Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Show your spirit!

This week is homecoming week at Mancub's high school. I'm certain this ritual is occurring across the country. During that week there is a special dress-up theme appointed to each day. I remember being excited to participate. It was a perfect ensemble for spending several nights in a classmates barn building our class float for the parade. My friends and I embraced all that was class spirit. It was often a chance to spend time with the cute boy you had a crush on while stuffing poms into chicken wire shivering and fantasizing that he'd hold your hand or offer to snuggle you close to keep you warm ... then the fumes from the aerosol spray paint can would overcome your intoxication of that day dream.

The Class of '83 had the upper hand of building killer floats thanks to the designs of our classmate Jon Schultz. He had construction know how. Taking his designs and turning them into reality was a great chance to meet and bond with kids we would otherwise not get to know. If memory serves me correctly our float won three years in a row. I know Jon will remember (dude remembers everything!). Dale! Julie! Tricia! Amanda! Gloria! Tommy! Help me out with recall!

OK, I got lost on memory lane. The subject matter is Mancub's first encounter with homecoming. He's yet to ask to attend a football game. Unfortunately, he'd rather shave his head and sing Hari Krishna in downtown Kankakee than hang out with the majority of his classmates. However, he will be given extra credit in English if he dresses up during spirit week. Monday was a mystery so he went as "bewildered freshman." Tuesday was Michael Jackson Day. His response to that was, "Uh, I don't think so, Mom." Today, Gleeday (Wednesday for you non-show choir loving folk) is "Fashion Disaster Day." You can see his far out ensemble. He even styled his hair to look like a mullet. If that isn't the crowning glory of a fashion disaster, I don't know what is.

Tomorrow is "Class Clash" where each class wears a specific color. Freshman wear green -- quite apropos, don't you think? Friday is Maroon and Blue "School Colors Day."

I'm really happy that my son is trying to get in the spirit even though so many of his peers give him a hard time for being himself. I wish his experiences were similar to mine, but the times have changed dramatically.

*sigh* Go team!

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Well, duh!

I might eventually get off this horriblescope roller coaster. I can't help that it's often so off course one day, and then the guessing can be vaguely hop back on the track. Then, there are days where the prediction is so far behind the curve that it appears out in front.

This is the word of the day.
"The past is coming back, not to haunt you -- but to thrill you! Whether it's an old flame returning to town to see what you're up to, an old photo you find that stirs up some hilarious memories, or even just a song on the oldies station that reminds you of summer camp, your past is suddenly very present. This is a wonderful day to travel down memory lane and let yourself remember the person you used to be -- and of course, marvel at the person you have become."
For anyone who reads this blog with any regularity, you know my past is a huge part of my present. I love my friends! Here we are at the Meadowview Theater in Kankakee awaiting the start of the reinvented (don't reinvent the wheel anymore, Hollywood) of FAME!
I'm friends with the same group who carried me through high school. In fact, many of the friends in my life now were kids from my neighborhood or grade school. We may not have been great companions that entire time, but we've had a place in one another's lives in some capacity.The bit about "marvel at the person you have become" is a real trick for me. Blame my parents for insisting on being humble to a level of fault. To be proud equals arrogance. I really don't know if I learned that self deprecating behavior from my parents, but aren't they supposed to be blamed? Though some close to me try point out my good qualities, I don't take it to heart. But I have a friend who has appointed himself the daunting task of helping me get to the point of looking in the mirror to see what he sees and what he's certain other people see.

I guess you'll all have to wait ... and, well, see.

Friday, September 25, 2009

For Sale!


Today begins a weekend long community garage sale in Manteno, Il. I'm helping my sister today. I've packed up some goodies to toss into the mix. Most of it has belonged to Mancub. Being a man who is always looking for a means of buying more Yu-Gi-Oh! cards, he inquired if he'll reap the benefits of selling his items. Being the sucker that I am, I said yes.

The weather doesn't seem to be cooperating to guarantee a great turn out. Then again, I know there are some die hard bargain hunters out there who, much like the U.S Postal Service, will not let a little bad weather deter them from their appointed rounds.

Helping my sister out also helps me. I am saved from making a trip to the laundromat! Along with the crap gathered to sell, I'll be loading the car with my dirty laundry.

Happy Friday! And if you're a local come buy some amazing sh-- ... great stuff! Make it an adventure! Like a Where is Waldo book. If you can find me I'll give you a prize. I'm wearing a pink turtleneck and a white Disney baseball cap.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

They are singing my song!!!

*thanks for the heads up, Michelle
This isn't the complete song, but I get chills. It's my life's theme song, for crying out loud -- and to have it show choir format? D'oh! It couldn't be more fitting for this emotional outcast :D



PS. thanks for being willing to give me a guided tour of me. It's a long haul of a tour -- you, yeah you, rock my world.

It's Weds... errr, GLEE-day!


Happy GLEEday, y'all! I know there are some of you who laugh at my love of the new show GLEE. I realize some of you (obvious victims of blunt force head trauma) who don't like the program. It's OK. I forgive and still love you.

This week marks the opening of the movie remake of FAME! I'll be going to see it on Friday with friends who appreciate the first movie, as well as, the television series based on the school of the arts. I'm excited! Jazz hands will be flying! It'll surely be an interesting mix of theater goers: Youth vs. more mature people who experienced FAME the first time around. Naturally, we're superior.

Speaking of being aged and mature ...

