random bits and pieces

Some of you may know that I'm kinda fond of that Sinatra fella. Last night I parked myself on the world's most comfortable couch and watched "Sinatra Night" on the local PBS t.v. station. (Unfortunately this was a part of the annual pledge drive.) I got to see two of his television specials - Ol' Blue Eyes is Back, and A Man and His Music + Ella + Jobim. (Sidenote: I need these d.v.d.'s). My favorite moment was his medley with Antonio Carlos Jobim. I've already gone on-and-on about the c.d. they made together (one of my favorites), and seeing them perform together was heavenly.

Look - I like almost every type of music there is. I keep up with new stuff, but I'm a nostalgic type of gal, and I long for the kind of world where sometimes less is more.

There's just too much stuff out there for my taste. I wish things could be toned down. I wish all entertainment was just a little smarter. I'm sick-to-death of porn culture. I'm sick of profanity, and it's not because I'm some sort of prude. (I do enjoy a little stimulation from time-to-time. *wink wink*) I just wish the idiots out there making decisions would quit assuming I'm a moron.

Example: I love Kevin Smith's movies, but - honestly - this ticked me off a bit:

"I didn't know if (it was right) to leave it in," Smith is quoted as saying in the March 8 issue. [the wedding scene between Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez] "People might forget they're watching a picture, like, `Wait, didn't these two NOT get married?'"

???

I'm still going to go see Jersey Girl...

(Speaking of movies I'm looking forward to seeing, I can not tell you how excited I am about seeing this movie. This is the kind of movie that doesn't take itself seriously, and movie escapism at it's finest.)

Anyway.... where was I? Oh yeah - Frank Sinatra. Good shows. Great music. Yadda yadda. Here's a great book that sums up why I love the man so much. A quick, light read.

I'm going to make two Oscar predictions ~ Bill Murray will win the Best Actor award, and Sofia Coppola will win best original screenplay. I really don't care too much about most of the awards - I'm not a fan of Lord Of The Rings, and I haven't seen too many of the other films. I do love the spectacle of the awards, and I'm glad to see Billy Crystal coming back to host.

Cheers.

Even though I'm not an A-list Blogger, I've got to admit that I'm feeling like a pretty A-List-y person today. Life can be incredibly cool sometimes.

Right now the only thing I could really go for is some warmth. I'm tired of this bone-chilling wind. Normally I love coats. I've got a lot of jackets - leather, jean, sweaters, etc., but I hate my so-called dress coat. It's the only full-length coat I own, and it has (sigh) shoulder pads. I can either freeze my legs off and look cute, or be warm and look like a goof. I really should get my stylist working on that ~ perhaps after the Academy Awards this weekend.

tired and distracted

I can sing all the "I Know's" in this song without taking a breath, plus two.

Later~

Lunch went well. I am now officially the Communications Chair, and I've been given my job description, etc. I'm going to have the fundraising standards that I've got to follow e-mailed to me to this afternoon.

People that know me in real life might think it's slightly ironic that I'm the "communications" chair of anything. Let's just say I tend to get tongue-tied, and will sometimes start sentences without completing them. I'm the Queen of Finishing Thoughts In Her Head. (One of the consequences of thinking too damn much.) Thank God for e-mail.

