I first heard The National in The Cellar, my undergrad university’s on-campus bar. I was having a beer there with my friend Heaps, and this song came on. She has some fancy phone where you can play music to the phone, and it can tell you what the song is. (And this was BEFORE the iPhone could do that, I’ll have you know.) The song was “Apartment Story,” and I clearly went home and listened to it on repeat. Be sure to note John Lennon on the drums:
I’ve been listening to some more of The National’s stuff, and I really like all of it. I think it’s because I adore Matt Berninger’s voice. It’s so deliciously deep. Makes me feel like he has a beard, although I’ll settle for the scruff he’s rocking in the video. I’m guessing he could sing some rando song from High School Musical and I’d still be all “ooh, Matt, so scruffy and baritone.”
Here’s the whole band, just having a cocktail or two at their on-campus bar:
Are you SEEING all that beard-age?
I love music in a way that makes me wish I could express myself through it in some legitimate way. I tried to learn to play the guitar once, but got about as far as “Redemption Song” and then gave up. Maybe I need to try again, or maybe I need to settle for what I have. Which is a great backup singer voice, as long as the music is so loud that you can’t hear me.
You end a sentence/phrase with a preposition, your AP English teacher has a heart attack. You arrange a sentence/phrase so that it doesn’t end in a preposition, you sound like an elitist douche. When given the choice, I’ll obviously go for the latter.
Anyway, seeing that Madeline (the “guest” slash obviously permanent blogger) has beat me to breaking our dry spell, I was overwhelmed with Catholic guilt. Friends, it’s not that I haven’t wanted to blog in the past few days. I really have. It’s just that I’ve been too overwhelmed with work, to the point that blogging would have caused me even more Catholic guilt. So I cut my losses.
Now that I’m home on break, I have a little more time on my hands. In light of the upcoming holiday o’ food, I’ve decided to share a random list of some things for which I am thankful. In no particular order…
1. Stovetop stuffing. And while we’re at it, the cranberry sauce that looks like the can in which it came (now I’m super paranoid about the preposition thing, dammit). We’re not exactly fancy in my family.
2. Michael Franti. I saw him for the first time back in July, and I fell further in love with him when I saw him at the 9:30 Club in DC last Wednesday. Even if you think you wouldn’t like his music, I’d encourage you to go to one of his concerts. He has an amazing ability to put on the BEST SHOW EVER. His energy is just unbelievable. It didn’t hurt that he made me laugh, made me cry, and made me chant “Barack Obama” all in the span of three hours. And perhaps most impressively, Mr. Franti makes me feel like I’m a good dancer, even when I’m sober (!!!). Take a look at my favorite song off of his newest album:
If you don’t like that song, you should probably just give up on life. You clearly don’t have a soul.
3. While we’re thinking about him, Barack Obama. And Michelle, Malia, and Sasha. Also Joe and Jill Biden.
4. That my finger didn’t entirely fall off today at the nail salon. The entire story would call for a blog post in itself, but I’ll just say that it involved a bloody electric buffer, a sadistic manicurist, and sanitation standards that would have made a cockroach shudder.
5. My ability to entertain myself. My friend Rachel thinks that I could have my own reality show because of the embarrassing shit I do in the privacy of my own space. I’m not sure I agree with her (although, hey, people do watch The Real Housewives of Atlanta), but I am grateful for this skill of mine. The other day, for instance, I caught myself singing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” Out loud. In a British accent. Riiiight.
6. That I’m not pregnant.
7. That I’m not morbidly obese. (I honestly think about this on a daily basis.)
8. Goat cheese, breakfast sandwiches, salsa, bourbon, etc. etc.
14. The fact that I can make this ridiculous list, because it means that all of the important stuff (health of friends, family, etc.) are already there.
I know what you’re thinking: “Six words, you have failed me.” It’s true, we have. Not Kathleen though, she has an excuse. Personally, I blame it on the fact that Gossip Girl was a repeat this week. WHAT is up with that? I missed you all terribly, internets, and I promise that this will not happen again.
Yesterday, I was driving all around Monmouth County, NJ (relishing in the fact that it only cost me TWENTY TWO DOLLARS to fill up my gas tank) and I experienced one of those moments that will make me cringe with embarassment every time I recall it for the next 80 years (I’m optimistic. And healthy). Over the years, I’ve entertained many friends while driving. Whether it be through new and creative ways of using boring old curse words or defying the laws of physics/the road, I think I’ve showed them a good time. HOWEVER, none of them have had the opportunity to experience what I tend to do when I’m driving by myself immediately after drinking a lot of coffee.
