Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Putting the Cart Before the Horse

Rolling Rally today! Due to my silly day job, I was not able to attend the parade, but I've got many people representing GFT02145 on the scene. I look forward to their pictures and stories! Our company president wheeled the old creaky television out of the closet and set it up in a small conference room. Oh, glorious day! It feels good to win after losing for so long. Several more WS championships will not spoil me. We are simply making up for lost time. I hope that the city erects a huge statue of David Ortiz on the Boston Common. Wouldn't that be nice?

So, in typical me fashion, I'm already developing some branding concepts for my soap business. Mind you, I have not made a single ounce of cold process soap. All in good time. Since my plan is to move to Northampton, I've decided to call the business NOSOCO (Northampton Soap Company). What do you think of these designs? I am so married to Stentiga, as I think it's a clean, classy font. I couldn't resist using pictures of my cat. He's totally photogenic, and he's fascinated with the tub.

A poster?

Little stickers or labels?

I am going to be experimenting with bath bombs, lip balms, and lotions, also. I've decided to go with 3 main scents to begin with, one being spearmint. I think I'm going to call this line, "Nor'easter." I will start with traditional scents, but I am really looking forward to doing things off the beaten path. You know how sandwich shops name some of their selections after street names or whatever? Why not devote soaps to great things? "Black Flag" soap (licorice-scented black soap with poppy seed exfoliate). "The Clockwork Orange" (tangerine mint souffle). I also want to make a Fluff soap. I think the marshmallow might add a moisturizing element - and it's totally vegan! I can make soap modeled after famous drinks like "The Shirley Temple" or "Apple Martini." I am so excited about this!

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Monday, October 29, 2007

Soap Make Me Happy

I love soap. I love buying soap. I love using soap. And I love making soap. At this point, it's just a hobby. I make soap for certain holidays, take it into work and sell it. I also give it away as gifts. I've recently made apple cinnamon, orange, peppermint, grapefruit, and lime. I use the "melt and pour" method, which is sort of soapmaking for dummies. I plan to make the leap to cold process soapmaking very, very soon. I have a billion ideas for scents, additives, textures and molds. I am always inspired when I go to LUSH, which is one of the finest contemporary soap businesses (of course, they make cosmetics and other body products). Their colors are vivid, their bars are chunky, and they don't skimp on one single thing. I really love their all-or-nothing approach. Going into LUSH is a treat for all senses. They really understand the importance of the consumer experience. It's very much like going to your favorite coffee house. You can make a cup of coffee at home for a few pennies, but you don't get the heavenly coffee smells, the temptations behind the glass, and the Husker Du. So, you are willing to fork over 3 or 4 dollars for a mug of really aromatic French roast. A good soapmaking business approach is one where the consumer feels as though he or she is getting a really special thing. And like cafe latte, soap is an affordable indulgence.

I am always enchanted by ORIGINS. The whole "spa freshness" element is irresistible. You feel as though you are being transported to a tranquil, happy place. Every thing is natural and wonderful and pampery. And yeah, I guess 20 bucks for a bottle of hand lotion seems steep when you compare it to St. Ives or whatever, but you are going to love using every last drop of your ORIGINS product. You won't take any of it for granted. I feel the same way about AVEDA, but I am not going to get fooled into buying a 50 dollar bottle of conditioner. Sorry.

So, there are officially 4 things I want to accomplish in the next 3 years:

1. Buy a house in western Massachusetts
2. Start a legitimate soapmaking business
3. Write my grandmother's memoir
4. Finish the painting series I started a year ago

Not necessarily in this order.


Sunday, October 28, 2007


We painted the Rockies red ...

2007 World Champions!

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Friday, October 26, 2007

Money, Money, Money, Money .... MONEY

Not long ago, I was listening to this Christian talk show on the AM dial. Why? Because, over time, it seems that I have become terrifically bored with FM stations that aren't NPR. The Emerson College station is pretty hip and enjoyable, but I've developed a complete and utter lack of patience for popular music. Don't ask me how or when this happened! I can't tell you the answer. All I can say is that I would rather sit in the car and rage at some right-winged smoke blower on talk radio than tap my foot along to an overplayed classic rock song or a tired, old "alternative" hit. I love the Ramones, but I'd rather be sedated than listen to "I Wanna Be Sedated" for the 12 millionth time. Right, so, I was listening to this pre-recorded program of this minister talking to a group of people about marriage and finances. Oh, did this guy frost my behind! He first went on about how when you get married, the money becomes "our money" not "my money." Forget about your past relationship with money, he preaches, you are one with another person now. Metaphorically, I guess this is what you are supposed to believe with marriage, but I have more problems with this idea that I can shake a stick at. While marriage unites two people in many regards, your souls don't meld into one all of a sudden. You don't instantaneously lose your identity. That's ridiculous! Decisions become joint and there's a lot more compromise in your life, but I think it's dangerous to think of "former" self as something of a ghost.

