Posted in Randomy Goodness

January Joy

The long lines everywhere have shortened and/or disappeared. The traffic’s back to normal and is even lighter than usual some mornings and evenings. It’s 2019 and everything’s getting back to the way it should be, without holiday hubbub (and The Sickness, which has finally ended). January is one of the most…. wonderful tiiiiiiiiiiimes…. of the year!

Continue reading “January Joy”

Posted in Randomy Goodness

Do I need to RSVP?


One of my favorite things about me: I’m usually late to popular parties. I saw Forrest Gump more than a year after it came out. I didn’t start going to Starbucks until a few years ago (for tea, too, not coffee). And right now, I’m rockin’ Take Me to Church and Chandelier, songs that have been out, like, forever.

I can’t even say it’s fashionably late. The rest of the world has moved on and then here I come a-runnin’ in when the party’s over.

Yes, I heard the church song in one ear when it came out, but it just didn’t grab my attention. And yes, I know of the Chandelier video and the fact that the uber-talented wee one from the dreadful Dance Moms is in it. I saw it. Didn’t really listen to the song, until the past week or so, and BOOM! It’s on repeat for a week.

I never pass on the virus of viral videos. I don’t do trendy bucket challenges or read the latest horrible book that has gotten published and everybody’s reading because the repressed Puritan nature of our country’s founding means if people think sex is included, especially in some taboo or kinky fashion, they can’t wait to get their hands on it.

I don’t do it on purpose (well, the not reading that horrible book, I did, but most other “popular” things, I don’t). Things that interest the masses just never seem to interest me. Sometimes, I come to them later, like with Chandelier and Take Me to Church. Most times, I don’t (see: most viral videos). I don’t know why I am this way. But I kind of like that I am.

Of course, I did get on the bandwagon early — had a seat up front, in fact — for True Detective. I even got other people to watch it — that’s right, I was a trendsetter! Early to the party and invited others! Even though that ended up being a bit of a phenomenon, I’m not sure it rises to the level of viral cat videos in popularity, though. So I’m not sure that counts.

I like weird things, it seems, not so much what’s in the mainstream. Sometimes, what’s in the mainstream finally catches my eyes and ears, but apparently, only after you people are done with it or have moved on to the next one. I may be a step (or a year) behind, but it’s way less crowded that way, which I love. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be so far behind, it’ll look like I’m at the beginning and y’all will try to catch up with me.


In case you’re even further behind than I am, here are the videos for Take Me to Church and Chandelier. You’re welcome.

I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist
Like it doesn’t exist
~ Sia

Take me to church
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I’ll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

Posted in Randomy Goodness

Admitting my problem is the first step

My television is off way more than it’s on. I kicked the habit years ago and, for the most part, I don’t miss it. But sometimes, I’ll admit it: I watch crap TV. I never get sucked into a long-term series, but sometimes, a short-term event catches my attention.

Sometimes, I can hold my head high. I’m looking at you, True Detective — you were (mostly) smart and well-written.

And then sometimes, oh the shame… I don’t want to look, I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. A few Sundays ago, that’s exactly what happened. I perused the channels and landed somewhere I never expected to linger: Lindsay on OWN. I watched every episode since. I live-tweeted the 2-hour finale yesterday.

Don’t judge. It’s unbecoming.

Lindsay sucked me in with the pure drama of the lack of drama — the unpacking! of all of those designer goods! in her new apartment!

Seriously, almost nothing happens in the 8 episodes of the “docu-series.” But I kept watching. My brain fought, as it does, this cotton brain candy. So I watched Lindsay as if it was an anthropological study. In between thoughts of “Something HAS to happen, right?” I became determined to learn… something.

What I Learned by Watching Lindsay on OWN

I’m glad I’m not a celebrity and/or an addict. Trying to kick drugs or alcohol sounds hard enough. I mean, it took me FOREVER to give up French Fries… OK, you caught me, I still eat them (back to the Betty Crocker Center). Trying to kick an addiction when you’re not used to boundaries and hearing the word ‘no’ seems more difficult than it needs to be.

Chasing what could be lost seems exhausting (as does making endless excuses) and makes one look somewhat desperate.

The real world and Hollywoodland are on different planets. Here on Earth, a non-celebrity would have used his or her last chance the third time of tardiness, not the millionth (…and counting).

If I had a hairstylist who styled my tresses when I was going out “in public,” I would hope that my hair looked more “did” than if I had done it myself. (The celebrity world can, too, be deep and shallow at the same time!)

I’ve seen documentaries that were amazing. This isn’t one of them. Why? The reluctant subject. The shooting/editing (though the production company did try to make the thousands of shots of the outside of her apartment interesting by showing the windows from the street below, from across the street, by turning the camera on an angle!). And maybe OWN shouldn’t venture into this arena (not quite Kardashian territory, but it’s a slippery slope, Oprah).

As the show ended (Lindsay has a movie to work on! Lindsay had a miscarriage? It was getting way too melodramatic… good thing there were only five minutes left when that bomb dropped), my brain felt like it was melting, like celluloid touching the projector’s bulb. After a good sleep, I hope it returns to its normal thinking self and forgives me for what I subjected it to.

Dear Brain: I’m sorry. I’ll read an extra book this week to make up for it, I promise.