Caterwauling

Another busy week in progress, so here’s the soundtrack to my life at the moment. Right-click/save-as — you know the drill. And don’t forget the song from the previous entry if you missed it.

This was in the CD player when I moved out of Pittsburgh. Although it is equally appropriate for D.C. And the sound of this man’s voice usually precipitates the need for a change of scandalous underwear for me.
Bon Jovi, “Two-Story Town”

This always, ALWAYS pops up on my random shuffle on my ROKR phone as I am walking into work. Three times in the past five days. And it’s excellent driving music.
Sara Evans, “A Real Fine Place to Start”

I like Seal’s version better, but it’s not loaded into iTunes and this one is. Because Seal? Is sexy as hell. 😉
Alanis Morrissette, “Crazy”

Speaking of sexy, I love this song. It’s from “How Stella Got her Groove Back.” I hated the movie, but the soundtrack was fantastic. It’s a rare song that I won’t even sing in the car — I just mellow out and listen to it.
Me’Shell Ndegeocello, “Let Me Have You”

I cry every fucking time I hear this song. I heard it as I was driving to work the other day, and I had to put on sunglasses to skulk through the building to hide in my office. As soon as she gets to “something in blue,” I’m gone.
Lorrie Morgan, “Something in Red”

It’s a classic. No explanations of greatness needed. I rediscovered it after hearing it at a Christmas party last month.
Stevie Wonder, “Love’s in Need of Love Today”

I gave you one of her songs yesterday. As I’ve already tired of playing “Scratch” on a continuous loop, I’ve moved on to this one. There are dozens more that are as good or better, but this sums me up on a day like today.
Kendall Payne, “I’d Rather Be in Love”

And finally, in honor of my boy being in town on Thursday (and me missing him. *sniffle*), my current favorite song of his.
Bon Jovi, “Love Me Back to Life”

I am in the throes of orgasm watching “Grey’s Anatomy,” as I am apt to do every Sunday at 10 p.m. EST, and holy crap. I predicted where Izzie’s storyline was going because, gee, it’s nearly identical to the book I wrote in November for National Novel Writing Month.

Glad to know my idea didn’t totally suck. And that, well, I had it first. 😉

UPDATE

OK, were my glasses the only ones that fogged up from crying? Jesus H, I heard three bars of Kendall Payne (“Scratch”), and I was long gone. Right-click to download and enjoy.

I have had one of those weeks in which I have been busy and definitely put in some looong hours, but I don’t feel like I have a friggin’ thing to show for it. *pfft*

WHY YES, I DO GET ‘SLIPPERY WHEN WET’

Bon Jovi is in town this week. On a freaking work night. *sigh*

There is seriously nothing that makes me happier than Bon Jovi music. I mean, I am psychotically addicted to it. And I have never missed a show of theirs — whenever they come to town, I’m so there. I missed their Dec. 17 show at the MCI Center because I was in Vegas, but I figured I’d catch this show. But then money crises came one after the other and are still in progress, and blah blah blah whineycakes, I never got a ticket.

So today, I said fuck the phone bill — I need a Jon Bon Jovi fix. I’m depressed, damn it!

Alas, I debated about spending the $98 a seat, plus $12.50 Ticketmaster fee PLUS the $4 fee to have my ticket e-mailed to me, and I thought about the best-case scenario of rushing out at what other folks would call “on time” and then what traffic would be like at that time and whether I could go home and park at my local Metro station and take the Metro to MCI center and still actually *see* the concert.

But alas, lest I get called a whiny, sniveling bitch again on my own website, I’ll do the rest of my whining behind the “more” tab.

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Can we have “What is, a movie that contains neither of the items intimated in the title” for 1,000, Alex?

That would be “Match Point,” for those not bothering to play at home.

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I just got my eviction notice.

For those of you who are new or who don’t remember, my apartment company sold the complex and our units are being converted to luxury units that are WAY out of our price range. Forced gentrification, I believe, is what they call it.

In any event, guess who just spent her moving fund this month to keep the student loan company from garnishing her wages?

In all irony, I called an apartment complex I really wanted to inhabit. Since last month, THEIR prices went up $300/month, too. Jesus Christ, I thought the real estate bubble was slowly but surely deflating? Fuck a duck.

Oh well, they say a window will open when a door closes. There will be bigger and better. And as far as the apartment I called today? It was in an area of town where someone lives who I DON’T ever want to run into. I may have to give up the luxury of having a state line between us, but I didn’t want to live in the same municipality anyway. So thank God for small favors.

If ever there were a time to believe in miracles, this would be it.

In the meantime, I think I’m going to throw up.

UPDATE

Note to self: Driving while preoccupied, while an everyday occurrence, not always such a good idea. I ran out for some late-night food, only to forget to turn on my lights (I only turned on the interior ones. *sigh*) and to realize I was turning left on a red when I was halfway through the intersection.

To the Alexandria cop who was parked at said intersection who did not stop me, I *~*heart*~* you. I’ll be out of your jurisdiction soon, so breathe easier.

I hate Valentine’s Day.

Always have, hopefully won’t always.

Now, that doesn’t mean I didn’t go out and buy V-Day jammies and scandalous underwear, as I am happy to select a lucky winner who gets to see it. 😉

But the problem is, the day has been cursed for me for years. And I need to somehow build up some good karma to erase the past and make it, well, a not-sucktacular day, going forward.

IN THE BEGINNING, IT WAS GOOD

A few years back, I was in what turned out to be my longest-term relationship to date (six months — woo). And it wasn’t working.

