Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
And while we're on the topic of the 70's...tonight I had the telly on in the den while I was cooking some mess that came out tasting divine. (Italian mac & cheese - think I might be PMSing much?)
Annnnnyway, it didn't register at first, but soon that familiar music loomed and I realized that they were showing 1978's "Halloween."
There are a handful of movies that if they are on, I am helpless to change the channel until the very last credit has rolled. "Halloween" is one of those.
I know it's dated and stupid, but it set a standard for future horror movies - whereas if you are a teenager and you have sex, you die by the hand of some psycho freak who has perhaps been living in an institution since he was 6, but mysteriously now knows how to overpower healthy adults and operate a motor vehicle with panache.
So, I'm watching this while serving up my comfort food in the kitchen:
Now, I've seen this movie probably 20 times, okay 100 times, okay 200 times, so there's very little that scares me. I know where the surprises are. I know Michael ain't going to go down without a fight. I also know he wore a Captain Kirk mask. Big deal.
So, I'm dipping the spoon into the casserole dish, with taste buds a-tingling, when I honestly thought there was a person on top of my refrigerator, letting a fishing reel just GO, ya know? But here's the thing, there wasn't a person up there, and if there was, he'd have to be only about 2 feet tall or else he'd hurt himself on the ceiling. And let's be frank here: hiding on top of refrigerators with fishing reels really isn't the typical M.O. of a crazed murderer, is it?
But let me tell ya, there was a sound coming from the backside of the fridge and it's still making that sound 30 minutes later (hey, a girl's gotta eat!) and I'm a little wiggy about it because I'm either losing my mind, there really is a murderer on the fridge, or the fridge is about to go on the fritz. Neither possibility thrills me.
AND, the last few times I've run my dishwasher there's been a huge amount of water left in there when it's done. This can't be a good sign, can it?
So, it looks like there might be a trip to the appliance store this weekend. I really wanted a pedicure, dammit.
And with that, I wish you all a great weekend. Any Halloween parties going on that I should know about?
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
I've agonized tonight over what in the wide world of sports would I blog about, but I just keep banging my head against the monitor. I just can't seem to get my funny on.
So I'm phonin' it in. So lame, I know.
But let's see where this takes us, shall we? It's kind of like my hands will do something like that weird psychic writing thingy, ya know?
Here are some of the more interesting google searches that led folks to this here blogarino:
Lots of searches about the State Fair of Texas! I mean people were looking for all kinds of answers and it's doubtful they found anything here. I mean, don't you think you'd go to the actual website for the State Fair of Texas to find out info regarding how much do rides cost at texas state fair, state fair of texas love bug, strollers at state fair, corny dog at state fair of texas, calories at fair of texas, state fair of texas 2007 sticker, or where to stay for state fair of texas? As Lindy would say: Gaaaaaaaaaahhhhhllll!
This next one has had me scratching my head for days: mer-man eh eh eh mer-man. What the fuck? I mean it - what The FUCK? Are those song lyrics? Is that Ethyl Merman singing Rhiana? (get it? eh eh eh? oh whatever)
Of course, there were the usual Rozerem searches. I'm getting sick of these. At the same time, I kinda dig it because many folks get led here by that advertising website that sings the praises of those commercials whereas I slam the shit out of it. Heh.
I get alot of searches for variations on idle mind. Hmmm, do you suppose those folks simply have way too much time on their hands? If you are blindly googling the actual words for idle mind, then your mind is indeed, idle. Walk it off, pal.
This one got me giggling because it was right after I'd posted my story about Cheap Trick. Someone actually googled "angry redneck" as if most of them are angry, perhaps? I'm sure there are perfectly happy, well-adjusted rednecks everywhere who would like to kick your ass, big guy. You'd better git off ma property, cowboy, and stop pissin me off.
Okay, this is just plain weird. I get tons of hits because of girls gymsuits. Are gym suits some code for sexy these days? To be fair, the hits have increased in recent days...maybe it's research for Halloween costumes.
Fed Ex busy busy busy. Once more, what the fuck? I like that commercial, but I'm pretty sure I haven't blogged on it. Or did I do a secret intoxicated post that I don't recall. In invisible ink?
