Random Crap From My Dresser Mess
or cleaning for company


Okay, so by now you all know what a lousy housekeeper I am. My surroundings are, um.... cluttered to say the least. June Clever I am not. Every time I clean, I mean really CLEAN, I vow to keep things in order and not let the mess pile up into a beast large enough to consume me and Geo in one gulp. 


For the first couple of weeks I keep my promise to myself by conscientiously keeping my digs tidy, especially my dresser top which is a magnetic catch-all for the multitudinous scraps of paper generating forth from my being. Alas. By the second week the inevitable happens and my dresser becomes an unrecognizable mound of notes, coins and expired coupons. 


And then I start to hate myself a little...


*Sigh*


Major FAIL!


Anywho, I invited friends from work to come over tomorrow for drinks and snacks on the deck. So, naturally I wait until the day prior to start the gargantuan task of making the house respectable. I decided to clear my dresser first. I don't know why. It's not like we're going to be hanging out in my bedroom or anything. Still, this is what I found stashed on the right half:

copious collected crap

Lots and lots of worthless little scraps which mock my very existence. Here's the bounty this month:

1. receipts from purchases at Kohl's, Bed Bath & Beyond and Macy's for things I HAD to have only to realize later...meh, not so much. I have been frantically looking for these by the way.
2. Not one, but three expired free Cheesecake Factory cheesecake cards, expired MacDonald's game prize monopoly piece (from February), expired Kohl's 15% coupon (also from February), expired Cultural District membership card
3. missing Kohl's charge card AND Kohl's merchandise credit card! Double Word Score!!
4. Couple random email addresses/website addresses - for which again I've been searching
5. song titles by the Weepies and Gugenheim Grotto I wanted to look up on iTunes
6. notes about what to pack for SXSW (from March)
7. Christmas list from my Card Club grab bag recipient (pathetically from last year)
8. several notes about new electronics from our Latest Technology segment on PTL
9. directions on how to plot an arc on the robotic cameras (I should probably keep this somewhere safe, you know... like on my dresser)
10. Two words: Willie Nieswonger  (*snort* Come on. That's just funny)
11. Notes of random thoughts that pop into my skewed mind such as: 

"Help! I'm getting sucked into the Christmas riptide!"
Overheard in the control room: "Can't you just punch him in the box?" (that still makes me giggle)
and the beginnings for a past, never written blog about Take Your Imp to Work Day I jotted down while in the car that's kinda funny. I might actually write it posthumously so act surprised when you read it some time in oh...late 2020.


So the big question is why are there so many tidbits scribbled on torn pieces of paper scattered all over the dresser. Isn't that what the Moleskin notebook and recorder are for?


I know, right? But try telling my psyche that. She just won't listen. Between me and you, I think she's a little S-L-O-W. 


Now if you excuse me, I have to go mine the other "Catch-all Hell" known as our sofa table. If I'm not out in 30 minutes, send a search party.

In Which Nobody Expects The Spanish Inquisition Especially At The Gas Station?

Okay, so there are these things called "Fuel Perks". What it is is --wait, that looks really weird, doesn't it... "it is is"? Anywho-- What it is is for every $50 you spend at a certain grocery story, i.e. Giant Eagle, you earn 10 cents off each gallon of gasoline. The more you spend on groceries, the more you save at the pump. It's just another way to lure mindless lemmings like me to shop in their store. Honestly I think free cocktails dispensed at the checkout would work just as well on me. Besides, how fun would that be? Seriously. Somebody should get on that.

But I digress...

I needed gas...and my tank was empty, too. Budda Bing! It's all self-serve here in the lovely Commonwealth, so I drive my bad self on up to the pump and start the process, following the prompts on the read out:

Gas Pump: Do you have an Advantage Card?  yes or no

Me: Yes

GP: Please swipe your card

Me: *swipes card*

GP: You will save $.50 per gallon today. Would you like to use your fuel perks?  yes or no

Me: Hellz yeah!

