Dear Santa.....

Product Description: Singing Pizza Elmo
Elmo is serving up some deep-dish delights at his next pizza party. Dressed in an adorable apron and hat, Elmo takes the stage with pizza in hand. Press his hand to hear him sing a silly pizza song as he sways from side to side. During the song, the pizza comes alive--moving its eyes and mouth--and sings along with Elmo. Requires 4 "AA" batteries, included. Measures 11" tall.

Dear Santa:

I'm pretty sure I qualify as a pizzaholic - liking everything from exquisite Chicago deep-dish style to gourmet California Pizza Kitchen and even down to my beloved Totino's - but please, oh please don't bring me Singing Pizza Elmo. I'm not sure there is enough vodka to stop the certain nightmare that is a pizza coming alive, with moving eyes and mouth. In fact, Elmo has always scared me a little. Okay, alot.

I don't care if I've been a good girl. I think I'm more into Chinese now, anyway.

Love,

CruiserMel

At Least My Car Had Doors On It

I had a "Tommy Boy" moment today that took me completely by surprise.

As y'all know, I'm a music lover and damn proud of it. So proud that I tend to play my music at a level just shy of Boeing, especially when I'm in my car. I don't necessarily point, like Sassy Blondie has been known to do, but I don't shy from treating my car stereo as my own personal karaoke machine.

I got off work a little early today, in light of the holiday, and was happily running some errands around town. A little cold front was blowing into Dallas today and the crisp air was feeling pretty good, so I had my windows down a couple of inches. (Though I'm sure I'll be complaining of being too cold within 24 hours of writing this, when it's been 80 degrees up until yesterday and it's topping out at 65 today, well it feels pretty good for a little bit.)

So - there I am, tootling around town, windows down, tunes are blaring and I'm in full-blown rockstar mode. The radio station to which I was tuned had gone to a commercial, so I started hitting buttons to maintain my buzz. I found myself tuned to the oldies station and heard some sweet, sappy Carpenters song from the 70's. "Only Yesterday," I believe it was. Believe? Hell, it WAS that song. And how I knew the words, I'll never know. But I was diggin' it. And I sounded awesome. I was channeling Karen Carpenter so hard, I nearly took up the drums.

At about the third chorus, I felt eyes on me at the stoplight. You got it, a truckload of yard workers were laughing so hard that if I'd known more Spanish, I would've said "take a picture, it'll last longer!" Instead, the blood vessels in my face almost burst and I think I had a heart attack.

Then I figured, what the hell, give 'em a show. I raised my chin a little higher, rolled the window completely down and finished the song with a flourish. Karen would've been proud. So would Sassy.

Soon, though probably not soon enough, my light turned green and the show was over. In hindsight, I don't think I sounded all that much like Karen Carpenter, so I was glad when the truck turned off my street.

.....there's something to be thankful for...... Happy Turkey Day, y'all!

I Wonder If John Lennon Did Laundry

Yes, I'm still alive. Matter of fact, that's actually why I haven't been blogging lately. LindyHor hit the nail on the head in her comment on the previous entry. Indeed, I have been livin' it up and completely reversing any good I may have done for myself during the Master Cleanse. At least some of the good, that's for sure.

I want to share a little video with you. John Montagna was the guest on RundgrenRadio last night. He was a fun guest. Great New York accent. Some fun stories about his times playing with Todd as well as others like Alan Parsons and Eren Cannata. And yes, in case you were wondering he was asked about his laundry habits. Each person has had a different laundry routine - his involves bath gel, his own version of the spin cycle and a window sill. You know you wanted to know, don't roll your eyes at me like that.

Speaking of laundry habits - it's become pretty much my "signature" question. I'm not sure how this monster got started, but it's snowballed now and I'm starting to think of writing a book about musicians' doing (or not doing) their dirty laundry. People have sold books about far-crazier topics than this, right? Eh.....maybe when I'm retired. Meanwhile, it's a fun research project. (Perhaps I need to find a different hobby?)

Anyhoo, about John Montagna.....he's a bass player / singer / songwriter and he's pretty amazing. Get a load of this video tribute he did to John Lennon on Lennon's 67th Birthday last month. Have you ever seen someone play a bass guitar like it's a lead guitar? I hope you're buckled-in. Enjoy!

