I’m Crying and Dying Because of This Budweiser Commercial

See, that puppy just wants to be with her horsey best friend and even goes through the RAIN to say hi, and that hot rancher just keeps takin her back (sigh—ha ha), and the puppy lady is like *sorry about that*… *again*, and *hey, quit escapin under the fence!*, and then the puppy gets adopted and put in that fancy car, but that puppy is not a fancy car city type, she’s a *ranch dog*, and that Clydesdale does the horse equivalent of running through a crowded airport to stop a loved one from boarding a plane for that internship in Paris because it LOVES that puppy, and it jumps over that fence RIGHT AT THE SWELL OF THE SONG, and its posse is all *Yo back that ass up, city slicker*, and the city slicker’s like WHOA WTF, and the puppy goes back to the hot rancher and her horsey BFF, and I’ve watched it seven times.

Eight times.

OK, eleven times.

30 Days

I’ve been attempting to focus on the abundance in my life, rather than participating my usual Trance of Scarcity. The meditation (see Day 25) definitely helps, but I also thought I’d tweet one of those annoying 30 Days of Thankfulness things, except try to make it not-annoying.

The most difficult part was not coming up with things for which I felt grateful—I got plenty. The most difficult part was staying within 140 characters. You know how I like to babble on. The teacher of a writing workshop I took last year said, “You’ve got 25-30% too much fat.”

I was like, “DON’T I KNOW IT. Wait, you mean my writing?” He was right. I need to trim it down…

Arg! If I wanted to go on a word diet, I would’ve been a poet!

But I did it for thirty days. (NB: The following is not poetry. It’s just skinny prose.)

That 4-year-old, man. She’s dramatic and sassy, she wants what she wants, and she’s in the 8th percentile for height. In other words, she’s me. Hahaha. No, she’s not. She’s her. She’s her own person. But kind of me. I yub her.

This girl. She does something to my heart.
This girl. She does something to my heart.

This goes for both my parents. My parents showed the fuck up.

I’m still bad at crying (i.e., I need to do more of it and less eating/checking Facebook/self-flagellation/etc.), but I have good role models (namely, Cat, EJ, and Melissa).

(Typo: That was supposed to be Day 13.)

When the doc actually felt it, she goes—I shit you not, “Yeah, you got a lot of lumps and bumps, and this one doesn’t feel any different from the other ones.” :/

Also, if they do hate me as a result, that’s their own goddamn problem.

It’s a good job. I just wish I got paid more and didn’t have to deal with so much bullshit. I guess that’s everybody, right? Except I really should get paid more.

Every so often I consider it, dry-heave, and un-consider it.

I’m hosting the StorySLAM on December 11, folks! Come on out!

So, in today’s ironic news, when I need to unplug, I use an iPhone app. It’s called Get Some Headspace, and I highly recommend it. The dude who leads the meditation is a former Buddhist monk, and he sounds a tiny bit like the Geico Gecko so everybody wins.

Terrified of jinxing it, but there’s an amazing woman who has created a passion project, and we met, and it was awesome, and she’s invited me to be part of her team, and I hope I can keep up.

I watched 5 episodes of Game of Thrones in the middle of the day yesterday, true story.

As you can see, I’m thankful for a lot of things, including those of you who’re reading. Happy rest-of-your-holidays!



Road Trip Soundtrack, Part 3

It’s the 4th of July, and I promised you ‘Murrica, so I’ll start with Track 9, “Watching You” by Rodney Atkins:

You heard right.

Drivin’ through town just my boy and me
With a Happy Meal in his booster seat
Knowin’ that he couldn’t have the toy ‘til his nuggets were gone.

Thank god he’s teaching his young son that he’ll get a prize when he ingests all of his toxic meat-byproduct bites. Good parenting.

Oh, and isn’t that hilarious, how the boy says, “Shit,” because he wants to be just like his dad? That’s hilarious!

Now, did you listen to the whole song? You really need to. Right after he said, “We got back home and I went to the barn [course he did]/I bowed my head and I prayed real hard,” I was like, “Oh no. Oh NO. NO THE KID’S GONNA SEE HIM PRAYING AND THEN PRAY JUST LIKE HIM AAAAAAAAHHHH HELP ME MY EARS.” And that’s exactly what happened.


Actually, I thought it was the Worst. It’s not the Worst. The Worst, found when I landed on another country station, is Track 10 by the same jackass called—can you guess? I bet you can guess. That’s right. It’s called “It’s America”.

I mean, aside from the banal melody and the grating hyperbolic hur-hur-hur of his Southern (patriotic) accent, there’s the lyric. Do you want to know what America is? I’ll tell you. It’s:

  • a high school prom (by which he means, teen pregnancy after abstinence-only education);
  • a Springsteen song (wonder how Bruce feels about being name-checked here);
  • a ride in a Chevrolet (funny, I still feel American when I drive my Mazda);
  • a man on the moon (is this our most recent victory?);
  • fireflies in June (fuck you, Alaska—where are your June lightning bugs?!);
  • kids selling lemonade (capitalism!);
  • cities (them places with liberals?) and farms;
  • open arms (aw, hugs!);
  • a kid with a chance (unless you’re born poor and/or of color lol);
  • a rock and roll band (he’s probably thinking Creed);
  • a farmer cuttin hay (sure);
  • a big flag flyin’ in the summer wind over a fallen hero’s grave (there it is); and
  • (most importantly) one nation under Gaaaaaaaaawd.

