Saturday, January 30, 2010

Cover me ... there's some weird shit in here

In popular music, a cover version, or simply cover, is a new rendition (performance or recording) of a previously recorded, commercially released song...
Cover songs, in my opinion, should only be done if the artist is creative enough to maintain the integrity of the original but improve upon it. Most attempts are copy cat or diabolically atrocious. Case in point is the reason I am writing about this today.  I stumbled upon a Jonas Brothers' attempt at Aha's 'Take on Me." Really Joe, Kevin and Nick? I'm sure your fan base adore the invitation. Don't you love how the instrument playing brothers really rock out. Wooooo! Thrash that perfectly coiffed hair, boys.

Some covers outshine the original.  The artists own it like they wrote it. The following examples are such endeavors. Naturally, this is just my opinion, but if you disagree I would appreciate you just shut yer pie hole.  Oh, I will fight you ...

Katie Melua covers "Just Like Heaven" original by The Cure (yes, Rupe. You get a gold star for sharing this one.)
Johnny Cash covers "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails
The Holmes Brothers cover "I Want You To Want Me" original by Cheaptrick (thank you, Doug, for bringing this one to my attention recently.)
Jeff Buckley covers "Hallelujah" original by Leonard Cohen
Jimi Hendrix covers "Hard Days Night" original by the Beatles
Cyndi Lauper covers "Drove All Night" original by Roy Orbison
Adam Lambert's take on Gary Jules cover of "Mad World" originally by Tears For Fears
Willis covers "Word Up!" original by Cameo

While there are many remakes out there that are great, there is a vast number that are just horrid or plain freaktacularly weird renditions.
This one, for example, is not amongst the greats. It's ... strange.

Northern Kings have a truly scandalous version of "Don't Stop Believing" -- I don't recommend any hard core Journey or Steve Perry fans listen. Oh, bloody hell! Even if you've only heard the song once in your lifetime this version will have you reaching for a sharp instrument to jam into your earholes and follow with a dousing of isopropanol alcohol. It's as if Trans Siberian Orchestra and Queensryche had a late in life baby.

There are dozens of lists out there compiling the best and the worst, but I want your opinions. So, now it's your turn.  What's your favorite cover tune? Which ones made your skin crawl from the very first chord? (I'm looking at you, Madonna -- "American Pie" needn't ever be covered, bitch!)  I ask that you comment and leave links to your selections when possible.

UPDATE! My quest never ends to find the most shitarific covers known to man.  You must click the upcoming link and give a listen. I promise if you're looking for a means of choking up that hedonistic platter of food you had for lunch, this'll do the trick. 

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Are you pondering what I'm pondering?

One thing people should never ask me is where my thoughts come from. Sometimes crazy stuff just pops into my head and blurt! My internal filter often malfunctions. Without asking for opinion, I do believe I'm getting better at biting my lip.

With that being said, here are some random thoughts that jumped into my head thus far today:

  • Valentine's Day is coming up. Should I bother shaving my legs?
  • The whites of these organic eggs look vaguely familiar...are we sure they aren't orgasmic eggs?
  • Why are the hairs on my chin course and whiter than white?
  • Why do I change the ring tones on my phone? They are rarely utilized.
  • Did I really babble and giggle for 1.5 hours? I should write a note of apology
  • Man! My hands are really ugly
  • Oh bloody hell! Someone needs to suck up the imposter lady bug carcasses.
  • I wish I was cooler than being cool.
  • Pretty brides in pretty dresses. Bitches.
  • If I could fly I'd be there for lunch.
There you have it. Perhaps I should keep journal for my meandering ponderances. "Rambling thoughts for a babbling babe." Should this be a regular item on my blog? What'cha think?

Monday, January 25, 2010

This stuff is freaky deaky

Let me start out by stating that I in no way shape or form consider myself charming or delightful. There are periodic bouts of wittiness that might give me a sense of charm, but they are hit or miss. Also, I don't want what I write about to be completely based on my horriblescopes. That being said, Yahoo must have hired a new astrologer because the past week's postings have been eery.
That ordinarily charming way you have with words will be even more lethal now, so you should definitely be careful about flinging those casual comments around. You might think you're kidding around -- not really flirting, just teasing a little. But to them, you may be the best thing that's come their way since ice cream. Think before you speak, even if you're just being nice. This stuff you're putting out is easier to turn on than to shut off.