My back has been killing me. I have no idea what I did to get this way. I know when I had back X-rays many moons ago prior to a chiropractic adjustment, the doctor asked if I'd been in any serious car accidents. At that time, I had not. Then, he inquired about my athleticism. Early on in life I was more likely to be seen standing on my hands or turning cartwheels than I was to be walking on my feet. Additionally, I took many major tumbles while ice skating -- my endeavor to be the next Peggy Fleming and later, Dorothy Hamill. Who knew what I did at age 10 would have such a painful effect on me at age 44.

I've found relief by putting pillows under my calves and sleeping on my back. Eventually I do roll over to my side, but waking has been far less achy. Plus, I take an Aleve before bed. I had been doing that, but with the pillow trick, I seem to have found a recipe for sleeping more soundly. Go me! A new mattress needs to be in my near future. Money, money, money. Tax refund should get me on top of new Sealy.

Here's my horrible scope for today. I knew you'd be writhing with anticipation over what is written for me in the stars:
"Today is all about taking time to establish things -- you can't be in a hurry if you want to get anywhere. So go slowly and take your time to explore what other people are looking for in life. Ask questions about your friend's goals and you just might be able to help them out. And that sense of satisfaction is just what you need right now. You have a lot to share, a lot to teach -- and an awful lot to learn from others. This is a day for letting new ideas sink in."
In an effort to fall in line with this suggestion to not be in a hurry, I am writing this blog item rather than showering and getting ready for work. My hair still looks fine from yesterday. I'm sporting curls and they are agreeable even when I've slept on them. Do I rock the hair or what? I have to admit that I miss my really long hair. One of my Facebook friends has a photo of me at work and my hair is passed the middle of my back. Good giggly! The problem with having long hair and coloring is that I require two or three coloring kits. It is tons easier to maintain with shorter hair.

For those of you who work with me, I am going to take a shower. Fear not the smelly co-worker.

I have to ask, did this blog post fulfill anything my horriblescope suggested? Did you learn anything? What is on tap for y'all today? Do you want to know anything about me? Should I post another survey so I can learn about you? I'm supposed to ask questions. What is it you want from life? That's a heady question and I'll let you ponder it. Get back to me.

Now, go forth and be GLEEful and *jazz hands* in lieu of waving. I'm sure you'll get lots of looks!

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Uhhh

OK, I admit that I need to resist scrolling down my yahoo homepage to read my horoscope. I don't even recall adding it when I set the page up years ago. Maybe it is a default feature. I've had fun with it as it has been fodder for my writing. The horrible scopes give me something playful to share rather than the more intimate details. It's not that I have nothing going on that isn't worthy of being shared, but I've elected to let some facets of my life remain private. I fear jinxing myself by talking too much. Maybe I am a bit more stupidsticious, after all. Therefore, reading horoscopes isn't necessarily out of the realm of my brain function.

With that being said, I'm sharing another astrological prognostication.

In the last two days my horoscope told me to go out and be my charming self, but not to abuse the power that is my innate being. WOO! They went so far as telling me to teach the youth on how to properly utilize charm. Today puts a screeching halt on that. Talk about running hot and cold. Good giggly goo!
"Definitely think before you speak. That ordinarily charming way you have with words will be even more lethal now, so you should definitely be careful where you fling those casual comments. The stuff you're putting out is easier to turn on than to shut off. Don't play games with someone's heart."

I'm quite certain nothing I have said today has been lethal nor were any of my comments casually flung. If anything I was probably too guarded and am smacking myself on the head for not saying more. I know I don't play games with the hearts of others. I speaketh from the heart. The only time I can be accused of shmoozing is in the workplace -- even there I often shoot from the hip and let the cow chips fall where they may. But today I'm not working. I'm relaxing.

I willfully relax today because my achy breaky back woke me after a sleepless night due to said back spasms. I'm one who needs white noise to sleep soundly. The last few weeks have provided perfect night time temperatures. Ideal for sleeping under the cozy comforter without breaking into drippy night sweats. Because of the cool nights, I've had the fan in the window. I think I pushed it last night. I awoke to tightening in my back which I believe was due to shivering. What did I do? Get up and take the fan out of the window? Uh, no. I just threw on the blanket that I'd tossed over the headboard. I eventually warmed up, but such an effort was a few hours shy of preventing the lower back pain.

Rather than continue fighting it with constant tossing and turning in an attempt to get comfortable, I got up. Coffee brewed but not before I drank a glass of water with a dose of ibuprofen. Once I was moving and stretching the spasms ceased and I was able to enjoy a cup of coffee while checking the news online which included reading my horoscope.

Then, it hit me.

For whatever nonsensical reason, I took down the cafe curtains in the kitchen and hand washed them but not before spraying the shower and tub with mildew remover -- with all the windows open as I learned my lesson the last time I used that toxic stuff. Scrubbing and hosing down the funk that once inhabited my shower walls, I completed enough housework. I sat down on the couch to watch a Lifetime movie starring Sally Field -- sad movie that hit too close to home. It was then that my tear ducts were saved by the bell. The ringing of the phone.

And I'll just stop there. *grin* I think I'll take the couch up on its offer to nap with me.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Charm School

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Hold the phone. My panties are in a bunch.

I only learned yesterday that I had charm oozing from every pore and orifice of my being and now, today, I'm told I have to teach the children well? That's a mighty daunting task. Not to mention I think permission slips would probably be required signed by the parent or guardian and notarized by a public official.

Me schooling youngsters on the how to be charming is like Sharon Osborne teaching a busload of skanks how to behave like ladies. Oh. Wait. VH-1 did attempt that. TRAIN WRECK! Anyway, I digress.

