Everything is Unfinished

I had a moment of hearing trouble today that was almost surreal. Now, I love mondegreens, which is a fancy way of saying “misheard lyrics”. Some well-known mondegreens are “‘Scuse me while I kiss this guy” (originally sung by Jimi Hendrix as “‘Scuse me while I kiss the sky”) and “There’s a bathroom on the right” (instead of CCR’s “There’s a bad moon on the rise”). My email address (mondegreen at tmbg dot org) refers to these confused lines - I used to have a whole web page of TMBG mondegreens that I collected from fans. In fact, I still have the page, why don’t I just put it up? Ok, here it is. Take a look at it if you like. Even if you don’t know any They Might Be Giants songs you’ll still be able to enjoy them. And then immediately go and listen to some They Might Be Giants songs, you heathen.

Now then, about today. This certainly wasn’t the first time I’d mondegreened - the email address accurately describes me personally, too. (Remember that TLC song “Waterfalls”? For the longest time I thought they were singing about someone named “stone cold Jason Waterfalls”) Today I was listening to the Eternal Sunshine soundtrack that Johnny so nicely burned for me. I get to track 22, a heartfelt little song by Jon Brion, who did the orchestral score as well, called Strings That Tie To You. A web search for that song brings up a lot of Vince Gill references, but I don’t know if the Eternal Sunshine version is a cover or a different song because I try to stay away from country music. The opening line of the song goes “From the wrinkles on my forehead / to the mud upon my shoe” but for some reason I swear I heard “…/ to the load of cum I shoot” I damn near wrecked the car! After getting myself back on the road, I listened to it again and heard the correct lyric but shit, what sort of weird synapses were firing (or not firing) in my brain to hear that? Maybe it goes back to me needing to get more sleep. Especially since my new job starts at the ungodly hour of 8am, and for the past two nights I’ve been up much later than I should have been. And here it is after midnight already now. So I think I’m going to bed.

Currently Stuck In Head: Sarah McLachlan, Building a Mystery

I had lunch the other day with two girls I used to work with at a scrapbook store. There’s something you should know about people who work at scrapbook stores: they’re obsessed. Maybe not at first, when they get the job just because they like to scrap, need a little extra income and hey, the discount doesn’t hurt. But over time they become obsessed. I should know; it happened to me. Every new gadget that comes out, you must have. Every new adhesive must be tried, every new idea book pored over. And a new line of paper? Yes, I’ll have three of each style, thank you. Once you become obsessed, you start to develop brand loyalty. You seek out certain companies’ products because you like their style, or how well they’re made, or whatever. And when you hear they’re coming out with something new you get excited. I tell you this because of what happened at lunch.

One of the other girls that day was my former boss, who has the (seemingly) enviable job of being the buyer of all the scrapbooking merchandise for the store. This means she goes to trade shows, talks to company reps, and decides what vendors to buy from. So obviously, she brings a lot of her favorite products into the store. One of her current favorite companies is KI Memories, and they’re one of my favorites too. I knew they had just introduced a new series of papers but I hadn’t seen them yet, and I forgot to ask the others to bring a catalog with them to lunch. I asked them what they thought of the new line, at which point the buyer began to make noises that sounded a lot like Meg Ryan in the scene that made When Harry Met Sally famous. The other girl said “You had to mention KI, now she’s having a scrap-gasm.” She explained that the two of them had coined this new term specifically for circumstances as this: uncontrolled desire for a new line of scrapbook supplies. I was glad to finally have a name for this phenomenon. It’s happened to me.

So today I’m telling Johnny this story, and he of course doesn’t understand. Not because he’s a guy, not because he’s stupid, just because he’s not a scrapbooker. I don’t expect many (any?) of you to get it either. But he did admit that a similar thing would no doubt happen to him if the Seahawks ever go to the Superbowl: a sports-gasm. What’s your story?

Currently Stuck In Head: They Might Be Giants, Now That I Have Everything

I stole this from some other blog-type people, and I encourage you to do the same.

Choose a band/artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band: They Might Be Giants

1. Are you female or male: She’s An Angel

2. Describe yourself: No One Knows My Plan
3. How do some people feel about you: A Self Called Nowhere
4. How do you feel about yourself: Older
5. Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Don’t Let’s Start
6. Describe your current girlfriend/boyfriend: Now That I Have Everything
7. Describe where you want to be: The World’s Address
8. Describe where you live: The Big Big Whoredom
9. Describe how you love: Subliminal
10. Share a few words of wisdom: I Hope That I Get Old Before I Die

Currently Stuck In Head: All of the above.

