Because when was cute overload ever a bad thing?
Because when was cute overload ever a bad thing?
A long time ago, I watched "Belle and Sebastian – Fans Only" with Cho + Bobby. I'm not normally into movies about bands because they usually seem a bit self-serving and precocious. However, in this case, "Fans Only" was completely fascinating…because the docu-pic showed that the members of B&S are every bit as peculiar as any listener might hope them to be.
Then today, I received an email from the organizer of a design book club I try to attend every few months, with the possible selections for March. The list included:
Put The Book Back on The Shelf
(Belle and Sebastian songs interpreted by several sequential artists)
"Now, the band's colorful lyrics and gorgeous, full-bodied melodies have provided Image Comics with the inspiration for a new kind of comics anthology. With the full-color, 144-page PUT THE BOOK BACK ON THE SHELF, a stellar collection of independent comic creators and cartoonists put their own spins on a cross section of Belle and Sebastian's songs, crafting stories inspired by the band1s music, drawn from the band's entire catalog." (from the Image Comics site)
Finally, I remembered hearing last week that B&S have a new album out, called The Life Pursuit. Now, all of these things are either completely coincidental OR a divine message that it was a damn good thing I bought a ticket to see B&S at Avalon tonight. Did I mention that The New Pornographers are opening? Yes, the show is indeed going to r-a-w-k, even if we do have to go on the "all ages" night since Bobby has class the night of the "21+ show." At least we be able to eschew standing positions near the side with a clear view of the band…since all of the frosh will be smashed against the stage.
Finally, I can reveal a sweet secret that's been undercover for months: CHO AND BOBBY ARE HAVING A BABY!!!
The bebé is looking like it's going to be a Cancer, coming in July, which (I think) complements both Cho (Taurus) and Bobby (Pisces). For those who think "astrology is crap," i.e. both parents, well...to make a simpler designation, it's a boy!
V-E-R-Y big news – probably the biggest ever reported on Blogorelli (at least until I date someone "quality" who isn't intimately inept.) I am very excited about becoming the "kicky ecentric" Auntie who gets to do fun things like teach this kid some crazy dance from the 1950s while I drink a martini and he giggles until nauseous. Or, you know, make Sunday "curbside salvage" runs that he'll reflect on in his first Pulitzer Prize-winning novella long after I am put in long-term care for liver failure. Regardless, big thing are expected from this kid – and his nose is already stepping up to task, trust me, I've seen early pics. But maybe not so much for the baby itself to actually BE big (I could just be emoting for Cho here.)
Most of all, though, I'm excited because I finally have an excuse to buy someone in my life a Glamour Belly Kit. How often does a gal have the chance to purchase something that includes "4- Rolls Of Medical Grade casting tape, Udderly Smooth® Udder Cream, Vinyl-Touch Non-latex Powder-free Gloves, a Drop Cloth, and 2 Sheets of Sanding Paper" without being into some seriously disturbing "Rick James" level of kink-dom?
Stayed tuned for the continuing saga on Bambino ChoBo...which brings me to this week's big Medal Round question.
FRIDAY MEDAL ROUND: What the heckie should I call Cho + Bobby's kinder around here while he is "in utero"?
1. Otto (I just like it, zustimmung?)
As Bananarama might say, "I Heard A Rumour"...about this happy twosome (below, at Vinterfest '06) who are soon-to-expand.
After my "magnificent" fall in UT that led to the current distal radial conditions, I went through all five stages of grief:
1. DENIAL – Thinking that my wrist being the shape of an "S" curve could possibly still be a mere sprain. Of course, I partially blame the Ski Patrol for my denial after Grayden, first ranger to the scene, was all like, "Nah, it might be ok. You can feel me pressing your fingertips, right?"
2. ANGER – What kind of idiot gets mad at a ski run (Up yours, Thaymes Canyon blue)? But this stage did come into play when Grayden asked me if I would ride the chair. Since I've only ever seen injured skiers being pulled on a sleigh, I assumed that he meant a similar contraption but just with, like, a lawn chair on the back...so that I was upright and could openly observe as skiers ridicule me as I was pulled down the hill. I said no. Later, Lil' Kim told me that he meant the ski lift chair. Oh well...why would I pass up a ride on a snowmobile just to go up the stupid lift again?
