Why Can't It Always Be Like This?

Welcome everyone. I've been goofing off lately and not posting. Me = bad. I can't really blame being too busy as I have certainly found time to read my favorite blogs, but just couldn't find my "muse". I do hope everyone got everything they asked for from Santa Claus. He was pretty good to me this year. (maybe he really can't see me when I'm sleeping, or otherwise doing what I shouldn't be doing) I can hardly wait to cash-in the music gift cards I got from my friends and family. Choices, choices. You people so rock. Also, my most-prized gift came from CE and it's an original 1978 handbill for a concert by my beloved Todd Rundgren & Utopia at a club in Austin, Texas. I will be seeing Kasim (the bass player) (flutter flutter) this weekend and hope to have him autograph it, if I'm not too nauseous and giddy. (that's another story for another blog entry, so stay tuned)

Today was my first day back at the office after a nice, long break for the holiday. I was the only one there today and though it was a little lonely, it was the most productive and fun day I've had in ages. I pulled up my itunes on the computer, hit party shuffle, cranked it up and got more done in one day than I usually do in 3 or 4. The phone barely rang. No packages were delivered. It was "all about me" today. I even had time to pseudo-dance around.

Why is it that on any other regular work day, I can't seem to make any headway? I can so see the Church Lady curling her lips and saying "could it beeeeeee......Satannnnn?" right now. Nope, I just seem to do better with a soundtrack, not just the hum of computers and fax machines. There are days I turn on my tunes while working, but it's usually on very quietly, but after today, I don't know how I'll be able to accomplish anything without full, frontal "wear that chair out" rock. Hey, the boss gave me an iTunes gift card - so he can't blame me, right? He'll just have to get over it.

I'm off to New York this weekend, so won't be posting for a few days. Hopefully, I'll have some fun stories to tell you about next week. Who am I kidding? Of COURSE there will be stories. What's funnier than a Texan in New Yawk? Yee haw!

Happy 2007, y'all. Now git!

To My Sisters

So it's one of those days.....busy busy busy at work, busy busy busy running errands, busy busy busy walking and feeding CruiserDog (and CruiserMel), busy busy busy reading blogs, plucking eyebrows, finishing Christmas cards and paying bills.

Okay, so that's done. Now what? I grab the TV remote and do a little surfing o the dish. Nothing new on - no new Grey's. No new ER. Dear heavens above, please let me find something to veg-out to; I do not see a toilet brush or scrubbing bubbles in my near future.

*click* "In Her Shoes". Okay, chick flick. Three stars. *sigh* Okay, I'll give it a whirl. No one has to know, except me and CruiserDog, right? Two hours later, I'm weeping and sniffling like an idiot.

My sister died about three years before I was born. I have an older brother who I adore, but have never known the feeling of having a sister, unfortunately. I sometimes wonder if she and I would've ganged-up on B or if they would've ganged-up on me. (they were 8 and 10 years older than me) I often wonder what she would look like now. She was such a pretty 6 year old. I idolized her in her Easter dress and wide-brimmed hat in the photo in Mom's dressing room. For years. Would she be married and have children by now? Would she be funny and carefree or serious and stern?

I will one day find out, but for now I happily have my other sisters. You know who you are. I don't have to tell you that I love you for what you've contributed to my life, but I want to.

I love you for the laughs and the tears, the gossip and the advice, whether I followed it or not. I love you for the encouragement in all my endeavors, no matter how flaky. I even love the awful bridesmaid dresses you've made me wear. (I can't seem to part with them.) I love the quotable quotes we share from ages ago and the embarrassing moments stored away to be used (or not) against me when and if that "moment" comes. I love you for the plans we have for living in an old age home, drinking cocktails (or prune juice) and fighting over the few living men at "the home."

In short, I do have a sister. I have many sisters. I am one of the luckiest girls in the world. I am crying as I am typing, the thoughts coming faster than my little hands can possibly type, so I will stop here.

Before you go, I want to quote the best movie line I've ever heard about "sisters". This is for you. "I love her. She's my sister. Without her, I don't make sense."

'Nuff said.

Okay, go now. I need a new Kleenex. QUIT IT - you're making me cry.

CruiserMel Goes Shopping - Gasp!

It must be one of those questions men just can't seem to resist asking a woman on those early dates. It's also the dumbest question ever uttered. The answer whether yes or no will not stop traffic or change the earth's rotation or even cause GERD, but for some reason men can't help themselves. "I assume you like to shop, right?"

Uh. No. I've been able to do my Christmas shopping on the internet and I'm totally done. I'd rather get a root canal than shop in a mall.