I am guided by my emotions; yet, I fight them at every turn. My Mr. Spock mentality tells me 'that is illogical' when my heart starts to flutter and the blood starts gorging elsewhere. Normally, hyper-analyzing is my forté. So, that means I don't permit my heartstrings to play a song ... at least I like to believe I don't. What do I do? And why can't I just let it all hang out and be free -- let go? Maybe, just maybe I need a tutor.

(image borrowed from Lindsay and Willis)

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Hangin' wit da homies

I woke earlier than I expected to. Staying up late last night was meant to assure me a sleep in.  WRONG! My nine and a half hour work day spent on my feet caused me much back distress.  Time on a heating pad helped a little, but a pain patch should have been applied before retiring to the Egyptian cotton fortress of comfort.

I'm a little sad to report that I have no dream recall.  There were a couple dreams that pushed me into awakeness and in spite of telling myself to remember them, it was for naught. I forgot when the pain in my back woke me. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow.

Since the coffee maker leaks more water on the counter than actually ends up in the pot -- making a horrible flavor of java -- I sit here considering throwing on a bra and my coat to make my way to the gas station for some of their fake cappuccino.  I stopped there yesterday for regular coffee. BLECH! Clearly they've not cleaned the spouts because it was bitter.  Spew! I'd buy a new coffee maker but I don't want to buy what I can afford presently.  Everybody is telling me to get a French press (sounds like a sexual maneuver to me) or a Keurig single cup. But if I'm not mistaken that means I have to buy the little coffee pods for the Keurig.  I don't want to be a slave to that racket.  When income tax refund makes it's happy little way into my account I'll splurge.

In my quest for amusement this morning I wandered over to view my horrorscope.  This is not so much interesting but worth posting:
What a decision! Do you hang out with the usual suspects, the friends who've been tried-and-true for years now, or follow your curiosity and spend some time with a whole new crew? Oh, and let's sweeten the pot by adding the obvious interest of a certain person who belongs to that 'whole new crew?' Well, now. This is where it gets interesting. Think you've got enough time and energy to spend on both? Sure you do. You're a fire sign!
Something I learned post high school was that I never managed to meld my old friends with the new. I, on the other hand, seemed to find a way to fit in to tried and true circles of friends. Yes, I'm that fucking fantastic that I can do that. Perhaps another super power? Ha!

I'm a fire sign.  OK. Truly, I have no real idea what that means in the world of astrology. I need coffee. That much I do know.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Analyze this

I recently subscribed to Sleep Talkin' Man. You may have seen him and his wife on various talk shows. The dude babbles some of the most crazy things while deep in slumber. I commented to a friend how I wished that my nocturnal rest was more colorful -- beyond snoring.  Then again, maybe I am but I've slept alone for so long no one has been around to tell me.

When I manage to remember my dreams, I have to admit, they are fairly colorful and twisted. Case in point: Last night my nighttime imagery brimming over with laughter due to a water fight.  If you're a dream analyst feel free to evaluate my psyche.

This involved me (a much thinner version per usual) and an adorable online, male friend.  We've never met in person. His cheeky comments make me smile and, well he's damn cute.  Now y'all can sit and wonder, "is it me!?" or "who the eff is she drooling over if it's not me?!?"

It's a spotty dream, to say the least, but what I recall is being in a kitchen that is not mine.  A modern layout. I can surmise that we'd just eaten and clean up duty was at hand.  We both burst into laughter when he turns the kitchen sink sprayer on full blast and aims it at me.  The hose on that was more like a garden hose than that of a sink. Giggling uncontrollably, I attempt to escape the spurting water, but he manages to follow me wherever I run in the domicile with the water on full blast.  All the while chortling until I fall to the floor, collapsing from exhaustion of laughter. I'm soaked from head to toe.  I look up at him and he has this expression of satisfaction.  Then, I woke up.