Ninety-Percent Success

In case you were tossing and turning at night, wondering (and worrying) about little ole CruiserMel and her dally in Lemonland, you can rest assured now. It's over. And I was a 90% success.

Ninety-percent? Did you ask what 90% means?

It means that I made it 9 full days out of 10. Oh I could've gone another 24 hours, but I was plum sick of lemons and cayenne and maple syrup. Being a social outcast had a little to do with it, as well.

I am a social being. I enjoy gathering with friends and coworkers for a meal, a drink, or just to hangout and shoot the shit.

Once I got on the cleanse, I was shunned. I made people uncomfortable. I think I surprised quite a few by my resolve, too. Maybe they wondered if they could do something like that. Maybe they wondered if I had completely gone off the deep end. Finally.

The invitations slowed to a crawl. No more "do you have lunch plans?" No more "what's shakin' for dinner?" No more "wanna watch the game up at the bar?"

So when I was lucky enough to get invited to a couple of events over the weekend, but had to decline, I decided my days with cleansing were over. I'm back on real food now, 7 pounds lighter and feeling good.

Oh, I'll do it again sometime, as it really did make me feel good, look good, and I was in a great mood most of the time - but it won't be anytime soon.

Here's a little side bonus: I successfully gave up my caffeine, Sudafed and Advil addictions! Even now that I can pollute my body in any way I see fit, I'm still free of those nasty things. I'm so awesome, I'm almost sickening, huh?

Thanks to all who were concerned that I was doing something crazier than usual. I'll try to come up with something a little more fun for my next antic. That's a promise!

By Pseudo-Popular Demand

Okay! Okay! Wow - it seems my questions aren't so silly now. I'm tickled, seriously tickled. And thrilled to give you the answer(s)...

The long-time tour manager for Todd Rundgren said that in the early days, she was responsible for the laundry, then she kinda got sick of doing that, (can you blame her?) so she set them loose to do their own or at least to tell them how to dial "laundry service" on their hotel phones. But she did continue to do their socks because they're small and I guess they would get lost.

Funny story about socks and the world of rock & roll:

Mary Lou told a totally unrelated story about an episode back in the 90's while on tour with Todd's band. There were three backup girl singers, in addition to quite a large "big band" behind T the G. They travelled by tour bus. As one would expect, the male hormones on board outweighed the female ones, so the girls ended up in a partitioned-off area at the back of the bus. I don't recall the exact story, but somehow one of the guys (perhaps Todd) beckoned the ladies up toward the front of the bus. When they got up front, there were all the guys, completely naked, except for their socks.

Gives a whole new meaning to "doing the socks" doesn't it?

Then just the other night as I was about to ask Roger Powell (former keyboardist for Todd's Utopia) some uber interesting question about being dressed as bugs in an old video, the show's host, Doug interrupted and told Roger about me asking about laundry and other ridiculous things such as that.

Before I could say anything, Roger starts chatting about how with costumes, there usually is a person in charge of cleaning those - or at least there are interchangeable parts and/or multiples so that you don't have to perform in your own stank. He did, however, say that as for your own personal street clothes, you are responsible for your own stank. He recalled trips to a couple of laundromats during his 12 year stint with Todd. A couple of trips? Eeewwwww.

Then earlier this week as I was perusing the blog of Meat Loaf's sax player, I realized this laundry situation can be serious. Seriously! At the time, Meat Loaf had fallen ill and the band was stuck in a hotel in England for several days and it did not have laundry facilities. The sax player had actually gone out and bought a few pairs of undies (with the weak US dollar), thinking that any day now, they would be in London and could do their skivvies. He was about to freak out. No kidding. Tsk tsk tsk - should've done laundry that other day instead of bending the elbow in the pubs, Dave.

I don't know about the big big stars so - as for David Bowie and his spandex.....we can only hope that fell into the category of costumes, and that there were multiples, too.

Hey, your inquiring minds wanted to know.........I am nothing if not accommodating. Such is life as a rock star.

Who Does The Laundry?

Monty Python has it's Ministry of Silly Walks.

