They've Got My Dirty Undies... The Whites

I made the hand off. They took the ringer. Yep, I'm talking about Nihilists here. Unchecked aggression. The new neighbors.

I bought a small box of Russel Stover chocolates and tied a note to it with a pretty red bow. Then I hung it on their mailbox and waited. Hours later, the unfamiliar SUV passed my house, and I rushed to the window to watch - staying out of view, of course. As I carefully peered out the window, making sure not to be seen, I saw the vehicle stop beside the mailbox. There was a tree blocking the full view, but I did see a pair of legs get out of the car and walk to the mailbox. Couldn't tell if it was male legs, female legs, or homosexual hermaphroditic incestuous alien legs. All I know is I'm pretty sure it wasn't the legs of LL Cool J. It was just like the scene in The 'Burbs when Tom Hanks and his compadres are peering out the window as the freakish redhead wolfman son opens the door and grabs the note left on the doorstep.

About 20 minutes later the SUV comes back down the road, and I hear a couple honks. So I walk out the front door to greet them, knowing damn well they were honking to get my attention so they could thank me for the nice gift. But when I got outside, they weren't there. They were further down the road, talking to somebody in an unfamiliar pickup truck. Guess they knew the truck driver and that's why they had honked. They were too far away to hear, and there were too many trees blocking the view for me to see - but I did hear muffled voices, which means they can communicate verbally. And it didn't sound like "Ack ackkk ACCKKKK aacckk AAAACKKKK" - so I'm hopeful they won't be shooting me with a vaporizor gun anytime soon.

3121

The New Prince album, and what I think about it...

Back in November and December I locked myself away in the studio to make a new body of art for a show that was planned for January. Yup, I'm a procrastinator. And usually when I listen to music while making art I listen to introspective or 80's nostalgic music, things like Depeche Mode, Peter Murphy/ Bauhaus, Skinny Puppy, Dead Can Dance, Joy Division, and Low. But brooding music makes for brooding art, and I had planned for these new drawings to be really colorful and energetic. I needed some music to get me dancing and happily flinging paint. And out came the old Prince standby, the three disc set called The Hits and the B Sides (which was given to me by a friend - I'd never purchased a Prince album, ever.) As much as I like music that makes me wallow in my own self pity, I also really love funk and soul, and have always enjoyed Prince's music. Hell, I even saw him live in Nashville a few years back, and it was the best show I've ever seen - better than The Cure, Nine Inch Nails, and my other favorites. Well, no, Lollapalooza '93 was the best show ever, but that's because a very fucked up Angelo from Fishbone used my ink pen. And I guess if Robert Smith had come out in hot pants and high heels, cartwheeling across the stage, that would have been the best show ever. Anyhoo, yeah, so Prince is good. And I always try to see Purple Reign (THE Prince Tribute Band) anytime I'm in Vegas. But I never really fell in love with Prince until making this body of art... when the discs stayed in my player so long that I could no longer distinguish which songs were the hits and which ones were the rarely heard B-sides. So when I saw him give a KICK ASS performance on SNL a while back, I knew I must get the new album.

I did not know that he had found Christ.

Yep, he's a Jehovah's Witness. And, ya know, good for him and all, though it's not my thing. I'm glad he's found an answer to something he was apparently searching for. But I'm so used to lyrics like "you sexy motherfucker" and "23 positions and a one night stand" , I was more than taken aback when I hear "Get up come on let's do something, don't you want to go get saved?" And..."don't you want to know the word?"

So THAT'S why there was no Parental Advisory for Explicit Lyrics. Mmmhmmm.

Musically, the album is okay, not great. There are some really good funky songs like Get on the Boat and 3121. And some expected sexy ballads like Satisfied and Te Amo Corazon.
The best song is probably the one he played on SNL called Fury. But I will say that his live performance was better than the studio cut (and ask Jason, I usually HATE live versions.) The guitar solo was much more rockin' on SNL - Prince is an incredible guitarist, and on the album there are so many peripheral sounds that the guitar is drowned out. And the powerful voices of the backup singers on SNL is not apparent on the album. He's into some contemporary sound effects, things I've heard on the radio in the latest Madonna songs, and some tired voice effects made popular by Eiffel 65 and Cher. Guess that means he'll be a hit at the gay dance clubs.

I love the concept of the album - 3121 is his address, and he's hosting a house party there. The song 3121 explains it all. And each new cd case has a golden ticket on the front, Willy Wonka style, and some contain winning game pieces that allow you into the party. Alas, I didn't win. S'okay, though. I don't want him pulling me aside and helping me find Christ.