ARGH! I want to know what happened after I fell to the floor sopping wet. Damn it!  Oh well, I got up because I had to use the bathroom.  Shortly after returning to bed I went back into deep slumber. Surely I had more dreams but failed to have recall. 

Did I ever tell you about my Bill Clinton dream?

Thursday, January 21, 2010

I got da burnout blues

Ignoring that one particular individual who seems to have a talent for aggravating you won't be easy. You'll have to bite your tongue, smile falsely and force yourself to be totally different from the way you are. But why bother? Because you won't want the scar of a petty argument following your and your companions around for the entire evening. Don't worry. You can do the right thing without being untrue to yourself or letting them know they've gotten to you. Kill them with kindness -- tonight. Call them on it tomorrow.
That was my horriblescope for today, Thursday, January 21, 2010. I suspect it's a good thing I had the headache from hell and didn't go to work. Oh, I was supposed to help out my friend and former bossman at another store, but he was sweet enough to take pity on me in my moment of pain. I left work early yesterday thanks to the excruciating thumping going on in my cranium. I'm positive Wiley Coyote put an Acme Anvil on my face when I wasn't looking.  Plus, the roads were icy and, quite frankly I have no problem admitting this, I freak out in shit-tastic weather. I tense up and white knuckle grip the steering wheel.

There's a teachers' strike in Kankakee.  I don't get political on this blog; nor do I choose to be controversial. I babble about personal stuff.  Let me just say that I hope this comes to an end. My son is actually itching to get back to school.   Needless to say, my lame ass didn't realize that 'agree to negotiations' meant NO SCHOOL. The alert system I've subscribed to didn't send me the memo until an hour and a half after Mancub would start school. So, he woke up early, walked to the bus stop on the frozen terrain. The drizzling rain made it particularly slippery. Wet on ice. He came back home after a kindly striking teacher told him that school was not in session.  However, I did see a couple school buses out and about prior to sending him out. So, I don't totally suck. I have since subscribed to a back up alert system.
The authority figures you've been dealing with lately are quite happy with you -- not only with what you've done, but with the reputable qualities you've displayed. They're not quite ready to show that to you just yet, however. So you'll need to be patient, or at least fake it for just a little while longer. You won't have to pretend you're happy once they offer you a bit more responsibility, though -- and that's what's coming. Oh, admit it. You just love this. Get some sleep. You'll need it.
I'm having a hard time believing Friday's horriblescope (above). If I have ever run from responsibility in the workplace it is now. There are changes that I'm indifferent towards. I do what I have to in order to remain employed. But if burnout had a face in the dictionary it would be mine. I've been more than honest with how I'm feeling, too. Maybe that's not a wise choice, but there are no challenges on the horizon. Oh, it's mighty challenging to endure some of the day to day dingbattery. We all have it, but some take more than their daily dosage of the ding-a-ling pill.

I'm going to take one bit of advice in my horriblescope, though.

Get some sleep. I DO need it.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

With great power ... and all that jazz

  • Life is good, love is grand and the world is a wonderful place to be. One of you has finally gotten up the courage to mention exactly how you feel and the other has responded with an enthusiastic 'me too!' There's no catch, either. For the next few days, if not weeks, you'll be right on top of the world -- and when you're happy, everybody's happy! Be sure to spread the good feelings around. It's only fair.

That's my horriblescope for today. The 'you' portion is crystal clear, but is the 'other'? Do ya? Do ya love me, huh? Stopping reading these things would be most advisable, no doubt.  One thing speaks volumes in all the babbling from the heavens: "When you're happy, everybody's happy!"  Truer words never spoken. Just ask my coworkers and they'll confirm this.

The concept of me sharing these good feelings by way of spreading them around has me concerned. If I'm feeling good and happy then, by association, everybody else in the vicinity is happy. Therefore, my work here is done and no additional work is required, correct? 

Being off today and tomorrow will surely ring in some joy and happiness.  The boy and I might see Avatar.  I read a report that some people experienced malaise once the movie ended and they returned to their day to day agendas.  But with me having power to spread good vibes wherever I go, surely that won't happen -- right? It's written in the stars, damn it. This is a heavy task -- making the world a happier and brighter place. Maybe that's my super power. *snort*

Monday, January 11, 2010

The cats are on to us

I had a terrible night's sleep last night. Mancub and I learned awhile ago that the key to sleeping soundly is locking our furry companions downstairs. It's not as if they are being sequestered to the dungeon-like Silence of the Lambs basement. They have run of the living and dining room, bathroom and kitchen. While they get into nocturnal mischief, we sleep with little to no disruption.