Now that I've gone through my naughty and nice list and found it to be complete, it's "me" time. I've got a fun little trip planned to NYC for New Year's weekend and I'm on a mission to find the right pants to go with a top I bought some time ago and haven't cut the tags off of. Jeans are the perfect answer to go with it (it's one of those middle-eastern looking tops that's got just the right amount of sparkle, without looking too blingy). But I hate all the jeans I own. I should be upfront here and say I own exactly 2 pairs of jeans. They're just not my style most of the time, but jeans are a must for this top (along with cutest pair of clogs EVER - purchased online, thankyouverymuch).

So off to Kohl's I go today, on advice of a co-worker. (I was embarrassed to say that I really don't even know where to buy jeans anymore!) I had never been to a Kohl's until today, as their stores had remained figments of suburban myth in my mind....always 30 minutes from where I live. But recently, Kohl's has gone urban and moved within a 5 minute drive of my casa.

It can't be all bad, I say to myself, as I pulled in the parking lot. But the parking lot was the only part was wasn't all bad.

I entered the ugliest, messiest, least-organized store, short of one of those stores run by Christian women selling clothes that should've been burned and not sold, but aren't, because Doris and Ruth need something to do to get away from their husbands of 50 years.

I took a deep breath and headed for what looked like the ladies' jean department. Aha, found 'em. There were nicely labeled shelves, organized by size and length. That's where the organizing stopped. There were size 4 longs in the bin marked size 10 short and 18 longs in the 8 medium bin. I took another deep breath and rolled up my sleeves and dove into the blue denim like I was on a mission from God.

Armed with 3 pair, I made my way through the gauntlet of little hispanic children with sticky, chocolatey fingers and high-pitched squeals of Christmas joy, the parents of whom were nowhere to be found. I stepped around sweaters which had fallen off the hangers and abandoned on the floor. I weaved through purses that were fashionable in the early 90's and teenaged girls testing every cheap cologne (have they really brought back Charlie from the 70's?) before I finally found the dressing room.

I stripped down, took a deep breath and prepared for the bad news. This couldn't be this easy, could it? There's no way one of these 3 pair will fit and/or look good, but I gave it the ole college try. Voila! Pair #1 fits. Looks good. Feels good. I can sit AND stand in them. Mission accomplished.

I didn't even try on the other 2 pair. I was so eccstatic I wanted to run out into the store, spray on some cheap cologne, and even hug a sticky child. I decided against this when I saw the line at the cashier......at least 15 people and forty 6-yr olds deep. Ugh. Twenty minutes later, I was home.

This is why I hate shopping.

But once home, I tried on my new acquisition with my cute brown clogs and the ensemble is complete. These jeans rawk. I can't wait to be in New York City, looking all Greenwich Villagey IN Greenwich Village! Shopping's not all bad, now is it, CruiserMel? Yup. Yup, it is. But if I can look this cute as the result, I'm willing to give it the ole college try.

Sheesh

So now we know why I'm single. I'm on my own planet and apparently as cute as a basket of kittens. Good grief.

*thanks to Swishy for this oh-so-informative piece of news.

Now go take the quiz and get back to me. Send it care of "CruiserMel's Own Cute Planet with Unicorns and Rainbows." Evs.

Here Comes Santa Claus

I work in a small office of all men, except moi. And we're popular according to the pile of prezzies we've been amassing.

Case in point: I seem to be the go-to girl whenever the UPS or FedEx guys come around. Maybe they just feel like a chick should be the person to receive prezzies. And they would be correct. Maybe they think I'm cute. And they would be correct again. Maybe it's because I sit near the door. Dammit, that's probably it, but I want to think it's because I'm cute, so I'm going with that.

It's not the constant Christmas muzak playing at the local mall or the return of "A Charlie Brown Christmas" on television that reminds me it's the holiday season. It's the barrage of packages that the UPS and FedEx guys keep bringing. Yesterday, we got three honey-baked hams, 4 turkeys, a tower of tasty treats (have you seen these tower things?), the biggest tin of candied pecan halves, and a box of chocolate covered almonds. That was just yesterday!

Let me give you a brief description of my coworkers. One is a body-builder who's one and only treat in life is an occasional Dr. Pepper that he must work off with an extra hour in the gym. One is constantly thinking he's dying a slow death from his high cholesteral numbers, blaming the company for his condition, and also hates sweet on his meat (heh, that sounds funny) so he's unlikely to enjoy any of these treats, except the turkey. There is one guy who I've never seen let anything untoward pass his lips; he's one of those freaky eaters who is maybe 26 at best and should be eating all the crap he can before his gut keeps him from seeing his shoes. Then there is CruiserMel.

I've been a very good girl lately, in preparation for my Christmas gift to myself, a trip to NYC, except for the occasional Tex-Mex meal, but I live in Texas and it's a necessary evil. Hey, what are you lookin' at?