Here's what this boils down to:
"You've been trying to taper your innate charm, but it certainly hasn't been easy. As with all else you do, however, once you get started, you're only steps away from being an expert. Now that you've learned, you might actually be so good at it, and you'll start passing out advice to others. Lend your expertise first to the young ones."
Lend my expertise to the young ones? What the hell does that mean? How am I supposed to teach something I know little about? Who is going to sign up for my 'artistry of charm' course? Quite frankly, that sounds ... creepy. I nearly throw up when I'm encountered by the opposite sex. I thought it was due to lack of ability. Now I'm wondering if it's not from having backed up sensuality -- much like a sink or septic tank gets backed up. Uhh, not a great analogy. I don't stink. The point is that I've not been exuding my "innate charm." I think it's having the opposite effect on those I encounter.

Maybe I could move to Texas and start a charm school for those little tiara donning, tantrum tossing tots I see on TLC's program about pageantry for youngsters. Yeah. I could be rich! Those frickin' psychopathic parents will pay big bucks for their primary princesses to have potential of taking home a crown that outweighs them. Put down the Botox needles, lipstick and hair weaves Big Mama! All your kid needs to win is me. No, seriously, that is some scary shit.

Hmmm to use my powers for good or personal gain. Oh! I am so cursed to be born so bewildering and bewitching!!! Woe is me. I cannot unleash my powers on the youth. That's just reckless. And creepy. Totally creepy.

Friday, September 18, 2009

I'm too sexy -- who knew!?

Maybe it's due to the apple crisp in the over or the fact that I am off work for an entire weekend, but today's horoscope didn't make me want to throw dishes or ... whine. Admittedly, the apple crisp really has no effect on anything other than making me salivate. I just wanted to brag that I'll be gorging on the autumnal treat when I finish this blog post.

All right. The horoscope is as follows:
If any sign is aware of the effect their charm has on others, it's yours. No matter how hard you try to pretend you don't know what you're doing, you really are aware of how devastatingly enchanting you've been to the lucky person you've been lavishing attention. If you're interested, then they probably already belong to you. If you're not, be merciful. Tell them you were just playing, thank them for a lovely time and get yourself home.
Me? Charm!? Get the flock out! Oh wait, I'm not supposed to pretend I don't know what I'm doing. But isn't that part of my charm? Playing coy? Maybe I need to turn it back a notch or four. I mean, being devastatingly enchanting sounds like it might be fatal. Nahhhh. I'll serve it up with a kind heart and tender touch and a side order of titillation.

Frosting tips: Who said this blog wasn't informative?

Maybe it's just me, but this video heightened my interest in frosting. What's that? I'm nuts? This is useful since I couldn't care less about the cake. Perfect tips for hand to mouth frosting feeding frenzy.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

You ain't seen nothin' yet ...

I'm so grateful for the influence my parents had on me musically. You're all aware how my heart is deeply rooted in the '80s and all the cultural impact of that decade and the early '70s with Michael Jackson, Donny Osmond, The Beatles etc... What I have touched very little on is how my parents' generation of music played a huge part in the early years of wee little Rissy. My mother had records of Tommy Dorsey and his orchestra, Perry Como. Crooners, if you will. While I don't believe her to have been a big fan of Sinatra, I think I remember a Dean Martin record tucked away in the stacks.
One of my favorite movie soundtracks is from When Harry Met Sally. Harry Connick Jr channels the masters of swing. Additionally, My Best Friend's Wedding contains great covers by Ani DeFranco and Jann Arden. But my favorite of all? A song done by the king himself: Tony Bennett. He's the captain of cool. The muchacho of machismo. The man can croon, good golly. This music isn't left to gather dust, thank God! Many artists try to emulate the style (I'm looking at you Michael Buble') but none capture the essence of the era. You gotta live it to be it, I guess.

I found the following gem while looking for another song. I hope you dig it as much as I do. It speaks volumes about we should view life.


Wednesday, September 16, 2009

I'm still standing

TEN HOURS!

Work wasn't a busy place, but I still had plenty to keep me relatively busy. I'd like to say my ten hour workday flew by, but it didn't. A slow and steady crawl into clock watcher central. Egads! I'm ready to pull the blankets up to my ears and snooze away the remainder of Glee-day. I'm hoping Thursday will bring me surprises and wonderful news. See, I'm keeping it positive :D

My horoscope was a bit weird, by the way. If you think back to a couple days ago, this one makes no sense. The last one I posted assumed I had a lover/significant other. Then, came this:

"Fanciful ideas and romantic wishes have been blooming inside your head. They're all so pretty, and it's a waste that no one sees them but you. The time is right to share them with a person who loves you the most: They really want to know more about what makes you tick, and they can tell you've been working on something in your mind. Give them a glimpse of what you're thinking, because their reaction will delight you -- and bring you closer together."

OK, maybe the other day's 'scope wasn't completely a case of putting the cart before the horse, but ... oy to the vey. Henrietta Horoscope needs to stop toying with me.

Thinking is making my head ache a bit. Time to turn off the brain. Nighty night, sweets.

Wednesday is no longer Hump Day

Hump Day is so yesterday. Puhleeez! With consideration to the fact that so many people are working part-time jobs or, like me, work in retail or some other profession that requires weekend work, Wednesday isn't really the day of getting over the 'hump' of the week. With perversion in their minds, many people think of the hump as getting it on. As queen of the celibates, I can assure that only gives me another reason to oust the mid-week moniker.

