do-re-me!

Last week Chris had me sing while I played guitar. Not gonna lie: I'm pretty horrible. But I'm hoping that once I start understanding all these chords, fingering on the fretboard'll become a little easier, and I can just sing...and sing loudly and poorly -- like a great big jerk.

It doesn't have to be perfect to be fun!

On Friday it was tablature for Hey, Jude. But I'd like to learn something more ridiculous in the future. Chord-work for I Will Survive is in the works (sample above). Maybe some Justin Timberlake, or Gloria Estefan, or Biz Markie, or some Men At Work...and my most recent Top 40 crush, Leona Lewis too (I can't get that song out of head! Arggggh...and yaaay!).

ow, quit it

A quick update.

For some inexplicable reason, I laid out last weekend at Henlopen. This is strange for two reasons: A) I never lay out and B) I laid out on defense. In any case, I missed and landed awkwardly on my left shoulder. When I got up to shake it off, my shoulder felt weak and tingly.

Took the week easy. Light running at Messiah practices and pickup, but noticed that throwing backhand really bothers it, even though it's my left shoulder. I warmed up with the Messiah girls at Regionals yesterday and...it...hurts. It hurt then, and it hurts now. I've played through pain before, but simple tasks like pushing a door open and shampooing my hair are hard. I need to get it checked out soon.

College Regionals this weekend brought back great memories, like a "homecoming" of sorts, for the Metro East alumnus. Hoagie Haven, regurgitating old Isis cheers, those pesky geese....

Coaching made it a new experience for me, in the way fashion puff paint made the t-shirt wearing experience a new one as well. The Messiah girls puff painted a t-shirt that explicitly states that I am two things: cute and Asian. On the front it says, Messiah Ultimate. On the back, it says Cute Asian.

Messiah breaking seed and being at Regionals with Loose Cannon made it a worthwhile weekend. Those Cannons are a fun-loving bunch, and the majority, if not all, seem to happily put up with my gravity towards shenanigans.

so easy to dream, so hard to say goodnight

Old News / Dr. Dog

We've got old news
Wrapped up in old blues
We can't afford to call
No we don't know where we are

Come on, we're dead on our feet but we're walking
Well let me hear you now
We've been stripped down
Hog-tied and found out and thrown into the quiet
Like sticks into a fire

Come on, I'm sleeping in the street 'cause
It's so easy to dream but so hard to say goodnight
We've been toiling our tears hit the soil yeah
Taking up a voice from a flower field of noise

Come on, a dog from the past started barking
Well let me hear you now
We've been stripped down
Hog-tied and found out
Thrown into the quiet
Like sticks into a fire

Come on, I'm sleeping in the street 'cause
It's so easy to dream but so hard to say goodnight

the saga continues

7. 7 mf'ers! Ah ah ah....

Still, the Original.

oh my, noodle soup!

hells kitchen and mo rocca

Speaking of Hells Kitchen, the one in Minneapolis is an excellent eatery if you're entertaining the thought of breakfast -- and just happen to be in the Land of 10,000 Lakes. I went with my sister about a year ago, and it was a yummy-in-my-tummy experience through and through. All the waiters and waitresses are inexplicably hip AND personable, to boot!

I'd like to visit Chicago sometime to see a taping of Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me.

My thought process to get to this topic goes like this:

Hells Kitchen -->
Minneapolis -->
Twin Cities -->
St. Paul -->
Prairie Home Companion -->
NPR -->
NPR in Chicago -->
Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me

Anyway, a visit to Chicago is in order sometime soon. To see Mo Rocca. He pulls at my nerdy heart strings. I think it's the commonality of tortoise rimmed glasses and his affinity for unapologetic, unreserved goofiness. Every few episodes you'll find him stuttering as he thinks of a witty response to Peter Sagal's slew of newsworthy trivia questions.

It's cute, and I dig it as much as I dig this.

a little blue grass never hurt anybody

Here's a little recording of Big Rock Candy Mountain. I was bored with Hells Kitchen, so I thought I'd commit my shoddy guitar work to mp3 using a sweet free version of Audacity.

I admit, I'm one of those bluegrass fans that only flocked to the genre after a viewing of O Brother, Where Art Thou. Though my 6th grade string repertoire included a toe-tapping version of Turkey In The Straw, and that should count for something.

I've noticed my yet-to-be-named guitar needs new strings.

Name options (thus far):
1. JT, in honor of Jeff Tweedy
2. Zooey, the disaffected Glass brother of Salinger's Franny and....
3. Dean, as in cool cats Dean Martin and James
4. Wallace, as in the clay-mation, cheese-loving Nick Park creation
5. KD or Pixie, for one of the coolest bands / most bad-ass lady rockers (Kim Deal) around

The guitar's a Seagull S6 Original, that I didn't mind paying retail for (you should support your small, locally owned music stores, if you can). While I *heart* many things, it's one of the things I *heart* most. And if you're reading this, you probably knew that already.