3. BARGAINING – One hour after "Anger", stage 3 arrived when I had to call Dad-orelli and ask him to pay my urgent care bill so that they would release me (and my painkiller prescription.) Luckily, I'm a premo negotiator and convinced him that putting the charge on his L.L. Bean Visa, he would get points equivalent to at least a pair of jeans...that he could then exchange under the "lifetime guarantee" for the next 15 years.
4. DEPRESSION - Realizing, while watching the opening ceremonies for the Olympics the first night post-injury, that I had no absolutely chance of seeing Michael Phelps competing in his mer-man pants during the next two weeks. Winter=no swimming.
5. ACCEPTANCE - By Saturday, I decided to do up Park City "Sundance" style, so Vic and I hit town to see the sights, sample the local brew, and buy some shoes. Check out the photographic results in a new photo album – A Tale of Two Vacations!
Mostly, though, Wristy has made me realize that it's ok to slow down. I just can't be as efficient, speedy, multi-tasking and "urban" as I was before the injury. Oddly, I've found comfort in this new forced personality facet. I'm just not sweating the small stuff when so much else matters.
And I'm also abiding by the 1942 The American Red Cross Home Nursing Manual's Common Sense Rules For Mental Health…which seems pretty appropriate for someone whose dating standards now contain only one request: the ability to screw off jar tops!
Gratuitous BKP-en-closet shot...the storage space has opened up new worlds for both of us. Here, she is on her new favorite "tree perch," the shelf above the closet door, former home of my summer wardrobe.
…mini rex baby bunnies!
Just in time for Easter and when my fantasy collection of misfit pets was getting a bit stale - someone posts these guys on Craigslist (under FREE, not pets...there is no pet section and if there was, I certainly would not be, ahem, trolling around it):
"They don't come with cages,food or any supplies…just themselves. They are housetrained and sweet, hand fed bunnies raised with children."
I can't decide which one I'd like best; the one in the lower right coordinates best in color with BKP, yet the one in the upper right looks just awkward enough to be one of my pets. Of course, these bunnies would be mere training for a MUCH bigger thing.
It's MATTHEW…winner of the First EVER Blogorelli Official Contest!
Were I Bob Costas doing commentary on the "Life Cycle:: Relationship" contest, I could say that Matthew's dominance was not at all surprising. He has, after all, medaled numerous times in various music mix events, earning extra points from the judges this past New Year's Eve. That's when he presented some of us with a four disc compilation based on an essay he wrote about the three phases of twilight.Yes, there are three: civilian, nautical and astronomical. (Of course, there was a "Prelude to Twilight" which started the whole set. What can I say? He's a pro.) I still can't pry the discs out of my player at the office.
The winner's mix is simply titled LifeCycle of a Relationship with the Clinically Depressed
True, a solemn competitor, but as Matthew explains, "Please excuse the dour spirit that surrounds this little playlist. I'm afraid it became a channel for some of my sullen moodiness that surrounds Feb. 14 and all of its attached personal and Hallmark connotations. If I had had my choice, something happier would have been produced but alas, it was not to be."
No need to apologize...music is probably a healthier outlet for romantic hissy fits than bourbon, even though you would be hard pressed to convince *me* on that point.
Thanks for playing, Mr. G. — and expect your iTunes gift certificate to arrive by the end of the week!
(option+click on link to download songs on a Mac, and I think it's left+click on a PC)
LifeCycle of a Relationship with…the Clinically Depressed::Playlist
1. "Ancient Modern People" by The Coral Sea
2. "Kissing Families" by Silversun Pickups
3. "November" by Azure Ray
4. "Hollow Heart" by N.Lannon
5. "Once Around the Block" by Badly Drawn Boy
6. "Your Misfortune" by Mike Doughty
7. "The Hollows" by Matt Pond PA
8. "Waterfront (or The Sinking Road) by The Black Heart Procession
9. "We're Already There" by Mazarin
10. "We Can't Work It Out" by Biirdie
The "composer" on NYE06, right after he conjured the top off a champagne bottle and me, all drunkety-drunky-drunk.
