Thursday, June 25, 2009
Random Thoughts Thursday
An "I'm gonna sit right down and write myself a letter" edition
* Dear Stomach,
I hear you! Dinner is coming. Hold on just a wee bit. And there's Starbucks in your near future! Hang in there.
Sincerely,
She who feeds you Dairy Queen blizzards(tm) occasionally
* Dear Knee,
Happy bending! I'm so glad you're feeling more like yourself, walking up and down steps, dancing like a maniac in the living room. I bet you didn't know I still remember the moves from the final scene of the Broadway version of "Hairspray" (not the crappy movie). Rock on, knee!
Love,
The Walker, Tara Turnblad
* Dear Hair,
I'm sorry about the whole bang issue. They're grown out now. Thank you for behaving so much lately, especially in this humidity. Does this mean we're friends again?
Yours,
She who won't cut your tresses that short again. Ever. I promise.
* Dear Self,
Happy Vacation! Enjoy museums! Enjoy the beach! Enjoy the dentist... wha? Well, Self, it needs to happen. It'll be OK. I'll buy you ice cream after. We can drool together as the novocaine wears off.
Sincerely and with love,
She who looks awesome in a blue paper bib
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
* Dear Stomach,
I hear you! Dinner is coming. Hold on just a wee bit. And there's Starbucks in your near future! Hang in there.
Sincerely,
She who feeds you Dairy Queen blizzards(tm) occasionally
* Dear Knee,
Happy bending! I'm so glad you're feeling more like yourself, walking up and down steps, dancing like a maniac in the living room. I bet you didn't know I still remember the moves from the final scene of the Broadway version of "Hairspray" (not the crappy movie). Rock on, knee!
Love,
The Walker, Tara Turnblad
* Dear Hair,
I'm sorry about the whole bang issue. They're grown out now. Thank you for behaving so much lately, especially in this humidity. Does this mean we're friends again?
Yours,
She who won't cut your tresses that short again. Ever. I promise.
* Dear Self,
Happy Vacation! Enjoy museums! Enjoy the beach! Enjoy the dentist... wha? Well, Self, it needs to happen. It'll be OK. I'll buy you ice cream after. We can drool together as the novocaine wears off.
Sincerely and with love,
She who looks awesome in a blue paper bib
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Glitter on the highway
A is moving out. She told me during the last visit in the hallway as she came home and I was leaving. Another of our infamous 5 minute conversations. We're neighbors in passing.
"No new noises?" we asked each other after the midnight visit to her balcony to find the wind had been the only thing on mine late one winter evening. "How's your leg?" from her came after seeing me hobble up the stairs that did me in for weeks. "Did you find your keys?" -- from me after I found her sitting on those same steps without them, and let her in the building late one night.
Tan and smiling always, with a blond pixie haircut, blue eyeshadow that somehow works. And glitter. Always glitter -- in her hair, on her face, on her arms.
She sparkles.
I asked where she, the former law student, was headed.
"Home. California. I want to be a screenwriter," she said.
Talk about a 180. I wished her well on this wow journey, following her dreams wherever they'll take her.
Walking out of the building, I saw a sprinkling of glitter on the black mat by the door, a reminder to follow my own.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
"No new noises?" we asked each other after the midnight visit to her balcony to find the wind had been the only thing on mine late one winter evening. "How's your leg?" from her came after seeing me hobble up the stairs that did me in for weeks. "Did you find your keys?" -- from me after I found her sitting on those same steps without them, and let her in the building late one night.
Tan and smiling always, with a blond pixie haircut, blue eyeshadow that somehow works. And glitter. Always glitter -- in her hair, on her face, on her arms.
She sparkles.
I asked where she, the former law student, was headed.
"Home. California. I want to be a screenwriter," she said.
Talk about a 180. I wished her well on this wow journey, following her dreams wherever they'll take her.
Walking out of the building, I saw a sprinkling of glitter on the black mat by the door, a reminder to follow my own.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Heaven is the whole of the heart
"Are you over 21?" burly bouncer asked.
I smiled.
"Yes, I am, but thank you for asking."
I held out my right arm for the I'm-old-enough-to-drink bracelet.
I should have known the rest of my night would have been awesome after that exchange.
We entered the House of Blues and his eyes lit up. I figured he didn't completely believe me earlier when I said a) it's not that big a place and b) not that many people would be there. My concert experience told me about 500 of my closest friends would show up. I was a bit optimistic... but close.