The American Cancer Society has some ambitious goals they want to reach by 2015. It's exciting to be a small part in helping them reach these goals.

~~~~

I just got off the phone with the girl I'm going to lunch with, and evidently they've already set up a meeting for sometime next week for me to be "debriefed" by the outgoing Communications Chair.

I'm kinda getting the impression that the discussion this afternoon isn't going to be about possibly becoming the Chair. I believe I've already got the job. (Welcome to the world of charitable fund-raising events...)

I've been looking into the website, and I've noticed all the PDF forms are for last year, etc. It should be a piece of cake to update them. Right?? There's also slideshows with music, etc. (Oy.) Hey, musicfans ~ do you have any suggestions for inspirational tunes?

A-hem

Well, I'm a quick study. I'm fast on my feet. I'm motivated, and I work well with others.

In other news...

I've become one of those odd health freaks. I'm treating my body like a temple instead of a playground. Example: Every morning for the past five days I've eaten a handful of blueberries, strawberries, and a banana for breakfast. My snack is a handful of natural almonds (no salt), and a cup of Anti-Oxidant V8. Lunch is usually something like a roasted turkey sandwich on low-carb-wheat-diet-health-bread. I'm trying to cut back on coffee (one-ish cups a morning), and incorporate green tea into the afternoons. I've been taking my Women's Daily Multivitamin, drinking gallons of water, and exercising every single day. I'm not losing any weight (there really isn't much to lose), but I have noticed changes in my skin, hair, energy level, shape, and moods. There are a lot of benefits to getting more of the "Super Foods" into my diet, including disease prevention. Honestly, I'm pretty tickled about the anti-aging benefits. Vanity can be an intense motivator.

I'm also nearly finished with my book (100 Years). I tend to get emotionally attached to books, and when there's only a thin slice of pages left behind my bookmark I get sad. I'm silly.

I've got a lunch meeting next Tuesday to discuss becoming the Communications Chair for this event. My duties would include keeping the website up, and doing the newsletter.

I'm v. excited about this opportunity, but was up front about my mid-to-low tech "skills". Sad thing is I couldn't even open the PDF file for the newsletter. (I suck.)

I taught myself basic HTML ages ago, and I've got enough confidence in myself to learn whatever I might need to. Cancer research is very near and dear to my heart, and I feel passionately about helping out in any way I can.

In other news....

The weather is ridiculously good. Shorts!!

Tomorrow night I'll be wining and dining with the girls. Sunday night I'll be wining and dining with the other girls. (I've been getting misty all week. Sniff.... I'd like to see Carrie end up with Big, but I've got a feeling she's going to end up with her laptop.)

Have a great weekend.

James Tate, Dream On

Some people go their whole lives
without ever writing a single poem.
Extraordinary people who don't hesitate
to cut somebody's heart or skull open.
They go to baseball games with the greatest of ease.
and play a few rounds of golf as if it were nothing.
These same people stroll into a church
as if that were a natural part of life.
Investing money is second nature to them.
They contribute to political campaigns
that have absolutely no poetry in them
and promise none for the future.
They sit around the dinner table at night
and pretend as though nothing is missing.
Their children get caught shoplifting at the mall
and no one admits that it is poetry they are missing.
The family dog howls all night,
lonely and starving for more poetry in his life.
Why is it so difficult for them to see
that, without poetry, their lives are effluvial.
Sure, they have their banquets, their celebrations,
croquet, fox hunts, their sea shores and sunsets,
their cocktails on the balcony, dog races,
and all that kissing and hugging, and don't
forget the good deeds, the charity work,
nursing the baby squirrels all through the night,
filling the birdfeeders all winter,
helping the stranger change her tire.
Still, there's that disagreeable exhalation
from decaying matter, subtle but everpresent.
They walk around erect like champions.
They are smooth-spoken and witty.
When alone, rare occasion, they stare
into the mirror for hours, bewildered.
There was something they meant to say, but didn't:
"And if we put the statue of the rhinoceros
next to the tweezers, and walk around the room three times,
