James Blunt is a singer. He had that REALLY annoying song last year, Beautiful, that was played ad nauseam during the holidays. All about this woman he sees on the bus, with whom he falls instantly in love, and whom he will never see again. Bleah.
So his new song is 1973. Owing to the fact that I don't have a CD player in my car, and the cassette player is broken ( I think Mary Black's been stuck inside for the past three years), I listen to the radio. This song is being played incessantly. It's slowly driving me insane. Here are the lyrics:
Simona
You're getting older
Your journey's been etched
On your skin
Simona
Wish I had known that
What seemed so strong
Has been and gone
I would call you up every Saturday night
And we'd both stay out 'til the morning light
And we sang, "Here we go again"
And though time goes by
I will always be
In a club with you
In 1973
Singing, "Here we go again"
Simona
Wish I was sober
So I could see clearly now
The rain has gone
Simona
I guess it's over
My memory plays our tune
The same old song
I would call you up every Saturday night
And we'd both stay out 'til the morning light
And we sang, "Here we go again"
And though time goes by
I will always be
In a club with you
In 1973
Singing, "Here we go again"
I would call you up every Saturday night
And we'd both stay out 'til the morning light
And we sang, "Here we go again"
And though time goes by
I will always be
In a club with you
In 1973
Singing, "Here we go again"
I would call you up every Saturday night
And we'd both stay out 'til the morning light
And we sang, "Here we go again"
And though time goes by
I will always be
In a club with you
In 1973
Singing, "Here we go again"
And though time goes by
I will always be
In a club with you
In 1973
Not only are the lyrics vapid and repetitive, this guy wasn't even alive in 1973. I was in third grade, but at least I have some memory of that time. Supposedly, he wrote the song after visiting some dance club in Izbara, but why was it set in 1973?
Am I spending too much time thinking about this? Probably. But it bugs me.
On a lighter note? I actually saw a coyote this morning while walking the Wonder Dog. I've lived here four years, and heard them almost every night, but have not seen one in the area until this morning. I'm taking it as a good sign.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
I woke this morn to the sound of heaving
"Please not on the bed," I lay there pleading
Detected a scent rather like poo
Ain't it funny how the tummy moves
Always when you have sleep to lose
Strange how Charlie's tummy moves
(extra points if you can figure out the tune this is supposed to accompany.)
It's 5:38 right now, and I've been up almost an hour. I didn't intend to be, I was sleeping well for the first time in several nights.
I was still on the pull-out bed in the front room, and in front of the open door last night. The temp broke a little; it actually got down to 69 degrees. Comfortable.
But then, that sound. That gagging, barfing sound that only dogs can make.
Right on the corner of the bed. Where I was sleeping.
Gross.
(And as an aside? He just lost his cookies again, this time on the bathroom floor, which as far as cleaning up, is the best choice. Still, I just took care of that).
I jumped up, and grabbed the sheet, folding it in on itself, hoping I contained the mess before it soaked through to the mattress/cushion. Which I did. Until I didn't. So yeah, a pile of it dropped back onto the pristine white of the underside of my couch. Yech.
The cleaning commenced, and upon investigation, it appears the wonder dog first regurgitated his dinner in the bedroom, ate it back up and repeated his performance for me on the bed. So, Big stain in the bedroom, one on the couch cushion and a small one on the carpet under the couch (overflow). At least the bathroom is already cleaned up.
Why does this always happen when I can't call the vet?
Poor little guy, I know he's feeling crummy.
And now, for those of you still with me... a little known fact. Horses can't throw up. If they do, it's through their noses, and it's a "terminal event." Meaning they die. Wow. Good thing to remember if Trigger or Mr. Ed want to tie one on Saturday night.
"Please not on the bed," I lay there pleading
Detected a scent rather like poo
Ain't it funny how the tummy moves
Always when you have sleep to lose
Strange how Charlie's tummy moves
(extra points if you can figure out the tune this is supposed to accompany.)
It's 5:38 right now, and I've been up almost an hour. I didn't intend to be, I was sleeping well for the first time in several nights.
I was still on the pull-out bed in the front room, and in front of the open door last night. The temp broke a little; it actually got down to 69 degrees. Comfortable.
But then, that sound. That gagging, barfing sound that only dogs can make.
Right on the corner of the bed. Where I was sleeping.
Gross.
(And as an aside? He just lost his cookies again, this time on the bathroom floor, which as far as cleaning up, is the best choice. Still, I just took care of that).
I jumped up, and grabbed the sheet, folding it in on itself, hoping I contained the mess before it soaked through to the mattress/cushion. Which I did. Until I didn't. So yeah, a pile of it dropped back onto the pristine white of the underside of my couch. Yech.
The cleaning commenced, and upon investigation, it appears the wonder dog first regurgitated his dinner in the bedroom, ate it back up and repeated his performance for me on the bed. So, Big stain in the bedroom, one on the couch cushion and a small one on the carpet under the couch (overflow). At least the bathroom is already cleaned up.
Why does this always happen when I can't call the vet?
Poor little guy, I know he's feeling crummy.
And now, for those of you still with me... a little known fact. Horses can't throw up. If they do, it's through their noses, and it's a "terminal event." Meaning they die. Wow. Good thing to remember if Trigger or Mr. Ed want to tie one on Saturday night.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Still hot
This is ridiculous.