But not last night.

Silver is in heat which means she's howling loud enough to signal male cats in a neighboring counties that she's primed and ready ... if they can get at her, that is. Neither cat has ever been outdoors. As a result, they don't attempt to dash out the door even when they want to get their feline groove on.

Our usual tactic of luring them from my bedroom -- their common sleeping spot -- did not work last night. We have cat treats that leave them Jonesing. Mo-mo has been known to knock the little bag off the shelf and attempt to gnaw her way into it. She'll also bully Silver to get her portion.  Yes, she's a hog and the queen of the domain.  I'm foolish to believe this is my castle.  Anyway, shaking the bag will typically send them careening downstairs obediently *cough*.  This has been a successful manner of giving us just enough time to escape to hall and close the door behind us.

Last night was different ...

Mo-mo barely raised and eyebrow as she lounged in "her" chair that resides in the corner of my bedroom.  Silver meandered half way down the steps but stopped.  If I took a step in her direction she'd get on her haunches ready to sprint up the steps.  Mancub had placed two treats on the lower steps. Out of view, she crept toward the chickeny reward, but her keen hearing told on us.  She's sleek and nearly impossible to catch.

Queen Bee Mo-mo isn't usually loud. She's polite about letting me know she needs to go downstairs when she gets locked upstairs with me. She hops on my bed and lets out a sweet mew and stares at me until it appears that I'm awake.  Then, she cautiously follows down the steps. She won't go to the door until I open the door. Often, if we've been successful getting Silver locked out, she'll be waiting on the window sill behind the curtain. Then, woosh! Before I know what's happening she's bolting up the steps. ARGH!

Last night we weren't successful.  We just hoped they'd forget they were nocturnal and sleep or find amusement downstairs.  We. Were. Wrong.

Deeply slumbering (and likely snoring) I was jolted awake by the caterwauling of dear Silver.  She was spastically rushing the stairs. That fortunately made it easy to get her downstairs. She continued with her guttural groaning as the latch clicked behind me.

On to sleep.  NOT!

At 4:30 (keep in mind I awaken between 5:30 and 6:00) Mo-mo in her tender manner ... mew. mew. mew. She's a big cat but has the sweetest meow when she wants something.  Without hesitation she joined Silver and I managed to get back to sleep quickly.

Mancub came in my room and I lay there motionless when he put his hand on my shoulder to awaken me.  Fifteen minutes later I shuffled to greet my son.  I have little recollection of what took place between that time and the time I returned to bed ... for TWO or more hours of sleeping.

Now I feel groggy and loopy.  These cats are smart. They are on to us.  We need a new method.

Is your cat plotting to kill you?

Sunday, January 10, 2010

No! Really. I have nothing to say

Please accept my apologies.  I've not been diligent about writing. Sometimes the mood just doesn't strike. How other people write daily is beyond me.  To those of you who check my little corner in the blogosphere for new material, I am dutiful sorry for my absence.  It will happen again so I won't make empty promises I cannot keep.

With that being said, my creativity is still lacking.  Blame the bitter cold.  In the thirty minutes that I've been at my computer the temperature has actually dropped two degrees.  Currently we have a reading of -11°F.  Yes, that is a negative sign sitting arrogantly in front of the eleven.  I walked to the post office and little grocer yesterday. I thought it was foolish to warm up the car for just a 2 block hop, skip and a jump.  My tushy, in spite of all the blubber layering, didn't manage to lose the chill for a couple hours. What's really shocking is that my fingers and toes didn't lose circulation and turn deathly white.  The vascular gods were with me in my somewhat foolish endeavor.

Wow! For a gal with nothing to say I sure as hell babbled on.  What's really on the agenda today is this meme I found on Ms. Janey's blog, Confessions of a Middle-Aged Suburban Diva.