It is my firm belief that in another life I was a great performer and because in this life I suffer from both stage fright and being tone deaf, the only time I perform is in the car, alone. I know you’ve all done it too. However, unlike me you’re probably smart and reserve such performances for long drives on empty roads when few people will see you and not for WHEN YOU’RE STUCK IN TRAFFIC. I couldn’t help it though, because a really fabulous song came on and, although I fought it, the rhythm got me (DAMN YOU, Gloria!). I could lie and tell you that it was some really catchy new pop tune like Britneys “Womanizer” or that “Just Dance” song but we’re all about integrity here at SWTCTW so I’m going to come right out and say it: I was listening to a light radio station. I was listening to Bonnie Raitt.
. . . and I was really getting into it. Singing into my coffee cup, doing a little hair flip, making a fool out of myself and of course, I was busted. Some dude in the car next to me totally caught me at a particularly croony moment and laughed and laughed and laughed. I can’t say that I blame him, I looked like an idiot-but that was for my amusement only! I had to spend the next ten miles driving twenty miles below the speed limit so that my car wouldn’t catch up to his again.
It was terrible but you know what? That song is awesome. I wouldn’t lie to you, internets. Enjoy.
Praise be to the goddesses of pop! Britney’s back!
It seems that she has finally gained some perspective on her, um . . . hiatus, and she’s ready to explain all in an MTV documentary (also known as the “True Life” to end all “True Lifes”). The documentary airs on November 30 but you can see the trailer here!
For the sake of her children and pop music as we know it, I’m glad Britty’s back. I was by no means one of the faithful (holler, Walsh) who thought this day would come but I embrace it. After all, I slow-danced to “Sometimes” in middle school, “Drive Me Crazy” still makes me covet Adrian Grenier, and “Toxic” got me through AP Bio senior year of high school. So, welcome back Britney. We salute you by sharing our favorite Britney moments with our SWTCTW friends and watching more trailers.
I told you that I’ve been been unusually obsessed with Paul Simon these days. Part of this is because of “The Obvious Child.” That song is so FREAKING good. I just want to get up and dance like a fool whenever I hear it. This makes for some awkward bus rides, as I occasionally find myself shimmying my shoulders to the beat and maybe mouthing the words a little bit. At least I know how to entertain myself. And that Paul Simon, he sure knows how to entertain YOU:
I realized after watching that video that I didn’t really know what Paul looks like. Google Image changed all that. I especially like this photo, because I, too, have a furry hood thing attached to one of my vests. It’s like Paul and I are soulmates:
Speaking of shimmying your shoulders to the beat, Beyonce is mesmerizing in the “Single Ladies” video:
I would sell an internal organ or two on the black market to be able to dance like that. Unfortunately, things like the small intestine and the liver seem to be kind of important. I guess I’ll have to stick to my classic unabashedly awkward style of jumping up and down and calling it dancing.
Number of times I engaged in a political debate with my sister in the past 24 hours: 3
Number of fun-size Snickers bars currently in my belly: 300
Number of days (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE) until Barack Obama is elected as our next president: 4
Number of beers I plan to drink tonight: 17
Number of days until Halloween: 0!!!
HAPPY HALLOWEEN, MY LITTLE GHOULS AND GOBLINS!
This evening I will be celebrating by dressing up as the one, the only, Richard Simmons. Think afro, tiny neon shorts, and tall white socks. I will obviously be having sex tonight.
So crack open a ice cold Bud Light and a bag of candy corn, pull something wacky out of your costume box (you have one too, right?), and do the Monster Mash.
On this lovely little October Wednesday, I’d like to share some random thoughts with you. (Don’t worry…cry face is coming.) I haven’t posted in a while either, and it’s partly because my mom was here in DC to visit, and partly because my computer broke. (And I have to go to Arlington to fix it…THE HORROR!)
I had a lovely little weekend with the mother, and we got to do some touristy things and eat a lot and she took me to do this foreign activity — shopping — that we poor grad students (read: irresponsible grad students who’d rather spend their $75 weekly budget on overpriced gin and tonics than clothes) can’t do very often. (Random side note: a kid I don’t know very well who tends to be sort of loud and intense just looked over my shoulder and was like “OOH someone has a WordPress blog!” Which made me self conscious.) (Yes there are too many parentheses in this post.)