"I can't believe we're going to see the Psychedelic Furs," he practically squealed for the millionth time that day. His all-time favorite song would be performed, live, in mere moments.
After an opening act that only had me thinking, "Boy, my feet hurt. Standing in place is hard work," the Furs finally came on after an almost interminable 30-minute wait. Funny how during their set I forgot about the foot pain. I practically forgot I had feet.
This was the 4th time I had seen them live. I was older now than they were when I saw them last. They were just old.
But still amazing. Rocking. Weird. Punky. Fun.
I danced. He beamed. He danced. I sang. He thanked me for his ear plugs, which he didn't think he'd need (bass drum through the chest anyone? Yeah.). I removed mine from my ears during my 3 favorite songs only.
Richard worked the crowd like he does and being only three heads back (standing room only), I got to look directly into those eyes... *sigh*
Unlike the opening act, who I was shocked to find out had been performing for 20 years since they sounded like every YouTube basement sensation, drank beer on stage as they bored us with their "musicianship." The Furs, true professionals and rocking musicians that they are, drank water, Red Bull or soda, and rocked the house. The sax player made noises you can't believe that instrument can make. The drummer kept me moving the entire night. The funky keyboardist looked like Janice the Muppet and was mellow and hippie-ish. Loved her for that and for the sparkly Mary Jane's she sported. Bassist Tim was a towering presence who mouthed every word along with his lead-singer brother. And they all smiled with parental approval at the baby-faced guitarist after his awesome solo.
An hour and a half flew by. I am still singing their tunes in my head and seeing Richard's dancing and hand movements for every song.
My partner in crime is still almost squealing, only now he's saying, "I can't believe we saw the Psychedelic Furs. Thank you, thank you, thank you for finding out they were going to be here."
"Here" was Atlantic City, a dive I haven't been to since I was little. Now I know why. Dirty. Trashy. Neon-blazingly ugly. And I have never seen so many sad people as I did sitting in front of the slot machines. At 1 a.m., they were still playing. They'd be there all night. I just wanted to play roulette. I don't know why I like that game, having never played any of them before. But that's what I wanted.
$20. That's my limit. So we each pitched in $10 and I tossed it on the table. Quicker than the wind, we had 2 stacks of $10 in chips. He bet safe -- "odd." I bet on 36 (I had my reasons). The white ball blurred round and round, finally settling on 19. He doubled his $10 bet. I lost.
"Here," he said and handed me the $10 he won. Awww.
"36 again," I said and plopped my stack of chips on the last numbered square. If I was going to win, I was going to win with my number. I believed!
I stood on my tippy toes to see the wheel spin on the other end of the table. The ball slowed, bounced twice and landed, but I couldn't see where.
"36," the dealer yelled and that numbered square flashed with light. "Winner!"
"Woohoo!" I shouted, and raised my arms a la Rocky on the Art Museum steps.
She started stacking chips... and stacked... and stacked...
$350!
"All these? For me?"
"Yep," she said.
"You're done now, right?" he asked.
I wasn't. I bet $10 on odd and won then bet that on 27 and lost.
"OK, now I'm done," I said, and we took our $350 in chips to the window to cash out.
"If you like gambling," he said, "we should go to Vegas."
"Nah, I won. So I'm done," I said and smiled.
We decided to use our winnings to pay for the hotel for our upcoming vacation. So thank you, Showboat Casino and Hotel, for helping to pay for our next trip! WOO!
And thank you, Psychedelic Furs, for still sounding awesome, for still writing great songs, for not phoning it in (which so many bands who have been around for 30 years would do). And thank you for your part in an awesome night.
They'd put us on a railroad
They'd dearly make us pay
For laughing in their faces
And making it our way
There's emptiness behind their eyes
There's dust in all their hearts
They just want to steal us all
And take us all apart
But not in
Love my way, it's a new road
I follow where my mind goes
Swallow all your tears my love
And put on your new face
You can never win or lose
If you don't run the race
Thursday, June 11, 2009
I smiled.
"Yes, I am, but thank you for asking."
I held out my right arm for the I'm-old-enough-to-drink bracelet.
I should have known the rest of my night would have been awesome after that exchange.
We entered the House of Blues and his eyes lit up. I figured he didn't completely believe me earlier when I said a) it's not that big a place and b) not that many people would be there. My concert experience told me about 500 of my closest friends would show up. I was a bit optimistic... but close.
"I can't believe we're going to see the Psychedelic Furs," he practically squealed for the millionth time that day. His all-time favorite song would be performed, live, in mere moments.