Well, that’s not entirely true. It wasn’t working for me. He was nice, good-looking and all of that, but one day I awakened and realized that I rather enjoyed complaining about him more than I actually liked spending time with him. And it also dawned on me that the more time I spent with him, the more material I garnered to, well, hate him with.

For the record (and because I know for a fact that he checks in on this page intermittently), I didn’t hate him. I was young and absolutely not interested in the regular commitment thing. Or maybe it was just that we weren’t compatible. Or that he was nuts or that he drove me nuts. Whichever. 😉

In any event, I couldn’t escape him. We went to college together, we lived in the same neighborhood, my friends were his friends. If he called home and I didn’t happen to be there, he’d talk to whomever was available. If I wanted to spend an evening alone, he’d push his way in and plant himself on the couch. Or again, if I wasn’t there, he’d want to stay and wait.

It. Drove. Me. INSANE.

Don’t get me wrong, he had to have some spectacular qualities or else I wouldn’t have let him within 25 yards of me. But at the time I decided it was over, it was O-V-E-R. Once I lose interest, stick a fork in it because it’s done. It doesn’t mean I hate ya; just means I don’t feel like going down the same roads that exhausted me in the first place. The outcome never changes — why repeat the same mistakes when there are SO many more to be made? (HAHAHA)

ROLL ME BACK IN TIME

The short version of the story is that I broke up with him in either late January or early February of that year. I don’t know how he didn’t see it coming, or apparently I just THAT much of a prize 😉 but he didn’t take it well. He begged me to reconsider, but I didn’t want to.

So then, it happened. …

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With somewhat of a ruckus erupting over the Steelers choosing to wear white uniforms at the Super Bowl, Coach Bill Cowher (Bil Cahr, to Iron City locals and expats) expressed his surprise at the grand attention to the team’s fashion choices:

Cowher became perplexed at the constant questioning about the issue at his weekly news conference, finally saying, “You want to know what shoes I’m wearing, too?”

OMG, did you watch “American Idol” tonight? Holy shit, dude in the orange shirt/belt/socks who thought he was Ginuwine meets Usher (who was more realistically like either of those stars meets ballectomy) needed to go.

He did a terrible rendition of Michael “speaking of ballectomy” Jackson’s “She’s Out of My Life.” I mean, Kadi started howling when he was on TV!

But the funniest part of the two-hour show? When he said that he learned to sing using Randy and Paula’s DVD, “Ultimate Voice Coach.” I never saw Simon laugh so hard — he’s usually pretty damned smug, but tonight, it was so totally justified.

It was great — the kid even brought the DVD to the audition. After he was rejected, he took the DVD outside and pulverized the case with a hammer. Sweet!

Seriously, what is UP with all these tone-deaf fools going to these auditions? I know I can’t sing — shit, I am happiest when I’m driving with my earbuds in and singing on top of my the music blasting in my ears, because I? Can’t hear how bad I sound! Believe me, I KNOW I would make for an audition tape that America would laugh at for years to come, so I stay the hell home when I hear auditions are coming to the East Coast. I’m just glad, though, that others come out full-force, so I can say “at least I’m better than that.”

Excuse me while I go into convulsions without my daily fix of Tiff, as our webhost has unceremoniously asked her to leave after some moron complained about how she (was ultimately forced to) protect her intellectual property. Tom gives the details here, so I won’t rehash it.

But what I will say is that I’m displeased at the handling of the situation and that I have had four enjoyable years with that company, but if that’s the way they’re going to react to someone who’s not been a loyal, paying customer, well, see ya. Holding data hostage (even temporarily)? I thought they were above that. Really.

Insofar as the hotlinking issue, the Internet is not a creative place, sadly. Everyone’s always ripping off each others’ ideas and thoughts and now intellectual property. So, when said owner has tap-danced and asked nicely (repeatedly) to little avail, she had to take drastic measures (I say “drastic” tongue-in-cheek). So the image the hotlinkers saw wasn’t puppies and rainbows. That was the POINT, to scare off the thieves.

What Tom points out about bandwidth costs is an issue I struggle with because I like to provide large files on occasion. I don’t ask you to right-click-save-as for my health; it’s just my subtle way of saying that I’m willing to pay the bandwidth costs to host the larger files, but not willing to pay extra so you can stream them as well.

The point of weblogs, to me, is so that we can get a sort of kalidescope glimpse into other people’s lives. Sure, we will never get to see 100% of their personalities, but it’s through image files and audio and video and good old-fashioned storytelling that the otherwise-unknowns among us have not only a creative outlet, but also a way of putting our mark on the world — of not getting lost among the crowd — of being as special as our moms always told us we were. 😉

If someone tries to rob you in “real life” and you fight back, it’s self-defense. Likewise, if you go to lengths to protect your webspace and the contents of it, bravo. And if your hosting company is going to cave all pussy-like to some dumb bitch who was trying to STEAL an image in the first place, well, let me just say this. For all the business Tiff has given them and referred to them, well, we’re all happy to skip out the door behind her.

UPDATE

I turned off the comments but I brought them back. This entry is likely long forgotten, and that’s wonderful, but I think the discussion is worth reading/continuing.

As seen at Irk’s:

Your Stripper Song Is

Closer by Nine Inch Nails “You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you Help me I broke apart my insides, help me I’ve got no Soul to tell” When you dance, it’s a little scary – and a lot sexy.

What Song Should You Strip To?