Music Stinks

I am rabidly defensive of my music choices.

See, I don’t much like music.  I mean, I like music, sure, but just not much of it. I don’t own music.  I might have owned maybe 10 music cds in my entire four decades of existence. So this Christmas, 14 years after iTunes was created and 3 years since I’ve had my ipad, I finally asked Darling Husband to teach me how to buy music on iTunes so I can listen to all the songs I like.

For the past two months I’ve been creating a list of all the songs that I like so I would be ready to download them on Christmas day when I got my iTunes gift card.  There are 109 songs on the list.

That’s it.  That’s the complete list.

Some people adore music and play it all the stinkin’ time.  Drives me nuts.  I told you about that one time I went to a therapy session and the therapist had some quiet music playing in the background.  I couldn’t help my eyes from glancing at the cd player. She said, “Is that too loud for you?”  “Yes.”  “You can turn it down.”  I did.  But still kept glancing at that irritating noise. Why do people play noise when they’re trying to talk to someone? Irritating. She said, “Is it still too loud?”  “Can we just turn it off?”  “Sure.”  “Has anyone ever asked to turn off the music before?”  “No.” I’m a trendsetter, I am.

With only 109 favorite songs in all the world, this music must be something else, huh?  It must be the best of the best.  The most beautiful or meaningful music in the world. Right?

Nah.  I’m rabidly defensive of my 109 music choices because they stink. They’re really bad.  They’re terrible songs. They’re cheesy. The only reason I like them is because they’re catchy and easy to sing along with.  That’s it.  That’s my criteria.  Super catchy; can sing along.  Done. Only 109 songs fit the bill.

While the rest of you are listening to a cool jazz medley while cooking some exotic foodie meal in the kitchen, I’m listening to Play that Funky Music White Boy and eating my Royal Farms chicken on a tv tray.  Yes, really.  Play that Funky Music is one of my all-time top 109 favorites. Already been purchased and downloaded.

Two days ago, for the first time EVER in 22 years of marriage, Darling Husband asked me what songs were my favorites–what songs had I bought with my Christmas gift? Ooo. Risky. He pressed the issue. “Why are you so afraid to show me your list?  What do you think will happen?”

What did I think would happen?  What did I think would happen?!

What would happen is that he wouldn’t be able to help himself from losing respect for me.  I mean, Play that Funky Music??  That’s a horrible song!  (Oooo!  I’m sorry, Funky Music! You’re not a horrible song! Forget I said that! I still love you!)

He said, “It’ll be fine. You can show me.”

So I did, with trepidation.  He was ok with many of my song choices, but he did say that Play that Funky Music was really bad and just couldn’t be forgiven.

And then he showed me the songs he likes.  Oh yuck.  They’re classical Chinese music and I don’t know what else.  Bizarre stuff.  I made fun of them. Darling Husband pointed out, ‘Looks like the only person making fun of the other person’s music choices is you.”

Ouch! He was right.

Since my tastes are pretty juvenile, let’s end this post with a song I’ve loved since I was 8 years old.  Stray Cat Strut.  Ooo.  Such a great song!  I love you, Stray Cat Strut!

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Nerd Conversations and Mustachioed Drinking Glasses

Some things never change including Darling Husband and my stinginess thriftiness. Friends asked us if we wanted to go to Carrabbas for our birthdays. (Darling Husband’s was yesterday, mine is today.)

Well, duh, yes!

But we don’t want to pay for it. I’m sure they’d have offered to treat us, but nah. No extra spending in December is allowed.  Not for us, not for you.

We made an exception to our no-spending rule for lunch today.  Darling Husband, the boys and I went to a local diner for a birthday lunch. Diners are cheap at lunchtime.  We had a glorious nerd conversation about the direction Doctor Who is headed, the plots for the first two Terminator movies (the only ones that count), and The Hobbit book vs. movie. I think there was talk about Harry Potter and the new Jurassic Park movie thrown in there, too.  It was a nerd conversation bonanza.

