What Would Keith and Mick Do? July 28, 2006

I attended a Sunset at the Beach concert last night. The group was a Rolling Stones cover band. I don’t have much experience with cover bands, so I didn’t realize that they really tried this hard to look like them. It’s a little weird, I mean, we all know you’re NOT them, so why continue the charade?

“I’m not the guys I see on MTV, who obviously think they are me.” –Keith Richards

As you cannot see in my picture, the Mick Jagger clone has on a Rolling Stones logo T-shirt and matching belt buckle. What’s that about? Does the real Mick do this? And yes, that is a gold sequin scarf around his neck.

They paused to drink water and made jokes about how they wished they were drinking something else. Kept asking “the ladies” to scream. I seriously question if the bassist’s hair was real. All of them really. No, I take that back – the Mick clone looked like he had real hair.

Not just the president, but also a member.

Again, I’ve never seen a cover band before, so I have no idea if this is run of the mill behavior for one. I found myself in a Twilight Zone surreal-type moment, because in addition to sort of looking like them, they also only sort of sounded like the Stones.

They certainly had talent. They knew how to play all the guitar riffs, they sang all the right notes at the right time. They just fell flat, though, as far as being the Stones goes. I cringe at the memory of their Paint It Black. My friend agreed with me. He said that they seemed to be missing something, something that you hear in the real Stones music. And I think I know what it is that’s missing: anger. Serious anger. Raw emotion. That heartfelt intensity that infuses Satisfaction and Sympathy for the Devil and makes you sit back and open your eyes.

So, in my effort to help this band achieve their dubious goal of being the Stones cover band, I met up with Keith and Mick at Kentucky Fried Chicken and asked them for a few tips on “How to Be Angry, Keith and Mick style.”

First, a 15 second video so you understand who we’re working with:

(Disclaimer: The following is all made up, duh)

Me: So Keith, you used your guitar as a weapon. You actually appeared to do a wind up with it, and then swung it at someone. Why?

Keith Richards: That’s the bloke who dropped all the balloons. I hate balloons. (He crushes his chicken bone with his bare hands to complete powder form, and then snorts it.)

Me: Interesting. Why do you hate balloons?

Keith: I hate the way they float around, they remind me of lava lamps, and I haven’t liked those since I drank one back in 1971. (He pours all 44 oz of his coke into his mouth and swallows once. Then he crushes the plastic cup and eats it too.)

Me: You drank a lava lamp?

Keith: I couldn’t feel my nose for three days. Which was a real problem for my cocaine habit.

Me: Why did you drink it?

Keith: Mick made me do it.

Mick: Rubbish! (A person sitting at another table walks up and asks for Mick’s autograph. Mick punchs him out cold. He and Keith high five.)
Keith asked me if I thought the lava lamp was drinkable, and I said let’s find out.

Keith: So, you admit, you told me to drink it.

Mick: It wasn’t like it was an order.

Keith: What’s that supposed to mean, ‘an order’? You think because you’re – you’re some sort of Knight, you can just order me around?

Mick: I thought we agreed to stop talking about my knighthood (caresses the Knights Bachelor badge on his shoulder and glares at Keith. An uncomfortable silence ensues. I cough to get their attention).

Me: So Mick, since it’s been brought up, how does it feel to be a knight?

Mick: I was little disappointed actually. I thought they were going to give me a suit of armor and a horse, and I was gonna joust Paul McCartney or something. Instead, all I got was this, and whole lot of insults from my mates (he jerks his head over at Keith)

Keith: I warning you, Mick, one more word, and I’m going to thump you!

Mick: Here’s two words for you, fuck you!

(Mick punched Keith at this moment. Keith fell off his chair, wiped his bloody nose, then lunged from the ground, and in a single motion tackled Mick out of his chair and they proceeded to roll around punching each other)

Mick: You’re not going to be able to feel your nose for a week this time – you sodding son of a –

Keith: Why don’t you ride around – with your fellow knights – nancy boy –

At this point, I decided it best to leave the interview. I’m afraid we never really quite reached the explanation of what makes them so angry, though I suspect it has to do with cocaine. And heroin. Yeah, and PCP. Hmm, acid too. Oy! Pills, mate, don’t forget the pills…

I’ll be hugging it out with your mum tonight.