I'm not really sure why this one makes me laugh, but I'm sure it's my immaturity showing. randy flowers meat. Now, Randy Flowers is a guitar player. In Meat Loaf's band. Or this person was looking for something completely different. Tough call. People have some f'd up fetishes.
my idle hockey player. You figure that one out. I'm at a loss.
I actually get a lot of hits from folks pondering the "where are they now" file, under C for The Cars. Ric Ocasek and did benjamin orr date any female musicians top the list. Well, actually Paulina Poreskova tops the list, but we're not counting that at this juncture.
And finally, it has taken me awhile to figure out why I am the recipient of searches for what I think are Czech celebs, like pavel-novotny, tomas kalnoky divorce, frantisek kavan, vincent bochdalek and baroai - whatever. (whatever?) Listen to this: when I blogged about the term "spankbank," Pugman commented that his spankbank threatened to bounce too many Czechs - so he deposited them on my blog. For this, I thank you Pugman, my precious. I'm now mortifying and insulting Czechs the world over who look up their favorite Czech clergymen and role models.
So kiddies, you guys aren't the only weirdos out in the cold cruel world. You're in good company. Creepy company, but company nevertheless.
And just to plug Doug's RundgrenRadio show......if you've got an hour Wednesday night at 7:00 pm central time, you should check it out. Doug won't be hosting the show that night - but he's got Todd Rundgren's wife, Michele sitting in for him. Michele is quite funny and she's got some good poop to share, I'm sure. And she's got some very special guests on board: "Rundgren family members." Uh huh. Mysterious, no? You can bet I'll be listening live fo sho. Just in case.....
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Don't you just love scrubbing bubbles and their lemony freshness? I hadn't made friends with the little guys in probably a month and my bathroom sink and tub are thanking me now. Those little bubbles can clear out all kinds of little sins, like that not-quite-rinsed-away dribble of toothpaste or those tiny bits of hair from trimming my bangs. I heart scrubbing bubbles so much that I want to use it in place of Pam when I cook. Non-stick and it's self-cleaning! I need to invent things, don't cha think?
And to get your mind off that, I've got a great recipe to share with ya! For some reason I remembered this chicken my mom used to make and so I went digging for the instructions. Yeah, I call recipes "instructions" because I am no Rachel Ray, lemmetellya. It was tremendously easy and tasted tremendous, too. Ready? Take boneless chicken boobs, roll them in lemon pepper seasoning, put in a paper sack (don't use any Pam or scrubbing bubbles), close tightly and bake for an hour at 350 degrees. I know it sounds ridiculous (and a fire hazard, too) but that's some rockin' chicken, folks! You're welcome.
So that's about it for me. I didn't even think I had a blog post in me today....but damned if I didn't. *still strutting*
Friday, October 12, 2007
To celebrate the day, CruiserMel went to a concert. A concert, you ask? Yes, wonders never cease, do they?
I won't bore you with the details, but I feel it's my duty to inform the masses about this band I saw at the House of Blues with my friends, G and his family.
First, there was a set by the Robert Cray Band. Dude, that man's got some pipes on him and he was smokin' on his bluesy guitar. He also had this older-ish white man who played the organ (no, not his organ, pervs) and that guy brought the house down on more than one song.
After a quick break, we were treated to the most intense, rockin', smokin', jammin' music experience that I think I've ever been a part of. Robert Randolph and The Family Band. Oh. My. Gawd. Every player in that band was phenomenal. "Phenomenal" is a wussy word to describe how awesome they were, but it's the closest I can get right now. And Robert Randolph himself? He is clearly the hardest working man in show biz today. And he seems to have as much, if not more, fun than the audience. I'm surprised the walls of the House of Blues didn't come a-tumblin' down.
Check 'em out. You won't be sorry. Words just don't suffice. Yup, I'm speechless. Enjoy! Oh, and have a happy weekend, y'all.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
We’ve learned how to drink from a bottle. (scotch, vodka, bourbon….)
We’ve learned how to walk, after drinking from a bottle. (holding on to walls helps)
We've learned from other bloggers how to talk about vaginas, penises, and poop, which is exactly what babies like to talk about.We’ve learned how to not pee in our pants. (okay, there was that one time when Johnny Virgil wrote about getting his septic tank siphoned out…)
We’ve learned about toys from Lindy. (it apparently does take a village…)
We’ve learned how to defend ourselves from Sassy Blondie. (in real Texas style yet!)