GP: Please insert payment card

Me: Okay, but that's gonna hurt a little. Ha Ha! *Snort!* I crack myself up. *slides debit card*

GP: Debit or Credit

Me: Credito Muchacho

GP: Do you want a car wash? yes or no

Me: *sigh* No, thank you.

GP: Would you like a sandwich from our "Made to Order" counter? yes or no

Me: What? *bigger SIGH* NOoo

GP: Hot enough for ya today?  yes or no

Me: ???

GP: Is that your real hair color? yes or no

Me: Wait.. What did you say?

GP: Does this handle make my pump look big? yes or no

Me: *blink blink* Well, now that you mention it--

GP: Do you REALLY believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone? yes or no

Me: No, not at all, but...what the HELL does that have to do with filling my f**king tank?!?

GP: Nice. Do you kiss your Mother with that mouth?  yes or no

Me: *gasp* Maybe I'll kiss the side of your metal ASS with that sledge hammer I have in the back of the car!! (don't ask) What do you say to that, Smart Shit? huh?

GP: Ooooo. You're a feisty one. I like that. Would you like to go out for coffee? yes or no

Me: Wha..Grrrr.. DUDE! I just want to get some effing gasoline and get the Hell out of here before I turn 100!! Besides, pah-LEASE, you are totally NOT my type. Pffft!

GP: If I said you have a nice chest, would you hold it against me? yes or no

Me: What the EFFF?!?! Are you retarded? Did you not just hear what I said. What is with all the questions anyway? I've been standing here so long, I have cobwebs growing off of me! Come ON! You got my flipping credit card number, just start the damn pump already before I---
GP: Shhh! Shhh! Shhh! The manager's coming. Just act natural.

GP: Please choose grade and begin refueling

Me: * blink blink * (looks around in disbelief ) What the?!

GP: I said... PLEASE. CHOOSE. GRADE. AND. BEGIN. REFEULING...NOW
(that last word was spoken through its little pointy, brown, rotting teeth. and dude, you need a breath mint--badly)

Me: *gives my best sideways skunk eye* You are one evil, evil bastard.


I am not making this up. Okay, maybe a little, but I swear to God by the time you pass the IQ test and get to the part where you can actually start filling your gas tank, you've taken another trip around the sun.

Ain't modern technology grand, and oh-so-convenient.

UGH!

or just.. Ugh!

Okay, so I've been really lax around this here blog 'o sphere. Sorry. Or maybe you've been enjoying my absence and I should say you're welcomed.

Anyways, a couple of Saturdays ago I went to a concert featuring local favorites, The Clarks. Salim Nourallah--of Old 97's producer fame--refers to them as the Beatles of Pittsburgh. He produced the lead singer, Scott's last solo effort. The band are regulars on our little dog and pony morning show, PTL. They're great guys. Always pleasant, usually on time, unflappable when things don't always go correctly.

What? You're surprised there are snafus at work? We don't call it the Special K for nothing.

Anywho, I've never seen them perform in front of an audience, or in this case a ginormous mass of adoring humanity spewing heaps of unconditional love. These mild-mannered gents hit the stage like rock stars! It was fabulous. You could feel the love emanating from the eager crowd. Everyone (except me) was singing along to every song, so much so that in at least five songs Scott just stood back and let 'em sing it. They were putty in his hands, man. These folks were rapt. Hanging on his every word. Cheering & squealing to his every strut. Crowd surfing.

Yes. Crowd surfing. At a pop concert.

(Note to self: Young people's heads are very hard, both literally and figuratively)

Turns out they're kind of a big deal. A REALLY big deal. Who knew?

They are HUGE FUN! The evening was terrific. The pre-concert deluge of hair-ruining rage ended at the exact moment The Spring Standards (you know, my fantasy hubby's little project) took the stage and it remained gorgeous all through the night until the last cheer echoed off Mt. Washington.

Sounds like a well spent evening, right? So what's with all the Ugh at the top of this mess of a post you might ask. You may. Go ahead. Ask away. I'll wait...

Well, it happened during one of the last songs from the penultimate band, Good Brother Earl. I was recording GBE when I heard an altercation between the Cougars to my left and an obviously drunk kindergartner behind me.