The money thing. Having learned the hard way that pooling money together is futile, I can honestly say that I strongly suggest keeping your money separate. In theory, putting it together seems like the perfect thing to do, right? You put yours in, I'll put mine in, great! Wrong. You will never stop fighting about it. This is exactly why money is a problem for so many couples. Remember when you had roommates and everyone paid a certain amount for the rent and other expenses? You divide things up in about 5 minutes. You pay the phone bill, I'll pay the gas and electric, whatever. No fights. You just go about your life. Why does this need to change when you get married? I guess if a woman wants to take time off to raise children, then this model doesn't apply, but more and more households require 2 incomes. I say, like that overplayed alternative hit from 1994, keep 'em separated! If your spouse doesn't hold up their end of the financial burden, then you married the wrong person and chances are, they'll disappoint you in a million other ways.

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Game 2 Results

That was more of what you might expect a World Series game to be like. Very close. Schilling still has a little magic left under his cap! And I suppose that everyone will be thinking of Ellsbury this coming Tuesday when they grab their free taco at Taco Bell.

Off to Colorado!

Unrelated: Do you think, given the risk involved in living in certain areas in southern California, people will move back? I am listening to several horrible personal accounts on NPR right now and I've got to think that they would be crazy to settle back in the same place. This isn't like Katrina, where certain precautions can be put in place to prevent another catastrophic event.

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Thursday, October 25, 2007

Remembering an Undercelebrated Feminist

When I was 22 and living in South Jersey, I didn't know a lot about cooking. I remember experimenting with a few dishes in college (mainly very bland stir fries), but, in general, culinary arts were intimidating. My mother wasn't a bad cook or anything, but she never did the whole "let me give you some kitchen pointers" thing with me. I don't fault her for it - I actually PRAISE her, since it would have suggested that I "need to know these things," for it will be my role at some point to whip up 3 square meals a day for my nuclear family. Eventually, I asked her for her chicken and rice recipe, which became the only proper meal I was able to prepare between the years 1994 and 1996.

Getting back to New Jersey. I spend a lot of time in Tower Books on South Street in Philadelphia (which is a very attractive city, regardless of what you might read!) and one day, I stumbled upon Peg Bracken's, "I Hate to Cook Book." A chorus of angels sang while the rays of heaven illuminated the spine of the paperback on its shelf. It was a fantastic find for a person as frightened of the kitchen as yours truly. Within it's pages, I found a kindred spirit. A woman who really understood my general indifference toward the art of food. She simplified recipes. She made it possible to create decent tasting sustenance without killing yourself with the details. A woman who felt that time spent in the kitchen was better spent elsewhere, like drinking a martini on the sofa. It was just a cookbook, but it was also as much a feminist publication as The Golden Notebook. She went to many publishers with her idea and was shot down (her meetings were all with men, who felt that this kind of publication might discourage a wife or somehow devalue her - what a bunch of jerks, huh?) until she spoke with a female executive who understood the book's potential. Her book has the same spirit as those magnets and greeting cards you see now with speech bubbles like "Make your own damn dinner!" positioned next to a smiling 1950s-style housewife in an apron. I have a dishtowel bearing this image.

Peg Bracken died this week, at the age of 89. May she be remembered fondly by women everywhere. (Interesting factoid from Wikipedia: "She married and moved to Portland, Oregon, where she worked as an advertising copywriter along with Homer Groening, father of Matt Groening." Matt's father's name was Homer?)

From the NY Times: "Her other books include “The I Hate to Housekeep Book” (Harcourt, Brace & World, 1962); an etiquette book, “I Try to Behave Myself” (Harcourt, Brace & World, 1964); and a memoir, “A Window Over the Sink” (Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1981)."

I have since learned to appreciate cooking quite a bit. But, I did so out of inspiration and a desire to be creative. I was never expected to churn meals out, day in, day out. I cook because I like it, and when I don't feel like it, I go out. Isn't this the way it should be?