1. Do you have a former lover who you feel is “the one who got away”?
Well, he was never a lover, but in hindsight he's most definitely the one that should have been.  But I was young. I had no clue how to be a girlfriend and my emotions were all spent on losing my mother.

2. Do you have a nickname? If yes, do you like it?
My original nickname that was present on some things my dad had written was Rissy. Which I would have preferred because none of the neighborhood kids' grandma's had a schnauzer named that. Instead, my family called me Missy. Only family members and some very close friends can call me that and not cause me to cringe.  Now people call me Riss or Rissa. Neither of which I mind. I joke around that you can call me whatever you want, but never call me a bad mother.

3. Did you go to theater, museums, or art galleries growing up?
Without a doubt. Living an hour or so from Chicago always made field trips exciting.  The Museum of Science and Industry was a regular staple for grade school kids.  The smell of the Mold-A-Rama Lincoln heads being formed is embedded in my nasal cavity.  In sixth grade I was fortunate enough to see The Nutcracker Suite at McCormick Place with classmates.  I remember going on a Saturday. It was really a thrill.
Though I have no distinct memory of it, I'm sure we went to the Art Institute of Chicago and various other art museums. My father had attended art school. So it would seem logical that he'd want his children exposed to the culture, as well.

4. What shoes are you wearing right at this moment?

From Wildhair

5. What do people who know you think is your best feature?
A better question is: What's not to love about you? HA! OK, seriously, I know my boobs are not something that can be ignored. That doesn't make them my best feature. Hell, I don't know. I used to have great hair. Now it's blah and thinning but I don't know that other people notice it. My smile? Is that too common? Hell, you tell me. What's my best feature?

From Wildhair
6. What do you like on your pizza?
Veggies and more veggies. I can do without meat.  The crust should be hearty enough to withstand the weight of the toppings, but not so thick that it's the only thing you taste. In fact, I don't even require red sauce as the base.  Olive oil infused with garlic and other aromatic herbs is even better. Then. layer on the vegetables and a healthy amount of cheese. By healthy I mean pile it on.

7. Do you believe people who curse generally do so because of a lack of vocabulary?
Cursing is akin to saying "like" and "ya know what I mean?" or "dude!"  In those instances I do believe it may be a lack of learned vocabulary skills.
However, I curse because I can. I'm more prone to swearing when I'm ridiculously pissed off and on a rant or I'm comfortable with the company I'm keeping.

8. How well do you sing?
I do all right for myself. I suck at Karaoke. When I do it I suddenly become Bill Murray's SNL character Nick Winters: Lounge Singer. Put me in a choir and that's where I seem to shine. 

From Wildhair

9. How well do you get along with your family?
As long as there is Facebook, email and texting I'd say we'll be just fine.

From Wildhair

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Stop with the Snuggies

I have to admit that I wish I had the inclination and ingenuity to invent an item that would earn me millions. From atop my pile of money I'd laugh with a hearty snort as I watched the fools purchase my idiotic yet ingenious product.  The SNUGGIE is one such item. Stop. It! Stop slobbering all over them and having parties and wearing them in public.  They are enormous, fleece hospital gowns. To those of you who piss and moan about pajama bottoms being worn as outer wear yet applaud the Snuggie, you should be ashamed.

If you've purchased a Snuggie for yourself or a loved one (really, how much do you love them? What's next? Arsenic Lolli-pops?), you are to watch this video and follow their lead.  This is what happens when you succumb to the Snuggie phenomenon.

Several news channels are putting these suckers to the test. The verdict? Other than the obvious, is that they need to be washed alone or everything in your wash and subsequent washes will be covered in the fuzz.  I go to a laundromat. I swear if my clothes come out of a cycle covered in hot pink fuzz I'm going ballistic.

Sunday, January 3, 2010


A few years back when my 20th high school reunion was being organized, I joined At that time it was really the best way to keep current with the ongoing plans.  I'm quite certain free sites like Facebook and Myspace weren't around or, if they were, they were in their infancy stages. Being part of had one major problem: I had to cough up funds to be granted full access to information and contact with friends.  That grated my nerves, but I assumed it would be worth the investment.  My gold membership was maintained for a couple of years but contact with former classmates was incredibly limited. I didn't attend the 20th reunion due to a personal cash flow problem. Ironic, isn't it?