We’ve learned how to be a proper sports fan from Lozo. (along with lessons about how to not become a professional poker player)
We’ve learned all about Grey’s Anatomy and The Office from Sarah every Friday. (along with how to become the partyingest animal in Ohio)
We’ve learned how to properly dump a boyfriend from Golightly and her friend, Kate. (I can attest that their script works!)
We’ve learned how to flirt with boys…like Pugman and Just Sayin.
We’ve learned how to play with friends from all kinds of places like Mr. Fabulous in Florida, Williebee in Illinois (okay, so I cheated here – I actually know this one in real life), and while we’re talking about real life peeps, there’s always my bestest rock & roll hor / friend, KP in Fort Worth, Circe & Kerry in OKC, Sgt Redline down in the bayou, Rockdog in New Yawk, Anonymous Coworker in Maryland, Tug in Colorado (bless your heart) and some precious Texas friends like Swishy, ThatGirl, and Pecos Girl. And there are soooo many more that we would like to mention, but toddlers get tired and this one needs a nap.
Needless to say, it’s a fun playground, for sure.
Mostly, we’ve learned to use spellcheck and how to post videos, photos and live links to our favorite friends.
And a most-valuable lesson: try to avoid posting while intoxicated.
Which is something I’m doing right now.
Do as I say, not as I do, and you’ll get some cake and ice cream. Or a tumbler of wine. You know where the corkscrew and tumblers are. Help yourself and get comfy – Ramblings of an Idle Mind ain’t done yet!
…..and many more………..
Monday, October 08, 2007
By the time I got home today, I was a wee bit irritated by life's little burrs under my saddle, but when I saw what the trash man, excuse me "sanitation worker", NO TRASH MAN did to my trash bins, I was confronted with a choice: 1.) spontaneously combust, or 2.) write a blog entry. Consider yourself lucky, as spontaneous combustion would benefit no one, particularly my dog who was peering through the window, paws crossed.
Without further ado.......
Let's back up a week or so, shall we? I'd gone to the elegant symphony hall here in Dallas to see a concert. Yes, I can clean up like the rest of them. Deal with it. Anyway, I parked my car in the attached parking garage, between the lines like civilized people do. When I came out of the performance, someone had swiped my rear bumper and left swift black streaks from side to side. A note? Not a chance. Uncivilized oaf!
Last night I was returning from dinner with my friend, L, and was driving home in a lawful manner. I signalled that I was planning on entering the left turn lane and did not drift from my line. I pulled up to a safe distance behind the rusty sedan and waited for the green arrow. When the arrow appeared, nothing moved. I lightly tapped my horn and got no response. By this time, the arrow had turned red. Mmmmmokay, it's a nice Sunday evening and I'm a patient person. The arrow turned green again and yet - nothing. Except a hand gesture that either was a proposition or an insult, depending on how one would take it. At this point, I realized the rusty sedan had stalled-out. But did that hand that was so capable of movement ever wave me by in a friendly manner? Hell to the no. So, I signalled to the right and entered the first "going straight" lane and pulled along side the sedan. I tried to get his attention to see if I could help and saw the same gesture I'd seen a couple of minutes before. Finally, I made an illegal left turn from the "going straight" lane and made it home. Great googly moogly folks - maintain your vehicle! Lazy government moocher sot!
Today I was taking a little break from my desk out in the out of doors. There is a cold front making it's way into Dallas this evening, so I was watching the clouds dance and looking at how pretty the hibiscus flowers looked in our building's flower bed. Basically, I was minding my own biz, when my eyes caught a glimpse of a plumber's van making it's way down our street. It's not so unusual to see vans driving down this street - except this one had it's window open and the man driving it was quite obviously having himself a little tug, if ya know what I mean. While driving 30 mph. And that plumbing company is based about 2 blocks away from my office. So that means he was in a hurry to finish-off, if ya know what I mean. Ay carumba. Impatient horny nasty slob!