Game 1 Results

The Red Sox made that look pretty easy. But, remember: the Rockies were playing on 8 days rest, the Sox were playing at home and the almighty Beckett was pitching for them. I'm not complaining, by any means. Just trying to give it a little perspective. I don't think it's going to be this cinchy when we've got Snyder/Lester going.

(By the way, I know that my sock is backwards. I think it makes for better composition to have it facing in.)

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Wednesday, October 24, 2007

A New Acronym 4 U

How come no major league relief pitcher has selected Anthrax's "I am the Law" as their "exiting the bullpen" music? Clearly, that is a bad ass selection. Perhaps, when that very talented female pitcher emerges (oh, she's out there ... somewhere), she will adopt this song for herself. One can only hope that she doesn't pick some wussy girly garbage. I will personally go over the appropriate possibilities with her. "Monster" by L7 (or "Slide"), "Rebel Girl" by Bikini Kill, or "Suggestion" by Fugazi (if she prefers to be a little political) all work. Any others? "T.V. Eye" by the Stooges? "Run to the Hills," by Iron Maiden? Please share. I will put this list together to tempt said female relief pitcher.

I guess Tavarez didn't make the roster. This bothers me a little. Yes, I am biased because of the day I gave him directions to his house, but more because I think he really earned it. Who would have thought he would be the team player he's turned into? I'm not saying he's the answer to our prayers, but Snyder to start? I guess the translation here is: everybody starts that day. Seriously, if Synder starts to shit the bed right away, Tito is going to run right through our relievers. PLP (Pot Luck Pitching).

It's so hard to concentrate today!

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Tuesday, October 23, 2007

World Series | GAME ONE

I think I am still pinching myself a little. Doesn't it seem so surreal that we could do this twice in 4 years? And while we continue to enjoy this success, the Yankees organization steadily crumbles. Ironic. I had always dreamt about this big shift, but I don't know, I guess I don't care as much as I thought I would. Don't get me wrong - it was fun to watch the ship sink for a while. It just gets boring over time. I suppose when the A-Rod negotiations begin, things will get interesting. Also, Rivera's contract is still up in the air, I think. Any other big contracts I am forgetting? Has Posada's run out?

The Rockies. I've got no opinion about this team. I assume that they are very, very good. I've not done the research. We had a series with them this year and they took 2 out of 3 (at Fenway). National league teams tend to be drone-like to me. Very unexciting. This is a pretty rotten thing to say, I know. A lot of people argue that NL ball is the purest form and that AL teams are more sensational. Well, give me sensational any day. The Sox are like a gang of red hot pokers right now, waiting to inflict third degree burns on any team that dares face them. Far more focused and far more deadly than they were during June's relaxed inter-league play days. Hey, do you guys remember when the Red Sox were rumored to sign Helton?

I checked out the Red Sox site for baby merchandise. I want to get matching jumpers for my friends' twin boys, but I want to get ALCS gear, specifically. Imagine how pimped out they would be wearing that? The coolest kids in Watertown, for sure! Maybe they'll make special ones if the Sox win the WS. Stay tuned for updates.

How about those California wild fires, huh? Word on the street is, Mel Gibson had to evacuate his home in Malibu. I certainly don't feel as bad for him as I do for the single parent dad and his two kids who are now living in a stadium complex. Their apartment building burned to the ground. They had to leave their pets behind - a dog with one blue eye and a cat they found in a dumpster. I almost cried when I heard this. This is just one family's story. What a tragedy. I wish there was something I could do to help.

There is one thing we can ALL take action on, though not wild fire related. There is an online petition to snuff out the horribly offensive Cleveland Indian logo. If you are interested, please sign here.

Giddy Up, Beckett!

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Monday, October 22, 2007

Going to the Big Show

World Series, baby. World Series!


Friday, October 19, 2007

Sox Force Another One

Remember when I said:

I'm telling you, this Beckett kid is crazy good. I wish we could clone him and use him in every single pitching role. How cool would that be? Oh, hey, they're taking Beckett out after 110 pitches. Looks like another Beckett has been warming in the pen. Every single batter would have to face Josh Beckett every single time.

Well, it seems I'm not alone in wishing this any more.

Not that Beckett being crazy good was a secret at this point, but rght now he seems like the only solution we have for the Indians.