Mo’ Money, Mo’ Money, Mo’ Money July 24, 2006

This year has been the Year of No Money for me. Also known as the Chinese Year of the Suckfest.

It’s been this way because we sold our house back in January, or thought we had, and then it didn’t sell after all, because the woman who was going to buy it turned out to be a liar (that is the extremely short version of a very long story).

So, we had extra money to cover our asses in the months since January, but never in a million years did we fathom that we would still be making payments on that house here in August. In fact, we only covered ourselves through May. In order to make ends meet that past couple months, we incurred some debts and also sold random items on eBay. I’m going to use my iron to create a religious image on a grilled cheese sandwich and sell it for $30,000 (Shhh, don’t tell anyone it’s bullshit).

So, we’ve actually made ends meet all these months, but this coming month is going to be a doozy. I need to earn money. Seeing as no book contracts are looming in my future, I am trying to find a way to earn money that is flexible with my schedule. I need a job that will pay me enough money that I will have a worthwhile amount leftover after paying for child care. DARE TO FUCKING DREAM. I think I’m more likely to find WMDs in my kitchen cabinets (oh, crap, the CIA’s knocking on my door now – they’re demanding my grilled cheese sandwich).

Seriously, my respects to all the working moms (and dads) out there, I really don’t know how you do it.

So, I’m brainstorming ways to make money from home so I can avoid paying for child care. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far:

1. Get a pimp. Nightly hours, cash in my hand, a centuries long tradition of fieldwork. Concerned about the legality? Vegas is only a road trip away.

2. Online surveys. I’m really glad to see the efforts with which survey companies try to control their study groups: Do I have a name and email address? Then my opinion is worth something! I think survey groups are run by the same people who determine who gets a California driver’s license.

3. Dog walker. I walk my own dogs every morning. I see everyone else walking their dogs. They never smile back and say hello to me. Maybe they don’t like walking their dogs. Maybe they can pay me to do it for them. Or maybe the reason they aren’t smiling back at me is because my dogs are trying to attack their dogs. Please, for everyone’s sake, stop dressing your dogs in those sweaters.

4. Blood and plasma donation. Do I actually need those things to live? Oh. Damn. Does anyone want my tonsils or appendix?

5. Child modeling. Hey, my kids are cute. Isn’t it the right of every child star’s parent to steal all their kids’ money?

“What happened to all my money?”

6. Lawsuit. Any lawsuit. My sister in law got sued for $5000 because her cat scratched her neighbor, and Judge Judy ruled in favor of the neighbor. I’m not even making that up. Just so you know, the people who bring you Judge Judy pay for your court costs, pay for the verdict, and pay you $500 to be on the show. I’m going to sue my bank for not giving me money even though I said please and promised to pay them back. Here’s my lawyer.

So, that’s the game plan. Any more ideas? Send them my way via needsmoney@a_lot_ of_ it.com

Oh, crap, the FBI’s at my door. They’re demanding my tonsils and appendix.

If I could be any Superhero, I’d be… July 20, 2006

That’s the phrase du jour from the Crazy Hip Blog Mamas writing prompts. I have to say (er, write?), having grown up the younger sister of a HUGE comic book fan, I hear this question and automatically assume I must pick from the actual, bona fide comic book “Superheroes” – the people who have secret identities, wear masks, wield great power, and clad themselves in skin tight outfits. Why is it that this description could also be applied to the people who frequent S&M clubs? Not that I would know anything about that…

I thought about the prompt all day, while shuffling around with the kids. I took my son to pre-school, and then to the dermatologist. I got stuck in traffic and inwardly seethed over the $3.74 per gallon I spent on gas. I fretted over the bump on my daughter’s face, which she acquired yesterday from falling items in Nana’s laundry room. I visited a friend and our little ones played in the kiddie pool. We had scrambled eggs and watermelon for dinner. They took an extended bath then went to bed, after which I opened a bottle of wine and drank it.