No, to me, Wednesday is GLEE-day. Fox broadcasts my new favorite show at 9:00 eastern/8:00 PM central time. As a former show choir member, it's everything I love and more! Teacher Will Schuester has the daunting task of bringing a lowly glee club back to the days of glory he once experienced when he was a member 'back in the day.' He declares that when he attended the school, "Glee ruled!" With the real threat of fine arts being back seated in our schools, it's scary that kids like I was will be stripped of the one thing that amps them up and gives them a positive view about going to school.

You wouldn't believe the number of people who tell me now that they wished they'd had the courage to audition for our show choir, The Celebration Singers. I wish I'd been more charismatic back in high school. Perhaps then I would have managed to charm the jocks into trying out. They would have been an asset when it came to lifts and stunts in our dance routines. Perhaps the wallflowers would have fully blossomed and found confidence they didn't know they had.

I wish you all a very happy GLEEful Day!! Go forth! Sing and dance like no one is watching. And who cares if they do see you? We all need to bust a move now and again.


Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Sputtering into chaos


It's early on Tuesday morning. I usually do a lot of writing at this time, but not on my blog. Typically I am writing a response email to a friend who lives in another time zone. In fact, he's on another continent.

Our emails are like conversations with delayed reactions. The words just flow and we blather in a singular format. It works much of the time. I tend to send more emails because my day is just starting when his workday is ending. I babble about my day. Let's face it, I just babble incessantly and he has yet to complain. His emails are usually long with details about the day, a recalled memory, questions or a funny anecdote. Whatever pops into our head lands on the screen to be sent.

This has become part of my morning routine. Do you follow?

So why am I writing here rather than there?

Work. His work. Hello!? Some people and their priorities. JEESH! Creature of habit here!! He's on the road. Short note sent to inform me that he was pressed for time but printed my emails for later reading and enjoyment. But, but, but ... what about my routine. What about yesterday's news? *gasp*

Me? Thrown off kilter. I feel like the world is leaning a little to the left and I might slide off. I might regroup or my day might be shot to hell. The results will be in later today. I'll try to forge through and make the most of the day.

Dreams came fervently last night and they were doozies. Those bizarre nocturnal episodes were enough to rattle the start of my day, but now this quake in my morning routine. I feel sorry for the people I encounter. It could get snippy and ugly. Can you imagine how wackadoodle my day would be if, on top of everything else, I ran out of coffee?? Oh it would be ANARCHY!!!

Today better be a good hair day or things might never turn around.

I'm going to remain hopeful. Whew...



Just a sweet song to send you on your way -- ya know, balance for my tongue in cheek rant. Have a sweet day.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Horoscope Humbug

Dear Yahoo horoscope-bullshit blatherer,

Please stop presuming that every one has a lover or significant other. These assumptions discredit your already questionable skills as a prognosticator. For those of us who aren't so lucky in love it is truly irritating. Quite frankly, I'm becoming rather pissed off. I was once amused by your keen ability to be vague yet ballparkishly correct. Today's horoscope for Leos is just over the top and hits me in my already frail ego. As a result, I am forced to express this sentiment with the voracity of 1000 PMSing women unable to obtain chocolate. To you, I say, suck it!
"It's all about you today -- and your lover will no doubt prove it to you from the moment you open your eyes. Since you've been planning an equally wonderful surprise for them, of course, there's no reason to feel guilty about being so spoiled. Besides, who in their right mind wouldn't make a fuss over you?"

PS. Remember I'm a lion. I can tear off your head and devour you before you realize you've been caught. Just sayin'

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Boredom babble

So, what does a girl like me do when she's bored and the television is being occupied by a 15 year old trying to battle bad guys on this PS2? She searches the Internet in hopes of finding inspiration, laughter, free stuff or whatever. It's the whatever that can bring woeful fright. Fortunately for me, tonight isn't one of those nights. I am bored, however. Therefore, I shall babble.

Earlier today I was at work. Business was slow and I was given the heave hoe around 1pm. My shift was cut short. Booyah! No. Not really. Lacking in hours on the paycheck is not what I need at this time. I received word from a coworker that things really picked up after my early departure. See what happens when Riss leaves the building? All hell breaks loose. That'll teach 'em. My mojo may not work on a personal hot-cha-cha level, but it can wreak havoc in matters of business. Feh. I laugh.

I spent all of Friday sleeping. OK, I did some upchucking, too. I blame inner ear imbalance due to serious sinusitis. Moving my head caused nausea. I was slightly feverish, I suspect. The cold tile of the shower stall felt good on my head if that's any indication. I kept a towel over my eyes and moved as little as possible. I had to call off from work. I hate doing that. Leaving my coworkers in the lurch isn't something I relish. While in my pain riddled state, the phone rang 1.5 hours after I called to say I was violently ill and unable to come in. It was work. A co worker deemed it absolutely necessary to call me to discuss a matter of business. Something that really could have waited. A matter that very easily could have been handled had she sought out assistance from someone else. Say, someone who was already at work and not at home curled up on the couch begging for mercy and relief. Had I had the strength and ability, I would have reached through the phone line and smacked the stupid right out of my her. I maintained civility only because becoming angry would have made my psycho vein throb on the left side of my forehead thereby causing me even greater discomfort.

