Three 80's Songs and Their Specific Meaning To Me

I'm dedicating this post to Lisa, because I've been reading through her archives and she's brought up some very good memories that I don't want to forget to share. Because that's what ends up happening. I have really, really good ideas for a post, and if I don't write them down, they disappear forever, or sometimes resurface when that part of my brain gets jarred. Anyway, a few music-related memories.

1. Relax- Frankie Goes To Hollywood- I first heard this overtly naughty, incredibly danceable song at a campground in Masseret, France. We spent part of the summer there, and I befriended several girls around my age. I loved feeling exotic simply because I was American. On one of our last evenings, a DJ in a van showed up and parked next to the covered picnic area. I don't remember what else he played that night, but I remember the group of us dancing to this song, the horrible fluorescent lighting above the ugly concrete, and having the prescient/poignant feeling that this was a moment I'd remember always. And it is.
2. Here Comes The Rain Again- The Eurythmics- I was standing by the bar of Bob's Youth Hostel in Amsterdam when the woman behind the counter put this song on. I was absolutely mesmerized. I begged her to play it again, and she said she would later, then never did. I made sure I got the band's name, and when we got back to the States, I bought Touch, on vinyl.
3. Wouldn't It Be Good- Nik Kershaw- A Danish girl named Marina played this for me in her bedroom. We were visiting a boyfriend of Mom's in the country outside of Dragor, Denmark. Marina was stunned that I hadn't heard it before, but I explained that Alaska was pretty remote, isolated from just about everything. She wanted to visit Alaska, but, to my knowledge, never did. I couldn't find any Nik Kershaw at the local record shop, but I was thrilled a couple of years later when Pretty In Pink came out, and bought the soundtrack specifically for this song.

Totally Uninterested

Since I'm not going to be at this job a whole lot longer, (yay! yay! YAY! balloons and streamers! flowers and rainbows!! champagne and cake...you get the idea) I've become a really horrible fuck-off. Like I wasn't working very hard before, but now, I'm totally doing bare minimum. My blog reading has increased substantially. There are just so many amazing blogs out there, so much fascinating stuff and fascinating people, is there a job where I can just sit around and read blogs all day? How do I go about creating such a job? But then, that wouldn't work either, since it would be my job, and inevitably I'd get bored, and my eyes would hurt from reading so much, and I'd want to be outside lounging in the sun or something. That's the trouble with me having a job, I really dislike the obligation of it: be here at this time, go there and do that, this must be accomplished by then. And there's the unending nature of it too; I have to do this for HOW long? For most of my life? Until I die?? Bleah, just thinking about it makes me shudder. I don't think other people necessarily feel this way, or maybe they do and they're just better able to discipline themselves and deal with the reality of it.
I'm of the opinion that life is short, death is long, and there's no guarantee of an afterlife, so you'd better make the most of whatever time you have on this planet. In someone's famous words, "No one says, on their deathbed, 'I wish I'd spent more time at work.'" and I couldn't agree more. I'm almost thirty-eight, I have a disabled spouse who will probably have a shorter-than-average lifespan, I need to start making the most of the time we have. And working a stressful, restrictive, dead-end job just isn't worth it. So, thankfuckinggod it's Friday, and stay tuned for further developments.

An Accurate Representation of My Current State of Mind

I'm sitting on the office floor, picking all my favorites out of the candy dish, because that's the frame of mind I'm in. Wanting massive amounts of what's not good for me, and feeling selfish enough to take it. I've put on a few pounds lately, and I don't wonder why. At least this decision is easy to make, unlike the next few months of uncertainty I'm facing. Sometimes, I find I need the littlest act of control to keep me from going completely batshit.

Miss Manners Says...

Now, maybe I'm being overly sensitive, but, if you were a guest in someone's home and woke up earlier than them, would you start up their computer? Especially when you already have your own laptop and internet access. I mean, I personally wouldn't presume to use someone else's expensive thing without asking, and once I did have their permission, I certainly wouldn't start rearranging stuff and adding to their toolbar. It's just rude, in my opinion, and I wonder what the fuck they were doing with my computer that they didn't want to do with their's, but that's just me.