Um where was I? Ah yes, random thoughts. I’ve been in a weird mood for the past few days. Alternately introspective in a delightful, happy way and in a depressed, go-home-and-listen-to-Dashboard way. First of all, I’ve been having lots of political debates with my family. In fact, I’ve argued with every member of my immediate family this week. My mother is still on the fence about the election, due to the fact that she has been brainwashed by my father. My sister is currently being brainwashed by her conservative Kansas friends to be “terrified of Obama.” My father has been palling around with McCain for years, but we recently got in an email debate about abortion, in which I threw out the cliche trump card…”Dad, what if I was raped and got pregnant?”
Things have been getting kind of heated, which has been giving me agida. Unfortunately, I often get so angry that I can’t articulate coherent thoughts. All I want to scream is “HOW ARE YOU PEOPLE RELATED TO ME?! JUMP IN THE TANK WITH ME AND BARACK!” and then make them carve Barack pumpkins while looking at pictures of Sasha and Malia.
Sigh. Let’s just say I had to wear my flannel nightgown last night.
I’ve also had lots of emo thoughts about some of the relationships in my life. I won’t get into the nitty gritty details, but I’ve come to a realization about what I value in a person. Above all, I value the following two qualities: authenticity and wackiness. I can’t stand people who are inauthentic, in all the forms that takes. And it’s not to say that I’m perfectly honest and perfectly myself 100% of the time, but I’d like to think that my core personality is fixed, and that I don’t radically change who I am based on who I’m around. Too many people do that. I hate that.
And then there’s wackiness. If you’re authentic and not wacky, I’ll probably respect you, but I won’t want to hang out with you. It’s like when people say “Well, so-and-so’s just really nice.” To which I respond, “Nice doesn’t cut it. Nice is fine. But nice is boring. I don’t want to hang out with nice.” If you’re not just a leeeetle wacky, it’s not worth it. Having friends with a little wacky in them is what makes it possible for me to still have friends even though I sometimes wear flannel nightgowns and say weird things and dance really awkwardly and am kind of a nerd.
If you’re wacky, authentic, and in the tank for Barack, I totally love you right now. Bring your flannel nightgown over. We’ll drink red wine and watch the Food Network and maybe have a dance party to old Aaliyah songs. It will be great.
If you’re not into any of the above maybe just look at the picture of Pam and Dwight and Jim until you’re so happy you almost cry. Even unauthentic boring people who love McCain deserve to feel happy once in a while.
Colin Powell, everyone’s favorite good guy who worked for the bad guys, might endorse Santo Barack O. Like Tony the Tiger would say, that’s grrrrrrrrrreat! Everyone and their mother is speculating as to when (but if I had to guess, I’d say tomorrow and he says that Barack’s performance in tonight’s debates compelled him to endorse) and looking for clues. But Fox News’ America’s Election HQ (why would you go anywhere else for news?!) has the clue to end all clues. Here is their headline and sub-headline, I shiz you not.
Hip-Hop-Dancing Colin Powell Fuels Speculation He’ll Endorse Obama
Colin Powell showed off his hip-hop moves at an ‘Africa Rising’ celebration in London Tuesday, fueling speculation that the former secretary of state is about to endorse Barack Obama for president.
He hip-hop danced! That means he’s black! Which means he’s definitely endorsing Obama!
Along with the sure to be Pulitzer winning investigative journalism, Fox also provided pictures of Gen. Powell engaging in practices that surely indicate his intentions to endorse Barry.
Look at him. LOOK AT HIM. He’s been tainted by HOPE.
Posessed by CHANGE:
Colin, welcome into the loving arms of the Democrats.
I don’t have a lot to write about right now, because the only things going on in the world are the Second Great Depression and Sarah Palin. I don’t understand the economy, and I’m sick of talking about Palin, so I’ve got nothing. And I mean, Kathleen already stole the best story of the day.
But I want to post SOMETHING so let’s all listen to my new favorite song, “She Moves In Her Own Way,” by The Kooks. Those of you who know me: picture the song as if it’s about me. Picture me dancing to it, moving in MY own way. Which is to say, extremely awkwardly. Now didn’t that bring a smile to your face?
Also, isn’t the title a great six word memoir? Quick, somebody claim it and make it their own!
To divert our collective FURY about Sarah Palin, let’s listen to a wonderful little R&B ditty that works in some “My Girl” beats. I’m half embarrassed that I love this song, but I also really enjoy listening to it every Friday as I plot the bad decisions I’ll make later that night:
six words to change the world. 