New neighbors

To clarify, before I get too many comments on how to deal with a new neighbor's rambunctious dog, I must tell you that there is no dog, and there are no children being terrorized by said dog. My only "children" are 27 collective pounds of frenetic white Westie fuzz. There are, however, new neighbors. And these new neighbors have not introduced themselves, nor will they answer when their privacy gate is buzzed. All we know of these new neighbors is that they have posted "Private Property No Trespassing" signs on our road (a country road, with only three houses). See, we live in the country, ya'll. And good ole folks don't come into a new house and shut themselves away without so much as a nod. So my brother and I have been brainstorming about who these new neighbors could be, and how to treat them. And I stumbled onto some new neighbor etiquette websites, which had stories about dogs terrorizing neighborhood children. But rogue dogs are not our problem. Our problem is not knowing who or what may be inhabiting the nearest house, at the end of a very desolate country road. What Josh and I eventually decided is that the new inhabitants are either a) homosexual hermaphroditic incestuous aliens or b) L L Cool J.

Our property is zoned for agriculture, so if they turn out to be jerks, I have one word for you... pet PIGS. On the property line. Near their new home. Tee hee!
But, I'll at least try to make contact with a note and a box of chocolates tied to their mailbox.

McDonald's

...is gross. Especially after reading Fast Food Nation. Especially when the manager of the local chain has no grasp of hygiene. Especially when you've seen people in street clothes smoke a cigarette outside the building then immediately walk behind the counter and grab a cheeseburger from a friend in the kitchen.

But what about when you have coupons for free stuff?

Well, it's not so gross then. Especially if you stick to the drive-thru, so you don't see a week's worth of greasy napkins on the floor. Especially when you're on a tight budget and need all the free stuff you can get. Especially when it's early in the morning and you're on your way to work and there's the option of a hot cup of coffee to accompany you on a 45 minute commute.

Which is why I went there this morning. For my free cup of coffee. Too bad I'm a few years too late to dump it on myself and sue for $2,000,000.

I was pleasantly surprised and shocked when
a) they didn't charge any tax for my "free" coffee
and
b) the lady was hanging out of the window with my coffee before I even got to the window, beaming a huge grin. She looked like she had an IQ of at least a bowling ball -- much more than I can say for the others I've seen hanging out of that window on my few and far between past visits. Thanks to her prompt accuracy of my order, I greeted her with a smile and wished her a great day. And, still beaming, she said to me "You look very pretty."

So I smiled even bigger and said thanks. And as I pulled into a parking spot to add the creamer to my coffee, I was thinking about her compliment. It caught me off guard. At first, I was completely flattered. Then my conceit, festering deep inside me with every pound lost on my newly thinning thighs, crept into my thoughts with "Of course I am! Don't you know it, bitch!"

And then I realized, "Oh. Wait. I bet I do look pretty compared to the other people who have been through this drive-thru window. I'm probably only the third person to come through this morning who has all her teeth. And out of those three 'fully toothed' people, I'm the only one who isn't sweaty and obese."

And my flattery faded as the dark coffee turned a light brown with each swirl of the plastic, non-biodegradable swizzle stick.

Etiquette

Your new neighbor has a large dog that roams off leash. It scares your children who no longer feel comfortable playing in their own yard.

Do you...

a) leave a note for the neighbor asking them to keep the dog on a leash
b) take this as an opportunity to introduce yourself to the neighbor with a bottle of wine and flowers
c) post a "no dogs allowed" sign in your yard

The answer?

b. take this as an opportunity to introduce yourself. then knock the neighbor over the head with the bottle of wine, gulp the entire bottle yourself, slit the neighbor's throat with the sharp, broken bottle, and use the empty bottle as a vase for the flowers.

And YES, I'm only KIDDING. Gosh.

I'm BAAACK

Once again, I'm determined to start blogging on a semi-regular basis. And once again, I will probably make about 5 posts and forget that I have a blog. Here's to an attempt...

My husband is at the Playboy mansion right now. No fucking joke. He was invited to blog about a charity poker event. And I'm at home, alone, with an empty bag of Doritos and an icy margarita (strawberry, of course.) Might watch a movie in a few minutes. Of course I will be periodically checking in on Jason's Playboy blogging, as well as his seven good buddies who have also made the trek to the Mecca of male heterosexuality. I've been doing my best housewife impersonation today - between bouts of mopping, scrubbing, steaming and sweeping various rooms of the house, I've been crocheting a baby blanket for a friend. It's pale yellow. She doesn't know what the sex of the baby is, and doesn't want to. So I figure that yellow is a good neutral color. And it will have a border of white/yellow/pink/blue yarn.

Mmmm.. this is a damn good margarita. I've been tweaking my recipe, and had it down to a science with the Jose Cuervo strawberry margarita mix, white tequila, ice, a bunch of frozen whole strawberris, and a generous amount of splenda. But this time I tried the Master of Mixes strawberry margarita/daquiri mix, and just added tequila and ice. No strawberries, no sweetener. It is is OH SO YUMMY. It doesn't even need the frozen strawberries, because the mix has strawberry puree - unlike the Cuervo mix, which is more like Kool-aid.

Ahhhh.. What shall I do with the house to myself? All the cleaning has been done, and now I shall relax.