Today is Fucking With Me

I'm thisclose to putting in my two weeks notice and getting the fuck out of this job, but the timing isn't quite right, another week or so and I AM OUTTA HERE! (Don't want to have to head to Alaska too early, that place is cold.) But, although I'm not superstitious, I could swear that Friday the 13th is totally fucking with me. Not in huge ways, but just petty little annoying shit. Like my work email has been screwed up for most of the day, and it's just me. No one else in the company is having any problems. And Wordpress keeps screwing up as I'm trying to read a couple of my favorite blogs, Miss Pants, who has a heartbreaking announcement, and Amy, who seems to be saying something interesting about her sobriety, but I can't read all of it!! AAARRGGhhh! And I can't leave any (kind/supportive/witty/sarcastic) comments either, which, for a blog-junkie like me, is tantamount to hiding my chocolate chip cookies and then teasing me about it.
Historically, Friday the 13th has been a good day for me. This one, though, is giving me flashbacks to 2008.

Complaint #37,184

It seems like my favorite T.V. shows inevitably get cancelled. Yeah, yeah, I know, totally first-world problem, and while there is so much else I could be thinking or blogging about, this has been on my mind. Because I reallyreally liked Pushing Daisies, it was sweet and whimsical with touches of black humor, and the visual style was bold and unique, probably more akin to children's programming than shows aimed at a higher age demographic (and I wonder what that says about me...). It wasn't all great, the circus episode was stoo-pid, but there are lines that I will be quoting for years to come. Chi McBride, as the acerbic P.I., Emerson Cod- (patting pockets) "Now, where's that rat's ass I could give?"
And it's not just Pushing Daisies, it's it's like, you know..., and Undeclared, and Significant Others. It's Titus, Dead Like Me, and The Comeback. It's that my tastes often don't seem to match those of the general public, which probably isn't a bad thing, but does get disappointing. Disappointing because crap like Survivor is a huge hit and goes on for years and years, while Firefly lasts a mere fifteen episodes. Oh well, I can always take refuge in the endless syndication of Law & Order.

The Flavors of My Childhood

1. Raspberry- They grow all over the place. When I was in Alaska last September, I spent a significant amount of time stuffing myself from roadside patches and hoping I wasn't feasting on someone's unharvested bounty.
2. Verner's Ginger Ale- "Barrel Aged, Bold Taste. A Michigan Tradition Since 1888." Mom grew up in Michigan and this stuff used to be hard to find. We'd drink it whenever we visited my gramma in Clawson. Now it's been bought by 7-Up and is available in just about every major supermarket.
3. Salmon- Alaska has fairly liberal subsistence laws, and we had several friends who set-netted and regularly caught more than they could use. Our freezer was always well stocked with quality fish, a fact I never really appreciated until I moved to the Lower 48 and paid high prices for farmed salmon.
4. Cranberry-orange relish- Mom was a pretty good cook when she could be bothered. This was her special holiday dish, fresh oranges and cranberries ground together in a meat grinder never used for anything else. While it was always seasoned well, it was never sweet enough for me.
5. Rum balls- Straight from The Joy of Cooking, dusted with powdered sugar, a holiday treat that did satisfy my sweet tooth.
6. Fried tofu- Mom would use it in sweet-and-sour, or sometimes just serve plain. The closest approximation I've been able to find is the deep fried tofu triangles appetizer at Sweet Pink Pepper on Santa Monica.

Tagged Again

I was tagged by Lisa at The Loony Bin for a "six things" meme, which I've done before (or maybe it was seven things? I forget...), but I thought I'd do it again, since if there's one thing I love to talk about, it's myself.

1. I once spent a rainy day in Paris watching classic American movies. They were Forever Amber, River of No Return, Laura and Carmen Jones. Now that I look at this list, I realize it was an Otto Preminger tribute. It was kind of a surreal experience, Mom and Edward and I camped out in a gold velour theater. Mom left once to get sandwiches, but no one kicked us out, so we stayed.
2. People who repeatedly flog you with how cool they are because of their taste in music, irritate the shit out of me! If you like it, you like it, fine, but being an alterna-snob is still being a snob. Sure, I like some strange/funky stuff too, but I can also sing every word to Tiffany's 1987 hit, "I Think We're Alone Now," a feat that weirdly impresses my husband.
3. The best concert I ever attended was Prince at Studio 54 in Las Vegas, 1999. The tickets were spendy, but standing twenty feet away while His Purpleness played "Purple Rain" was fucking orgasmic.
4. I prefer standard transmission cars to automatics.
5. Although we travelled quite a bit while I was growing up, I've never been to New York City. It was always too expensive and crowded for Mom's taste, even though there are fantastic museums and the Statue of Liberty.
6. I've always wondered if I have other half-siblings somewhere, but I've never had the courage to ask my dad. If I did ask him, though, I think he would be honest.

I know this is breaking the rules, I don't feel like tagging anyone else right now, maybe at a later date.