After work, I made my way to the grocery store to pick up a few items. No irritations here. In fact, this particular store has such great muzak that I felt like perhaps my day might end gracefully. Aw hell no. I was paying for my stuff at the checkout when I felt a presence near my left elbow. It wasn't some stray child. It was a yuppie (do they use that word anymore?) mommy who thought she might get her goods and get out of there a whole minute sooner if she moved past the current People and Star magazine rack and entered my personal space. Naturally, I had to feign difficulty with my wallet. High-strung, new-money, Louis Vuitton-toting bitch!
And to top it all off, the TRASH MAN had decided to knock over my trash bin and had left it in the middle of the alley behind my house and taken the recycle bin and thrown it on top of my holly bushes, about 5 feet from where it usually sits. What the? I mean, it's not like these guys ever even touch the trash, nor do they even get off their truck. The whole operation is done with a mechanical arm. I'll bet he is paid more than I am paid, too. Creepy city worker a-hole!
So I'm off now to a meeting with some neighbors about going to city hall Thursday to fight a developer who wants to tear down an ailing apartment complex near our homes and put up a 4-story retail/residential complex, probably with at least two Starbucks and an Old Navy store within a 1/8 mile of here. This would take the population at that intersection from 230 residents to over 800. Do you see where I'm going with this? I'm not anti-improvement to our area. I'm groovy with it, actually. But the intersection I'm talking about has been rated a "D" for traffic tangles already. So, I'm kind of glad I'm a little bristly. I'm going to use this feeling for good, rather than evil.
Meanwhile, this guy and I are kindred spirits when it comes to effin' idiots prowling the streets of America. Children, I give you the King of Rants, Mr. Dennis Miller. Take it away, Dennis!
Sunday, October 07, 2007
What made it even more beautiful was that I had the day off and plans to go on my annual trek to the State Fair of Texas.
As I pulled into the parking lot on the fairgrounds, I felt the electricity in the air. There were families with strollers, teens with pocketfuls of cash to spend on midway games, an enormous amount of enormous butts, and a large population of blue-hairs in their powerscooters. Everyone had those fair-going smiles, including yours truly.
I love the Texas Fair. I always make certain to hit the Fair at least one time during it's three-week stay. It usually takes more than one visit because it is the largest state fair in the country. There's just too much to take in on one measly visit. Way too much.
First - there are the rides. This ain't no carnival in a grocery store parking lot, people. There is just about every ride you can imagine. My favorite is called The Love Bugs and it's one of those trains that goes around and around, faster and faster, while it rolls over bumps and throws your left hip into a hard metal corner of the seat and breaks your neck. The greatest things about the this ride is a tie between the music they blare over the speakers and the toothless guy running the thing while yelling "Do you wanna go faster? Then let me hear you screeeeeeam!" over and over. It's impossible for me to resist.
Then there is the Texas Star Ferris wheel. It's just gorgeous. And huge. I love to watch it as it travels up and over. It's so graceful. And did I say huge? Yeah, I don't do this ride. But it sure makes for a nice photo, doesn't it?
Another ride that I love to watch is the swings. The little kids' faces are priceless. I'm not a parent (of a human) but this is one time I wish I could borrow a kid.
Then there are the exhibits. I know, I know, the kiddies don't really like the exhibits, but hey, since I don't have a (human) kid, I can go see the exhibits in peace. The new automobiles didn't disappoint. I am seriously jonesin' for the new Lexus IS. I go through this every year where I sit in these new cars, mess with the buttons and act like I'm driving on the Bonneville Flats. But then I check the sticker price and get over it pretty fast.
I went to the Women's Museum to see a really cool exhibit of Hollywood costumes. They had Scarlett's green & white hooped dress that was worn in the picnic scene in "Gone With The Wind." They had costumes from "Titanic" and "Dreamgirls" among others. I was stunned how tiny they were. I guess movie stars just seem larger than life.
I looked at prize-winning quilts, Christmas stockings, pickled okra, jams and jellies, and a whole mess of sheep, hogs, goats and cows. (Hey, it is a fair, after all.)
There was a hilarious show called "Dancing with the Dogs" that was a blasty-blast to watch. Unfortunately, I didn't stick around long enough to see the pig races, where they put racing silks on piglets and they run around a course to get to the prize: an Oreo. Who knew?
But the real reason I go to the Fair is for the food. Counting carbs or calories or even worrying about trans-fat grams is taboo! Of course, I had to have my traditional favorites, such as the Fletcher's Corny Dogs (I had two!) and a funnel cake and two homemade root beers. I could probably qualify as a entrant in the pig races after all of that.