Cougar: Oh no you are NOT standing in front of me. I've been here for two hours. That is NOT going to happen. (shakes her head sideways in a girlfriend gesture)

Drunk Chip: witshoyehlso soeihsoe blah blah blah!?!!! *@$#

C: I am not kidding. Get back or I will call security to drag your boney ass out of here. (sound of Wolverine claws springing out)

DC: Wha?! You cahn't do that, bitch. I cahn be wherev--blah blah blah yap yap yap

I really don't know what she said there. She was so incoherent she was speaking in freaking tongues.

Then all of a sudden I was knocked forward. Okay. I gave DC the benefit of the doubt and let her have a pass. She's drunk, right. Her busting into me was probably an accident.

Then the wild-ass bee-yatch reared up and gunned it for my back, sending me into the kid in front of me. WTF?!?

And that's when it happened.

Me: STOP IT! RIGHT NOW!!!

 

* Sigh *

I am officially 50.

To make it worse, I looked her 15 year old boyfriend in his scared, saucer eyes and said, "You need to remove her NOW!" Cowering, he replied "I'm trying, Ma'am."

Ma'aM...

Double UGH!

I went from hipster doofus to crusty octogenarian in ten seconds. That inebriated idiot brought out my Mom-i-tude, and I have been trying to shove her and her f*cking Mommy jeans back in that steamer trunk ever since. You're not taking me alive, Sucker!!

(gun cocks *BLAST*)

The funny thing is when you crank the volume you can hear my spiral into June Cleaver territory at the end of this video.

in which I become my Mother *sigh*

The Spring Standards working their multi-instrument magic

The Clarks big time sing along (On Saturday) See...They ARE kind of a big deal.

True Believer

How about a little BadFinger, Scarecrow?

True to form at my summer concerts this year, they ended their set with a cover. This time it was Louis Armstrong's Wonderful World

It was an exhilarating evening filled with booty-shaking tunes and good karma, you know, once the drunken adolescent was escorted out.

As for Mrs. Mommy-Jeans, I think she's safely tucked away for now. I lured her into the basement with the smell of tequila and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. She should be good for awhile.

But be forewarned...Don't be violating my space at a venue or I will unleash the ugly-ass hound that is my Mommy-tude. She bites.

Friday video

Who is this youngster?

Like you had to guess...

Okay, so in preparation for the July 18th return of my favorite boys, the Old 97's, here's a video someone on twitter found of Mr. Dreamy at the tender age 32 year old. Her post was quite the funny:

Her and a lot of other girls. Such power he has. Ha Ha!

I have no idea if the link above will work so you can click here to watch my honey. And because I love him so, here are a few more stills not to be passed up.

July 18th!

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAL!!!

Look. He's blowing me a kiss. *smooch* right back at ya, Baby!

And At the End Of The Day, She Was Happy
or how I spent a near perfect day

Okay, so I need to check my hororscope from yesterday, because from start to finish it was a rare perfect day.

Seriously. All the planets and stars must have been in harmonious alignment.

So here's how my day transpired:

Without realizing I managed to pack the day with one social outing after another. As I posted on both Facebook and Twitter, being a social butterfly is why nothing gets done at my house.

Then again, when I die I doubt I'll wish I had cleaned more.

1. The morning started out with a breakfast meet up at Pamela's (yes, that Pamela's of President Obama fame) with a former Special K compadre, Lori and her infinitely adorable, chubby-cheeked 6 month old cherub, Carson. Naturally I was running late, but I managed to catch every green light on the way to and through town. A miracle unto itself. Really. There are like nine traffic lights that can turn a ten minute jaunt into a 25 minute trek through tedious traffic trauma.

2. Then I found a non-metered spot in the notoriously parking-challenged Strip District without having to make the compulsory laps around the block waiting for Grandma Tippy Toe to slowly load her two bags of produce into the back seat of her 1950 baby-blue Buick tanker, craaaaaaawl in behind the steering wheel, breath like a thousand breaths, solicit the help of a passerby to help her turn the key in the ignition, creep out of the space at negative 10mph only to stop halfway out to retune her radio to pre-WWII and OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST MOVE THAT BOAT OUT OF THE WAY ALREADY!!??!!