Tonight Natalie, Johnny and I went to the symphony. As I was a musician in my former life, I like going to the symphony, although I do tend to feel restless - I remember what it’s like to be up on stage playing, so sitting idly by and just listening is still a strange, disquieting experience. The same is true of parades, after so many years in marching band, but I digress. The reason we went to the symphony tonight is because Grammy-, Golden Globe- and Oscar-winner Howard Shore was guest-conducting the Columbus Symphony Orchestra, which was playing 2 hours of his music from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Joining the orchestra were two choirs, the Columbus Children’s Choir and the Otterbein College Concert Choir. All in all, the performance was amazing, and I think Johnny gave it the best compliment when he said it sounded like it did in the movie. The only complaint I had was the Otterbein choir - there were some wobbly entrances on hard “s” and “t” sounds that were pretty distracting. There were three soloists including an 11-year-old boy soprano who fortunately, in this day and age, will NOT be castrated in order to keep his lovely singing voice. I hope. Throughout the concert, there was a presentation projected onto a big movie screen. It was a montage of sketches drawn by Alan Lee and John Howe, the two illustrators who worked on the movie and drew all the concept pieces. The sketches they showed corresponded to the music that was being played; for instance, during Evenstar they showed sketches of Arwen’s pendant. There were lots of drawings of Gollum, and it was interesting to see how he evolved. At the end of the performance there was a rousing standing ovation, and Howard Shore seemed very grateful and somewhat uncomfortable. I guess that’s to be expected, since conducting orchestras for movie scores usually doesn’t put you in front of a big audience.

During the concert, I thought back to the days before Fellowship of the Ring came out. I hadn’t yet read LOTR, and I barely remembered reading The Hobbit 15 years earlier. The movie looked interesting, but we didn’t rush out and see it - in fact, I found my ticket stub not too long ago and we didn’t see it until Dec. 28, almost 2 weeks after it came out. It was a distraction while we were visiting Johnny’s family, and I made jokes about The Goonies the whole time. But it planted the seed. Now, just 2 1/2 years later, I realized that I’ve gone beyond the point of no return. I came to this conclusion as I was reading The Silmarillion, which is Tolkein’s history of the elves, and *making notes on the map in the back of the book*. And the book isn’t an easy read, either: it truly reads like history. I don’t think I bothered spending that much time with any of the books in my college classes! So I now have myself a nice little guilty pleasure: elves. I’m not talking “Ive seen LOTR 6 tims an my fave part is when Leggolas surfs dwn teh stairs!!!!11!!! LOL” I’m talking, I can tell you the names of Haldir’s brothers. (Hell, I can tell you who Haldir is.) I’m talking, I can tell you who wore the three Elven rings of power, and who made them. I’m talking, I can pronounce Sindarin and Quenya, the two Elven languages. I’m talking, I actually read The Silmarillion. I’m talking, I downloaded an Elven translation program. I’m talking, I’ve spent more time online doing research on the Fall of Gondolin, Legolas’ family history, and exactly in what capacity Elrond “served” Gil-Galad than I’ve spent looking at porn. And though I’m loathe to admit it, I’ve even read some fan-fiction. It’s a geeky life I lead, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Currently Stuck In Head: Howard Shore, Concerning Hobbits

Today at work, I was going through some invoices and came across one for “Marine Biotech”, but when I glanced at it I read it as “Marine Biotch”. (pronounced “bee-yotch”) What a subtle difference one letter makes! Then, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a cockroach on my desk. Turns out it was just a hole in the countertop where the phone cords come up from below. Both of these things lead me to believe that I need to get more sleep. This isn’t the first time I’ve hallucinated bugs - that always happens when I’m tired. In college I would get myself into this bad habit of staying awake for 36 hours straight then crashing for 10 or 12 hours, and by the end of the 36 awake hours I’d be seeing things. I did that for most of my senior year; now, I can barely manage to be awake for 24 hours. And of course when I was unemployed up until oh-so-recently, I slept a LOT. I love to sleep, and I love to sleep in late, especially after I’ve stayed up late. Unfortunately having a desk job doesn’t fit well with sleeping in, although I’ve been managing to do the staying up part pretty well. So I guess what I’ve learned is that I need more than 5 hours of rest a night in order to not hallucinate.

I don’t get the phrase “slept like a baby” to describe a good night’s sleep. Babies wake up crying every 2 hours, demanding to be fed or changed or cuddled. That doesn’t sound like a good night to me! I much prefer “slept like a log”, as this describes how I actually do sleep much more accurately. Although logs don’t really drool as much as I do - maybe that’s where the baby part comes in. “Slept like a log, drooled like a baby”. Perfect.

Currently Stuck In Head: Flaming Lips, Do You Realize??

Remember cooties? Well now I know that there’s a real-life basis for them. But they all eminate from guys, as Johnny so so helpfully illustrated for me tonight.