After an opening act that only had me thinking, "Boy, my feet hurt. Standing in place is hard work," the Furs finally came on after an almost interminable 30-minute wait. Funny how during their set I forgot about the foot pain. I practically forgot I had feet.
This was the 4th time I had seen them live. I was older now than they were when I saw them last. They were just old.
But still amazing. Rocking. Weird. Punky. Fun.
I danced. He beamed. He danced. I sang. He thanked me for his ear plugs, which he didn't think he'd need (bass drum through the chest anyone? Yeah.). I removed mine from my ears during my 3 favorite songs only.
Richard worked the crowd like he does and being only three heads back (standing room only), I got to look directly into those eyes... *sigh*
Unlike the opening act, who I was shocked to find out had been performing for 20 years since they sounded like every YouTube basement sensation, drank beer on stage as they bored us with their "musicianship." The Furs, true professionals and rocking musicians that they are, drank water, Red Bull or soda, and rocked the house. The sax player made noises you can't believe that instrument can make. The drummer kept me moving the entire night. The funky keyboardist looked like Janice the Muppet and was mellow and hippie-ish. Loved her for that and for the sparkly Mary Jane's she sported. Bassist Tim was a towering presence who mouthed every word along with his lead-singer brother. And they all smiled with parental approval at the baby-faced guitarist after his awesome solo.
An hour and a half flew by. I am still singing their tunes in my head and seeing Richard's dancing and hand movements for every song.
My partner in crime is still almost squealing, only now he's saying, "I can't believe we saw the Psychedelic Furs. Thank you, thank you, thank you for finding out they were going to be here."
"Here" was Atlantic City, a dive I haven't been to since I was little. Now I know why. Dirty. Trashy. Neon-blazingly ugly. And I have never seen so many sad people as I did sitting in front of the slot machines. At 1 a.m., they were still playing. They'd be there all night. I just wanted to play roulette. I don't know why I like that game, having never played any of them before. But that's what I wanted.
$20. That's my limit. So we each pitched in $10 and I tossed it on the table. Quicker than the wind, we had 2 stacks of $10 in chips. He bet safe -- "odd." I bet on 36 (I had my reasons). The white ball blurred round and round, finally settling on 19. He doubled his $10 bet. I lost.
"Here," he said and handed me the $10 he won. Awww.
"36 again," I said and plopped my stack of chips on the last numbered square. If I was going to win, I was going to win with my number. I believed!
I stood on my tippy toes to see the wheel spin on the other end of the table. The ball slowed, bounced twice and landed, but I couldn't see where.
"36," the dealer yelled and that numbered square flashed with light. "Winner!"
"Woohoo!" I shouted, and raised my arms a la Rocky on the Art Museum steps.
She started stacking chips... and stacked... and stacked...
$350!
"All these? For me?"
"Yep," she said.
"You're done now, right?" he asked.
I wasn't. I bet $10 on odd and won then bet that on 27 and lost.
"OK, now I'm done," I said, and we took our $350 in chips to the window to cash out.
"If you like gambling," he said, "we should go to Vegas."
"Nah, I won. So I'm done," I said and smiled.
We decided to use our winnings to pay for the hotel for our upcoming vacation. So thank you, Showboat Casino and Hotel, for helping to pay for our next trip! WOO!
And thank you, Psychedelic Furs, for still sounding awesome, for still writing great songs, for not phoning it in (which so many bands who have been around for 30 years would do). And thank you for your part in an awesome night.
They'd put us on a railroad
They'd dearly make us pay
For laughing in their faces
And making it our way
There's emptiness behind their eyes
There's dust in all their hearts
They just want to steal us all
And take us all apart
But not in
Love my way, it's a new road
I follow where my mind goes
Swallow all your tears my love
And put on your new face
You can never win or lose
If you don't run the race
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Random Thoughts Thursday
A "this week has been brought to you by the color gray" edition
* Hmmm. I seem to remember a blinding yellow light thingy in the sky. ... Perhaps it was my imagination.
* My flowers are growing and I don't have to water much, though. See? Bright side!
* The new-ish barista at one of my frequented coffee shops said he'll remember my name because it's weird. I'll remember his 'cuz he was rude.
* My waiter at Chili's was practically mute. I kind of like them better that way.
* The Dunkin Donuts guy has a crush on me. Last time I ordered the 6 for $3, he gave me 7, and a smile. Mm hmm.