This brings me to Now: what Superhero powers do I desire most of all?

I wish I could see through walls, so I didn’t have to sit in the bathroom when my kids felt like taking an extended bath because the toilet does not make for a comfortable seat. I wish I could sense things before they happened, so I could stop things from falling on my kids and giving them bumps and bruises. I wish I had healing powers, so eczema never plagued my son. I wish I could move at fast speeds and never wait in line again. I wish I could fly because that would be cool. Plus, it would save me gas money.

I couldn’t be Superman, though, because alcohol doesn’t affect him, and I need my unwinding. Plus, he has major issues. French Stewart on Third Rock From the Sun said it best: “Clark Kent is jealous that Lois Lane is in love with Superman.” I couldn’t be the Hulk because if I couldn’t control my temper, my poor kids… what would become of them? I couldn’t be The Flash because, frankly, he’s like the poster child for Fast and the Furious, of which I’m neither. Aquaman? Too rebellious. Mr. Fantastic? Kind of gross. Invisible Woman? Whatever – I was born to be a STAR!

When it comes down to it, I’m going to go with the same answer I’d have given you when I was 8.

I’d like to be Wonder Woman.

First of all, her powers and weapons are granted from Greek gods and goddesses. How cool is that? She’s from the Amazon and it’s always been a dream of mine to trek through the Amazon rainforest, which means if I was Wonder Woman, I’d know it like the back of my indestructible bracelet-clad hands. She had that invisible airplane which I could use to show those stealth bombers a thing or two. She held her own against Superman, which is altogether a cool bragging right. And best of all, she is the FIRST formidable female superhero, even if she was the friggin secretary for Justice League (written by a man).

The woman has power in every sense of the word – physical, mental, emotional, feminine. And a lasso of truth! Oh, the things I would do with that – Who broke that? Who pushed who? What did you just put in your mouth? Is that really the best price you can give me? Why are we in Iraq? (oooooh, and here you thought I would only use the lasso of truth on my kids… gotcha!)

I decided I should take an online quiz, because we all know how accurate those are.

I AM SPIDER-MAN:

Spider-Man

---

90%

Supergirl

---

78%

Wonder Woman

---

78%

Catwoman

---

75%

Iron Man

---

65%

Superman

---

60%

Robin

---

58%

The Flash

---

55%

Green Lantern

---

50%

Hulk

---

45%

Batman

---

30%

You are intelligent, witty,
a bit geeky and have great
power and responsibility.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Test

(I know what you’re thinking — how did a little sidekick bitch like Robin come to be included on a Superhero list? I have no idea either.)

As you see, the quiz determined me to be Spider-Man by a definite margin, with Supergirl and Wonder Woman tying for second place. Obviously, Supergirl is listed first because she has blond hair (written by a man).

As for Spider-Man, I accept the answer. There are many good things to say about Spider-Man, and I’m not talking about how good Tobey Maguire looks in the recent movies.

I’m talking about Spider-Man, the best of the “human” superheroes:
He is the worst when it come relationships. Yes, I can relate.
He’s a nerd. Well, you’re reading this – you tell me what a geek my big brother turned me into.
He suffers major internal angst. Oh, who doesn’t.

I think the main reason Spider-Man doesn’t get my vote in terms of who I’d wish to be is because, as the quiz points out, I already am him. He is very much a regular human being. He just happens to have super powers. He questions himself, he gets hurt, he gets confused, he says stupid things, he makes mistakes, and sometimes feels he has only himself to get him through it all (geez,I can’t believe he’s not a mother). Why wish to be those things? I’d rather be the wise and powerful and beautiful Greek-slash-Amazonian warrior princess.

When I wish, I go all the way, baby. Besides, her underoos are the bomb.