learn to yodel, shave our heads, call
our ancestors back from the dead--"
poetrywise it's still a bust, bankrupt.
You haven't scribbled a syllable of it.
You're a nowhere man misfiring
the very essence of your life, flustering
nothing from nothing and back again.
The hereafter may not last all that long.
Radiant childhood sweetheart,
secret code of everlasting joy and sorrow,
fanciful pen strokes beneath the eyelids:
all day, all night meditation, knot of hope,
kernel of desire, pure ordinariness of life
seeking, through poetry, a benediction
or a bed to lie down on, to connect, reveal,
explore, to imbue meaning on the day's extravagant labor.
And yet it's cruel to expect too much.
It's a rare species of bird
that refuses to be categorized.
Its song is barely audible.
It is like a dragonfly in a dream--
here, then there, then here again,
low-flying amber-wing darting upward
then out of sight.
And the dream has a pain in its heart
the wonders of which are manifold,
or so the story is told.

Sometimes I feel like I need more poetry in my life. What about you?

(a small example of what happens when i think too much)

D. was out in the melting snow and ice yesterday, building me some raised-bed planters for the garden I want to plant in the Spring.
I was in the living room, napping under my red down blanket. It was mid-afternoon, and I'd fallen asleep trying to finish my book. The sound of the dishwasher from the kitchen, and the dryer in the garage lulled me to sleep.
D.'s cold fingers on my cheek woke me up. "You're warm", he said. "I see you're still melting the polar ice caps."
I think that's one of the best ways I could describe myself to someone that didn't know me.
Warm.
I'm not hot.
I'm not cool. (Well, with the exception of my esteemed taste in music...)
I've only been described as "cold as ice" by one person, and that was the pyscho jerk that tried to rape me shortly before I turned seventeen. I was nuts for ever going out with him. He was one of a string of rebound boys after the wicked-evil boyfriend. When he told me he wouldn't allow me to go to France for the summer because we'd be "getting married" I knew I needed to get rid of him - fast. I probably should've broken up with him in a spot a little more neutral than his bedroom. He picked up his hairdryer and threw it at my head. I was a little stunned when it smashed into the wall a few inches away from me. I grabbed my car keys and my purse, and he lunged for me. He grabbed the back of my belt, ripped it off of me, and pushed me onto the bed. I rolled, and managed to run out of the house, screaming. He pulled my keys from my hand, but I kept going (I had a spare set under my floormat.) It was just like a horror movie, only I managed to lock the doors before he could get to the car. I sped off, and went to the park to catch my breath before I went home. He called later, and told me he was going to come kill my parents, and then kill me. I was so angry with myself. I compromised my principles for that whacko. I was still a virgin (happily), but I allowed him to talk dirty to me. I allowed him to "feel me up". One night he told me I was cold as ice, but I had the potential to be hot if I'd just let him ..... (Don't worry - I'm not going to repeat the things he said. It wasn't sweet.)
Several years later I got a phone call from him when I was home for the holidays. "Kelly, I got your note, and I just wanted you to know that I still love you very much, too. I'd love to see you when I get out of the hospital." He told me he'd been in a serious car accident, and was just getting out of intensive care. He said he got the note I'd "taped to his hospital room door."
???
I didn't know what to say. After a few moments of silence, I said ~ "Paul, I'm sorry you were in an accident, but I didn't leave you a note. I've got to go now, take care."
Yesterday I was reminded I was warm.
That's the way I want to be known. Like a blanket, or a hug, or a smile.

And - speaking of blankets, and warmth, I spent hours yesterday/last night curled up on the couch watching VH1 Classic. It was a nice way to waste some time.

p.s. The weather is miserable out, and I'm starved. Would someone be a peach and bring me something to eat?

100 albums you should remove from your collection immediately

O.K. opinionated music fans - what do you think about this list??

(Sidenote: I'd like to point out that there wasn't a single Elvis Costello disc in the bunch.)

playing dress-up

Normally I'm a pretty conservative sort when it comes to attire. Getting "tarted up" isn't my m.o., so when I saw the pair of fence-net stockings in the clearance bin at Target I thought it might be fun to get out of my comfort-zone and cook up a Valentine's Day surprise.