***WARNING! The accounts that follow are actual events. If you have a heart condition, or don’t wish to know exactly how disgusting animals and Johnny are, don’t read any further!***

It started with our older cat, Chessie (aka “the big one”). She came into my basement lair, sat herself under my scrapbook table and threw up. Yum. I ignored it for a while, resolving to clean it up later. Johnny came down to tell me something and noticed that Chessie was back, now eating her own vomit! I was pretty unfazed by this action, but Johnny seemed enthralled. And then began The Conversation. It started so innocently: “Speaking of things that are disgusting…” Uh oh, I should have known I was in for it. He continued: “This morning, when I got out of the shower, I looked in the mirror and there was a big booger in my hair!” Eeew! Being a logical person, I asked him how a booger got in his *hair*, especially right after he’d spent 10 minutes cleaning himself. Shouldn’t have asked that. Him: “Well, when I’m in the shower and I need to blow my nose, I just blow into my hands and then rinse my hands off.” UGH! Repulsive! Ok, to be fair, I knew he did this - actually I thought he just blew his nose directly onto the floor of the tub - and I hadn’t commented on it before. But now that he’d admitted to it, it had to stop. I told him this. He tried to use his own brand of gross boy logic on me by saying that it didn’t matter, it got washed off anyway. I pointed out that it obviously didn’t considering the aforementioned hair booger. Then he lays this on me: “It’s no different from peeing in the shower, which I also do.” I had to just bury my face in my hands at this point. He tried to reach toward me but I didn’t want him to touch me, what with being covered in boogers and pee. More boy logic, this time of the flawed variety: “Well, I do have a dick, it’s not like it’s dribbling down my leg.” HA! Have you ever witnessed a bathroom after a guy has peed? They rarely get any in the actual toilet! It’s not like it’s a small hole, yet they manage to pee on the floor, the lid, the wall. I almost bought some little potty-training aids at one point - they look like cheerios but they’re ok to flush, and you float one in the water and let your kid try to sink them. I’m not sure what the recommended age was on the package, but it should have been “2-100 years”. And as if it’s not bad enough that they get it all over the bathroom, there’s those 2 or 3 drops that they can’t seem to shake off and can’t bring themselves to wipe off that end up on the front of their underpants. Charming and sexy, I’m here to tell you. Then, as if to cement his place as Most Disgusting of the Household, he scampered up the stairs, and with each step squeaked out a small, but audible fart. *sigh*

On an up note though, Johnny has given himself a new nickname. Actually, he just uttered a particularly bizarre gibberish word tonight and I decided to start calling him by it. The most accurate spelling I can come up with is Nezhumeh. The “zh” part of it is like a soft “j” sound, very hard to describe. Give me a call and I’ll pronounce it for you. But now when I refer to “Nezh” in the future, you’ll know who I’m talking about.

Currently Stuck In Head: The theme song to the movie Fame, and to a lesser extent the TV show, which was also called Fame.

I have a very active and vivid imagination. I must also have a pretty active subconcious, because I’ve always had lots of strange, memorable dreams. The thing is, my dreams usually make no sense whatsoever, but occasionally I’ll have one that will stick with me and really affect me for some reason or another. This morning I had such a dream. Upon reflection, there were a lot of things about it that didn’t make sense, but of course while the dream was happening I didn’t question them at all. The gist of it was that Johnny had slept with someone else (because he didn’t think I’d mind and she was so different from me, he said in the dream), and I was getting ready to sleep with someone in retaliation. I didn’t; I backed out at the last minute and instead read the text message on my phone that Johnny had sent explaining why he slept with this other chick. Her name was Alana, and apparently they were out of town together on business. I called him and told him he had two choices: he could either stay there with her or come home and be with me. He told me he couldn’t come home because of the meeting the next day. At this point I think I forced myself to wake up, and it took me a full 10 minutes to realize that it was a dream. I was so angry, and sad, and all I wanted to do was go downstairs and slap Johnny across the face. Fortunately for both of us, he wasn’t home, so I called him instead and told him about the dream. Then he told me he’d also had a dream where I was cheating on him.

Currently Stuck In Head: Gary Jules, Mad World (from the Donnie Darko soundtrack)

I got the job! They called this morning. I start a week from Monday, on March 29. The company has offices worldwide but this particular location has 6 people - I’ll be lucky number 7. The other 6 are all men, and all engineers. I’ll have them organized and running smoothly in no time, and I plan to control everything like any good administrative person. In order to constantly remind them of this, I will walk around with a whip (or possibly Adam’s riding crop - it’s more compact) and yell “You work for ME!” I expect my voice will hurt after a week or two.