—————

My Birthday Gifts:

Drinking glasses with mustaches on them so it looks like you have a mustache while you drink.  Darling Husband is as pleased with getting me that gift as Flick was when he got his dad the flower that squirts water.

All 6 of the old King’s Quest games. The first one is from 1988 and you have to type in what you want your little character to do on the screen. I’m drawing a little map on paper (on paper!) to keep track of where my character is in the game.

My Lunch:

Birthday Lunch

Turkey Salad Melt, Utz Chips, Onion Rings

Goodbye Christmas, Hello Chicken

Some friends invited us to dinner on December 27th.  What are they, crazy?  Of course I said no.  I have to get this Christmas Crap out of my house!  Like, right now!

From November until December 25th, it’s a wild love affair with Christmas: parties and presents and cookies. December 26th, things start to cool off and then BAM! December 27th hits and it’s over. Get outta my house, Christmas!  Make way for the birthdays!

Darling Husband’s birthday is today and mine is tomorrow.

Switching a house from Christmas back to Non-Christmas is a horror show when your house is teeny, tiny.  Look:

Messy Christmas

The switch-over got done in time (sigh of relief) and we took Darling Husband to see The Hobbit for his birthday today.  He isn’t talking much about it and I think he didn’t much like it.  He’s a stickler for the book version and all he could blurt out was, “They took liberties!  By gum, they took liberties!”  I’m thinking this was a Bad Thing.  He didn’t look happy.

On the way home Darling Husband could not figure out what he wanted for dinner. He was still mourning all those liberties, you know. We ended up getting Royal Farms fried chicken and eating it on trays in front of the TV.  Chicken from a gas station on a tv tray and a movie that takes liberties on your birthday. Well, better luck next year.  It can’t be giant laser tag parties every year.

Hypocrite

I am an utter hypocrite.

So there I was sitting at the kitchen table reading my HGTV magazine. Each issue is packed with clever ideas of decorative handyman-type things to do around the house. There’s nothing that I hate more than doing decorative handy-man type things around the house.  But reading about other people doing them, now that’s entertainment.

So there I was sitting at the kitchen table reading my HGTV magazine and there was an article about some guy’s vacation home (envy), and in every room he has orange. Orange curtains or orange pillows or orange vases or whatever.

And I thought, “Ewwww! Orange? Why? So garish.”

I finished that issue and picked up the next.  This time there was an article with someone’s mudroom (envy) and it was painted orange.

Ewwww! Orange? Why? So ugly.

And another article further in showed a kitchen island painted, you got it, orange.

Ewwww! Orange? Why? So jarring. Why would anyone want orange all over their house??

And then I looked up.

I am so ridiculous.  Because this is my kitchen.  See:

Orange walls. Orange curtains. Orange lightswitch plate.

Orange walls. Orange curtains. Orange lightswitch plate. Orange cat.

Sigh.  People are just ridiculous.  All of us.  Including me.

Don’t You Be Judging Me

340 days to go! Let the countdown begin!

My new 1/2 off Christmas Crap. Silver and red for 2015.

December 26th is when all those dreary Type A personalities who insist on Planning Ahead bounce out of bed early to buy Christmas Crap at 1/2 off and then store it for an entire year in their attics.  Anything to save a buck.

And not only that, but those same people then pop over to the Returns Department to stand in line (a long line) to return their unwanted presents.

How do I know they were there?

Well..uh, because I was one of them.  Duh.  I’m a Planner and I adore saving bucks.

So, yes, I stood in the return line and gave mean, squinty-eyed glares to the man who sashayed past us and barked out in sanctimonious tones, “I would never stand in a line like that! Not gonna happen!”

Oh yeah, you don’t think so?