Thursday, October 18, 2007


I don't think the Celtics will be messing around this year. Caught a good chunk of last night's exhibition game against the Knicks. Wowzers, what a whooping. 101-61, Celts. I grant you, it wasn't a "real" game, but they looked really good.

I doubt I will warm up to the announcers calling Glen Davis by his nickname, "Big Baby." It just sounds weird repeated over and over again.

I had a strange dream involving Gene Simmons, a grave yard, 2 ghosts and a case of mistaken identity.

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Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Like sand through the hourglass ...

I touched on this in yesterday's post, but I will expand a little on it today, as there is now a sequel. Everyday, I take route 2 to 128 in the morning. It's the most direct way to work. I am not alone. Seems that everyone in western Somerville merges on to 128 along with me. The line is terrifically long. I don't mind waiting in this line. What I do mind is the fact that there are assholes who refuse to wait in this line. They drive up alongside the mile of bumper-to-bumper traffic until they reach the exit, put their blinker on and bully their way into the front of the line. These people should suffer horribly. They should be forced to vomit their breakfast and eat it again through a straw. They should be subjected to a never-ending loop of Lionel Richie's "Hello" until they go completely insane. I have always complained bitterly about these savages. It seemed that my pleas to the universe for help with this matter would go unanswered.

Until now.

I started noticing that there were cops parked on the meridian by the exit. Yesterday, I mentioned that I asked one of them if their purpose was to police the system and prevent the line cutters. Affirmative. So, you can imagine my delight this morning when, after an impatient chowder head cut in line (in back of me, as I keep my bumper as close as physically possible to the one in front of me at all times) and WAS PULLED OVER. Oh, was I delighted. Nothing could have pleased me more. Not free coffee, not George Steinbrenner's retirement, not a new pair of Doc Martens. Nothing. I pumped my fist in victory, MLB style. It was a great way to start the day. The only thing that could have trumped this was to be a fly on the uniform of that officer. To have listened as the asshole fumbled her words and played dumb when it was explained to her that there are arrows painted on the cement for a bloody good reason.

I know what you're thinking: Hey, get a life. But, these tiny injustices stick in my craw and I can't get past them. Especially when I am faced with them, day after day. So, even if the Red Sox don't force another game, I will have tasted a drop of sweet victory today. The nectar of the traffic gods. Thank you, Massachusetts police!

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Time Waster

I could play with this thing all day.

More Than a Jelly

Weird. They just discovered this jellyfish in the Philippines. It looks like that Boston (self-titled) album cover, but with SpaghettiOs for tentacles.


It's That Time Again

Come on, Red Sox. Don't let them put a fork in you!


Tuesday, October 16, 2007

New Boot Troopin'

This morning, I saw a woman in a large SUV type vehicle. She had a child in the front and possibly others in the back. I tried to imagine what this woman's schedule was like. Bring child number 1 to preschool. Bring child number 2 to kindergarten. Jack, you're doing it wrong! Bring baby to doctor to take a look at that cough. Cut over to Stop and Shop for the week's groceries. Herb, pick up on aisle 2! Call the plumber. Pick up child number 1. Make lunch. Are you crazy? You don't feed a baby chili! Clean stuff. Your Mom calls the vacuum cleaner JAWS? Pick up child number 2. Make dinner. Have quality time at dinner table. Bathe children. Collapse. I am leaving out a billion other things, I am sure.

Is this what the woman imagined her life was going to be like? Maybe her husband had dreams of stockbroking when he was a boy. And maybe he is realizing those dreams now.

This scares me a lot. I want to have a family. But I don't want to be that lady in the SUV. How can this be avoided? Alright, well, I won't marry a stockbroker, for starters, and I won't buy an SUV. How does a woman become a mother but maintain both her creativity and her individuality? How do these very important things not get swallowed up into some domestic abyss? I suppose if you marry the right person, you won't be left dealing with all of these things alone. You can make a team of it. And if your husband gives a damn about you, there's a chance that you won't be left with all the crap work, taking marching orders from the all-mighty breadwinner. This is one of my goals in life. To be a mom someday, without losing my soul. For now, I am trying to learn the guitar solo from Iron Maiden's, "The Trooper" on my flute. Do any of you have this sheet music?

