When it rains...

So I wrote and erased several times a few lines relating about A.C. Newman, who I've been hearing at home (thanks Eric) and at work (thanks KEXP), and whose song "Miracle Drug" has been stuck in my head for a few days. I was trying to find a link to it, but failed. Five seconds after I published the post, however, I found what I was looking for. Sort of. if you go to A.C. Newman's website and find the E-Card, simply opening it will stream audio of both "Drink to Me Babe Then" and if you wait it out, "Miracle Drug". Check it out! (I'm not sure how well the HTML version of the page works, but this trick definitely works through the flash site.)

Whoop!

I caught a slightly later train than usual yesterday to get to work, and it was packed. When fifty-odd people disembarked at Longwood, I was well in the back quarter of the group. Since the sidewalk is rather narrow, I was going to be forced to walk at the slow pace, unable to dodge between people and navigate as well from the rear of the crowd as I could from the front. Resigned to looking at the back of heads, I plodded up the sidewalk. Then, I had a random idea. What if, I suddenly just let out this wild whoop? Wouldn't it be funny to see everyone up ahead startle and turn to see what the noise was? Would the crowd split and I'd be able to get to my office faster? Or would everyone ignore me the way people ignore idiots being too loud or intoxicated on the T? (And then talk about them later amongst themselves.) I contemplated how it would sound in my head. I rolled it around in my throat. I formed the 'oo' shape with my lips. But, being shy, or polite, or ...sane..., I couldn't convince myself to actually let it loose. (sigh) I'm such a grown-up.

And now, your daily dose of "things that make me gag":

Walking through Coolidge Corner, I'd just passed J.P. Licks when I noticed a woman walking her pug (pronounced "RAT-dog"). She had obviously just come out of the ice cream store because she was holding an ice cream cone. The ice cream looked purple (black raspberry?) and had chocolate sprinkles (or "jimmies" for you MA natives). She took a few licks and then bent down and offered it to the dog. After it had taken ten or twelve licks, the woman stood back up, started walking, and continued to eat the ice cream. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, she was literally sharing the ice cream with her dog. I'm not even sure I'd really want to share a drippy ice cream cone with Glen - and I know where his mouth has been! Dogs eat cat poop! Dogs roll around in decaying animals and then lick themselves clean!! Why would you choose to trade spit with your dog in any but a potentially life-saving maneuver? YUCK!!

Meanwhile, I've been making the KEXP morning show last all day. I'm really loving the buffering feature (can you say TiVo?) on RealPlayer 10, so I start listening around 8:45ish, wait patiently for John Richards to come on around 9, and then bop along with him until my phone rings or I'm interrupted by someone coming in, at which point I pause RealPlayer. It then continues to collect the streaming audio, and when I'm ready for it again, I hit play and everything continues where I left off. Four hours of morning show get me through at least 6 or 7 hours of my work day! Can't wait until we can stream internet radio in our cars, though. How cool would that be?

And - for those of you wondering where the blogging has gone, creating a blog entry is much like looking for a potential romantic partner. The harder you look for one, the less likely it is you'll find anything worthwhile! So please pardon me while I try to come up with half interesting entries occassionally.

No ducks and hazards in the classroom

Tricks of perception are so cool. I was waiting for a bus today and watching pedestrian traffic at an intersection right near Coolidge Corner. At one point, there was a guy walking toward me, and therefore getting larger in my frame of reference. Simultaneously, someone else was walking their dog on the street perpendicular. Since the guy coming toward me was getting larger, for quite a startling number of seconds, he blocked out the dog walker - but not the dog or the leash. To me, it looked like exactly the reverse of those carnival toys, the ones that are basically a harness attached to a wire "leash". Shaken convincingly, it looks like little kids are walking invisible dogs. However, in my case today, it looked like an invisible human was walking the dog, with the leash sticking straight up and not attached to any person I could see. Pretty odd.

(Title of this entry thanks to a link off EK's links, and a rather humorous mishearing of Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall".)