From the waist up I looked like a typical day at the office - long-sleeved button up blouse with pearl cuff-links. From the waist down I was Pretty Woman - short black pencil-skirt with slits up both sides, the stockings, a pair of black lace knickers, and knee-length black stiletto boots. When D. saw me I had to control my nervous giggles, and I tried my best to ooze confidence. (My inner-call-girl was telling me "you can pull this look off, sweetie. Work it." I didn't even know I had an inner-call girl. Seriously.)

The plan was to just go to the bar at the Five-0-1 and get a drink. We ended up doing a little people watching, and I ended up feeling a little more conservative. (Sidenote: Am I hopelessly out of the loop? Women show a lot of skin. A lot.) I went to the ladies room, and when I came back D. pointed out all of the eyes that trailed my legs ("..the bartender, that guy at the next table, blah blah blah....") "Why don't we go to Nate's (sports bar), and get another drink", I suggested.

I wasn't going to be dressing like this again any time soon, and there's a part of my personality that likes to stir the pot, so I figured this would be a good spot to fish for reactions. The place was dead. Evidently sports bars aren't big draws on Valentine's Day. We sat at the bar, and the lady bartender flirted shamelessly with D. She brought him his draft beer, salted his napkin, and gave him the eye. "You could do so much better than that", I told him.

After one drink, I said "why don't we go to the Beach Pub. There's bound to be some characters there." (The Beach Pub is a local Navy dive.) We walked in, and I finally got my human interest story. Before I could even sit down on the barstool I was approached by the matronly barfly. Bleached-blonde, heavy make up, and loud. "Honey, you look like the kind of girl that would appreciate a dirty joke."

Yeah, that's exactly the look I was going for. A-hem....

She proceeded to tell me some joke about a drive-in, birth control, etc. She said she was a comedian. She also said she's a "relationship expert", and let me know the key to getting anything you want from a man is to (please forgive the language, but these are the actual words that came from her mouth) - "suck him off."

I didn't know what to say.

"Yes, I suppose that would do the trick."

She went back to her barstool, and I looked at D. and smiled. "Well, I've gotten my reaction. I'm ready to go home and take off the costume."

Soon enough I was in my pajamas, and feeling pretty good about myself. I love to people watch, and gently interact. I'm much better suited for jeans and sweaters/t-shirts.

P.S. I got a little misty over Sex and The City last night. (I miss my friends.) Next Sunday night should be fun. I'm also really looking forward to the new season of The Sopranos.

I'm trying to figure out what to wear with these tomorrow night.

I don't have cancer!!!

(updated: I thought it might be a good idea to punctuate the above with a few exclamation marks, because this is much more of an interjection than a mere casual statement.)

I had my very first mammogram this morning. (The doc ordered it.) I was easily the youngest person in the waiting room, and I spent a lot of time thinking about my Grandmother. She died of breast cancer when she was 62.

I sat there, waiting to be called back to the changing area. When it was my turn I took off everything from the waist up, and slipped on the hospital gown. I took my seat next to a lady who seemed very nervous. "Have you ever had a mammogram done at [some place I've never heard of]?" I told her that this was my first one, and she frowned. "I don't like this place. [The other place] is so much nicer..."

The lady that was going to handle my boobies came to get me, and I tried to act all "heh - no big deal - blah blah blah..." She took the x-rays, and told me to stay in my gown while she took a look at the results. A few minutes later she came in, smiled, and told me I was all done, and they'd contact me in a few days.

"Did you see anything?", I asked.

"Perfectly clear - lovely."

My boobs are lovely. Incredibly, wonderfully lovely.

I had a message from my doc informing me my other test results were in.

The nurse informed me the Pap test was negative. No signs of cancer. (This was the one that's had me spooked. I'd had several of the symptoms.) Hurrah!

It's time to celebrate. I can handle anything as long as I know I'm healthy.

Later~

Awwww, f*ck.

I am (still) such an idiot.