Forget "bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens," here's a self-portrait of a few things hitting my sweet spot these days.
(from left to right)
- My cell phone, which I recently "blinged out" with a "Cell Stones" kit that I bought at Michaels Crafts last weekend
- Vic…doesn't he glow so pretty?
- the iDog musical companion...a Valentine's gift from Mom-orelli. "Feed" puppy music and it responds with light patterns and by moving its head and ears and will eventually (they claim) develop a personality based on my playlists. I'm totally into him, even though I don't really understand what he's doing most of the time, the fact that I can't think of a name for him AND that he seems to like the Black Eyed Peas...a lot.
- Bing! Or me trying desprately to grab the expensive German wine glass (part of 4-set that P. Natty got me for Christmas) and hoist the sweet, sweet liquid into my mouth – despite the fact that I have no grasp strength in my right hand. Come HERE, Shiraz!
So, that was the big "reveal" on the cast, although no one has lost enough intimidation to actually sign it. Perhaps tomorrow night when I have a few pints with the Bostonist crowd, they will relieve Bing's naked shame. Maybe I should stock up on a few Sharpie Minis for the occasion. Sadly, I have been waiting for just this sort of lame bad luck (broken bone) combined with a fun social gathering (happy hour) as an excuse to buy a few of these tiny markers and hang them from my person...perhaps on my Shuffle necklace? (kidding!)
Being Italian American and traveling to Italy in a little over one month, I was very interested to observe my ethnic heritage through a viewing of "The Godfather, Part II" last night (in honor of Jeffé's birthday.)
My findings conclude that as an Italian (according to GFII), I will:
- first become acquainted with you
- then devote myself to you
- proceed to make you feel uneasily frightened
- completely reassure you
- finally outright killing you
Keep in mind that the sequence above only applies if I like you. Oh, and if I DO like you and we go through the everything and get to the end, etc...when I do kill you, the cause will likely be strangulation with a completely inept tool like a wire hotel hanger. And it's gonna take awhile, especially with my arm in a cast, so do me a favor and just relax into the whole thing, ok? Because otherwise I might not be able to successfully conclude our rendezvous, which would force me to then psychologically torment you until you just kill yourself. No one wants that, right?
But, do not be mistaken, all steps of this process will be conducted with the utmost respect.
So yes, in conclusion...I certainly am excited about heading back to the "Old Country." At least Tara+Hal don't live in Sicily. But (sigh) what a great movie.
When Dad-orelli picked me up at the airport on Sunday for my lay-overnight in Pittsburgh, the first thing he said to me was, "You look......dirty." Now, my father would make this remark to anyone trying to hug him after being on a commercial flight, but this time he was entirely right. My right arm, rendered lifeless from tricep to fingertips since Thurdsay, hadn't seen lather for three days and nights...three sweaty days of one-armed over-exertion and nights of narcotic-laced sleep. My hair was greasy and limp, my fingers sticky. At that moment, in no esoteric way, I literally stunk.
Later that night, sitting on my bed with Mom- and Brother-elli, I made a remark about my gaminess, and then proceeded to take my socks off and stretch out my toes. They both looked slightly queasy.
"Well, I need to get to bed because I have to teach tomorrow," my mom said as she quickly took her exit.
Immediately after she left the room, Brandon marched me downstairs and started the shower. "Remember," he said as he tied a garbage bag around my arm so tightly that my fingers went numb(er), "stay in there AS LONG as you want. And make sure that you wash your hair, for christssakes." When the King of Leisure Bathing begs you to stay in the shower even though it might overlap into "his" time, well, you are one rank being.
Now that I'm back at work, I've managed to stay mostly de-skunked for two whole days. But don't get me wrong, I emit a heavy sigh of burden when the bathroom mirror steams up and it's time to tie on that Hefty Cinch Sak. No matter what mom said, these are the days when a significant other comes in handy. Not for making babies, not for comfort during lightning storms, not for providing three extra pennies in the supermarket checkout line...but for those nights when one would crawl over hot coals with bare knees just for a little lather, rinse, and repeat.