(speaking of troopers) Later this morning, I saw a state trooper standing at the 128 exit on route 2. When I passed him, I rolled down my window and asked him if he was there to keep people from cutting in line. "Yes!" he replied. Finally. FINALLY. I gave him a huge thumbs up. I wanted to do more. I totally feel like Iron Maiden's "Eddie" when in line for the 128 exit. It's a battlefield. I am not kidding. I nearly got into it with a rude commuter last week who decided that she was too good to wait in line with the rest of us. I will spare you the details.

Feeling better today. I am at that stage where my nose isn't running constantly, but my taste buds are on hiatus. All I am able to get is this sort of mucous smell, with a little "stale air" aroma mixed in. You know that weird sick taste/smell? You know how old t-shirts smell? Or any cotton garment that's been sitting in a drawer, untouched, for many months? Am I the only one familiar with this smell? Anyway, that's the taste/smell my body decides to dole out to me during this phase of the cold.

My last rant, which has nothing to do with baseball: While eating my lunch this afternoon, I noticed that Yahoo! used a picture of a young African American couple next to the rotating headline, "Seven Tips to Beat the Bad Credit Blues." Casual racism? I was at the bank not long ago and they had a promo on the wall with a similar message, except the person with the bad credit was Latino. Ugh. Why isn't anyone else complaining?

P.S. Guess who I am thinking about going as for Halloween this year?


Down, But Not Out

And by this title, I am talking about me. I've been battling a head cold. I haven't had the gumption to write much.

I will say that the Sox have been in worse positions, so I'm not too worried.

Series, so far:

Indians: 2
Red Sox: 1

Dice K pitched fine last night. Please don't blame him. If our offense could have struck earlier and more often than they did, we might have had a different outcome.

Congratulations to the Rockies! Still think this is a fake team (I remember when Jeff Frye was sent to the Rockies. I thought they were really taking him to Mars or something), and Colorado a fake place. Well, Jello Biafra was supposedly born there. Wouldn't it be funny if everyone from Colorado talked like Jello Biafra? If his weird voice wasn't weird at all in, say, Denver? I wonder, then, if Charles Nelson Reilly was from Colorado. Or Paul Lynde.

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Friday, October 12, 2007

Broad (Out)Casting

I am angry today.

It all started this morning, over at Jere's blog. There was a thread of conversation going on in response to Suzyn Waldman's ridiculous cry of sexism over the mocking of her tears by some. I guess she got all emotional wrapping up the season for the Yankees and was criticized for it. My response, in a nutshell: Yeah, I know that she is a human being with human emotions and she is going to express said emotions when feeling, um, emotional. What she fails to realize, though, is that when she makes an ass out of herself (blubbering, orgasmically, all over the fact that Roger Clemens came galloping back to the Yankees on his stallion of greed) she is showing America what happens when you "stick a women in the broadcasting booth." It stinks, but it is her responsibility to be polished and professional AT ALL TIMES. We aren't at that stage yet where women can fart and burp all over the booth but still be taken seriously when announcing games. Men have always enjoyed this. Therefore, the women LUCKY enough to obtain these jobs should go the extra 10 miles. Why? Because these are male dominated arenas. Women are still "proving" themselves in them. Female sports casters, unlike their male counterparts, have to watch their weight, shlep all over the field in high heels, and wear low cut blouses to keep the male audience (because that's the ONLY audience for professional sports, you know) engaged. Totally f'd up, but it's the price you have to pay if you want a job doing something you love.

So, after getting myself a little worked up over that, I was then faced with blatant objectification on "1510 The Zone." This is an alternative station to WEEI and I've been listening to it regularly. They've got a decent morning program with a duo called "Mike and Lew." I was so happy to have found this show, I emailed them through their website, expressing my gratitude and congratulating them on a job well done. They don't discuss politics, they're smart but not full of themselves and they really know their Boston sports. Well, like a complete slap in the face, they used this morning's program to talk about the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders and their asses. The old, "sure she's pretty, but she's really dumb" comment was thrown around a lot, too. Hello! As a woman, I have zero interest in this stuff. The message is clear: Women in sports are only good for eye candy. We don't want to hear you and we only want to look at you if you've attained our visual ideal. Please stay out of our sandbox.

My immediate reaction was to first reinstate the "women in sports" links I had in my older blog on this one. I've added a few new ones, too. There's a pretty good article about gender bias in sports through Fair.org - you ought to read it. My next reaction was to create this post.

