Mini-post! Title sort of, not really, kind of related to content! Mostly an excuse to post a clip of my Higher Power: Julia Sugarbaker.
I have an entry almost ready to go (in draft), but it’s not quite there, and I’m not in the mood to t-h-i-n-k tonight: It’s about a sci-fi novel, and I started it last week, before the Hugo winners were announced. In other words, it’s semi-relevant, which is a big change around here.
So I’m going to do a mini-entry that has absolutely nothing to do with anything instead! The more things don’t change . . . .
Presenting three snapshots from today. Your choice of funny, musical, and beatdown-needed.
Snapshot from Today
I stopped to get a late lunch in between two appointments; I’d gotten three fillings in the morning and had put off eating for the obvious Novocaine-mouth reasons. Here’s how ordering went:
Me: . . . and a soda.
Her: A side?
Me: No, thanks. Just a soda.
Her: Did you say a salad?
Me: A COKE.
Behold, regionalisms at work. I felt like Ernest T. Bass by the end of the exchange:
Then again, I often feel like Ernest T., so this isn’t anything particularly new:
I feel like I should mention here that there were not a lot of TV options when I was a kid. I’m equally proficient in 50s/60s B monster movies, but they typically lack Life Lessons.
Julia Sugarbaker would have handled it more effectively.
40th Anniversary Is Rubies; Pretty Sure This One Is Multi-Platnium
In other news (file under: FEEL OLD YET?), the radio is doing a marathon celebration of the anniversary of Born to Run: August 25, 1975.
As always, my main danger for arrest is reckless driving, brought on by radio-induced enthusiasm. For those of us who really, really can’t sing (see: the episode where Barney tries to sing in the choir), the car is a safe haven for wholehearted belting and dancing like no one is watching (I did apologize once to someone; I had parked next to what I thought was an unoccupied vehicle in a parking lot, only to realize her father was sitting in it; unfortunately for all involved, he had his window down, and I was letting the world know that I didn’t give a damn about my reputation).
At any rate, I spent a lot of time today listening to the preparation for the Day of St. Bruce (hey, Boss’s Day is already taken). Needless to say, I heard “Born to Run” itself multiple time (swerve, veer, swerve) as well as “Thunder Road,” both Top Ten All-Time Favorites (see previous post), “Thunder Road” being way up there in the Top Ten (a subcategory of the definition I neglected to mention: being “way up there”). “Hungry Heart” made an appearance too, for some reason.
I’d like to point out that all three of these songs have something in common: for the person who gets way too wrapped up in lyrical performance while driving, they’re all pretty much versified prescriptions for wrecks:
- “But Officer! I wasn’t driving carelessly; I’m just chrome-wheeled, fuel-injected, and stepping out over the line!”
- “But I’m pulling out of here to win! I can’t do that AND pay attention to the speed limit . . . or the lanes . . . or other cars . . . .”
- [cooly gazes over shades] “I’m not from around here. I went out for a ride . . . and I never went back.”
I really have no idea how to relate Bruce Springsteen to Designing Women. Ideas in comments?
A major point here is: I’m a longtime, firm believer in radio tarot. I have no idea if that’s something other people have heard of or do. At any rate, what it means is that the car radio is your horoscope for whatever you’re on your way to do. Needless to say, the rules exist in my head (and you don’t want to go there). Positive song, positive outcome, obviously. Added points for a song you really like. Even more if you hear the whole thing (rather than coming in on the end or having to cut it off mid-song). You probably get it. And yes, theoretically, a sad song can still have some plus points if it’s something you really love. I told you to stay out of my head.
Incidentally, for the scientific value, a recent study confirmed that, even if a song is sad, it can still improve your mood.
Yes, I AM aware that current/new artists exist. I even listen to some of them!
Should the mother of the young girl in the waiting room with me, by some extreme coincidence, read this: She was trying to get you to take the very simple quiz from National Geographic Kids. You would ignore each question until about the third time she asked, then give a dismissive answer. Finally, you told her to leave her alone and go wash her face: she’d gotten it painted in art class and very clearly, even to me, a complete stranger, was still excited about it.
I was mentally walloping you with my book. I hope you felt it. PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR KID. IT WILL NOT KILL YOU TO HELP HER ENDURE THE TIME IN A WAITING ROOM. HOW DO YOU THINK SHE FELT WHEN YOU TOLD HER TO WASH HER FACE?
I’m done. I needed to get that out.
Julia Sugarbaker would have schooled her on the spot, not on a blog. Sigh.