Sunday.

Just putzing around, waiting for something good to happen.

Rocking the Tulsa metro.

Last night, I saw my first Ben Folds show. However, this was not the first time I've seen Mr. Folds in person. One summer, I was walking down some street in Newport, RI after having stuffed my face with an $18, albeit delicious, lobster roll* and literally bumped into him. I was too star struck to make the best of it. I'm still made fun of it to this day. Along with many other, unrelated things.

Right, so, in ninth grade, I used to stay up late listening to 95X making recordings from the radio of cool songs that I thought everyone else should know (not a lot has changed). There were three that they only played past midnight for a long time. I have no idea why. One was "Santeria". One was 'This Lonely Place' (Goldfinger) and the other was "The Battle Of Who Could Care Less". Dang, I loved that song. Wore that tape out! I bought Whatever and Ever Amen and can sing the whole thing start to finish including all of the instrumental parts. I'm that awesome. I have most of his other stuff too, but get kind of lost toward the recent years (I'd forgotten so many songs last night, but there they are on iTunes ready for new rotation). He's this odd hybrid of Burt Bacharach and Elton John except he doesn't suck.

I went with Lacey. It's her fifth show. I think. But, there was a guy, Ben said, who'd made it to 60 shows, so he asked him what song he'd like to hear. I said/shouted to Lacey, "Steven's Last Night In Town"! And guess what? That's what the dude said too! Ben sat at the piano and promised he'd try, but would probably fuck it up. And he did. But it was good. The last bit of the song features a frenzied drum bit, which Ben played, leaping up to the drum kit and really going to town.

I know there are a lot of naysayers (please don't judge him by the terrible ubiquitousness of "Brick"), but it was a pretty rad show. There's something great about standing with your fellow dorks screaming lyrics in harmony. And there's something about talented musicians. Wathing live music really restores my faith in true creativity and superhuman talent. However mainstream he is now, I think part of my interest in current, non top 40 music (prior to this I listened to parent mandated classical, Beatles and KOMA, the local oldies station) is due to him and late night airings of "The Battle Of Who Could Care Less".

Take a listen (these are all I could find):

Kate

Army

You Don't Know Me


Highly recommended:

Don't Change Your Plans For Me
Steven's Last Night In Town
Landed
Underground
Annie Waits
Zak and Sara
Narcolepsy
Song For The Dumped
Still Fighting It
Magic


*I miss you, seafood. I really, really do.

When will I ever learn?

Probably never.



I have little to negative willpower. Unless you count forcing myself to sit through a Jon & Kate Plus 8 marathon, followed by The Real Housewives of New Bubbies, topped off by 12 new epidoes of TrueLife on MTV. In that case, I am the fucking willpower champion. But usually, I don't know my limits. It's always, one more, I'll just have one more. And then another after that. And then, well. Needless to say it's not pretty. Basically, I need help. If I have it anywhere around me, I'll mindlessly partake. Work. Home. Driving. Anything. And the consequences are always disastrous. What did Einstein say? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? Well, kids, surprise! I'm nuts.



Listen to your Auntie Blythe. JUST SAY NO!

No matter how good you think these colon bombs are, please, limit yourself. Turns out your body cannot actually handle 150 grams of fiber in one sitting. If you are going to hit it, though, oats and chocolate is by far the best flavor. I just hope you have a private bathroom at work or a sphincter of steel.

Too much?

Fun Fact of the Day

Did you know that Bobcat Goldthwait turns 47 today? I could've sworn he was at least fifty something by now. In any case, happy birthday Bob! Cat.

Zach Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Summer Jam Edition

Is Passion Pit's "The Reeling" the Summer Jam of 09?

Sundays are for Cracker Barrel

When you venture out on a weekend morning, I suggest you steer (literally) clear of any Cracker Barrels* in your area. They are dangerous places of death and destruction and I'm not just talking about cholesterol and race relations. The speed limit might say 40, but sure as shit every oldie wheeling their obsolete Buick into the parking lot will be racing along at 5, maybe 7. BEWARE.

+

=

*I will never ever, even under duress, admit to immensely enjoying the hashbrown casserole. NEVER!

Note To Self:

When erasing all evidence of your now nearly forgotten ex-boyfriend from your life, do not forget to also minimize Facebook newsfeeds from his family. Nothing like a fresh photo of your dog and his new family.

In which I am attracted to my own armpits.