It's not like I am just waking up to this disparity. I've lived with it my entire life. Most times, I am not bothered by it. Every once in a while, though, the realization that a woman, no matter how able she is, will never be allowed to play in major league baseball sinks in. That really sucks. I've heard the arguments that physically-speaking, a woman's body isn't built the same as a man's body and therefore a woman would somehow become a liability on an all-male team. Bullshit. You mean to tell me that in this whole big world of ours, there isn't ONE woman, NOT ONE, who can throw a 98 MPH fastball? You've got to be joking.

Also, I think I'm coming down with something. Maybe this has fueled the cranky factor. I hate to start the day like this. Especially an important day like today. By game time, I will have brushed all of this off, I'm sure. Sorry to have ranted. I thank you for your patience.

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Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Pay What You Can

I am by no means a Radiohead fan. They are a little whiny and their songs drag a bit too much for my taste. I just want to tell them to get the hell up, brush off their knees and get on with life. I have a hard time appreciating people who exude helplessness. Especially people who make a living exuding it.

That said, I have to give them serious props for making their next musical release available to their fans at a price the fans name themselves. Pretty cool.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Yanks Choke

The axe is going to fall on Torre. The crappy thing is that he totally doesn't deserve it.


Monday, October 8, 2007

Rollins at The Berkeley Performing Arts Center

The first thing that impressed me about Henry Rollins was that he was punctual. The ticket says that the show starts at 7:30. BAM. The show started at 7:30. Henry began with a huge inhale and then exhaled for 3 solid hours.

One thing you might not know: Henry Rollins is funny. And I don't mean "Sam Kinnison" funny. He's actually pretty self-deprecating and sometimes (are you sitting down?) sort of cute. And by that, I'm not suggesting that I think he's attractive (Muscle types are not -- and have never been -- my style. They terrify me. I tend to like skinny, nerdy dudes.). I just mean that he has this really approachable, human side. And he isn't afraid to show it to you. He gives you his opinions without preaching at you. He urges you to vote, but doesn't tell you who to vote for. I really admire this.

He shared a lot of his personal encounters with us - recent trips he took to the Middle East, dates he'd been on, the fact that he has no family, really. He's like this insatiable sponge that just keeps soaking up new and unusual experiences. Some of them, he seeks out and others, like his recent opportunity to head up one of his all-time favorite bands, The Ruts, seek him. But he doesn't deny these chances. He takes all of them, uses what he can, discards what he can't, and moves on like a bullet.

I can appreciate his need to be alone. I can spend gads of time with my friends and loved ones, but I could also spend days on end by myself. Nothing personal to said friends and loved ones, but when you grow up without siblings, you get accustomed to the silence around you and in your own head. You learn to entertain yourself. You have to learn selflessness later in life. As an adult, I am constantly aware of the needs of people around me. I have developed this sensitivity in order to police the selfishness I learned as a child.

He mentioned Nick Cave and told a quick story about how he flew all the way from Europe straight to California in time to see a Nick Cave show. He was asked (along with Jello Biafra) to sing back up vocals for "Deanna." This just happens to be the only Nick Cave song I own. I also learned that he is a fan of both "The Damned" and "The Fall" - two of my top 20.

One of his reasons for being anti-death penalty is the same as mine. You kill the wrong person and that's one wrongful death too many. I get the sense that he goes out of his way to avoid inconsistency and hypocrisy. I am very into that. I just know that he'd be the first person getting out of his car and screaming about the savage way that people cut to the front of the line, waiting at an exit ramp.

Unlike Jello Biafra, he didn't seem to throw the Green Party agenda at us. I respect the Green Party, but I don't want it shoved down my throat. Kudos to Rollins for acknowledging the intelligence of his audience. (I'm not, like, pinning them against one another. I admire them both, equally. I'm merely pointing out the things that turned me on about Rollins' material).

So, I guess I'll let the tire commercials and the recent Rufus Wainright appearance on his show slide. We will have to agree to disagree there.

The Ghosts of Saturday Night

In my opinion, this is one of the best written songs I've ever heard. Every time I hear it, I feel like I'm in it. I don't know if it's the scratchiness of Tom Waits' voice or the lazy pace of his fingers on the keys, or what, but he creates perfect picture with these words.

A cab combs the snake,
Tryin' to rake in that last night's fare,
And a solitary sailor
Who spends the facts of his life
like small change on strangers...