~~~~

I've got nothing. I'm one, big, silly stupid <------------- blank ----------------> Yep, that's me. [insert heavy, dramatic sigh.]

Well, here's one little thing. What To Rent, for those times you're left scratching your head in the middle of Blockbuster.

(Oddly enough, the first recommendation they provided me with was "Lost In Translation", which was spot on. I kept having to click through various movies I'd already seen, and finally ended up deciding on Rushmore. For the life of me I can't figure out why I've never seen it. I'm also wondering if I've got some sort of secret thing for Bill Murray.)

Later~

How much do you love/hate Valentine's Day?? What memories do you cherish/want to block out forever??

I'm on a fairly even keel when it comes to the day of love. One memory that's burned into my mind is that of "gorgeous guy". (His initials happen to be G.G., but there's no way I'm going to put his name on here, what with Google and all.) We were in 5th grade, and he sat next to me in art class. I was close to the height I am currently (5' 7"), and weighed about 85 pounds. I also sported some not-so-cool Jan Brady-ish looking glasses, had mousy mid-length brown hair, and took shyness to a level most people haven't seen since. (I'm not quite as bashful these days.)

It was Valentine's Day, and the teacher had us putting the finishing touches on our paper lunch sacks that would soon be filled with cards and conversation hearts from classmates. G.G. took a bottle of Elmer's Glue, twisted the cap, and squeezed a fairly decent amount into the palm of his left hand. He smiled at me and said "let's see if we can glue our hands together." This was the first time I ever felt those elusive butterflies in my stomach. I placed my hand on top of his, and we sat there, holding hands for what seemed like an eternity until the glue dried. I pulled my hand away, and smiled at him over our failed experiment. He poured more glue into his hand, and spread it into a thin layer. At the end of the class he carefully peeled the dried glue from the palm of his hand, and gave it to me. Later that night I ended up putting the dried glue-print into an empty heart-shaped box, along with the Snoopy Valentine he'd given me later in the day. He signed it "To: Kelly, Love ya, G."

I am a sentimental fool, people.

flow

I've deleted the last two posts I've made. I said something along the lines of "I've-got-these-doctor-appointments-coming-up-Tuesday-and-Wednesday, and-I'm-scared, blah blah blah...." Big deal. Simple tests that will probably reveal that I'm the picture of health. The picture of physical health.

I tried to watch the Grammy's last night, but ended up watching Sex and The City, and Curb Your Enthusiasm instead. (Sidenote: I hope the last couple of episodes of SATC are better. CYE cracked me up, as usual.) I also made some pasta, and abstained from drinking. Bought and watched "Lost In Translation", and now have "Middlesex" in the book cue (thanks to the glowing recommendation of David.)

I'm back in the Pilates groove. I've finally got good flow. I can do all the proper breathing, and maintain my focus. I think I'm ready to graduate to something a little more challenging.

Have I mentioned how badly I need a break?

Desperately trying not to wig out.

love is in the air, II

8. Out of Africa.

"He even took the gramophone on safari. Three rifles, supplies for a month, and Mozart."

Normally I like happy endings...

9. Bull Durham.

"Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."

(Quite possibly one of the most perfect movie quotes. Ever.) This movie (almost) flawlessly combines three of my favorite things - sports, comedy, and romance/sex.

10. Breakfast at Tiffany's.

"You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself."

When I was little I wanted to be Holly Golightly. I didn't realize she was a call-girl at the time ~ she was just so pretty, and stylish.

11. The Philadelphia Story.

"Put me in your pocket, Mike."

Such a classic. I always wanted Tracy to end up with Mike instead of Dexter (probably because I like Jimmy Stewart more than Cary Grant.) (Sidenote: I like the musical remake almost as much as the original. I think Tracy definitely should've picked Mike over Dexter in this one.)

12. The Princess Bride.

"Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam..."

Again, this one combines comedy and romance. I think laughter (and the ability to make a person laugh) is terribly sexy, and romantic.

13. The Wedding Singer.

"I wanna make you smile whenever you're sad / Carry you around when your arthritis is bad / All I wanna do is grow old with you. / I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches / build you a fire if the furnace breaks / Oh it could be so nice, growin old with you. / I'll miss you, kiss you, give you my coat when you are cold. / Need you, feed you, I'll even let you hold the remote control. / So let me do the dishes in the kitchen sink / Put you to bed when you've had too much to drink. / Oh I could be the man to grow old with you. / I wanna grow old with you."

Speaking of funny, this is another one I can watch over-and-over. My (not-so-) guilty pleasure (Adam Sandler), the 80's satire (pre-VH1), and the soundtrack are genius.

14. Serendipity.

"If fate didn't want us to be together, then why did we meet tonight? Got you!
Sara: I don't know, it's not an exact science, it's a feeling."