Catch a Wave and You’re Sittin’ On Top of the World July 16, 2006

There are 29 sites in the whole US of A that are considered Tsunami Ready. That’s an actual certification! In case you’re wondering if was this cooked up by some crackpot in the government after the Indonesian disaster, the answer is surprisingly no. It’s been going on for a while. My cities, Dana Point, CA, and San Clemente, CA, comprise 2 of the 29 sites.

I technically live in between them, but whatever, isn’t that always my state of being, in between? In between life experiences, in between personalities, in between children, in between states of sobriety.

It’s not something I’m in agony over, but tsunamis are an actual concern out here, and incidentally, an earthquake took place on May 3 that resulted in tsunamis all over the Pacific on May 3-4. When I first moved to Cali, I was terrified of earthquakes. No opinion really on tsunamis. Having lived here for 6 years now, earthquakes concern me about as much as tsunamis. I wonder if it’s perhaps because neither hold a candle to friggin hurricanes — a tree fell on the house I grew up, two years in a row. $50,000 damage the first time around. $150,000 the second. And amazingly, on the second tree felling, there were 5 people in the house at the time and no one was hurt (by the way, my parents moved this year. To a neighborhood with no trees).

So, anyways, I’m not terrified of tsunamis, but we do receive tsunami watches and warnings, and hey, if you live below the bluff, you’ll certainly want to leave if you hear about a big ol’ wave of water heading your way. Nowadays, I think there is also more fear of the dreaded tsunami because the second you hear the word, you immediately think of all the gnarly images from Indonesia. And that’s not a joke. Really, it’s not.

Among the things a Tsunami Ready city has are evacuation routes. What does one do when a tsunami warning is issued? Where do we go? How many fun noodles should I bring? Now, before you get your panties in a wad that I’m picking on the cities for caring so much, let me just say that I followed the directions of these signs, and I admit, they led me to higher ground quickly and efficiently.

That being said, I can’t help but point out a few amusements surrounding their placements.

Location #1:

See that, that big thing over thataways? You know, it’s big and blue? No? How about now:

That’s called an ocean. And sometimes, the ocean has what we call a tsunami. If you see one of these tsunamis, then you better
RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, MOTHERF*CKAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Oh, and in case the sign wasn’t clear enough, you will want to go in THE OTHER DIRECTION:

Location #2:

Ah yes, this is a beautiful bike ride, is it not? So scenic? Mmmm, breathe in that coastal air. How’re those gears treating you on the elevation? Working those calf muscles? Oh yeah, if you’re on this bike route when a tsunami alarm bell starts ringing, it means you’re about to become SHIT OUT OF LUCK.

Location #3:

Don’t park here. Unless your car is waterproof. In which case, you don’t need to evacuate but can just park anywhere you want to, and sit. I don’t think police cars are waterproof, so you will NOT be getting any tickets during an evacuation.

Location #4:

As you see, we’re on a curvy narrow slope. I know you’re looking for an evacuation site, so here’s the sign for it:

Hey, what are you doing? I said NO STOPPING! Can’t you see the sign! DON’T stop! I don’t care what you’re trying to read! Oh, yeah, you think you can stop and get away with it? Don’t bet on it buster, we’ve got the neighborhood watch in order to keep your ass in line. Boo ya!

Location #5:

In case of a tsunami, GO HERE.

I expect “Beach Properties” will be liquidating their inventory about now. Just don’t count on being approved for flood insurance.

Location #6:

Okay, based on the sign, I think I need to go left. Here’s the left:

What the hell is this? My friend said it’s a boys & girls home, or something like it. What it looks like is a big white building with no sign, no name, and certainly not enough parking spots to accommodate evacuees. In fact, it looks like the kind of apartment complex you don’t want to be in. The kind you stopped by one time in college when you were jonesing for a bag and your friend of a friend took a class with a guy who lived here and you stopped in at 2 in the morning… I’m sorry, I forgot what I was talking about.

Okay, so enough tsunami bashing. I’m not gonna lie, I’m proud to live in an area that takes the time to be this proactive. It’s the type of precaution I wish my beloved former home of New Orleans had participated in. Again, not a joke.