Naming suggestions are welcome.

PS Was there something other than Coke in Paula Abdul's cup tonight? She was entirely too amusing to be sober.

PSS Why does Hells Kitchen seem like sorority fraternity rush week? I'm anticipating an episode where Chef Ramsay brings out the paddle and has them bend over to say 'Thank you sir, may I have another?!'.

Top Chef is waaaaay better.

nom nom nom

1. That Burger King guy is creepy.
2. 6 strips of bacon is excessive. While the idea is fantastic, the thought of it in my tummy is daunting.
3. Would the experience of Wendy's Challenge hold up to Bojangles Challenge? One thing's for sure, I won't be hustled by a Crider or an Andrea! (No biscuits on Wendy's dollar menu.)
4. My love for fried chicken and KFC's new dark meat bucket, might just rival my love of indie music, and list making, and scratch off lotto tix, and culinary adventures.
5. I *heart* breakfasts with Blair. #1: eggs (sunny side up), wheat toast, and potatoes. Delicious food, conversation, and last minute mixes made for an old friend.

Non-tangential/tangential observations: About today. People can be nice when you least expect it. And I think about food waaaaay too often.

photo booths and conversations with dolan

This Friendly Fires song reminds me of something that would happen in a cheesy 80s movies.

Picture, you and me in the photo booth?
Ok!

-----

Below is a recent gchat I had with my favorite Brooklyner. I'm entertained by it. Perhaps you will be too:

9:59 PM
me: dooooooolllllllllllllllllaaaaaaannnnnn!
hi
L: shelley!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
i'm a dreamy house?
me: of course you are

10:00 PM
L: or a house of dreams?
:P
me: ooh. you're so clever with words dolan
i like it
:)

*I can't argue with any of the conjectures offered in the above conversation, and in fact, only know them to be true.

I'll explain.

I taught the Messiah girls how to set up for the dump yesterday, and I expressed my thoughts on not going with Dolan's Method of Dumping to a friend. I said it was, perhaps, unwise to teach them to point at the sky and get it, as most people are not nearly so distractingly dreamy or house-like. Apparently these sentiments were relayed to The House of Dreams by a little bird.

spring cleaning, summer soon

This song reminds me of the sound of summer...soon:
Some Constellation / Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin.

I'm going through my closet -- doing a bit of spring cleaning -- and realize that I have an awful lot of clothes that I never wear. They will be finding themselves at the local Salvation Army. But I also realize how infinitely small my rotation of clothing is. I'll wear a tshirt -- the same one -- to pieces, until it has holes in the most inappropriate places, and even after that, I'll keep wearing it for sentimental value.

I'll insist on it.

And yet, here I sit, before a pile of t's and long sleeves I've probably only worn a handful of occasions in my lifetime. Go figure.

I guess I'm just a creature of habit. Or maybe it's more so that when I know I like something, I stick with it.

a clam!

Fools Fest this past weekend = fun times.

I played one game of coed with the Penn State crew, where I was crowned Prom Queen by Enchantment In The C. It came complete with a ceremonial tiara, corsage, and posed picture-taking with the Prom King -- Cutie McCutie Pie, Jon Ferrer. I never found out how the picture turned out.

I forgot how much I loooove playing with my bestest friends in the whole wide world. And I forgot how much fun it is to watch The Crab, Judy, Alex the iBanker, and the rest of the gang shake it like a polaroid picture on the dance floor. These are the memories of Fools Fest -- and the friends -- that make me one happy clam.

Came home on Sun to an afternoon of ridiculousness at Kokomos Bar & Grill in Yo-town, where a Tigerator, The Truth, and I proceeded -- for six straight hours -- to charm the waitstaff and several unsuspecting patrons. It was our jukebox picks and winning personalities. Was in bed by 9:30 and slept like a little baby.

Work today was a breeze.

Tonight was the last, rec league bball game of the winter season. And I'll miss it -- I'll miss the hustle. We finished a close 2nd.

is boysenberry in season?

At dinner last night, someone said: It's not easy knowing that you've hurt someone.

As I consider the person who said it and look at those sitting across from me, I think about paying my bill, leaving my half-eaten, medium rare, ribeye steak, and heading out the door.

But I don't.

Thanks for that sacrosanct, Happy Meal-size nugget of information.

Being hurt by someone isn't exactly your seasonal slice of berry pie either.

Put It Down / Mike Doughty

(Going to see Mike @ The Chameleon Club tonight with Johnny E and friends. Pretty excited about that.)

duck xing has gone crazy

I've just been included on the Duck Xing list for Mars 2008. Either my drinking or my dodgeball skills have reached a certain level of abject ridiculousness.

Or both.

Who knows for sure?!