I'm much better today. Since I had the afternoon free, I called Mancub and told him to be ready when I arrived home. I was taking him shopping for much needed skips (athletic footwear). He wears a size 14. Yeah. Huge dawgs on the boy. We went to four different stores before finding his size in stock. We'd resolved ourselves to having to shop online for his shoes. I don't like the idea of paying extra for shipping just because my son has above average sized feet. At least his quest for shoes isn't as dire as my quest for the perfectly fitting bra. Thank God for small favors -- for not so small appendages. Footwear can usually be found much more cheaply than brassieres, too. I hadn't even considered the fourth store we stopped in. I was merely going to hit Target to find clearanced school supplies for later use. Within the shopping center that houses Target is also MC Sports. On the off chance they might have size 14 in stock or at least offer to order a pair, we ventured in. The sales clerk said he thought there were two styles in size 14 and he'd look. While he took off to the stock room, Mancub and I looked at the clearance rack. Low and behold there were 5 pairs of size 14 shoes. A couple were goofy looking styles that I assumed were for track and field. His current worn out pair are Asics Gels that a friend gave to us. There was a similar; yet more spiffy pair on sale. Even on clearance they were beyond what I wanted to pay. Another pair made by Nike were not as flashy, but certainly not hideous. Along with what the clerk found in back and the 2 pairs we found in clearance, he had 4 pairs to try on. One was immediately put to the side as a no because it was all leather. Mancub prefers more mesh/cloth than leather. His feet get too hot. Anyway, with the pricey Asics and the reasonable Nikes to choose from, Mancub chose wisely. He considered my pocketbook when he opted for the Nikes. They are fine for just wearing to school and for P.E. If he gets involved in basketball or another sport I'll find the funds to get him special footwear. He's a good kid. Plus, I think he's getting sick of Ramen.

All that running around really wore me down. We did stop in the Target so he could get the Yu-Gi-Oh! cards he'd been anxiously awaiting to buy. He had money of his own in which to buy the cards. Plus, we needed a few household things that happened to be on sale.

So, that's my day. Rock and roll.


Thursday, September 10, 2009

Heavenly embrace

I've never been in a cemetery alone. In fact, I've only gone to them for funerals. Once my departure is made after the final word is said by the officiant, I don't return. Since I felt the dead can't talk back, what was the point?

Recently, there has been a small voice beckoning to me. Explaining this might make you wonder if I haven't been clobbered on the head or under the influence of some really cool pharmaceuticals. Merely admitting it might lead you to believe the previous is certain. However, I assure you I'm not a heavy drinker nor do I pop pills stronger than Ibuprofen.

Today after work, rather than turning left toward Aroma Park, I kept straight as I exited I-57 after work. For those of you who live or have lived in Kankakee, you know that Mount Calvary Cemetery was my destination. I wasn't 100% sure of where I was going, but I knew I'd find the grave-sites. The only living person on the premises, I wasn't scared. I didn't get the rippling shiver up my spine. The sun was resplendent. Overcome with a greater sense of calm and serenity than I'd felt in a very long time, I stepped from my car and took a short walk.

Tears fell as I gazed upon the headstones. I knew I was spiritually compelled to be there. Much needed conversations were held mother to mother; daughter to mother; aunt to nephew. I've babbled with my eyes turned toward the heavens with hopes of being heard, but today a language was spoken that only hearts and souls can comprehend.

It's difficult for me to fully express today's ethereal journey. One word will have to suffice.

Peace.

All I'll Ever Ask


All Ill Ever Ask - Joshua Kadison

Love means so many different things,
but you're all that matters,
and this is all I'll ever ask of you.

Tell me your dreams, so they could be mine too.
Let me be there, to help them come true.
Tell me your fears, when you feel afraid.
Come to my arms, let me rock them away.

That's all I'll ever ask.
That's all I'll ever ask.
That's all I'll ever ask.
Of you...

Come to my shoulder, when you need to weep.
Wake me up, when you cannot sleep.
Talk to me, when you want to be heard.
Be silent with me, when you can't say a word.

That's all I'll ever ask.
That's all I'll ever ask.
That's all I'll ever ask.
Of you...

I can't swear you'll never, have to cry another tear.
But whenever you want, someone to hold you, I'm always right here.

So just, come to me for anything at all.
Call my name, it's yours to call.
Feel my faith in you, when you can't find your own.
And always remember, you're never alone.

That's all I'll ever ask.
That's all I'll ever ask.
That's all I'll ever ask.
Of you...

I can't swear you'll never, have to cry another tear.
But whenever you want, someone to hold you, remember, I'm always right here.

That's all I'll ever ask.
That's all I'll ever ask.
That's all I'll ever ask.
Of you...

I wish that the entire song would play. If you're signed up at imeem.com, you'll hear the entire thing by clicking the link. This is the only copy of it that I can find online to share with all of you. It's a beautiful song. Joshua writes from the heart. His lyrics often capture that which many cannot put to words themselves. I don't have a lot to write about today and I found this song when I was in such a situation of not being able to put my feelings to words. Whether its for a friend, companion or a child, these words resonant beautifully. If you're not familiar with Joshua's work, I think you'll find a something in his catalogue that speaks to you.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Are you Gleeked!?

GLEE premieres tonight. I couldn't be more excited. Seriously, this is huge! I thought I'd missed it last night, but I didn't! My days are so confused with Labor Day. What a relief to hear the announcement on FOX this morning.

GLEE is a show about kids who are just like I was in high school. Though, I don't think as members of The Celebration Singers we were laughed at or regarded as doofuses. Maybe we were but didn't care. I've talked about this before on my blog. Without show choir, I didn't care about high school. That tightly knit group of kids who sang and danced on stage is what kept me sane.

While the football stars recall the glory days of making that touchdown at the last second, I recall the the thrill of learning harmonies and managing perfect choreography while singing my heart out.