Time to move on to an even more serious, it-really-isn’t-funny-once-you-start-thinking-about-it-scenario, and that is what happens when the San Onofre Power Plant has an emergency. How does a city become ‘nuclear power plant disaster certified’? Off to do more research. <a href=”

There Are Places I Remember July 13, 2006

So, I belong to Crazy Hip Blog Mamas (because, hey, that’s how I roll), and they do a writing prompt every other Wednesday. The latest prompt, for which I am late (big shocker, I know) is what is the song/movie that describes your life?

Well, this was a fun question for me. I write fiction and when I write anything, I always designate a ‘theme song’ to my main characters. You know, the kind of song that would play in the movie when they first showed up on the screen, a la the Darth Vader theme song. Whenever I work on said piece of fiction, I listen to whatever song I’ve designated to said character and it helps me get into the mode of writing for/about them.

I never actually considered what my own theme song was. Things that make you go hmmm… (great phrase from a song, but not exactly my theme)

I know I was born past the years when the Beatles were actually the Beatles, but my dad loved them and raised me on them. There is no song that I could possibly imagine as describing my life besides a Beatles song. (I suppose there is “I’m Too Sexy.” Whatever, Right Said Fred, stealing my slogan. I should sue his ass.)

But which Beatles number to choose? “Yellow Submarine” was my childhood favorite. It’s the very first song I can pull from memory. “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away”? “If I Fell”? The whole Help album, for that matter? I admit, there were times in my life when I wished they were my theme songs (that’d be high school; and a more accurate description would be I wished they were my imaginary boyfriend’s theme songs). Then there were the college years (uhhhhhh, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds).

Then, there’s Here Comes the Sun. The night I met my husband, he was playing his guitar and I asked if he knew anything by the Beatles. He started in with Here Comes the Sun. So, obviously, sentimentality is involved.
Two, isn’t it just a beautiful message:

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it’s all right

Now, more than ever, when I’m surrounded by a life of kids and preschool and reading aloud and encouraging fine motor skill development and whatever the f*ck people expect of parents these days, it’s nice to listen to this song and remember that a viable, new beginning is in sight – for me, my kids, my husband, everyone. And I say, it’s all right.

Ah, but Here Comes the Sun only stresses hope, and my life has less than hopeful moments too. That’s why, when it comes down to it, I have to go with the song I chose for my father and I to dance to when I got married, the song that gets me nearly teary eyed when it randomly plays on the radio, the song from my favorite Beatles album (Rubber Soul) and that is In My Life.

How true is this song? Who can deny that there are people you meet that affect your life irreparably? I admit, I came close to choosing The Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows,” which is similar in theme, though ever less poetic. “In My Life” is a treatise on what it is to be human, to be alive, to live, to love. I for one am glad to have experienced all these moments, because these are the moments that make… me.
I could go on about all the feelings this song inspires within me, but read the lyrics and feel it for yourself:

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends
I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I’ve loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
there is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more

Beautiful, aren’t they?

Roy G Biv in Witness Relocation, Whereabouts Currently Unknown July 12, 2006

My friend’s boyfriend’s niece (did you follow that?) had on a nail polish color by the name of “The Lifeguard Makes Me Blush.” It’s by OPI, part of the Flip Flop Fabulous collection. Oh, and it’s pink. Just pink. Seriously. And I don’t know anyone who blushes that color. At least, not in the presence of a lifeguard.

So in addition to Flip Flop Fabulous, OPI is a wealth of new color names. Check them out yourself.

It seems the job of every make-up company is to outdo everyone else when it comes to naming a color. I admit, I thought it was cute at first. I’m a big fan of BeneFit’s “Not on My Pillow” eye-makeup remover. Which isn’t really a color, but is a cute name.

OPI, however, needs to take it down a notch. Among their colors: “Charge it in Milan” “Mimosas for Mr. and Mrs.” “At Your Quebec and Call” and pretty much all the titles of the Princess collection. What do they mean? They aren’t colors! They’re random phrases that have absolutely no association with any color. “Mimosas for Mr. and Mrs.” could at least have been orange!