But like I said, that didn't happen. I pulled up, jumped out and waltzed into the diner on time.

3. After filling up on pancakes and soul-soothing, cuddly-baby goodness I got a phone call the plastic thingie that prevents the car door from flying back and severing your limb while trying to disembark when parked on a hill, was in. Woo Hoo!

4. Headed to the South Side to see Mates of States perform at an in-stuido at WYEP. Was running late for that too. Again I won the battle of excessive stop sign/doofus driver syndrome AND found a parking place in front of the station, another parking-challenged section of town.

Double Word Score!

I made it to the show with 10 minutes to spare. Long enough to keep up the Pittsburgh tradition of always talking to strangers by befriending (for the hour anyway) a lovely young woman who was also there alone.

5. I got out of the studio early enough to head to the dealer with enough time to wait for the repair and still make it home in time to greet my Friday Koffee Klatch gal pals. Again, no traffic glitch to speak of. It was as if the Traffic God Parkwayus Westeris was splitting the sea of sedans in anticipation of my arrival.

Oh and did I mention the repair was covered completely under the warranty?

Triple Word Score!

6. Had a most delightful afternoon noshing on homemade sour cherry cobbler, drinking iced coffee floats with chocolate ice cream and kibitzing with the gals on our back deck oasis under a beautiful cloudless blue sky.

7. Took a walk around the block and engaged in not one, but two wonderful conversations with a couple of my favorite neighbors.

8. Then to top it off, Geo, who has been working literally every day for the last five weeks, actually came home a little early! We fixed a couple of dandy cocktails--Bloody Marys to be exact--chilled out on our deck and actually spent a few hours catching up while soaking up the peaceful ambience of this exquisite summer evening. (Cue a couple of freaking Disney birds tying ribbon in my mop top.)

AND I didn't have to cook dinner because Geo brought home chinese food. :-)

Game. Match. And an extra 35 points for going out on a BINGO.

See what I mean? Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

I wish I could bottle yesterday and store it on a shelf so I can uncork it to shower myself with happy times when life decides it would be fun to pull my hair and kick me square in the proverbial nuts you know, for grins.

So tell me. What was your last perfect day like?

Congratulations to Jon!!

Okay, so last Thursday something huge happened. My nephew Jon graduated from high school...with honors.

All of you out there in the possession of teenagers might laugh to yourselves and think, "Well, yeah. It's a struggle to get teenagers to pass their classes what with all the hormones raging and age-appropriate drama, but really what's the big deal."

What makes last Thursday a big deal, a really BIG deal is Jon has Autism. He graduated from a regular, public school...with honors.

It makes me tear up a little.

Autism is a weird affliction. There are so many levels from complete nonverbal incapacitation to a minor tick of repetitive behavior. Jon falls somewhere in the lower third.

When he was born he wouldn't allow anyone to hold him except his mother, my sister Vicki. We thought it was just a phase he'd grow out of.

When he got a little older, Vicki and Tony had to go out of town on business leaving Jon in the care of our Mother, Big Mar. He was inconsolable. Finally after three days, Jon formed an attachment to my Mum--a bond which is strong to this day--but wanted nothing to do with the rest of us.

Still we thought it was just something he would grow out of.

He wasn't talking at all by age two. But we attributed it to being a boy, because, you know, boys are slow to speak sometimes especially if others (his sister) are willing to interpret for him.

Again, we thought he'd grow out of it.

What really raised the red flag was his complete disinterest in opening Christmas presents at almost three years of age. That is just not normal at all. No child at that age can contain his excitement over Santa's pay load. That's when we all started to believe there was something off about Jon.

But how do you tell your sister there's something wrong with her child without breaking her heart?

Understandably Vicki was annoyed and made excuses for his behavior. Nobody wants to believe her child isn't perfectly healthy like other children, like her other child. But within six months she had Jon tested and found out the truth. And when she finally accepted the diagnosis, she worked her ASS off to find the best help available to teach Jon to speak, communicate and function like any other kid. She continues to be his advocate and push him. Frankly, she's amazing.