I was no Rachel. Though, I longed to sing well enough to be given solos. When that didn't always happen, I still gave it my all.

I can relate to these characters.

Hi. My name is Marissa and I'm a GLEEK.


Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Celebrate the Date -- Me and My Desire

The date is 09-09-09. September 9, 2009. What better way to honor it than with music.



..but probably more commonly known tunage:

Monday, September 7, 2009

Lyrical Labor Day

Not everyone gets to have Labor Day off. I know that. I usually work it, but this year I asked to have it off. I like spending time with the Mancub. Actually, today feels like Sunday and yesterday felt like Saturday. Two days in a row off is like a mini-vacation in my line of work. Woo to the hoo!!

I went to youtube in search of a song all about working -- slaving away for the man. As tribute to the working women, particularly the single working mom (your's truly) I found another Donna Summer song I liked better. Does it have anything to do with working? Not so much. But it sang to me and now I want the melody to serenade you.

According to Wikipedia, this song is a cover. In 1981 it was originally performed by Jon and Vangelis (you remember him as the Chariots of Fire guy). Jon would be the lead vocalist for the band YES. Their take on the song is flirts with a Reggae sound. Now that the history is cleared up, here is State of Independence as performed by Ms. Disco Queen herself, Donna Summer.


Sunday, September 6, 2009

Pretties for my boobies

I've not given much attention to the subtitle of my blog. Well, I have discussed my life and love-ish stuff, but what's been tossed to the side like a raggedy pair of undies is my ongoing quest for the perfect bra.

There is a plethora of styles, colors and sizes available. The issue, as you all know, is perfect fit. I've made costly purchases only to be disappointed by the internal armor nearly impaling me when I make a sudden move. Or, regardless of measurements taken prior to ordering (I haven't found a store that carries ample cup size for Thelma and Louise), the cups sag and the band squeezes my rib cage. I blame being cranky on ill fitting brassieres. Or the band rides up, the straps leave indentations and my cups runneth over. Uni-boobs and quadra-boobs do not look appealing!

The last time I sought out advice regarding my hefty issue, I was directed to various websites. I received an email from one of the shop owners who had been featured in the Washington Post after I pleaded for help. I had forgotten that I signed up to receive catalogues from a lingerie company based in the United Kingdom. Bravissimo to the rescue!! Obviously, I won't be jetting over there for a private fitting, but it does give me hope. Not only do they offer lingerie for the big breasted woman, but they offer nightwear, swim suits, dresses and shirts. Cute shirts, too. Not some blousey ugly crap, either. None of that Omar's Tent and Awning --Mama Cass garbage. No, these are not your ordinary frocks. They are adorable and some have real support built in. The bodices are generously cut. Each size from 8 to 18 has a variance size of Curvy, Really Curvy and Super Curvy. What that means is if your typical street dress size is a 14, you don't have to order a size 18 to suit your bodacious tatas and then have it altered. Just order your normal size Super Curvy (or whatever the guide tell you). Typical clothing manufacturers offer a wide range of sizes for nighties and cute sleepwear, but there's an assumption that heavier women are just fat and don't also have enormous breasticles that require some underpinning. The cute city dresses that are so stylish have left me behind due to my bust size. Not to mention the straps aren't wide enough to disguise my bra. Plus, to fit my gazongas, I have to buy a huge size. I might as well put on a muumuu and call it a day. I have a waistline! Why can't clothing manufacturers get that through their thick heads?

The downside of using this company by method of trial and error is that items returned have to follow overseas shipping requirements. It sounds like a lot of red tape. If it's an exchange, they won't charge more for shipping to you. That's a good thing. However, nothing ventured; nothing gained. To be honest, I am really dying to buy a cute nighty and not have my teeots bobbling to and fro nearly strangling me in my sleep. Not to mention that Mancub doesn't need more reason to seek therapy. Seeing one's mother braless can leave an indelible, emotional scar.

What question needs to be asked is, why isn't a company like this available in the United States? Sure, there are countless websites for bras and swimwear, but I've yet to stumble upon one that includes clothing fit based on the same philosophy of Bravissimo's curvy, really curvy and super curvy. It is ingenious! They recognize that women come in every shape and size. Large breasts do not necessarily mean equally large waists. Because of these questions, I can't help but feel my mission in life isn't in creating quality eyewear, but delivering eye popping-life altering under garments and outer wear for the big boobied babe. Now, how to get this endeavor under way ...

photo borrowed from adland.com Bravissimo says they take pride in following Dove's Embracing Real Beauty campaign.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Please 'splain to me

Claiming to be a fashionista is not something you'll hear muttered from my pie hole. I wear what I can afford and what fits. Sometimes that's not necessarily a prerequisite. I know I'd benefit from a weekend with Trinny and Susannah (Making Over America -- TLC). Goddesses of fashion and self-love/body image affirmation.
With that being said, I often question what other people put on their bodies. Today was one of those occasions. Working in a mall affords me location and time to observe, unknowingly, passers by. Upon first glance I thought this woman in her mid twenties was sporting a fashion I thought ridiculous in the '80s -- unless you were a dancer or Jennifer Beals. What I thought I saw was leg warmers worn over thong sandals. Au contraire, mon ami! They were one piece boots. Sandal boots. I ask you, what the hell is the point? I wear sandals to avoid the whole sock issue! Summer = airy footwear.



I'm thinking that without use of stockings there'd be some unruly ankle sweat and chafing. Am I too practical to find the fashion value in this footwear trend aka debacle? Talk about cobblery schizophrenia! Does a tin of Gold Bond Foot Powder accompany each purchase? Should these rank on the chart of fugly with Uggs worn in summer (or anytime)?