With Facebook -- and once upon a time, Myspace -- being a social networking mecca (sorry Clark), it would seem that would realize that if people don't have to pay to reconnect, they won't.  Yet, this morning I received a notification that someone had signed my guestbook.  I clicked the link only to find that the person's identity was blocked and their image fuzzed over like those you see on COPS.  If I wanted to see who, what, where, when and why I need to dole out the cash.  No thanks.

What I also discovered about that website (when I was foolish to pay) is that you can't include email addresses or websites (such as a personal web log) in your correspondence.  Seriously! If you communicate with a person who is not a paying gold member you're not allowed to give them your email address to cut out the middle man.  I also find the site quite irritating to navigate.  There ought to be real perks to anteing up money for membership to a website. Like, how about making the boy who rejected my invitation to go to Winter Ball by claiming he wasn't going but went stag , to add insult to injury, come to my house and re-grout my shower?

Nearly everyone I know is on Facebook -- even our parents are signing up.  Some people choose not to be part of this phenomenon (yes, PK, I'm looking at you).  I can dig it.  Likewise, I'm one of few people who are not on Twitter. I have to disconnect at some point and I draw the line there.  Besides, I couldn't give two-rat's asses about John Mayer or Perez Hilton's goings on. I digress.

Because I use Facebook quite frequently (too often according to an egomaniacal blogger/podcaster) to pimp my blog, get in touch with friends -- replies are often quicker than if sent via email -- I have no use for  That means I took advantage of the unsubscribe feature today.  I'd leave a forwarding email address or link to my Facebook profile for those that rely on the site, but that's VERBOTEN! Psh. Once again, I feel relieved of a little more fat in my life. At least it's one less inane email in my yahoo mailbox. 

Friday, January 1, 2010


It's a new dawn. It's a new day. It's a new life (for me) and I'm feelin' good.

2010 is here.  It seems only yesterday that I was making my first ever video blog!  Where did the time go?  Rehashing the year that has passed is not the intention of my rambling today.  You've been surfing the waves of 2009 with me.

Many people set goals for the coming new year.  The most common amongst those are to lose weight; stop smoking.  Perhaps a few will commit to donating time to charity or something similar and selfless.  But not me.  Oh, you can bet your sweet tushies that I'll be raising funds and walking in the Relay for Life.  Mancub has full intentions of being an Easter Seals Champion even though he's no longer in Beta Club (due to change of school).  He's going solo and I couldn't be more proud. What I'm referring to, personally, is that I am not setting a goal to lose weight and the like. My Rissolutions will be soul driven.  My life requires enrichment that may not be seen to the naked eye.  A friend of family member who hasn't seen me for a long while might not recognize, immediately, the change as they might if I dropped 50 pounds.  This endeavor is ongoing, but my belief is that I'll feel hundreds of pounds lighter by being tenacious in my quest.

My Rissolutions are as follows:
  • Be less critical of myself
  • Make a conscious effort to be kind -- even to those whom I outwardly do not like
  • Let go of preconceived notions about people regardless of how well I think I know them
  • Sideline anger
  • Embrace forgiveness
This quest is not me attempting to emulate Mother Teresa or Gandhi.  Though my ego is frail, it's not enormous enough to assume I could ever be that gracious.  I do, however, believe that the Rock of Gibraltar sized chip I carry around with me will be reduced.  Thereby, I'll be happier internally and a hell of a lot more fun to be around in all facets of my life. 

These Rissolutions might seem like major league tasks, but the results can be infinitely profound. Additionally, the process is on-going. I won't have to beat myself up by a specific date if, let's say, the scale tells me that I've undershot my goal. There is no means of measuring this.  I cannot fail!

Moon over AP

If you've kept up with my blog lately you'll know the moon affected me on New Year's Eve. It's as good of a reason to use as another, anyway.

This morning I shuffled into my kitchen to get the elixir of life coffee brewing.  Curious if there had been additional snowfall while my brunette head bonded with the Egyptian cotton pillow case, I spied out my kitchen window.

Photos were a must. For once, I was almost sad to see the sunrise.