Have a great weekend! I know that Vic, Bing* and I will...
(* Vic= [odin] or my new boyfriend, Bing= the cast)
I just returned from my local follow-up x-rays for the wrist and all seems well. The set that the U(niversity) of U(tah) emergency clinic doctors did apparently held through 1 hot-tubbing, 2 days of vacation sightseeing, 3 cancelled flights and 7 nights of vicodin-induced slumber. Now I am sporting a vibrant red cast which resembles a Valentine gummy heart that someone chewed, then hawked out the side of his/her mouth. How appropriate.
The cast will be on for 6-8 wks, with x-rays every 7 days to monitor that nothing is "moving around all funny" (the doctor's words, not mine)...basically until I leave for Italy. Now, excuse me while I step away to elevate, take a nap and watch (prepare for the irony) "Bend It Like Beckham."
Below, before-and-after x-rays from Utah. Notice the change in the overall position/angle of my bones based on putting my fingers in a medieval hangy thing with 135lbs of weights strapped around my upper arm.
In an odd twist of events, I am typing this entry, left-handed, while sitting on the couch in my mother's living room in PA. What strange and delightful "perfect storm" of circumstances occurred to put me in this very place late Sunday night?
1. Freak fall on Thursday while snowboarding (on first day of vacation to Park City UT) results in broken (right) wrist
2. Freak Nor'easter on Sunday causes American West to cancel connecting flight from Phoenix to Boston, first available flight back to the Bean is Phoenix->Pittsburgh->Boston on Monday afternoon
So here I sit. On the up side, I finally have my very own vicodin prescription.
Apparently, I failed to mention that this morning at 6:30 a.m., I embark upon a snowboarding trip with P. Natty and Lil' Kim to a magical land, a land of multiple wives and Mormons – Park City UT. We're heading out to the great white West since the bare grey Northeast has given us no pow pow love and I NEED to ride my new Stinger at least once this year.
Perhaps use the time you would have spent reading tomorrow's entry and commenting on Friday's MeMe...to fine tune those mixes I know you're all getting ready to serve up for (the FIRST EVER BLOGORELLI CONTEST!!!) Life Cycle::Relationship.
And naturally, a complete report on any freaky Mormon underclothing upon my return.
POW POW, here I come!
(PS: Happy Birthday, Jeffé)
I love the animals whose owners' affections have long been removed. Whether because of age, function or aesthetics, something about unwanted animals makes me want to acquire them immediately, and transfer my insane and misguided goodwill onto them. It's the old "curbside salvage" instincts, I suppose, or perhaps my mother's continued verbal insinuations that she fears I may never spawn something for her to preen and dress in garments with hoods that evoke animal ears.
Having a very small apartment, one cat already, and a "no additional pets" clause in my lease almost guarantees that, while surfing Craigslist for free, non-sensical items to haul home, I always come upon delinquent creatures. Creatures who need homes, love...and sometimes, barn space.
Last Thursday was no exception and, in fact, yielded a *prize crop* of furry misfits. It all started with Cody:
"Cody is awesome! He's a 22 year old retired school horse, and he's looking for a new home only because our barn was sold and we can't take him with us. He loves foals and children.... He LOVES to be groomed. (BLOGORELLI: I love to groom things, especially things with teeth.) Excellent ground manners. No vices. No meds or supplements, just oats and hay cubes. (BLOGORELLI: That sounds easy.) He doesn't even get turned out in a paddock. (BLOGORELLI: See? He is completely ok just hanging in the apt. with the BKP!) Will you take him home? Any backyard situation would perfect. (BLOGORELLI: Backyard? Oh, shizat.) He would make an excellent companion for another horse. Email me!!"
This horse needs me...or you, if you have a yard OR another horse...anyone? Horse? He has excellent (ground) manners.