Just like Bogie and Bacall

Guilty pleasures. Everybody has them. I suppose if you openly admit your love for something others consider cheesy, then it doesn't exactly leave you riddled with guilt. Feeling guilty about it would imply that you're filled with shame. I have very little shame. Just ask anybody who really knows me.

There are a few definitions of guilty pleasure on urbandictionary.com.
1. guilty pleasure

Something that you shouldn't like, but like anyway.
A cigarette every now and then is a guilty pleasure for me.

2. guilty pleasure

Something that you love to do, but you just cannot admit that you do it.
Guy 1: "DUDE, you still watch Pokemon?"
Guy 2: "WHAT? NO! Ok, I do, its my guilty pleasure.

3. guilty pleasure

n.
to describe a certain substance or activity a person enjoys, and often practises, while said person morally believed or is informed that the substance or activity is abnormal, improper or incorrect.

See more at: guilt, guilty, pleasure
Under some common believes, licking whipped cream from the body of their partners, anonymous sex, water sport, and basically anything involved with sexual activities, can be considered as guilty pleasures to some, while the rest just f'ing do it.

4. guilty pleasure

Keeping a secret collection of ABBA and Carpenters and listening to their albums when no one else is around.
I know it's a guilty pleasure, but those Swedish Babes in ABBA are my best girls.


With consideration to those definitions, this song no longer qualifies as a guilty pleasure. It's public and I don't hide that I like it. Why on earth would I, right? Let me 'splain sometin' to you, Lucy.

Songs are like aural time machines for me. If you've been hanging around this blog long enough you'll remember that I wrote a little diddy about it. What? You missed it? Here's a handy dandy link to help you out. This particular song isn't on the list. That's not a guilty pleasure playlist, by the way. It's just a list of songs that, in no particular order, hold meaning for me. When I hear certain melodies I am quickly taken back to a moment when the song was either playing or popular; therefore, giving me deja vu. It's sometimes eery. In fact, it's happening as I write this post.

When I was in my teens I suffered deja vu often. Daily. Multiple times in the day. I say suffered because it was menacing, at times. Now it rarely occurs. Perhaps now when they happen I just assume it is more related to hormones or pre-menopausal sweats.

I know I keep babbling about the reconnection I've made with a friend from school, but bear with me (or get over it -- my blog; my rules.) He and I went to prom together ... yeah yeah, HIM. That boy. The only boy who took me on a date and all that jazz. Everybody's first date is special. This first date involved formal wear, armpit sweat guarded taffeta and satin ballet slippers, mind you.

Anyway, the song was popular during the time this really cute, popular, super sweet boy asked me to prom (Spring 1982). It holds a place near and dear to my heart. The lyrics mention one of Hollywood's most famous couples -- Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. Whenever I'm listening to an oldies station and it comes on I get lost in time and it's a most delightful journey.

Picture This

I have received numerous additions to my photo play list. It's going to be phenomenal. I knew y'all wouldn't fail me. Some songs I have heard, but there are several that didn't ring a bell. When early in my life my dad advised me to surround myself with people who are fountains of information and more talented than I am, he was right!

I've been listening to the unheard songs as they stream in either here or on Facebook. Some are catchy while others are heartbreaking. Those fit, too. Our lifetimes are filled with joy, as well as, sadness or memories of happier times.

Last night friend and fellow blogger Angie Bailey recommended a song (These Photographs) by Joshua Radin. I was immediately hooked on his music. To be honest, whenever I saw that guy's name, I thought he was a former American Idol contestant booted early in one of the 8 seasons. Oops. There's no denying he's the prince of shmoopy and judging by the comments on his videos on youtube, he's the king of Grey's Anatomy and Scrubs. I am not ashamed to admit that I'm a chronic romantic -- even though I'm terminally single.

To offset the dreamy eyed romanticism of Mr. Radin comes the wicked guitar work on King Crimson's Frame by Frame recommended by the incredibly talented Douglas Arthur. Sprezzatura and Rupe contributed long lists that deserve mention. Their brains must work in unison as they posted around the same time with some duplicate suggestions. Scary. My groovy pally Jeff Hickmott over at World of Jeff surely didn't disappoint with his collection. He's been my guru of obscure and wildly fantastic music for many years.

The song that was most catchy to me this morning is one from Sprezzatura's list. My blog post title carries the name. With the deliciously talented and bewitching Deborah Harry at the helm, I give you Blondie!!




I dedicate this to Lydia because she deserves mucho positive mojo aimed in her direction. Love ya.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Looking so long at these pictures of you

I've been communicating with a very dear person over the last three weeks or so. Time has slipped by quickly as we correspond. Because it has been so long since we've seen each other, and really talked, it's only natural to exchange photos. Surely it has been over 20 years. Recent photos are mostly shared because of the ease of digital cameras.

Though there are a deeper lines on our faces, change in hair style (or color) and additional weight (me), one thing is remains the same. The smile and expressions that we developed early on in our lives remain evident despite the trials and tribulations we've encountered along the way. I do have to say he's even more handsome now than he was back then. I think maturity and life experiences add character to a person. Some of us don't wear our age well at all. My friend does.

Though I do seem to be doing more of the sharing, I hold out hope to some day have a mailbox filled with photos of him with the kids, pets, friends, etc...

What all this picture sending has done is make me curious about the number of songs written about photographs. In addition to the inspiration the photos I've exchanged with my dear friend has brought, my friend Rupe posted this video today on Facebook.



