What Possessed Me

My new fantasy boyfriend

 

So this is what happens sometimes: Fauxhawk wants me to watch a movie with him and it's totally BORING. So boring that I can't even sit through it. Since I have a low amusement threshold, it takes quite a lot to drive me from the couch and into the bedroom to FOLD LAUNDRY. Prizzi's Honor did it. The Life Aquatic did it. Interestingly, Angelica Houston is in both, and I really like Angelica Houston. But anyway, when this sort of thing happens, Fauxhawk gets all huffy and yells that I'M NOT EVEN WATCHING THE MOO-VIE, WHY DON'T I JUST WATCH THE MOO-VIE and then maybe I'll LIKE IT. 

Poor Hawk.  I have to give him props this time because even though The Life Aquatic was a bag of ballz, it featured Seu Jorge, a Brazilian singer-song writer born in the slums of Rio who wrote the soundtrack by covering Bowie classics in Portuguese. Wes Anderson was all, "Seu, sing this Bowie song on the top of the ship and we'll film it." And he did. Because he's the cutest. Honestly, really, really cute. 

I mean, NOT EVEN BOWIE SINGS LIFE ON MARS THIS WELL. 

So when I yell, "I LOVE YOU!" at the television during the special features, do you think he hears me? If so, why hasn't he offered to sit at my desk at work and hang out while I jam on the keyboard?

My life is now complete.

What Skid Row Song Are You? Your Result: Youth Gone Wild   You are a REBEL! Your moto is "im gonna do it my way and screw anyone who gets in my way!" You know those lines "They call you problem child, you walk in endless miles, you spend your life on trail, YOU ARE THE YOUTH GONE WILD!"
I Remember You
Slave To The Grind
What Skid Row Song Are You? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

New rule: From now on, this blog is going to be about Skid Row and its awesomeness.

I don't know about you, but seventh grade was pretty much about listening to Skid Row and trying in vain to impress Sandro Carrara who had absolutely no interest in me because he was chasing effing Sarah what's-her-name, the alpha female of the Polka Dot Posse and the foxiest girl in middle school. I had pretty much blown my chances with Sandro when I had to play a fetus in drama class - a humiliation that haunts me to this day - so I was left to brood with my all-girl metal band Silent Threat and listen to Skid Row songs. There was nothing like the dark, melancholy strains of "I Remember You" to ease the pain of rejection. If Sebastian Bach could rise above his misery, so could I. Also, he was hot.

All of this is a long preamble to what is really going on here. 

Which is:

Are you ready for this?

(I'm going to make the text really, really small to increase the dramatic tension in the play)

THE DRUMMER FROM SKID ROW IS PLAYING AT MY WEDDING.

FUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAH.* I love my friend Nicole because SHE HOOKED THAT SHIT UP** and made me really, really happy today. 

*Insert Arsenio-style fist pumping and tone deaf versions of "18 and Life."

**Also, because she is really smart and pretty and nice.

And now for something completely different

I know we haven't known each other that long, but I feel it's time to reveal my secret desire to beatbox like Julia Dales, the seventeen-year-old Canadian darkhorse candidate for the Beatbox Battle World Championship. In my fantasy world, I stand up in the middle of a crowded subway and imitate Doug E. Fresh while my fellow New Yorkers join in. This would make my life complete.

I dare you to watch this clip and not shout, "GET OUT! GET OUTTA MY TOWN!" at least fifteen or sixteen times. Girl has mad skilz. I have no idea how she does it - and with such a straight face.

Soundtrack of my childhood

I was six when Thriller came out and remember sneaking out of bed to watch the video on MTV with my brothers. It scared the bejesus out of me, but it was...thrilling. I wanted a red leather zipper jacket and sparkly socks so badly.

MJ, I prefer to remember you like this, before shit got really weird and sordid and sad. There was so much greatness in you. I hope that you've been released from whatever tortured and frightened you.

P.S. Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawsett and Michael Jackson in one week? What next - a plague of locusts?

Carrots, gospel, delusions of grandeur, etc.