But every year there is something new and this year was no exception. They came up with something called Fried Latte. I never found the stand where this concoction was served and it's probably a good thing because it sounded divine. They take a sopapilla (a Mexican donut - thus the fried part) and sprinkle some instant coffee granules and cinnamon on that. Then they cover that with a scoop of cappuccino ice cream and caramel sauce. Then add a little more instant coffee sprinkles on top for good measure. Sinful. My arteries are hardening just writing those words. Makes me shudder, but I do wish I'd seen one of these up close.
When the sun began to set, I had a new blister on my foot and my legs were aching from walking for hours. I made my way back to my car. I sat on the worn leather seats of my not-new-at-all car with my surely larger behind than what I had earlier in the day and sipped on my second homemade root beer that I'd grabbed on the way out and wondered: we really don't grow up entirely, do we?
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Monday, October 01, 2007
Watching that show reminded me of a story that occurred back in the 80's that involved a young and impressionable CruiserMel, Cheap Trick, a Holiday Inn, a dealer of illegal substances, a puppy dog, and an angry redneck. Wanna hear it?
My girlfriends and I decided to take a road trip to Fort Worth, all of 40 miles away, but it seemed like a big deal to us. We checked in to the Holiday Inn, whored-up and went to the show at a giant club, the name of which I have long forgotten.
But the fun was only beginning when we got back to the hotel. Our friend A had provided one of the band members with herbal pleasure (to be discreet) for quite some time and thus, we pressed him to get us into party after the show. When I say "party," I mean Room 232 and 234. And no, it wasn't glamorous.
After A conducted "business" we got to hang out with the guys. Just us 4 girls, a few other stragglers and the band. Awesome!
As we roamed from 232 to 234 and back again, my friend E realized there was this presence constantly shadowing her. It was Robin. Yup, the cute blond one. She was clearly 6" taller than he was but he wouldn't let her get 6 feet away from him. We were all agog and hoping to live vicariously through her. E could not have been less interested. Naturally, that just lit a fire under him. It was hysterical - watching her try to shake him. He was a pitiful little puppy, trailing her like that. I think I was more proud of his interest in her than she was.
Meanwhile, one of the other stragglers had hooked up with the bass player (it wasn't Tom Petersson at that time - his name was Jon Brandt) and they had left the party together. Whatever. It's just rock n roll, baby. And it was the 80's.
After partying until the wee hours, we girls went to our room, giggled the night away about E's new puppy and finally passed out.
At about 7:00 am, there came a banging on the door. My roomies were dead to the world, but the banging had roused me from my sleep and I peeked through the peephole and saw something that just had to be a figment of my imagination.
It was a redneck with a rifle. Or shotgun. I know, I'm from Texas and should know the diff but hey, I was on about an hour of sleep. Deal with it.
Anyway, Redneck with a Rifle (I like that name) was none too pleased and was foaming at the beard (ick) about someone named Jon being with his ex wife and how he was going to "fuck you (him) the fuck up!" He thought they were in OUR room. I tried to clear it all up through the door (I'm not stupid now, nor was I then, so that door would stay locked as long as it took) but as soon as he heard my voice (female and muffled), he immediately thought that I was his ex. Phuckity phuck! He started banging on the door with the rifle!
Eventually, I shut up and he stumbled out of my view through the peephole. There was quiet.
A couple of hours later, we met the band for breakfast in the cafe. Everyone was in attendance except Jon, who finally speed-walked in with a pale face and deer-in-the-headlight eyes. Apparently, Redneck with a Rifle had figured out the right room and had had a talkin'-to with him.....at the end of the gun's barrel.
Though I laugh when I think of it now, it was by no means funny at the time.
And so, ladies and gents, there's no such thing as a true ex in Texas. Be forewarned.
I leave you with a little walk down memory lane - one of my favorite Cheap Trick songs ever: "She's Tight" from the 1982 record "One on One"....which just happens to have been produced by Todd Rundgren. Heh - you thought I'd let that one slip? Oh, and the guy in the red shirt? Jon Brandt. I'd forgotten how cute he was. It's a good thing the Redneck with a Rifle didn't mess up that pretty face.