Consider the following situation:  If, in a moment of yule bliss, you bought your Boy9 a Nerf bow and arrow set, but bought your adhd Boy12 a real bow and arrow set only to awaken on Christmas morning in a fit of lucidity to realize that you don’t give an adhd 12 year old boy a real bow and arrow set, (he’d shoot his eye out) you’d have hot-tailed it back to the store and been returning said bow and arrow set on December 26th, too.  Don’t you be thinking you know our stories, Mr. Sashay Man. We’re saving children’s eyes by standing in these return lines!

And now the countdown begins.  Only 340 more days until I put up 2015’s Christmas tree and decorate it with my new ornaments.  Can’t wait!

My Home is Showcased in a Major Magazine, Sort of

So the other day a friend posted a link to an estate sale.  Here’s the link.  Oooo.  Fun!  I settled down to look through the pictures and gawk at all the stuff. Most of it was pretty bad.  I mean, there were framed pictures of hobos and teddy bears.  No, I’m not kidding.  See pictures #48 and 51.  Framed pictures of hobos and teddy bears, people.  That’s pretty bad.

Hobos and teddy bears aside, there was something pretty amazing in one of the pictures, right at the beginning.  Look at picture #1.  I’ve copied it here for you:

Do you see that awesome piece of furniture in the front right?  Oh, I love that piece of furniture.  Why can’t I have amazing furniture like that?  I sat there and just drooled over that piece of furniture for a good, oh, 10 seconds.

Until I realized…uh…wait.  Wait.  I do have amazing furniture like that.  I mean, really just like that.  I have that exact same piece in my dining room right now.  See:

photo (1)

Wow.  Silly me!  I didn’t even recognize it at first.  Huh!

A couple of days later I was reading my HGTV magazine and this ad caught my eye:

photo (2)

It’s all about dust triggering your allergies.  Ok, whatever.  What I was interested in was those books.  Look at those books!  Aren’t they just lovely?  Old beat up, dusty books, you just can’t get any better than that.  I would love to have those amazing books.

And then I realized…uh…wait.  Wait.  I do have amazing books like that.  I mean, really just like that.  I have one of those exact same books.   The green one.  The Thousand and One Nights–see:

photo

My copy isn’t as beat up as the one in the ad and the greens look different because the books are in different lighting, but look!  My bookcase is covered with dust, just like in the ad, and it even has a cobweb, just like in the ad.  I shined a little flashlight onto the book from beneath so you could read the title.  Look at what a lovely job it does of showcasing that cobweb.

But, silly me.  I’ve been saying things like, “My home doesn’t look like the homes in HGTV magazine,” yet it does.

This has got to be one of my proudest moments.

People From India Give the Best Compliments

Ahem.

I have an announcement to make.

I have been compared to…are you ready? Are you ready for what I was compared to?

I have been compared to a guru, nay God himself, who gives enlightenment.

Did you read that? A guru! God! Giver of enlightenment!

Oh yeah, that is so me. I’ve been wondering when someone would finally notice.

See, I have a consulting job helping people prepare for tests that are a lot like the SAT tests.  These tests have essay questions. People like to prepare for the essays by writing practice essays. My job is to give feedback on the practice essays.  I do this all online and I never see the students in person.

One of my students is from India and is named Nutan. I thought Nutan was a man. I’ve been writing, “Dear Sir, ” on all our correspondence.

She let me know she is most certainly not a man. She is a woman.

I replied:

“Dear Nutan,

I was confused about your name. I have not heard it before. I am sorry I was calling you sir.”

And Nutan wrote back:

“Dear Madam,

No mam please don’t say sorry. You are my teacher, my guru, and guru is like God who gives you
enlightenment.”

Being a Christian, I have to say I’m a little uncomfortable with being compared to God.  That’s the sort of thing where the phrase “pride goeth before a fall” could come into play.  But I can totally latch on to “Guru, giver of enlightenment.”  A little embellishment would be acceptable, too.  If you felt the need to call me, “O wise guru, giver of enlightenment,” I wouldn’t stop you.

I can be reached for enlightenment any day after 4:30.  I charge $100 an hour.  Paypal only please. Or camera gear.  I will work for camera gear.