John Cusack. Fate. Corny, sappy, and light. (It's also got a good soundtrack.)

~~~

In other news:

I'm amused today because I listened to some "rough" aircheck session thingies that Dev sent me. Guys crack me up. Seriously. You do. The whole damn male species. My friend and I used to kick around a theory about the male gender. As much as they have tried to convince me of the folly of this theory, I've still got a gut feeling it's true. Or maybe partially true. Maybe I'll share my theory one of these days....

Lastly ~

You can never have too much of Mr. Sinatra.

Later~

One of my dear friends (and I don't use that term for just anyone) is currently working on an overnight show for a local DFW sports radio station, and would like some feedback. He's going to post the URL for a rehearsal they're doing Thursday night on his site Friday, and needs *your* constructive criticism.

love is in the air

I'm a huge movie fan, and in the spirit of the season I thought I'd share my personal favorite "romantic" movies (a.k.a. my top 14 for the 14th) (Sidenote: I don't have time to do all 14, but will update the rest later. Included in the "rest" are some classics, like "Breakfast At Tiffany's"...):

1. When Harry Met Sally.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, and the thing is, I love you...."

I've seen it a pazillion times, and I'm still a complete and total sucker for it.

2. Say Anything.

... "Then why are you shaking?
Lloyd Dobler: I don't know. I think I'm happy."

John Cusack as Lloyd Dobler. Awwwyeah. (Another Cameron Crowe flick.)

3. Jerry Maguire.

"On the surface, everything seems fine. I've got this great guy who loves my kid, and he sure does like me a lot. I can't live like that. It's not the way I'm built..."

It was a lot more complex than I imagined, and one that I've watched at least half-a-dozen times. A gem from Cameron Crowe. (He's got another flick that should be out within a year - "Elizabethtown".)

4. Sliding Doors.

"I'm a woman. We don't say what we want but we do reserve the right to get pissed off when we don't get it. That's what makes us so fascinating, and not a little bit scary."

Yet another film I've seen at least six or seven times.

5. Next Stop, Wonderland.

..."Don't you just hate men?
Erin Castleton: Oh God, I wish I did. That would make my life so much easier...."

Most of the people I talk to about this film have never seen it. I really could relate to the premise of feeling lonely in crowds. It's also got Philip Seymour Hoffman in it, so it can't be all that bad.

6. Bridget Jones's Diary.

"I don't think you're an idiot at all. I mean, there are elements of the ridiculous about you. Your mother's pretty interesting. And you really are an appallingly bad public speaker. And, um, you tend to let whatever's in your head come out of your mouth without much consideration of the consequences... But the thing is, um, what I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that, um, in fact, perhaps despite appearances, I like you, very much."

Because we all want to be loved just the way we are. (I'd read the book ages before the movie came out, and while my intellectual friends dissed the book, and said it was too "simple", I loved it. I don't really have a problem liking things just because I like them.)

7. Punch-Drunk Love.

"I have a love in my life. It makes me stronger than anything you can imagine."

Maybe an odd choice to some, but I loved this movie.

~~~~

Got any more suggestions??

p.s. I'm going bowling tonight! Woohoo!!

random bits and pieces

I think it's ironic that I can never remember to get lightbulbs when I'm out shopping.

I've been getting the "give her unlimited orgasms" spam for a while. I usually trash it. This morning I clicked on the link to Climax Cream. If they just sold 1,000 tubes of this stuff a day, they'd have over 21 million dollars in annual sales. Amazing.

I don't like it when I'm made to feel stupid. I don't care how nicely you do it, I still don't like it. (Of course I know it's a field goal, and not a field "gold". I'd had a few glasses of wine, and I was tired. Shut up.)

I've been thinking about things that I could give up for Lent this year, and - I swear - the first thing that popped in my head was thong underwear. (Sidenote: I'd buy five pair in this color alone.) I've got to come up with something else.

Today I am too marvelous for words.

Coming soon: Valentine Memories. (The holiday you either love or loathe...)

"May you live a hundred years and may the last voice you hear be mine ." Frank Sinatra

The Largehearted Boy and his Girl rock.

Thank you for the pick-me-up.

In other news....

1. Boo.

2. Yay.

(You can view the ads here.)