All those years of tutoring have paid off. Jon expresses himself very well, has opinions now and has a great sense of humor. He can be really funny. Some of the stuff he says is absolutely hilarious! He has a few Autistic traits involving repetition and behavioral borders that take a little understanding, but hey, don't we all have parameters? Most of the time he acts like a typical teenager only with a little less hostility. Ha ha!

And now he's graduated from high school and headed to Community College.

He has come so far.

Jon is where he is today because his family loved him enough not to baby him, but treat him like any other kid. They all had a hand in shaping his success. That includes his sister tormenting him. He's an amazing kid.

Who knows what the future will hold for Jon over the next couple of years. As Regi so gracefully stated in her own blog about her brother, "There was enough hope for him to graduate from high school, there should be enough for him to graduate from college, wouldn't you agree?"

Agreed.

In Which I Sing (off key) The Phrases Of Ingrid Michaelson

Okay, so I'm on a roll here with the music at this year's Arts Festival. Thursday night I hit the river rowing, then hightailed it to town immediately after to catch Ingrid Michaelson perform FOR FREE at the Festival.

I'm familiar with several of her songs, their catchy melodies and slightly off lyrics, but I really had no expectations about her showmanship. So I headed for the park, in all my post-rowing smelliness (more on that at the end) in hopes of spending a lovely evening outdoors listening to music. I had no idea what I was in for.

Wow!

Really...

WOW!

She was so entertaining! I had no idea. Her band of two girls and three guys perfectly accompanied her adorable ukulele. From the onset, she engaged the packed crowd of devotees--who stood from the first note to her last wave-- with energetic renditions, charming tales and witty banter. This young woman in her Lisa Loeb inspired spectacles is funny with a capital F.U.N.! She had the crowd eating out of the palm of her hand. Everyone was singing along to virtually every song. She even had the rapt audience doing silly hand gestures to her choruses.

Dude. When was the last time you ever saw white males, young or old, willingly do hand gestures to music? High-Lar-Ious! Oh the power she has.



Here she is in Berkley playing with the audience.

And boy, the pipes on this young lass!

Holy crap!! Her voice is gorgeous! Clear. Strong. Effortless. I swear she can span at least 28 octaves. I know. That's impossible, but you get my drift, right? Right? She's that amazing.

You and I... live in Albany

Everybody ... again live in Albany

Maybe... live from Webster Hall

Last one. Promise. Far Away.. live at Webster Hall. She's so good with the crowd.

Clearly, she loves what she does.

Remember how I said every band I've seen has ended with a cover? Well the lovely Ingrid was no exception. Her contribution was a take on Britney Spears' "Toxic" complete with inane Brit line dance performed precisely by her entire band. It was a hoot! They finished with a completely punked out version of one of her most popular songs "The Way I Am". It was fabulous! Joey Ramone would be so proud. I wish they'd release that version on iTunes. Imagine this gentle tune all screamy and guitar screechy.

The Way I Am (non-punk version)

I didn't take my camera with me because, well...I really didn't think I'd LOVE her so much. My major bad. So no vids from me. :-( I won't make that mistake next time.

Oh, yeah. There will definitely be a next time.

P.S.: One funny side note: When I got there a kid of 12 (why is it everyone around me lately looks 12?) made the flippant comment that no one would mind if he lit up a cigarette right beside me. Well I did. As I was breathing in his cig stench I thought. The jokes on you, buddy. I came directly from rowing practice. I smell like a wet hobo. I win.

P.P.S.: I know you're probably wondering where my fantasy husband's been. I have neglected to write about him lately. Well he was competing in an online Words With Friends tournament in Dallas. WWF is you-can't-sue-me-cause-I-didn't-use-your-name-for-it code for Scrabble. My honey and his exquisite brain made it all the way through to the semi-finals before succumbing to the pressure of one minute postings televised live over the interweb.

Look at him with the wheels of his adorable cranium turning. It doesn't matter that he lost. He effortlessly maintained his title as the hottest thing in the room.