At one point, Atkins sings about how grateful he is to live in America after he witnesses people collecting canned tuna for “twister” victims. Because did you know that in other countries nobody does that? If your yurt gets swept away by a tsunami anywhere outside the U.S. borders, people (foreigners) just stand there and buff their nails. That’s all those ferners do is buff their fucking nails.

He does admit “we might not always get it right” in one line. One line. He dedicates one line to: slavery, the displacement of Native peoples, Jim Crow, eugenics, Japanese internment, corporate personhood, Monsanto, fracking, and Michele Bachmann.

But you know what? There’s nowhere he’d rather build his life.

You could change absolutely nothing about this song except have Jim Carrey sing it, and it would be a parody.

I wanted to put my car into the Susquehanna.

Fortunately, there were also Tracks 11-14:


Shumann’s Symphony No. 1 in B Flat,

Prince squealing “Ain’t no particular sign I’m more compatible with!”,

and the new one by Daft Punk,

so I kep on truckin. Through America.


Road Trip Soundtrack, Part 2

We polkaed! We got the Led out! We smoothed our hair like Tony Manero! Now we’re going all Ryan Seacrest for Track 5, Imagine Dragons’ “It’s Time”:

I like it all right, you know? It’s not a perfect song, but I like the chunka-chunka/bling-blingy-bling-bling thing they got going, and it’s fun to sing along to. (The line is: “It’s time to begin, isn’t it?” not, “Is it in?” I had thought it was rather evolved of him to share such an embarrassing question.)

Track 6 was “Don’t You Worry” by Swedish House Mafia:

I seldom in my life feel victorious. Do you guys? Do other people? I think no. We just don’t get  a whole lot of opportunities to feel victorious in life. That’s probably why they invented house music. It’s impossible to listen to a rave tune and not be like, “I have vanquished all mine enemies, and now I shall dahnce! DAHNCE!”

Track 7 has really stupid lyrics (Even in a hurricane of frowns/I know that we’ll be safe and sound):

But the Capital Cities duo is adorkable, and it’s not horrible to listen to.

Here’s a truly terrible song for Track 8 though:

Everyone involved in this mess should be drawn and quartered.

Incidentally, until I Shazam-ed this song on Saturday, I believed this artist went by the name Jason the Ruler. Which I thought was really dumb, until I saw that his name was Jason Derulo, and then I thought, “What kind of idiot is named Jason Derulo and doesn’t capitalize on it by adopting Jason the Ruler as his stage name?”

Also, where you think he’s saying, “I find your hairs all over me,” and you’re like GROSS because nothing’s ickier than another person’s stray hairs, he’s actually saying, “Bind your hands all over me.”

What does that mean? I don’t know.


Road Trip Soundtrack, Part 1

I will sell it. on the corner. in order to avoid driving I-95 anywhere between DC and Boston, so on my trip south—sans Dad :( —I took a wide sweeping swing west down I-81 and Route 29.

I pretty quickly grew sick of my podcasts and turned to scanning through local radio stations, which is always a joy. Nothing’s better than when WARM 103.3 Today’s Hits & Yesterday’s Favorites busts out “Take On Me” by A-ha.

By the way, I just learned he’s saying “I’ll be gone in a day or two“, which makes more sense than “I’ll be gone doo doot doo doooooooo“. Also, “steadily learning the piper’s OK” (whew, I was concerned about him) is actually “slowly learning that life is OK”. Also too, “you’re all the things I’ve got to remember”. I always understood that’s what the line was, but I never got until Saturday that it’s the fucking loveliest song lyric ever.

You’re all the things I’ve got to remember.


Onward! Why are my local radio stations so lame and everywhere else’s so hilarious and/or awesome?

Since I was trundling through Pennsylvania, you might guess Track 1 of our Road Trip Soundtrack: Stanley Pulaski and His Orchestra’s “May June July Polka”, a very jaunty little number. I can’t find a video for it, but it’s available on Polka Party Volume 2 on eBay. (Don’t make a mistake and order Polka Party Volume 1 or you’ll be disappointed!)

Polka Party

Track 2:

Aw, YEAH. Ramble ON, man.

Reminded me of my days riding shotgun in the old Sube, my brother at the helm. All his Led Zeppelin cassettes case-less and kicking about in my footwell, the writing worn off—we had no way of knowing what album it was until we threw it in the tape deck. And then we’d just ROCK OUT. And then we’d go to school.

Track 3:

“Just What I Needed” is in the top ten greatest pop songs ever. Debate me.

Track 4:

Fun fact: My sister is a Bee Gees fan. Like, not ironically or anything. Loathes the Beach Boys, but genuinely enjoys the Bee Gees.

Next installment I hit the Top 40 stations!