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!

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!
http://www.netglimse.com/celebs/pages/anita_hill/index.shtml

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!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GccfzxHIXaY

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

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!

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!

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!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sI5LWwC-cE8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvmyTZEqlo8&feature=related

Whatever Happened To Remington Steele?

I just watched the movie "Mamma Mia." I have one question for the casting director.

Were you on crack? Acid? I'm really trying to understand why you would cast actors who can't sing. Were you aware that this is a musical?

And to you actors - hasn't anyone told you that being a famous actor doesn't necessarily mean that you can sing? I was the most upset about Pierce Brosnan. He is a very bad singer.

During college, I had a huge crush on Pierce Brosnan. He's soooo handsome and suave. I always watched Remington Steele. I even lost a boyfriend to him once. (Bear with me. This is gonna take a while.)

It was 1985. I was in my last year of college. One night my friends and I went to Denver to go to a bar (we were in Boulder so that's quite a trip - 36 miles). We took a quick tour through the bar to just to see, umm, the scenery. Upon seeing a VERY cute guy, we looked at each other with the silent "he's cute" look.

While on our second tour (we just wanted to be thorough), the Cute Guy asked me to dance. I said no. Not because he wasn't cute. We've already established that he was VERY cute . But it was rock music. I can't dance to rock music. I can only do R&B and I didn't want to humiliate myself no matter how cute he was.

My friends would not take no for an answer. So I finally gave in and danced with this ridiculously cute guy that every girl in the bar wanted to dance with (Woe is me!)

Cute Guy asked for my number. I gave it to him. He called. And we set up a time for a date. Exciting, huh? (This is where it gets fun.)

It's 6 a.m. on the day of the aforementioned date. I get a call from my uncle in Chicago that my sister (not Charmaine - but the sister we don't speak of) had tried to commit suicide. She was in the hospital in Boulder and I needed to go get her. Since I didn't have a car, one of my roommates dropped me off at the hospital. I was instructed in no uncertain terms to take her home, clean up the blood so that she wouldn't see it, and never leave her alone.

(Did anyone there know that I was 20 years old - and I had classes to go to - and that my mother was in Chicago - and that my sister had physically attacked me the night before in my apartment tearing my robe into shreds and scaring the crap out of my roomates - and more importantly, I had a first date planned with Cute Guy?

Apparently not.

We get in the house and the first thing she does is make a bee-line to the bathroom - the scene of the attempt. Crap. I screwed up the first instruction. I tried to remain calm, but I was pretty sure my failure was going to result in her death. I set about to clean the bathroom as quickly as possible. There was a lot of blood. I don't like blood.

My mother, under the sage advice of her two psychiatrist brothers, decided not to come home early. Didn't she know that I didn't want to be responsible for my sister's life (especially since I didn't like her) and I had Cute Guy coming over our first date? And he was coming from Denver? And I didn't have his number?

My cousin came over so I wouldn't have to stand-up Cute Guy. He arrives. (Did I mention that he was VERY cute?) The first thing I had to say to him was that I couldn't stay out long, because my sister tried to kill herself and I had to get back so she wouldn't do it again.

He was unfazed so we headed out to the Pearl Street Mall, but, first, he had to stop at an ATM. He pulls into the entrance to the bank, but there is a car in front of us that is stopped. Then that car starts backing up and backs right into Cute Guy's car. A very large man gets out of the car (I forgot to mention that Cute Guy is on the short side.)

The man leaves the scene of the accident.

Again, unfazed, we continue on to a bar, where we had one drink. But duty calls. He drives me to my mother's house to supervise my sanity-challenged sister. He and I continue our first date in the kitchen.

My mother returns (from her planned flight). She walks in the door saying loudly, "Whose piece of shit car is in my driveway?" Cute Guy answers that it's his. I was a little embarrassed.

I expected my mother to immediately go upstairs and see my sister.

She didn't.

She was too concerned that this "piece of shit" car would leak oil on her driveway.

It didn't.

Cute Guy and I head back to my apartment. He walks me to my door (Did I mention that my apartment was two houses away from an adult book store?) He sweetly kisses me goodbye and walks.

I'm thinking I am never going to see this guy again. He called. No, I'm not kidding. Clearly he didn't pick up on the blatant insanity of my life.

He works full-time in Denver. I'm in school full-time and working 2 jobs in Boulder. So we talk on the phone a lot. (Here it comes.)

It was time for finals. I told him ahead of time that I get very stessed during finals and get a bit weird. Then, one night when he called, I told him I couldn't talk because I was watching Remington Steele.

I never heard from Cute Guy again.

One night my friends went back to that bar (I had to work). Cute Guy was there. He told my friend that he was mad that I wanted to watch Remington Steele rather than talk to him. I don't get it. He stuck around after that absurd first date, but he couldn't take that?

Thanks a lot Pierce. And now to add injury to insult, I find out you aren't anything like Remington Steele!

Resolution Check Up

It's January 4. Let's see how those resolutions are doing.


#1. I resolve to close my free legal service business and re-open as an elite law firm with no paying clients.

FAIL: On January 2nd, as I was walking out the door to go to dinner with friends, the phone rang. It was my former neighbor (at least 10 years ago). He is buying some property for his daughter and there is a little question regarding the property lines (survey here - fence there - you get the idea).

My husband is using sign language to, umm, politely request that I hang up the phone, but it's a pressing legal matter that is being presented to my free legal services business for Christ's sake. (Did I mention that my free legal services business is available 24/7? ) Old habits die hard!


#2. I resolve to tell my mother she is being a bitch when she is being a bitch (like when she asks me if I have gained weight).

Undetermined. She changes this up every once in a while. My husband was walking around without a shirt (he looks a bit like Buddha). She asks him "Have you lost weight?" Some might think that was a compliment. But, nooo. You don't know my mother. Any question about weight is an insult. There's either "Have you gained weight?" which means you look fat. Or "Have you lost weight?" which means you clearly haven't lost weight and you need to. It's no wonder I never know how to respond to these things.

#3. I resolve to stop yelling at my kids when they poke my increasingly flabby belly.

Hmmm. They don't poke anymore. Now my son pushes on my belly and says that it feels like a "waterbed." Kids. Gotta love em!

#4. I resolve to stop gloating about the election to my Republican friends (ok, this one might be hard to keep).

FAIL. I never really meant that anyway. I'm still planning to surreptitiously break into my Republican friend's house and plant my collection of liberal-minded books and see how long it takes him to discover them. (It's gonna be so fun)!

#5. I resolve to relearn Russian since I just found a bunch of my college books in the basement and I can't believe that I used to understand it (it's a Flowers for Algernon kind of thing).

Come on. It's still early in the year! Gimme a break!

#6. I resolve to limit my alcohol consumption to champagne.
FAIL. Upon arrival at the restaurant for the aforementioned dinner date, I asked the bartender if they had champagne by the glass. She said no, but that she had a split. Only $22. Uh. Really? The hell with that resolution - I'll have a Coor's Light. (Jeez. I'm unemployed. What do you want from me?)

#7. Though not mentioned in my earlier resolution post, my secret resolution was to exercise. Yawn. Yawn. So I bought a beginners Pilates DVD and a beginners Yoga DVD. First up - Pilates. 10 minutes in, my thighs are burning so much I have to stop. Next day, owwwwwww.

Ok, let's try yoga. 25 minutes in - stop. Now I can't turn my neck to the right. This exercise thing is really not working for me! I'll just chalk this one up as a FAIL.

This isn't going well!