Now, normally I wouldn't even discuss my sick trolling of Craigslist for needy animals, but I cannot deny the rescue instinct present years ago, even when I was a young Blogorelli (like, seventh grade young.) Sometimes, when walking home, from school, I would encounter a lost dog. I always approached (yes, I am the queen of safety), promptly took the canine home, and sealed him "safely" in our garage. Then I called the owner's phone number from the tag, and they came and got the dog. Once I saved a Golden Retriever who had gone missing WITH puppies to take care of - hello?!? See, I do have compassion for those with children. My one-person-human-society ended when a particularly ornery beagle chewed through his (our dog Spencer's) leash and bolted out of the garage when my mom opened the door with the automatic control...giving her heart palpitations and nearly causing her to run over the dog, defeating the whole purpose of my "mission." I never took another one home after that. Many years later, this same trend would sadly affect my dating existence, although I never actually attempted to leash men to the old aluminum tool cabinet in the garage. Hmm...
Which leads to Dawbie:
"I have 3 hounds and the 2-year-old Dashhound is getting jealous. He's a long hair mini, VERY friendly. Dawbie gets attatched easly to one person. He's friendly with everyone BUT loves only one! (BLOGORELLI: This is exactly what I've been looking for, albeit in a slightly different species. Still.) He would be great for someone who's home alot, and not well for children. He's loves to be cuddled and have his belly rubbed. But look out, he is a squirter. (BLOGORELLI: I hope this means #1 and, note, no belly rubs after this warning.) He's had all of his shots and has been fixed. The only reason I'm looking for another home for him is that 3 is just to much with a baby on the way."
Every squirt(er) needs someone to love him. This photo is not actually Dawbie, as the ad did not include an image, but if you've seen one long-haired weiner, you've seen them all, I figure.
I had one more animal to complete my triumverate of outsiders, but apparently someone has spoken for Marcel, the "singing bird who unfortunately has not been trained at all."
But he sort of looked like this:
And, by the way, the gravy train would stop at Marcel. Because birds are fucking creepy, they have CLAWS, I don't need any extra voices around besides the one in my head, and there is no way a bird is going to be the first thing to perch on my breast after its months of solitude. No.thank.you.
Now, go forth and adopt!
Me!!! And of course, everyone at home...
Super bowl XL:
1,000,000,000 worldwide television audience
130,000,000 US viewers
70,000 fans at Ford Field in Detroit
500 monitors in control trucks
400 crew people for production, technical, administrative and support
100x optical zoom of the longest Canon lens to be used
180 frames per second of Sony’s new experimental super slo-mo camera
90 inputs on the video switcher
90 miles of cable for cameras and microphones
60 microphones, including 12 on-field parabolic mics
54 cameras used by FOX at last year’s Super Bowl, but not all were HD as they are this year
40 digital video instant replay units
36 TV cameras
36 seasons of ABC NFL coverage, of which this is the last season and last game
29 mobile vehicles
25 degrees, forecast temperature outside the domed stadium at kickoff, a concern of ABC technicians
20 “hard” cameras (stationary as opposed to hand-held)
10 television production trucks (not including the infamous horse trailer)
10 commercials bought by the game’s biggest advertiser, Anheuser-Busch
7 handheld cameras
6 robotic cameras
6 super slo-mo cameras
5 million dollars per minute to buy a commercial
4 announcers: Al Michaels, John Madden, Michelle Tafoya and Suzy Kolber
3 60-second advertisements (the rest are :30), bought by General Motors, Burger King and ESPN
2 operators for SkyCam: one cameraman, one “pilot”
1 director, Drew Esocoff, his second Super Bowl as a director
My first admitted hometown reader AND she sent a photo collage! Gotta love the kindred PA spirits...
"Thought this was a better pic of Big Ben but don't appreciate the muddy lookng waters of the rivers.....some of that could be from an attempt to colorize the photo in gold tones.
Go Steelers and hope you enjoy the chipped ham sammitches.
From a ' Burgh blogorelli fan!"
Dear Everyone I Know and Love,
Please, no one else send me this link that shows Ben Roethlisberger partying with some ladies. Am I supposed to be disgusted, attracted, or both? (which I am)? He's TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD. Let's all reflect on some of the nights from our 23rd year and recall whether those evenings involved pouring Sauza Tres Generaciones Añegjo tequilla down some overly fake-tanned girl's throat, eh? (This is directed towards you "gentlemen" out there.) Exactly.