We had dinner at Chipotle tonight. That is not uncommon, in fact we eat at Chipotle more than we eat anywhere else, maybe even including our own house. There’s always a strange mix of employees at Chipotle, especially the one in Grandview where we went this time. The line workers (the ones actually constructing your meal) and usually the people cooking in the back are almost always Mexican. The manager types and cashiers are almost always American. I’m sure there’s a deep class-based meaning there that Gary or Johnny would love to go into, so I’ll let them. I, on the other hand, will tell you about the weirdest of the lot tonight, the cashier. She was petite, maybe 5′3″ or so, and slim. I wouldn’t say skinny, but she definitely didn’t have any extra meat on her bones. She had a pretty dark fake tan which probably came from a bottle, and her button-up shirt was buttoned up to about mid-chest, exposing a surprising amount of cleavage considering she didn’t really have too much in the boob area. She was wearing a lot of eyeliner and lipstick, but not too much. So if you read that description you’d probably think she was hot, or at least pretty, right? But the only thing about her that I found attractive was her hair, which was colored a pale silvery-pink. Then after dinner we saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind in which Kate Winslet’s character has (in order of appearance) blue, orange and green hair. Her hair was not the only thing about her that I found attractive, but I liked it too. I’m not sure what this all means, but I’ve decided that if I were to dye my hair an out-of-the-ordinary color, I’d go black with fuschia tips or stripes. This is a strange revelation for me, considering that the first time I colored my hair and it turned a strange lavendery color under fluorescent lighting, I washed it out almost immediately. I think I’m going thru my quarter-life crisis a bit late.

By the way, the movie was astounding. I absolutely loved it, and despite the science-fiction-esque plot, it was the most realistic romantic comedy I’ve ever seen. For a full review, see what the expert has to say.

Currently Stuck In Head: Electric Light Orchestra, Mr. Blue Sky (you know, that song from the Eternal Sunshine trailer - the one that’s not in the movie at all.)

So I’ve noticed this thing about Johnny, and in bitching about it to others I’ve found that it’s a common occurrance among men. So yes, this is the first in the Men Are Stupid blog posts from me. I’d be foolish to even think that it will be the last, but I digress. Here’s The Thing: he opens doors (closets, cupboards, medicine cabinets, even drawers to some extent) and then…leaves. Gets what he wants and leaves, with the door remaining open. I just don’t get this - we’ve had the debate before, and we had it again tonight, and I just don’t get it. The doors are there to serve a purpose, that being to hide the things that are behind them. So you’re rendering them useless by leaving them open! Now I will admit (Johnny don’t read this part) that seeing as we live alone, and our bedroom closet doors are of the sliding variety, it really does no harm to leave them open: they’re not in the way, and we don’t have guests in our bedroom that we need to hide our clothes from, and even if we did we wouldn’t really need to hide our clothes since we wear them in front of people anyway. But it still irritates me because despite the logical part of my brain telling me the above things, the doors are now unable to fulfill their destiny. Is it an order vs. chaos thing? Or maybe I’m just controlled by the tyranny of the door marketing empire? Or is it just one of those things that men tend to think one way about, and women think another way? Any lesbian couples read this blog yet? If so, tell me if you both shut the doors - then it probably is a men/women thing. But if not, maybe it’s a couple thing. I should do some research about this, but I’m way too lazy and then I wouldn’t be able to bitch about it.

Currently Stuck In Head: Robin Black & the Intergalactic Rock Stars, Some of You Boys

So I just got back from my interview with some time to spare before going into work. I very rarely have this - time to myself in the morning. (see previous post about my non-conformist sleeping patterns) When I do have the rare opportunity to be up and functioning at so early an hour without being at work, it reminds me that I’m an anomoly in that I don’t like coffee. Never have, and at this point don’t think I ever will, but of course I could be wrong. It’s not the smell - that I actually like - I just can’t stand the taste of coffee. Even when it’s heavily flavored and barely even coffee any more. I don’t even like coffee-flavored desserts, and it makes me mad when restaurants will ruin a perfectly good chocolate dessert by adding something mocha-flavored to it. So when I’m up in the morning and drinking a Diet Coke it makes me feel weird somehow. Kind of like how you know you’re an alcoholic if you routinely drink before noon. I guess I’m a Diet Coke-aholic.

So the interview went really well! I don’t want to say too much about the company yet, but it’s very small and I’d be kind of an office manager type, answering phones, filing, organizing, keeping everything running. More than just a receptionist because I’d be the only administrative person. The guy who interviewed me seemed very genuinely interested and said several times that he was impressed with my experience and I seemed to have exactly the skills he was looking for. (Kid, you got the goods!) He also seemed willing to pay me what I asked, which is always good and only means I should have asked for more! He had 4 other interviews today then he’s going to make his decision by early next week. I’ll keep you all posted.

Currently Stuck In Head: Phantom Planet, The Happy Ending