'Scuse me while I kiss this guy

JAZ writes, "A good college friend of mine always thought (even in college) that the refrain in the song, Bad Moon Rising was, "There's a bathroom on the right" instead of "There's a bad moon on the rise." She said she learned the song from her hippie father when she was young and never bothered to check in with her adult self about the lyrics. I caught her singing it this way once in a Minnesota Pizza Hut after a midnight binge in college...hilarious. I think half of us wet our pants and had to run to the bathroom on the right."

I'm sure there are tons of cases of people hearing lyrics incorrectly. (You can share your story in comments if you are so inclined!) I wish there was a standardized lyrics look up as comprehensive as all the rest of the music info you can get on Allmusic.com.

Bonheur

In talking about cable television yesterday, I was reminded that I used to hear people talk about "paper view", as opposed to "pay per view", which makes a whole lot more sense. What did I think was on "paper view"? Stuff about books, movies based on books, etc. Well, what do you want from a kid who grew up without cable and largely without television at all?! Books took up a large part of my time!

Later in the day, I was remembering a woman's last name as "Bonheur", thinking how great it was her name meant "good hour", maybe symbolizing her family's luck, or something way back. Of course, the unfortunate thing was that many Americans can't pronounce anything near French reasonably, so she was probably tormented as a child by others calling her "Boner". However, it turns out that wasn't her name at all. This morning, I confirmed it as Bokhour. But I still don't know how to pronounce it.

My mother, in response to my earlier post about mis-hearing things, reminded me of when my sister was younger and became absolutely convinced that in the song "Lady in Red", they were dancing "chin to chin" (instead of "cheek to cheek"). We had had a great time imagining what it would look like to dance "chin to chin"... Must hurt your neck, for one thing!

Blowfish

I've been thinking all week about swimming. Much of that was because, through Tuesday, I still had water in my ear from my Saturday flailings in a pool. But that's happily evaporated by now.

I wish I could swim better. I wish I could go under water, without holding my nose, without any hint of panic. I wish I didn't look like an idiot when I went under water without holding my nose because generally, I puff my cheeks out. I guess the five year old in me thinks I'll have more air that way.

The only thing I hate about swimming is going under water; I hate that feeling of water filling up my sinuses. I even like jumping in. (I don't dive; no self-respecting diver would be seen holding her nose.) Everyone says, "Just blow out through your nose," but that doesn't seem to work for me for long enough. I use up all my air, even that which I've carefully and instinctively stored in my cheeks. And the moment I stop, water rushes in with tremendous velocity, and then I'm all panicky and sputtering again. Do they make swim classes for adults who aren't gonna drown, but aren't so excited about putting their faces in the water either?

Maybe if my karma works out right, in my next life, I'll be a blowfish.

How to traumatize your children

One of the things that worries me most about the children I will probably have in the future is accidentally causing them damage, either physically (dropping them on their heads) or mentally (so they need massive amounts of psychiatric help as adults). In the past few days, I've now heard stories and/or witnessed things which validate my concerns!

I forget how it came up, but David was telling us how, when his daughters, Alison (now 5 or 6) and Grace (3), were doing things that they shouldn't have been or driving him up a wall, he would tell them he was going to "sell them for parts". He had to stop, however, when Ali, in tears started begging him, "Please don't sell me! Don't sell my sister!" Obviously, she'd taken him literally!

Yesterday, Glen and I were at the engagement party of a friend. There were many babies and little kids around. The bride-to-be's sister and brother-in-law have two boys, ages 4 and 1. The brother-in-law was playing with the 4 year old in the backyard. Whiffle ball. Suddenly, they reappeared poolside, the 4 year old's lip quivering and a perfectly round bright red welt in the middle of his torso. Apparently, the ball had been on the ground, and the father decided to "golf" it to the kid so he could catch it. Well, he didn't catch it. "You know what makes stuff like that feel better?" everyone was telling the kid. "Cold pool water!" How great it is when they're little enough for distraction...

Does every parent unintentionally do horrible things to their children?