Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Radio Stars

This is a just a teaser until I have a chance to write a post. It's 2 of my sons and my sister, Charmaine, recording at a hip hop radio station (which aired later that night). Very fun!

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Am I Interesting?

Ok, Charmaine, I'll do it. I'll come up with a list of 10 interesting things about myself. (Charmaine is my older sister - I have to do whatever she says!) Of course, it all depends on your definition of "interesting."

1. In college, I majored in Soviet Studies. I don't know why.

(Although I used to be able to read this.)

2. I'm a lawyer. I don't know why.

3. When I was about 9, my sisters and I took Irish Dancing lessons and participated in a few competetions. Once I was doing a 2-handed soft jig (that means 2 people and shoes that don't make tapping sound) with my sister, Erin. All of the other competitors had done a hard jig which required different music, so we were the only pair on the stage.

We were very cute in our little dresses and long hair in pigtails. Early in the dance, I turned to go on the next step before I was supposed to. There was an audible "aaaaaahhhhhh" in the audience in recognition that we were now going to lose. We did lose. Not even third place! 35 years later, I still feel horrible for making my sister lose. I once told this story to her with the expression of my guilt, and she didn't even remember it.

4. I love to sing. I'm not good so I only sing in front of my kids. Brody says I should be on American Idol. Isn't that sweet? Did I mention that he's deaf:-)!!

5. I want to go into politics. It's the only profession less respected than law, so I don't have far to fall! My problem is that I'm not good at politics. Oh sure, I know the issues and I know how to best help the world. It's the public speaking, schmoozing, and being nice to morons that I can't do. I also hate rejection.

6. My hero is Anita Hill. She held her ground with the stupid male U.S. Senate with dignity and intelligence. She is singularly responsible for identifying, giving a name and advancing methods of recourse for the epidemic of sexual harassment that has affected millions of women. She rocks!

7. I almost had a panic attack when I realized that I was doing one of the same damaging things to my kids that my mother had done to me. I can't tell you what. It's damaging to their self-esteem, and therefore, damaging to my future "Memoirs of A Great Mother" book.

8. Which reminds me thatI am fanatical about correcting my kids when they use the word "good" when it should be " well." I'm sure it's annoying, but I really do think that people who say, for example, "You play baseball good" sound stupid. The problem is that the reason for my fanaticism is that growing up, my sister, Erin, used to harass me about this. "You do good things and you do them well." It's not only etched in my brain from her, it is now etched in my kids' brains. (Although, I still don't think that is such a bad thing.)

9. My first job was at Shakey's Pizza when I was in high school. We had to wear light yellow t-shirts. The problem was that I was short (and still am), so when I leaned over the pizza to get the required toppings, my bosom would land in the pizza sauce, thereby leaving red spots on my shirt, much to the amusement of my male co-workers.

10. I truly believe that Bon Jovi owes their success to me. Ok, maybe I exaggerate. In the mid-80's my best friend, her sisters and I bought tickets to see them in concert. That may not sound very remarkable, but keep in mind that Bon Jovi was the opening act. They were not quite famous then.

In hopes of gettng the best damn general admission seats that we could, we decided to sit outside the stadium for the entire day. There were people in line passing their time smoking pot and drinking. Not one to miss a good idea, I walked over to a liquor store, bought a 12-pack of beer, and carried it back to our group. Within minutes, a group of security guards came and confiscated the beer. We said we would take it to our car, but, noooooo. (I guess they were planning a fun night, too.) That was a lot of money to me back then. I was pissed.

So, we waited and waited and waited without beer. When it was close to opening time, we began discretely moving closer to the front of the line. When the doors opened, we made a mad dash to the floor and ended up in the 3rd row. Very cool considering how far back we started. (All's fair in love and Bon Jovi)!

I will never forget Jon, Richie and the other guy with their long flowing locks, walking in a line together, playing their guitars, crouched over, across the stage, singing Livin on a Prayer. (It looked way cooler than it sounds).

This brings me back!

After they left, we had to listen to Ratt. They suck.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

I Like 'Em Chunky

When I first saw this title, I thought it was referring to either peanut butter or cookies. (or better yet, peanut butter cookies).

It doesn't.

It's a song from Madagascar 2 in which the male hippo asserts his preference for "chunky" females. I am concerned about the message that this sends to the females of other species. What are female giraffes supposed to think? No matter how much they try, they won't be able to gain enough weight to compete with a female hippo.

Hippos are naturally big. Giraffes aren't. They can't find fried mozzarella sticks on the savanna in Africa. Zookeepers don'tcooperate. They blatantly ignore the pressure on giraffes to become obese by their insistence on serving them leaves.

Look at this poor giraffe begging zookeepers for a Big Mac and fries. I feel her pain! Not a day goes by that I don't wish for the same meal.

This hippo just turns his back on the giraffe. He won't even talk to her. He's an ass!

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Question for Computer Saavy People

I have a dvd of my son's talent show. I want to post just his performance, but I haven't got a clue how to do it. Can anyone help?

My future rock star thanks you!

Friday, February 6, 2009

My Brush With Fame (ok - Tom Jones)

I've been asked to recount for all three of my faithful readers my meeting international music sensation, Tom Jones.

Remember him? "She's a Lady (woh, woh, woh.") "What's Up Pussycat." "Delilah."

It's 1982 - well past Tom's prime. Someone hears that Tom will be performing in a small theater in Denver. For some unknown reason, my mother, her friend, my sisters and I decide to go even though this will mean that we have to drive from Boulder to Denver (which for us was a big deal).

We arrive at the theater to learn that the show has been cancelled. The reason given was that Tom was sick. Ok. Now what. We're in Denver - we have to do something. Someone suggests the bar at the Fairmont Hotel (I'm 19 years old, but what the hell do I care).

We enter the lobby and head for the bar. Imagine our surprise when we see Tom with a small entourage walk right by us and into the restaurant. WTF! Not only did we drive from Boulder, but we didn't get our money back for the tickets.

So we go in the bar and have a couple drinks. My mother's friend, Trish, and I take a short walk to, um, powder our noses, me still bitching because Tom wasn't fricking sick. She comes up with an idea whereby we go into the restaurant and ask him why he cancelled the show. I say ok. Then she says, "You go first. You're younger."
The entrance to the restaurant is guarded by what appears to be tuxedo-wearing Gestapo. My thinking is that if you behave like you belong somewhere, people will often let you go there. I was nervous, but I stood up straight, looked straight past the Gestapo, and walked through the entrance quickly scanning for Tom's table. Score!

Curved booth on the right. Tom directly in the middle facing the aisle. Two people on each side. We stopped at the table. I looked directly at Tom and they all looked at me. I said, "I was just wondering why you cancelled your show tonight?" I knew he was expecting me to ask for his autograph, but I was waaaay to cool for that. I just wanted a fricking answer.
He said something about the theater cancelling it due to not enough ticket sales (boy, I wonder how that happened). I told him that we had driven all the way from Boulder and never got our money back. He said that they were going on to Texas and we should go there. I said, "Yeah, I don't think so."
He may have apologized. I don't really remember. So we walk out of the restaurant and my mother's pathological liar friend tells me that when we tell this story to our group, we need to add that Tom asked us to sit down for a glass of champagne. I personally thought that the story was good enough as it was, but I went along with her story. (Remember, she didn't say squat during this whole thing and now she not only wants to share the glory, but the glory isn't even good enough).

That's my brush with fame. (I never said it was impressive)!
In a wacky twist, we met a few "Argentine political leaders" who were in the US for something. My mother invited them to our house. They came. I don't know why. It was a weird night!

I can only dream that I saw this in person! Enjoy!