As you may or may not absolutely did not read, I have fallen prey to a little marketing scam called clinical deodorant. Basically, the shit's pit crack. It's getting all warm in the OKC and that means sleeveless shirts, outdoor activities, and night sweats. I guess the last one isn't really related to the weather as much as my effed up subconscious* so that means added layers of pit protection has become necessary. Also, sometimes I go to the gym. I ran out of the stuff this weekend and thought, well, I'll save myself $7 (beer!) and roll on the old regular standby. WRONG! Thanks Secret, for literally making me chemically dependent upon your super overpriced product. I ponied up the dough for a new stick tonight after work, but they were out of my normal scent! I picked up the sport version, with fresh marathon scent. Fresh marathon makes me think of vomit, bleeding nipples, and gatorade shit, but ok. I'll try it. I rolled it on as soon as I got home because I'm an addict and BAM! I smelled like a dude. And I like that smell. I keep liking that smell. I lifted my arm to stir the mushrooms for dinner tonight and bang! Who's that? Oh, it's me. Hey me...

*For real, the other night, I had a dream about developing an Astral Weeks era Van Morrison lyric generator. There was one column of colors, one of fruits and one of bodies of water. Tell me you don't think "springs of viridian plums" couldn't fit.

Semi-Nude Pictures of My Friends Playing Twister

If you're from Oklahoma, and I am, there's only one legitimate kind of twister*. And it involves these people (who are neither my friends, nor semi-nude), not the classic game that I wish I'd invented because, basically, it's a plastic sheet with brightly colored dots all over it and now someone's super effing rich. Really? I couldn't think of that?

*I pray to Bob Stoops that no such photos exist.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Back in the Saddle Again Edition

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Pandora rocks my socks off. And other things too. I'm not great at managing Pandora, it kind of reminds me of those thingies, Tamagotchie? Remember? Anyway, my Tamagotchie died and my Pandora doesn't fare much better. I sometimes tell it songs I don't like, and more rarely tell it to remember songs I do. Right, so, I hit next a lot. But, these are the Blythe approved Pandora provided songs as of late:

Falling Into Space - Don Dilego (surely, this was on Scrubs)

November - Azure Ray (only listen to this if you are a 13 year old girl cueing up music to listen to while you scribble away in your diary)

Once Around The Block - Badly Drawn Boy (I forget about this guy 99% of the time)

In Transit - Albert Hammond Jr. (Infectious. Jerk.)

Kiss The Sky - Shawn Lee's Ping Pong Orchestra (What? Weird.)

How The Story Goes - The Redwalls (Did anyone read those Brian Jacques books?)

Coming Home - The 88 (I like really terrible music sometimes.)

The Ballad of the Dead Rat - The Teeth (I just like all of those words forming a band and song name.)

Until the Morning - Thievery Corporation (Old standby.)

Face It - Old Canes (Note to self, learn more about Old Canes.)

A Little More Time - Zox (This is all time number one Pandora song stuck in my head. I have no idea why.)

Since I Fell For You - Nina Simone (I collect all versions of this song.)

Ice Cream - New Young Pony Club (Lady rap!)

hope you at least bought your mom a card, if applicable

Sadcakes

Yesterday, the fam got some not so good news about my g-pa. Because my parents were young when I was born (24!) and their parents were even younger, we have collectively avoided the parental mortality issue. Hell, I have a great grandma still kickin' it at 87 or so. That's how we do in the OK. Right so, the news is not good. It's not entirely surprising, but still sobering.

Yesterday, I drove my brother to the ol' homestead from the hospital where the testing was conducted and rummaged around my old room for forgotten treasures. I like to do this once in a while when I get a serious urge to shop, so I shop for my own stuff! Pure genius, I know. I opened my closet to see what booty was held within, but instead of finding an awesome pair of shoes from college or cds that've been missing for five years, I found lots of small boxes mailed from said g-pa to my dad.

I opened several (they'd already been opened and they were in my closet, so it was justified snoopage) and discovered that my g-pa has been sending my dad trinket upon trinket from Dad's childhood for the last few months. One contained an engraved pocket knife given to my dad God knows when. Another contained the yellow stuffed bear Dad carried around for years, completely intact, preserved in a Ziploc bag, accompanied by a note detailing its origins. There's a jar of marbles and a box of old metal Tonka trucks. A neatly folded eagle scout kerchief. Recordings of poems written and read by G-pa's dad. Cards, books with inscriptions, handwritten notes, receipts with stories of their inception, photos with names and dates scrawled across the back.

These tangible things. The crumbling stuffed bear, weathered photos, withered papers. My memories are still somewhat tactile, but my brother, seven years younger - what's he left with? A flash drive? MP3 player? Screenshots of emails sent? Digital photos lost in the throes of Facebook? A NintendoDS? I'll preoccupy myself with the larger implications of technology outpacing our hearts instead of the physical evidence of a great mind recognizing its impending limitations.

Got me hoping you'll save me right now

Ring the alarm, I am addicted to Beyonce/Sasha Fierce. It turns out, the only way I can motivate for a run is to pump B through my earbuds at an unreasonable volume. I've purchased every worthwhile song from her extensive catalog from this:

To this:



To this:




Doesn't someone want to upgrade me? And Rihanna/Princess Alien doesn't count. Help!