I have a Ministry of Silly Questions. My friend over at RundgrenRadio.com says I have girlie questions.

But let me ask you a question, please? Woops, that was a question.

Let me ask a different question, please? Damn. I hope I didn't use up all my questions.

Okay. Breathe. I am going to ask you a question. There.

If you heard a person being interviewed on the radio or a talk show, and that person has been a rock & roll tour manager for oh, 25 years.....and you had the opportunity to ask said person a question pertaining to her experience as a tour manager - would this be a silly question?....

"Who does the laundry?"

That wasn't so silly, was it? I mean, come on, wouldn't you want to know if Billie Jo Armstrong or John Mayer does his own undies?

See? Not so silly. You're curious now, aren't you?

These are some of the questions I come up with when I call-in to my friend, Doug's internet radio show, RundgrenRadio.

Tonight the guest is Roger Powell, the keyboard player with Todd Rundgren from way back when, when Utopia was in existence. He's played with David Bowie, too. He's been somewhat of a keyboard/computer whizkid inventor, too. I'm not sure - so I'll be listening tonight at 7:00 pm central time and calling in with one effin' ridiculously silly question just to befuddle Doug. I'm a hoot like that, lemmetellya.

And don't call me girlie.

Life Is A Lemon

See that fruit up there? Yeah. That's what I've been living with for the past four days.

Ya see, something got into me and I decided I'd punished my poor little body long enough with all my shenanigans. It was time to take charge and make some improvements.

Don't worry, my little chitlins, like most of my schemes, this is only temporary. This is not the end of fun for CruiserMel. Shut your mouth!

What really happened was a shopping trip for some fall clothes. Oh, the horror. I tell ya, it was awful. And I don't play like that.

So - I heard from a friend about something called The Master Cleanse. Have ya heard of it? Well, if you haven't yet heard of this thing, you're going to hear about it now.

I know how much you people like to write about / hear about poop, but I just can't bring myself to write about that now. Probably ever. Why? Because I've been close pals with my bathroom habits over these past 4 days. Believe me. Just believe me.

Basically, the Master Cleanse is one that detoxifies the body and, if done religiously, should result in better health, better eating habits, weight-loss (yay!), and mental / spiritual clarity.

I'm not quite sure I'm in this thing for the clarity, because I kind of like the comfortable fog I wander around in most of the time, but that weight-loss is pretty sweet. Oh yeah, blah blah blah....better health and eating habits....whatever. (You just know I'll be dialing me up some Domino's as soon as I go back on regular food. Rewards, honey, rewards. Oh all right, I'll add a couple of veggies to my turkey pepperoni. Happy now?)

In the meantime, I start every morning with 32 oz of spring water with sea salt mixed into it. Did you read that? Thirty-two ounces. No, not in enema form - but by mouth. To say this little chore is a booger would not be an untruth. This is the foulest thing in the world. It's a good thing I do this before fully waking, because I could never do this with my eyes open. I've yet to figure out a palatable way to do this other than just gulping it down and praying I don't puke it right back up into the kitchen sink. Cold. Hot. Warm. Room-temp. Doesn't matter - it's plain awful. But it's integral to making this cleanse work.

Then after that literally passes, usually within the hour, I am set for the day. At least six times a day I have a yummy glass of lemonade, of sorts. It's the juice and pulp of one organic lemon, mixed with spring water, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper. Did I just lose you? C'mon back - this part is actually the good part. I've grown really fond of my little lemonade drinks. Seriously. Who knew a person could crave lemons? I have never been one to put lemon in my tea or even one who likes lemon meringue pie. Okay, lemon squares = best part of going to bridal and baby showers. But I digress...

Between lemonades, I eat nothing else at all and drink nothing but spring water. This leaves out all forms of bourbon or vodka and certainly leaves out all things pizza-like. I've checked it out and basically, these things are no-no's.

But ya know - bear with me, I'm not possessed by the devil - I'm diggin' it. Not a morsel of food has passed through these lips since Thursday. And I'm cool with it! I've never felt so good. (Well, without sex being involved.)

I KNOW! Amazing, ain't it?