But COME ON - get these things the F outta here!!!! In fact, all the guys left early today for one reason or another and I can't find my desk because of all the packages of treats. I'm probably paranoid, but I just know they've got a hidden camera aimed right at me to see if I turn into a ravenous beast only to be found tomorrow morning in a coma under my desk with tiny bits of honey-baked ham and chocolate dotting my chin whilst clutching a turkey carcass. Maybe it's my imagination, but it's at least keeping me from breaking into the treat tower, thank goodness.

This is so unfair! If companies want to send gifts, fine. Can't it be cash? Shoes? Liquor? Amazon.com gift cards?

Anyone with me?

Okay - rant over. What are YOU lookin' at?

I Didn't Make This Up, I Swear

You are cordially invited to the wedding of CruiserMel ~and~ John Mayer

September 16, 2010 at 9 pm

Location: Australia

'What" will your wedding invitation look like?' (QuizGalaxy.com)

Got Any Favorite Singers?

While cruisin' the blogs, I came upon quite a gem the other day. JV over at 15 Minute Lunch (the link is to your right, in case you want to pop in on him - the man is hysterical!) posted an entry regarding pop music and all it's utter glory. (By the way, my recent purchase of his recommended CD "Popaganda" by Head Automatica has had my toes all a-twinkling for the past 24 hours, just sayin.) This, in addition to watching an old (1981) Journey concert on VH-1 in the middle of the night last night, got me to thinking about my favorite music. What? That surprises you?

I started thinking about all the great singers out there in the popular music world and how their voices have always brought a smile to CruiserMel's face. I've got a really long list, but I thought I'd share just a few. (And I'm remembering that CE told me to keep it brief. Wench.)

In no particular order, here goes:
Todd Rundgren - you guys know how I feel about this one and yes, he IS #1.
John Waite - one of the greatest of all times, and who didn't love The Babys and Bad English?
Robin Zander - so unique, a perfect rock voice.
Billie Jo Armstrong - gets my vote for king of alt rock, and pretty damn cute.
Roger Daltrey - a rock classic.
Rob Thomas - the rare combination of voice & song-writing ability. Ahhh.
Steve Perry - the clarity was magnificent and rare, sadly he's not performing anymore.
Kasim Sulton - such a beautiful voice and he's sung with almost every artist you can think of, believe it.
Jon Bon Jovi - forget the hair, this guy's like butter.
John Lennon - I don't know why, but his voice always grabbed me.
Usher - man, oh man, oh man.
Paul Rogers - still kickin' it and lookin' good at the same time. Double whammy.
Barry Manilow - I'll take heat on this, but he's still selling out Vegas and there must be a reason.
Gwen Stephani - she never disappoints and has great versatility.
Shania Twain - so talented and knows how to select the best songs for herself.
Amy Grant - angelic.

I'm interested in hearing about your favorite singers in the world of popular music. No limits on the genre. Have some fun with it and get back to me.

Now go on, you have homework to do!

Meat Loaf At 75 MPH

I came home from having a little din-din tonight with a friend and was doing a little surfin' o the blogs. I'm thinking.... yeah, a little IPod on shuffle mode sounds like a keen idea......but....

I admit I'm a little green when it comes to the ways of IPodery, but I've had this thing for a good 3 or 4 months, used it almost daily ever since, and bought all the bling-bling accessories, including a battery pack that allows me to listen to non-stop tunes if I should ever go "Around the World In 80 Days" in a hotair balloon, without recharging and an over-priced sounds-better-than-my-home-theatre speakers charging gizmo. I'm no techno-geek, but I kind of know my way around the IPod. Until tonight.

I have zero idea what I did, but the damn thing is stuck at warp speed. No kidding, it's going 75 mph and I can't stop it. Well, I can stop it, but I can't stop it from trying to break the sonic barrier. Somehow Meat Loaf singing Bat Out Of Hell III* just doesn't have the same punch in Mini Me-voice.

Geez. Will I be forced to listen to my tuneage (?) in hyper-speed? F. It's way too late to be dealing with this. Crudamundo.

I guess I'll go back to the old-fashioned way of listening to music. The CD. (insert sarcasm)

*fyi: Hey, I didn't think I'd like the Bat III CD, either, but I'm just sayin': buy this sucker. Fantastic music. Tremendous angst. This CD goes from hard rock to metal to pop to gospel to "Phantom of the Opera" to good ole Diane Warren songs and back again. It's got John 5 from Marilyn Manson and Nikki Sixx. Are ya kidding me? Tremendous. And previously blogged Kasim Sulton is on board, too! Ya can't go wrong with that.

Good grief, why are you here? This isn't interesting. Move it along. There's nothing to see here. Except a woman who wants to kitchen dance in her slippers and is forced to den dance. This isn't gonna be pretty. Carpet, you know. Take my word for it - raise your hand to the level of your eyes and save yourself.