It's a really sweet rendition. If you're more interested in the Cure original, here's the link with lyrics.

I need help compiling a playlist featuring songs about pictures, snapshots, photos ... you get the idea. Here's my starter list:

Pictures of You -- The Cure
If -- Bread
Photograph -- Def Leppard
Turning Japanese -- The Vapors
Let Me Take Your Photo -- The Speedies
Photograph -- Ringo Starr
Pictures of You -- The Last Goodnight
Girls on Film -- Duran Duran
Snapshot -- Sylvia
Photographs and Memories -- Jim Croce

I know somebody will have a few more songs to throw on the playlist (Nickelback need not apply -- gack!) Help a sister out! Thanks a bunch.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Blah


Obviously from my previous post, I've had some weighty stuff on my mind. In general, I take things too much to heart. I'm not dwelling, but it makes writing in a lighthearted, humorous manner difficult.

I went in search of funny quizzes or questionnaires. Nothing jumped out at me. Often, I read friends blogs with hopes of being inspired. Reader's Digest couldn't give me any pointers, either.

Sometimes music proves to be of most comfort or a guide towards levity. Sigh. All that popped into my head was sappy songs. I just don't want to leave my blog sitting on the lamentation of my character. It's too heavy!

There's always the cop out of posting a video that I find humorous, but then I started getting a headache from scanning through the bowels of stupidity.

The most notable thing I can discuss about my day is that I burned the top of my thumb when checking the bottom crust of a pizza on the Pizzazz Pizza Oven -- which isn't an oven at all, by the way. Call me a dipstick for not thinking a metal pan would be surface of the sun hot after 12 minutes of rotating over a heating coil. Duh. Our pizza sort of looked like the one in the photo. At least this time I didn't rub my eyes after eating a slice with hot sauce on it. Yeah, I did that.

Mancub is sitting at the dining table working on his homework. Neither cat will leave him alone. It seems whenever he spreads out his work, one of them hops up on the table (dreadful beasts) and lays on top of his work. All freakin' day long they'll ignore a person. Then, when you least desire their presence, they insist on requiring your undivided attention. Jeez, sounds like my ex-husband. ::rimshot::

I can hear the television in the other room. There was just an advertisement for the Sandra Bullock, Bradley Cooper flick, "All About Steve." That's a name I have decided to steer clear of regarding dating. I've had horrendous luck with men named Steve. While I'm at it, the following names can be excluded from the potential mate grab bag: David/Dave, Duane, John (nothing but a monosyllabic pile of trouble), Julio, Chad, Al, Rick (exception to Mr. Springfield), Christian, and Bruce. No offense to those of you who might be all right guys who were unfortunately named. Prove me wrong and I might lift this ban based solely on moniker. On second thought, let's just play it safe.

I'll end this post of blah. I hear 2 Midol calling me. They sit right next to the milk chocolate candy bar that seems to be yelling louder. feh.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Coinkydink? Fate? Serendipitydoodah?

Today was laundry day. I failed to bring with me a book or some other reading material. I knew boredom would set in as I listened to the washer spin and dryers tumble. Everyone who normally occupies the laundromat on Tuesday hadn't arrived. No one to amuse me with their nonsense banter which I'd attempt to ignore or be annoyed by. There is never, ever, ever any reading material left behind by other patrons. Not even as much as a classified ad. As I poured fabric softener into the wash, what did I spy with my little eye? Reader's Digest. Hoo-to-the-ray!

I don't know about you, but I tend to thumb through a magazine by starting from the back. In RD, that means the feature The Last Laugh is my first laugh. As I backwardly flicked the pages, I stumbled upon the section called Quotes. This edition referenced a particular subject that caused that proverbial light bulb to off on over my noggin.

Why? Let me cryptically explain (can't go into detail -- work stuff)

Sometimes difficult situations cause you to look a little deeper into your persona. I didn't have an epiphany but something occurred that instigated some self examination. I think it's healthy to do this. This time it was by blunt force. It happens. When it does, I try to learn from it.
"It's always helpful to learn from your mistakes because then your mistakes seem worthwhile." ~ Garry Marshall
Making a mistake is easy, but admitting it is often difficult particularly when witnesses are involved and your ego hangs on by a gossamer thread. As I said, I can't go into detail, but I have done a lot of thinking, wishing for a time machine and, most importantly, examination of my ...............................
Character -- the willingness to accept responsibility for one's own life -- is the source from which self-respect springs. -- Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem
When I came to those pages, it was then that I realized that it wasn't just luck that the magazine was left behind. I was meant to read it -- read the quotes on and about character. I never want my integrity or character to be questioned. I realize that I can't control what other people interpret, but in my heart, I have to approach life with the best of my intentions and strength of character unquestioned. Yesterday left me unsettled. My hope is that it doesn't cast a disparaging shadow on the foundation of how others feel toward me. I am certain I can make right what was done improperly and it won't require a Quantum Leap.
"Any fool can criticize, condemn, and complain, and most fools do. But it takes character and self-control to be understanding and forgiving." -- Dale Carnegie, How to Win Friends and Influence People
I wrote that quote down and put it in my purse. I'm going to tuck it into my lab coat pocket. When I reach in I'll feel the sheet of note paper and be reminded of what I strive for and what I want to represent not only for myself, but for the company I work for.

I wish that I could thank the person who left his or her Reader's Digest sitting on the table at the Aroma Park laundromat. At the time they probably had no idea they forgot it nor what it could mean beyond quick reading between the wash and tumble dry. For me, it was a pivotal moment in my self-evaluation.