I'll be doing this through the weekend, 10 days in total. If all goes as it has been going at one pound per day and with this incredible energetic feeling, I'll be 10 pounds lighter and definitely a force to be reckoned with. Now, if only I could grow a couple of inches taller.......

Ya wanna a piece of me? Check me out this time next week.

The Imports & A Couple Of Rockin' Mommies

After perusing the internets today and reading about various Halloween tricks and treats in various parts of these United States, I figured I would hop on that ghost train and give you a taste of what my little sleepy neighborhood experienced last night.

Unless you've been totally ignoring my blog, you already know CruiserMel's love for all things Halloween. It's just one of those parts of childhood that I've held onto, along with Todd Rundgren, my blue teddy bear named Christmas, and my love of straws. Matter of fact, my love of Halloween has probably blossomed even more so since I purchased my house five years ago.

Once I got out of apartment living and into a real neighborhood, I hit the big box stores like Garden Ridge, Home Depot and Lowe's for holiday decorations like a hor attacking a john. Give me anything that lights up, makes noise or inflates and can be an eyesore to my neighbors and I'm a happy girl.

I rushed home from work to put the finishing touches on my exhibit and readied myself for the little darlings to come ringing my doorbell. I lit my luminarias along the sidewalk (and scorched my thumb, thankyouverymuch Bic Lighter Company). I lit all four pumpkins. I hid my strobe light from obvious view and put it on extra slow strobe so as to terrify the parents who would think someone was taking photos of their angels to put on the internet for pervs. I turned on my purple spider lights over the doorway. And for the "star on the tree" if you will, I turned on creepy music and sound effects to waft through the front yard. Usually, I have my 8 foot tall inflatable Dracula to assemble, but the wind was blowing and I was afraid he'd take flight, so I punted that idea for this year. Back in your coffin, Drac.

Then, I lie in wait. (laid in wait? evs.)

*ding-dong*

I grabbed my bowl of four pounds of various chocolate goodies and found that my little visitors were imports from another side of town. Okay, I said to myself, these kids don't have much in their little lives - so I gave each one 2 or 3 pieces. (I learned my lesson last year about not letting the little monsters reach into the bowl themselves. Thanks readers.)

For the most part, they were all polite children, costumed in mostly Hannah Montana clothing, who I think is the newest slut on little girls' radars or super heroes for the boys. There may have even been one boy dressed as Hannah Montana. That tells me this person, whoever she is, will have Britney status tout suite.

I think I learned how to say Happy Halloween in Spanish, too, but I've slept since then so that's totally vamanos.

The kids had fun and some even commented on my great decorations and the scary music. Yay for me.

There were only a couple of times I had to bite my tongue. On at least two occasions, there would be one bigger kid amongst the little ones. No big deal - that's responsible, I thought. But this bigger kid would be dressed in a costume - usually the most elaborate, complete with face paint and would have his or her own plastic pumpkin bucket extended. Upon closer observation, this wasn't a kid (or even a teen)! In one instance, this bigger kid was close to my age. F.U. Mommy, that's just not right. But I caved because both of these bigger kids were way bigger than I am and I really don't want to be on the morning news. Bitches. Seriously - that's criminal.

The cutest little one was my very last trick-or-treater - a little black boy, maybe 18 months old, toddling with help from his mother, wearing a Darth Vader suit, carrying a sword in one hand and his pumpkin in the other hand, while trying to balance his helmet on his tiny head. Did I mention his costume was an adult-sized suit? Yup. It was kinda sad. But adorable at the same time. I gave him my very last piece of candy and was wishing I'd taken down those mommies in sheep's clothing earlier in the evening. I will forever have his image in my mind - toddling away from the door with his pumpkin in his right hand, trying to balance his helmet and in his left hand, a light sabre and one measly piece of chocolate. Cutest. Thing. Ever.

And the award for best parents goes to the two mid-thirties women who were escorting a pack of kids. They were holding large "big gulp" cups and were giggling uncontrollably, while eating Almond Joys from their very own bag. These gals rocked. I suspect those big cups were spiked with something other than Slurpee mix. Huh? Ya think so, too?

My friend L and I watched first season episodes of "Dexter" to keep the mood for the evening. It was spookalicious!

And now to pull out the Thanksgiving decorations...