Last night, sleeping in front of the open front door, I woke up around three. The temperature had dropped to a balmy 86 degrees. No fan can help with that.
Right now? 104 outside an hour from sunset, and 92.5 inside.
Yeah, I'm going to be really sharp tomorrow after a great night's sleep tonight.
Maybe I'll go for a drive with the air conditioning with the Wonder Dog. Too bad I can't smuggle him into the movies.
Last night, sleeping in front of the open front door, I woke up around three. The temperature had dropped to a balmy 86 degrees. No fan can help with that.
Right now? 104 outside an hour from sunset, and 92.5 inside.
Yeah, I'm going to be really sharp tomorrow after a great night's sleep tonight.
Maybe I'll go for a drive with the air conditioning with the Wonder Dog. Too bad I can't smuggle him into the movies.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Heat
Okay, so it's hot. I get it. No air conditioning, and no windows that open on the Northwest side of my house, so the sun just beats down and heats up my little place.
Right now, it's 84 degrees inside my house.
Update: It's now 4:19 pm and 90.5 degrees in the house.
The high today is supposedly going to be 86 degrees.
Bull.
It's 90 in the shade outside and it's not even the hottest part of the day yet.
More update: now it's 111 degrees. I'm going to melt.
Do you think it's the media's attempt to placate the sweaty citizens? I don't know.
Spent another $250 on the Wonder Dog Friday; his allergies have got him itching and scratching and yet again, another infection. Gah. At least this time we aren't giving him oral anti-biotics. Nope, now it's a cream.
The neck spasms? Getting better, and with the drugs, just great. Still, I'm only taking them at night, wouldn't want to get all goofy at school. At least not during the second week of school.
The fused vertebrae thing? It really doesn't mean anything. The only reason they figured it out was that it showed up on my x-ray. It's a pretty rare thing, and a good number of folks are like me, with no symptoms or problems. Just a little anomaly that adds to my charm. And, I get to have a syndrome.
I've not written about anything of import lately, but I have been thinking about humor. What makes one thing funny and another not? Why is some humor offensive to some and hilarious to others?
I've posed this to my students already; every day I put a cartoon (usually the Far Side, or one from the New Yorker) on the overhead and we talk about it. I can teach them about prior knowledge, or incongruity or intertextuality in a fun way. I always ask, "What do you need to know to understand this cartoon?" and then the conversation begins. They learn that even if they personally don't find it funny, there is a reason it's supposed to be funny.
Anyway. The question I have posed to them, and now to you is this: Why are shows like America's Funniest Home Videos considered humorous? Why do we laugh if some one trips, or his three-year-old hits him in the family jewels with a plastic baseball bat? Why do we laugh when we make another person look stupid? We don't laugh when someone is punched in the face, so why is it funny when that same person falls on it? We feel awful when we've been made fun of, so why is it humorous when it's done to others?
I'm not on a ethical high horse about this either; I laugh at the same things as everyone else. I tend to be sarcastic far too often. No, I'm truly wondering what it is that makes us laugh at other's misfortunes.
Ideas?
Right now, it's 84 degrees inside my house.
Update: It's now 4:19 pm and 90.5 degrees in the house.
The high today is supposedly going to be 86 degrees.
Bull.
It's 90 in the shade outside and it's not even the hottest part of the day yet.
More update: now it's 111 degrees. I'm going to melt.
Do you think it's the media's attempt to placate the sweaty citizens? I don't know.
Spent another $250 on the Wonder Dog Friday; his allergies have got him itching and scratching and yet again, another infection. Gah. At least this time we aren't giving him oral anti-biotics. Nope, now it's a cream.
The neck spasms? Getting better, and with the drugs, just great. Still, I'm only taking them at night, wouldn't want to get all goofy at school. At least not during the second week of school.
The fused vertebrae thing? It really doesn't mean anything. The only reason they figured it out was that it showed up on my x-ray. It's a pretty rare thing, and a good number of folks are like me, with no symptoms or problems. Just a little anomaly that adds to my charm. And, I get to have a syndrome.
I've not written about anything of import lately, but I have been thinking about humor. What makes one thing funny and another not? Why is some humor offensive to some and hilarious to others?
I've posed this to my students already; every day I put a cartoon (usually the Far Side, or one from the New Yorker) on the overhead and we talk about it. I can teach them about prior knowledge, or incongruity or intertextuality in a fun way. I always ask, "What do you need to know to understand this cartoon?" and then the conversation begins. They learn that even if they personally don't find it funny, there is a reason it's supposed to be funny.
Anyway. The question I have posed to them, and now to you is this: Why are shows like America's Funniest Home Videos considered humorous? Why do we laugh if some one trips, or his three-year-old hits him in the family jewels with a plastic baseball bat? Why do we laugh when we make another person look stupid? We don't laugh when someone is punched in the face, so why is it funny when that same person falls on it? We feel awful when we've been made fun of, so why is it humorous when it's done to others?
I'm not on a ethical high horse about this either; I laugh at the same things as everyone else. I tend to be sarcastic far too often. No, I'm truly wondering what it is that makes us laugh at other's misfortunes.
Ideas?
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