* Wal-mart *shudder* (I can't believe I'm cheating on Target with this store) has Pop Tarts(tm) for $1.50!
* "Gilmore Girls" mistake: Lorelai said when she ate Pop Tarts(tm) as a kid, she couldn't wait to unwrap the silver package. NO! When we were kids, the package was thicker and white and had a silver lining!
* Frosted Chocolate Fudge. Mmmmmmmm.
* I haven't had lunch yet. Hence the hunger posts. Moving on.
* I will be in the presence of the Psychedelic Furs this weekend, taking me back to 1986 in my head.
* Being able to enjoy the music and the awesome band without teasing my bangs for an hour and using an entire can of Aqua Net before putting on my one glove, mis-matched earrings, leggings, and net shirt a la Madonna circa 1984? Priceless.
Monday, June 08, 2009
* Hmmm. I seem to remember a blinding yellow light thingy in the sky. ... Perhaps it was my imagination.
* My flowers are growing and I don't have to water much, though. See? Bright side!
* The new-ish barista at one of my frequented coffee shops said he'll remember my name because it's weird. I'll remember his 'cuz he was rude.
* My waiter at Chili's was practically mute. I kind of like them better that way.
* The Dunkin Donuts guy has a crush on me. Last time I ordered the 6 for $3, he gave me 7, and a smile. Mm hmm.
* Wal-mart *shudder* (I can't believe I'm cheating on Target with this store) has Pop Tarts(tm) for $1.50!
* "Gilmore Girls" mistake: Lorelai said when she ate Pop Tarts(tm) as a kid, she couldn't wait to unwrap the silver package. NO! When we were kids, the package was thicker and white and had a silver lining!
* Frosted Chocolate Fudge. Mmmmmmmm.
* I haven't had lunch yet. Hence the hunger posts. Moving on.
* I will be in the presence of the Psychedelic Furs this weekend, taking me back to 1986 in my head.
* Being able to enjoy the music and the awesome band without teasing my bangs for an hour and using an entire can of Aqua Net before putting on my one glove, mis-matched earrings, leggings, and net shirt a la Madonna circa 1984? Priceless.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Tara's Tony Thoughts
Another theater season comes to an end with another let's-pat-ourselves-on-the-back evening. I don't feel as cheapened watching the Tonys as I do the Oscars, maybe because I know most theater people, while well-paid on Broadway, don't make the $20 mil a pic that dreadful Julia Roberts does.
Thoughts:
Love Neil Patrick Harris. He's cute and funny. And he played Mark in "Rent"!
Is Liza still alive? Who knew?
Could Liza, unlike tonight, ever sing? Who knew?
Would it be wrong to have wished with all my heart that Dolly Parton would finish "9 to 5" instead of the cast of that show?
I think the kids in "Hair" should have had their own hippie hair and not so many dreadful wigs.
And for goodness sake, you can NOT update a classic. What's with the Espanol in "West Side Story"? We know they're Puerto Rican. But as the song they sing says, they're in America and they even discuss having to speak English. It's kind of one of the points of the show! Grrrrrr.
Oh, and finally, even just sitting in the audience... can someone make Anne Hathaway go Hath-away for just a while? I'm really getting tired of looking at her. I need a break.
The show was OK. I absolutely abhor the Disney-izing of Broadway and garish messes like "Shrek," but hey, if that drivel helps pay for the real shows, then I guess I'll tolerate it.
Now I wanna see a show... *sigh*
Thoughts:
Love Neil Patrick Harris. He's cute and funny. And he played Mark in "Rent"!
Is Liza still alive? Who knew?
Could Liza, unlike tonight, ever sing? Who knew?
Would it be wrong to have wished with all my heart that Dolly Parton would finish "9 to 5" instead of the cast of that show?
I think the kids in "Hair" should have had their own hippie hair and not so many dreadful wigs.
And for goodness sake, you can NOT update a classic. What's with the Espanol in "West Side Story"? We know they're Puerto Rican. But as the song they sing says, they're in America and they even discuss having to speak English. It's kind of one of the points of the show! Grrrrrr.
Oh, and finally, even just sitting in the audience... can someone make Anne Hathaway go Hath-away for just a while? I'm really getting tired of looking at her. I need a break.
The show was OK. I absolutely abhor the Disney-izing of Broadway and garish messes like "Shrek," but hey, if that drivel helps pay for the real shows, then I guess I'll tolerate it.
Now I wanna see a show... *sigh*