Which one do you suppose he took home? I'm going with the raven-haired one leaning on his shoulder in the back, partially hidden by the "over-anxious" girl up front, although that little blonde with the unfortunate Rachel cut looks hard to shake. And, if these pics were taken in Pittsburgh (which is possible, although people, inexplicably, party in basements both in PA and OH,) does everyone see why I'd be far married by now if I still lived there? Finally, I hate to play this card (not at all, really,) but he IS actually from OHIO, you know, if that says anything.
At least someone enterprisingly made a clever tee about the whole thing.
As if anyone had a doubt of this weeks' query...
FRIDAY MEDAL ROUND: Top three food/drink choices for 2006 Superbowl parties
(I'm looking for a good dip recipe here, people.)
BLOGORELL: Well, below are the top things that *I* will be serving at my Superbowl party, after the BKP and I put on our matching sweatshirts and face paint (it's still up in the air as to who will be black/gode.)
1. To drink: Iron City. Ice code, of course.
2. To snack: Snyder of Berlin chips, the gode medal of spud crisps
3. To eat: Chipped Ham BBQ Sandwiches like we used to enjoy down by the crick in the summer
To dessert: Klondike Bars (created in Pittsburgh!)
Naturally, a mere two weeks after I incite the rage of my fellow Somervillians and the Inter-net by confessing that I don't recycle...DWR basically tells me to eat it by introducing their set of four recycling bags that are both functional and attractive.
Besides the punchy colors, which "provide easy visual cues when separating cans from bottles from papers. A fourth bag can function as a compost holder." (Whoooa doggy. Now I'm composting? Where, in my car's trunk?) "Four interchangeable printed labels are included for use in the plastic window on the front of each bag."
Considering this retail development and last night's State of the Union, I might finally have to call it...literally, and contact my landlord about setting up a recycling station somewhere in the building.
"I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story." Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome (1911)
That's right, we're having an "official" contest here on Blogorelli! There's even prizes and stuff.
Inspired by the flurry of opinion in the Comment section over Heidi Klum's iTunes Playlist and the fact that, once again, I have no reason to look forward to Valentine's Day (besides the Russell Stover commemorative "Love You Tender" Elvis tin,) I decided to create an opportunity for eveyone to show their mix master skilz. And something to help me be excited for more than proclaiming QuirkyAloneness.
= = = = = =
is what I'm calling the contest, and below are the details:
W H A T
A playlist, consisting of ten songs, that follows the theme "life cycle of a relationship." It can be your relationship with anything; a person, object, pet, occasion, thought, food, whatever. Be creative. Inspire us with your clever postmodernism, or quirky interpretation.
H O W
The songs that make up the mix should be free, public and legal for sharing. Tracks can come from the artist's/labels' web site, or a legitimate mp3 site like Better Propaganda, Insound or Epitonic. Yes, I can hear a collective groan at this "tedious" requirement. But unless I and everyone else can admire your creation aurally, none of us will be able to accurately lavish our adoration onto you. Only MP3 downloads, please, no streams.
W H E R E
Ok, maybe you hate me for the above stipulation...but just in case you're still interested, here are some great places to find new, free music:
- Sterogum's MP3 Podcast
- Salon's Audiofile (see free mp3s listed down the left column; reading the column itslef requires registration)
- The 365 Project: One mp3 a day, catalogued (click on the week to see expanded list and download links)
- Six "Best of" lists for the independent music of last year
W H E N
The deadline is midnight on February 14, 2006. Email your playlist, including the artist name/track title/download link for every song, to email@example.com
W H Y
Name your beautiful/hideous baby...each playlist should have a title.
J U D G I N G / P R I Z E S
I and a few impartials will listen to the mixes, pick the top three, and award the spectacular and completely hypothetical "blue ribbon" on Monday, February 20, 2006. The prize is a $10 iTunes gift card to the winner, and a $5 iTunes gift cards to the second and third finishers.
Also on that Monday, I'll list the the top three here with links included so that everyone can "ooo" and ahh"...yea!