After the Great Bare Boobie Debacle of 2009, I left work early. I felt the need to make carrot soup (excellent recipe, but double all the spices), drink two glasses of wine and sing “Ride on, King Jesus” in my best gospel voice at top volume in my kitchen.

Which is exactly what I did.

RIDE ON, KING JE-SUS!

(I sang)

NO MAN, can a-HINder THEE!
RIDE, KING JE-SUS, RIDE ON
No mannnnn can a-hinder theeeeeee...

(repeat at least seventeen times)

After several rounds of this (including a lively scat version), it occurred to me: I am persevering in the face of adversity, just like Jesus! I am a Christ-like figure!

And that totally made me feel better.

Sometimes it’s important to channel Mahalia Jackson and make the neighbors giggle through the kitchen wall.

* * *

I can't thank you all enough for your sweet words of encouragement. I am so touched to hear from so many people, many of whom came out of the shadows to say hello for the first time.

A million thanks and much love from the little beige cubicle,
P.

P.S. Here is a little Mahalia for you:

M.I.A.

I rediscovered British and Sri Lankan songwriter, record producer, vocalist and artist M.I.A. after seeing "Slumdog Millionaire." M.I.A. is all over A.R. Rahman’s excellent Bollywood/hip-hop soundtrack and now I've developed a little (big) female non-sexual crush on her. I mean, look at her! Adorbs, right? Badass, right? (I believe those are her own graffiti-inspired images above.)

I hesitate to send you to her website, as all the flickering lights and flashing colors nearly sent me into a grand mal seizure, but you can check out the playlist for the soundtrack here.




Top image from here, bottom image from here.

The seagull ain't got nothing on me

Maybe it's Martin Luther King Day, maybe it's Obama's inauguration tomorrow, but it feels like something wonderful is in the air. Tears well up in my eyes (unfortunately, during a conference call this morning as Fauxhawk mentioned) when I think about the hope and gratitude we all feel for this incredible change in our lives.

This is one of my favorite Nina Simone songs. "I Wish (I Knew How it Would Feel to Be Free)" seems to capture the wistfulness so many of us felt before the election, and now the sense of joyful empowerment that is so palpable as we approach Obama's first day in office.



Happy MLK Day. I think he'd be proud of us.

Recipe for a good day

Mustachioed man + Peaches + Snow.


via unicornology.

Theater nerds.

Stop frontin’. You know who you are.

Admit it.

You were the one who got up and sang “On My Own” from Les Misérables (slightly off-key) for the high school play audition.
You took tap for four years.
You know all the words to Oklahoma!
All of your high school fantasy boyfriends were gay.

This little piece of brilliance is for you.



Doogie Howser, MD and Jason Segel ("Forgetting Sarah Marshall") acting like Theater POWERTOOLS together.

No shame. No fear. Just pure, unbridled nerd squad action.

It’s just so sweet.

Denial, Lethargy, Awe, Extreme Fantasy World, etc.

Christmas presents unshopped.
Apartments uncleaned.
Clothes unwashed.
Shoes unrepaired.
Grocercies unbought.

All I want to do today is sit on the couch, reread Brideshead Revisited and listen to Odetta sing "Mary Had a Baby" in her beautiful deep voice. I wish I could figure out how to upload this song for you, but do me a favor and listen to it somewhere. It will give you goosebumps. In the meantime, here's a little clip of Odetta (who died recently) singing at the Newport Folk Festival.



Listening to Odetta fills me with longing. In my Extreme Fantasy World, I imagine walking into a silent, empty square, strumming my guitar, opening my mouth, and having beautiful sounds come out. I imagine people slowly gathering to listen, transfixed by the music. And then I imagine waking away without a word, leaving a group of strangers to feel the bond that comes from experiencing something extraordinary together.

Of course, this is completely absurd. I can't sing, I don't play the guitar, and the mere thought of standing up in front of a crowd to do anything makes me queasy. But when I hear Odetta sing, my waking dream seems utterly possible.

Image via The Beautiful Ordinary.