Update: 14 minutes later and all is right with the world. Meat Loaf is cooking at regular speed. All it took was unplugging from the wall and a few un-ladylike words. Just call me techno-geek.

I'm Never Going To Watch Lifetime Again

The Bedazzler is back. I think my head just spun around and now I have a tic. Here comes the pea soup. Mother, make it stop!

I Hate Showtime and HBO

I really do. Have you seen them lately? They are utterly brilliant.

What I'm talking about isn't the movies they show. It's their episodic series. And I'm not sure there's a bad one that exists. (Okay, I don't care for "Deadwood," but I digress.)

They started it all with "Sex and the City", "The Sopranos", "Queer as Folk" and "Six Feet Under." Now we've got "Dexter", "Weeds", "Nip/Tuck" and so many more. Oh looky looky, here comes good ole "Sleeper Cell" in a couple of weeks just in time to scare the bejeebers out of us for the holidays.

Their brilliant scheme works. They get us hooked with awesome writing. A couple of months of episodes and then - nuffin. Hiatus, whatever that means. Hey, man, I don't get to go on hiatus! They'll be gone for months and months until we alllllllmost forget about how good that show is and then like Emeril doing his magic, BAM! they bring it back for another 10 episodes or so, hook us, and then go on hiatus again. Totally brilliant marketing. And I hate it. The art of "leave 'em wanting more" really bites.

And the best (or worst?) part is that mainstream network television is hitching a ride on the same great writing wave. Cases in point: "Grey's Anatomy", "Studio 60", "Brothers and Sisters", "Jericho." Way too many to mention here. (My friend CE says I need to start keeping my entries brief.)

I'm really hating these TV people. Oh, I can actually participate in life, oh yes, but I have to devote hours of my off time to hit play on the DVR, in order to get all caught up before the next episode. It's enough to make a girl........write a blog.

Now, don't you have some Tivo or DVR to watch? Then what are you doing hanging around here?

8 Minutes

Folks, you can be proud of CruiserMel. Yup, I realized I had failed y'all earlier in the week, okay twice, but under the influence of pure, raw "get me outta this situation", I did it. In the daylight! At my kitchen table.

But not without a little help. That's right, kiddies, I had "THE SCRIPT" next to me, all marked up with possible dialogue and some of the lines were actually highlighted (hey, I was nervous!). Though I have never met Golightly, my new hero, I felt her presence right there in the kitchen - threatening me with "I'll get Kate to pick up the extension and get this done & overwith if you don't pare this down to less than 10 minutes, wuss!" [Kate scares me.] I don't know how to link the script, but try looking here under http://dramatidbits.blogspot.com/2006/11/infamous-script.html Wow, it worked. I rule.

The call began at 3:26 and was wrapped up in 8 minutes. It would've been about 4 minutes, but he's a talker.

He: Blah blah blah and then this happened and then we're using new software and did you get out of work early yesterday and it sure was cold last night and something about cats and you have big plans this weekend?

Me: STOP. I need to say something and I don't have alot of time, so just let me say this, okay?

He: Uh.....O......kay.

Me: Whatever this is with us, I'm just not getting a connection. I'm just not feelin' it. And I have to be feelin' it to make it worth the effort. You're a really nice guy and I admit I had a good time Tuesday night, but I just don't have a good vibe. (yes, I actually used that word - WTF?) I really hate to waste your time. And mine.

He: Well. Okay. I see. I guess you have to live life to learn a lesson. [what?]

(pause)

Me: Alrighty then....... well good luck with selling your house and have a great weekend. It's been nice. (click)

Nice? Of all words. Admittedly it wasn't verbatim to Golightly's script, but it sure was close. And thank goodness I had it right there with me as a security blanket. Predicaments like these send me back to age 15 all over again, and 15 wasn't a particularly good year for CruiserMel, self-esteemwise.

Poor Mr. Nice Guy is probably licking his wounds now, so that makes me Miss Mean Ole Mel and that doesn't feel so good, but these things are rarely a happy occasion, right? That doesn't mean I didn't do a little happy dance when I hung up the phone. My feet sprouted wings. Little happy free wings just made for dancing in the privacy of one's kitchen. You know that line about "dance like nobody's watching"? That's what I did. And I'm still doing it. The sprinkler dance, the vogue, the dang cabbage patch dance. I even did a little chicken dance for good measure. If I'd had a football, I would've spiked it. It was magnificent. And I felt really triumphant. I'm baaaaaaackkkkk!!!!!!! And my chicken wings are gone.

Thanks go to my sisters in the blogosphere. If it weren't for you gals, I'd....well, I wouldn't be dancing in my kitchen like a dork.

Ooooo cool, "Pretty Vegas" by INXS is on the radio. Gotta go dance some more!

*hugs* to all y'all. That's plural, ya know. Happy Weekend! Now GO. DANCE!