sunday morning randomness

Here's The Beta Band to listen to while you read. Two minutes and five seconds in comes the change-up, then the guitar and the horn, and you're hooked. I guarantee. 

 

01 Dry the Rain

 

It's a fantastic song, isn't it? You don't have to agree with me, but you get bonus points if you do. You'll get an extra five bonus points if you know which movie the song is featured in (besides my not-yet-filmed life story). 

It's High Fidelity. I heart John Cusack.

My movie will have the best soundtrack of any movie ever. And it's going to have a ridiculous title akin to Precious: Based on the Novel "Push" by Sapphire. Maybe Priceless: Based on the Novel "Roundhouse Kick to the Face" by Ruby. I think I just came up with a new drag name — Ruby Grapefruit. I'm starting a novel with a character who is a drag queen named Ruby Grapefruit. 

Is it odd that I think of names for redheaded drag queens all the time? Ginger Snap doesn't count — that's my super-heroine alter ego name. By day I'm an unassuming blogger. Crap. I guess super-heroines aren't supposed to reveal who they are. 

I hate classic rock. And no, I don't consider The Beatles to be classic rock, they're a genre unto themselves. I superhate classic rock. Guess what the hubs was playing yesterday. Go ahead, guess. It also unnerves me to no end when someone who doesn't use playlists puts their iPod in the dock. This is what I call the schizophrenic iPod, because who doesn't want to hear Stevie Wonder, Michael Buble, The Eagles, Bobby Brown, AC/DC, ABBA, Journey, and a Cheech & Chong song within the same half hour? I am a meticulous playlist maker. Really, I could do it professionally. If Playlist Maker is a profession, someone email me. I'm available. 

The hubs was going to drag me to a parade last night. Major groan. Major anxiety. Going to a parade means I'll have to take medication or make beverages to bring with me or both. I'm pretty sure I have Agoraphobia as well as a fear of crowds (I don't know what that's called and I'm not going to look it up because I'll have anxiety over that). Just the thought of going to the parade is giving me heart palpitations. The same thing would happen if someone held a gun to my head and made me go to Walmart. Seriously, not a joke. 

I cut myself making Rotel dip the other day. I could not be less coordinated. This is why I buy pre-chopped vegetables. I'm sure the hubs thinks it's because I don't want to cut them, but really it's because I've come to realize I will injure myself at some point making dinner and I'm just taking the knives out of the equation. 

For lunch I will attempt making a low-fat version of a Paula Deen recipe. My triglycerides went up just watching her make it. 

My hair appointment has now been rescheduled three times. First it was one week ago, then yesterday, then next Wednesday, and now it will be next Thursday. My roots are so confused. 

Charlie Sheen's quote “I’m sorry man, I got magic and I’ve got poetry in my fingertips, you know, most of the time, and this includes naps. I’m an F-18, bro" needs to be on a t-shirt — Charlie Sheen in a top hat with a magic wand with an F-18 behind him. T-shirt people, make this happen.

More.

I can't decide if I should live-blog the Oscars red carpet or not. Can I stomach Seacrest for that long?

My back hurts.

"If there's something inside that you wanna say/Say it out loud it'll be okay." 

 

 

 

 

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