Paws his inside P-coat pocket
for a welcome twenty-five cents,
And the last bent butt from a package of Kents,
As he dreams of a waitress with Maxwell House eyes
And marmalade thighs with scrambled yellow hair.

Her rhinestone-studded moniker says, "Irene"
As she wipes the wisps of dishwater blonde from her eyes

And the Texaco beacon burns on,
The steel-belted attendant with a 'Ring and Valve Special'...
Cryin' "Fill'er up and check that oil"
"You know it could be a distributor and it could be a coil."

The early mornin' final edition's on the stands,
And that town cryer's cryin' there with nickels in his hands.
Pigs in a blanket sixty-nine cents,
Eggs - roll 'em over and a package of Kents,
Adam and Eve on a log, you can sink 'em damn straight,
Hash browns, hash browns, you know I can't be late.

And the early dawn cracks out a carpet of diamond
Across a cash crop car lot
filled with twilight Coupe Devilles,
Leaving the town in a-keeping
Of the one who is sweeping
Up the ghost of Saturday night...


Marching Ahead

I'm bringing back an old graphic from earlier in the season, folks.

I always feel bad for Scioscia. For starters, he looks like Rush Limbaugh. That, in itself, has got to suck. Also, he constantly seems like he is on the verge of tears.

Anyway, this is all going too swimmingly. I'm not complaining. It's just eerily smooth. I hope it isn't the calm before the storm.

We went to see Henry Rollins last night. I have a lot to say about the performance, but since I have to get ready for work (yes, I'm working on a Federal holiday), I'll respond later. Let's just say that I was really impressed.

Saturday, October 6, 2007


This stuff always seems to happen around the playoffs.

Up 2

Could this be any more scripted?

I attended my very first Red Sox playoff game last night. It was, of course, brilliant in every imaginable way.

  • The weather was spectacular.
  • The seats were sweet.
  • The Cleveland-Yankees game was shown on the Jumbotron, at least until the Red Sox-Angels game started. And during the 5th or 6th (I think), the Indians final run was shown.
  • The Star Spangled Banner was the best I've seen performed at a baseball game, and I don't usually rave about such things.
  • The Red Sox have shown that they are really clicking in the post season, despite a few Dice K jams. He pitched out of them, for the most part, though.
  • Manny. Wow.
  • I got to use the handicapped stall in the ladies room. It's cleaner, obviously more roomy, and it has a hook for your purse/backpack/whathaveyou. I never noticed this in other stalls, but I was never really paying attention, either.

The only downer was the woman planted in front of us. She was non-stop talkie-talkie with a friend of hers during a playoff game. Very annoying. She was the kind of woman for whom, after getting killed during your typical body count horror movie, everyone in the theater claps.

I'm really pulling for the Phillies, but they aren't making it easy for me.

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Thursday, October 4, 2007

Was that a playoff game?

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Frostbite is Ovah

First things, first: My mother is officially married. Hurray! The wedding was a success, though the stereo system didn't have quite the punch we anticipated. I was not only the maid of honor, but I was also the DJ. My mom was outfitted in a beautiful chocolate brown gown with very tasteful beading. My dress was complimentary to hers in color, but I feared that it was a little "Dancing With the Stars" in style. Definitely not something I would throw on for another occasion. It might be fun to wear it to the beach sometime, though. Speaking of waves, she and her husband are currently enjoying the splendor of Niagara Falls. A fitting honeymoon for an older couple.

Second things, second: Our softball team lost its one and only playoff game. My legacy to the team will be getting an out at the plate last night. I've been catcher since I blew out my quads earlier in the season. We managed to get a well hit ball in very quickly, then nabbed a dude at home when he clearly should have held up at third. He was one of those show-off types, too, who come to play co-ed recreational-level softball all decked out in professional baseball gear. Serves the guy right. He was also his team's base coach and kept yelling out offensive things about our pitcher - my good friend, Anne. Anyway, they won. A common response to the question, "What's the score?" over the course of the season was, "a lot to a little" and we all knew who had the "little." It was a fun season, though. At least we don't have to continue through the playoffs in the freezing cold weather. Although it's been unseasonable warm, I hear it's going to get chilly soon.

Third things, third: I may be going to a play off game on Friday night. Stay tuned!

Last things, last: I got tickets for Henry Rollins on Sunday night. Spoken word performance. Should be interesting. I will be sure to criticize him for his recent tire commercial voice-overs.

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