bad. I woke up in a panic and surveyed the Facebook damage. Don't they have one of those applications that make you do simple math to log on? Yes, I would probably never log on. Good one. On the up side, I totally forgot why I was pissed at said boyfriend.

In a related story, I saw The Hangover Saturday night. I would highly recommend it. Anyone who knows me (all three of you) know that I've been on Team Galifianakis for some time now. Like years and years and years. So now he's all famous and shit. Good for him. Before he goes off the same deep end as Will Ferrell, check out Between Two Ferns. There are lots more at funnyordie.com.

Between Two Ferns with Zach Galifianakis from Between Two Ferns

And now for the music portion. This may come as a shock, but I think the Bee Gees are kickass. Just not when they perform their own work. Behold, awesome Bee Gees covers:

(Love You) Inside and Out - Feist



Emotion - Destiny's Child

How Can You Mend A Broken Heart - Al Green



We Trying To Stay Alive - Wyclef

I Can't See Nobody - Nine Simone

iWant

check it: (click so you can see better unless you have fighter pilot vision, like me.)

too bad it's so expensive and i'm so poor, otherwise, match made in oklahoma!