I swiped a couple pages from the OPI handbook and it turns out, there are rules on how to create a color’s name:

1. Sit around with a bunch of junior high age girls and copy down exactly what they’re saying.
2. Take a time machine to 10 years from now and sit around the same girls as they browse a bridal convention.
3. If you add the word “princess” to the collection, you can name the color whatever you want and not worry about there being any type of connection whatsoever.
4. If all else fails, use an old knock knock joke that everyone told when they were six.
5. Don’t forget to have pun with it. (So sorry that I put you through that)

These rules seem easy enough to follow. I am going to send a proposal to OPI for the “Are We There Yet” Collection (inspired by my recent road trip):

They Forgot to Give Us Ketchup
I Need to Go to the Bathroom
Honk if You Love Truck Drivers
I Thought You Had the Keys
and
Do You Know Why I Pulled You Over?

Make them whatever color you choose. I’m sure that’s what OPI will do.

The Brobdingnagian Blog July 2, 2006

My friend sent me a Word of the Day email and the chosen word was “Brobdingnagian.” It means means “of extraordinary size, gigantic, enormous,” as in “That man has an ego of Brobdingnagian proportions.”

The source of the word is from the land of Brobdingnag, the land of the giants where Mr. Gulliver lands in Gulliver’s Travels. Incidentally, he also landed in the land of Lilliput, which is populated by little people, and led to the word “Lilliputian.” It means little, as in “The man with the Brobdingnagian ego has a penis of Lilliputian proportions.”

Gulliver’s Travels was a popular novel written in 1726 by Jonathan Swift, and considered a scathing political satire that also reads nicely as a kids book. I did a quick check into enotes (like Cliffs Notes, only even easier to get a hold of)
Here’s what it had to say:
“In these fantastic tales, Swift satirizes the political events in England and Ireland in his day, as well as English values and institutions. He ridicules academics, scientists, and Enlightenment thinkers who value rationalism above all else, and finally, he targets the human condition itself.”

Sorry, is this 280 years or days ago? The human condition? My concerns for the human condition exist on many levels, many of which can be explained by this.

By my calculations, that means 280 years from now, the dictionary that our great-great-great-great-grandkids and Dick Clark will refer to will include words taken from today’s most popular novels.

Let’s see, a bestseller, a book that children can enjoy, a popular book, a place where imaginary things take place, hmm… Harry Potter? Is it a stirring satire on the government? Well, Book Five does deal with a power hungry government and media manipulation. There’s also this.

So, on to possible word choices—

Hogwartsian – adj. Magical, as in “The man with the Lilliputian sized penis was unable to give his date a Hogwartsian experience.”

quidditchian – adj. Elated, or flying high, as in “Rather than the quidditchian feeling of having just been pleased, the date of the man with the Lilliputian sized member felt depressed in a Brobdingnagian sort of way.”

hermionish – adj. Brainy, as in “A man who would lie about his Lilliputian size weinerschnitzel, thinking he would not get caught, is clearly not hermionish.”

weasley – adj. Poor, as in “In her attempt to insult the man with the Lilliputian size love muscle, his date said to him, ‘Yo mama so weasley, she was at the dollar store with a box of garbage bags and when I said, ‘what you doin?’ she said, ‘buyin luggage.’”

fredngeorge – noun. A Brobdingnagian shenanigan, as in “When the man with the Lilliputian size scream machine took his pants off, his date thought he was playing a good fredngeorge.”

snapelike – adj. Rude, harsh, often insulting, as in “Though it felt rather snapelike, the woman scoffed at the man with the Lilliputian size filler upper when he asked her out again, and told him not until he did something about his Brobdingnagian size problem.”

dumbledore – noun. A guru of Brobdingnagian proportions, as in “In his efforts to score another date, the man with the Lilliputian size hungry hippo sought out a dumbledore about the matter, but the guru’s snapelike response was to point his finger at him and laugh.”

—All words and definitions taken from the 2286 Edition of Websters Dictionary, printed by Starbucks Publishing House. They’re Everywhere