Just Southern Sweet Talked My Printer Into Working

Whooooo!

I'm still not sure quite what did it, but it was a hell of an adventure getting there. I was working against the clock, since I had to use Handy J's computer to scan. And I had stolen his printer cable.

To take over to MY printer, b/c HJ's doesn't work (but I'm fingers crossed that it is only the printer that is kaput, and I will be able to scan). Dust off and plugged in my girl. Also, some time being spent mildly pissed that of all the shit I had, I hadn't managed to put my computer cable somewhere sensible? Sheesh.

Printer makes unholy animal sounds and releases blinking lights of protests. And, predictably, it tells me I am out of ink. Which sure doesn't sound right, but then again, I haven't had this thing plugged in for months. Ironically that was on purpose in an attempt to keep the ink from heating up and drying out. Oh, universe, you so crazy.

There might have been a sideplot involving a very sharp knife and the Magenta printer cartridge that got some unfortunate plastic surgery. To pass for bleck. Bleck ink. But it still didn't work because those ink bastards have got us by the balls. What to do?

Serious Sweet Talking begins. (You've got two main choices in situations with machines: you can either cuss up one side and down the other or you can sweet talk them).

On the off chance any of you are not familiar with this, the kinda line you run goes something like this:

Hey beautiful. Didja miss me?

Lookit you, ol' girl*, looking gorgeous!

C'mon sugar, I know you can do this.

C'mon baby, you got this.

Aw baby, why you wanna do that?

Darling, don't be like this.

Atta girl, that's it. Doing good.

This may look ridiculous, but if you have spent any time in your life trying to fix things, chances are some variant of one of these has come out of your mouth. The more desperate you are for it to work, the chattier you get.

It took about 45 minutes, a lot of unplugging, and an amount of conversating with an inanimate object that makes even me uncomfortable, but my sweet lil' Epson came through!

Please note, also employed the "Well, Let's Just Let That Set A Spell And Comeback" maneuver. Worked like a dream.

This is all good because I had documents that were due to someone today and I feel like shizzola and had been relying on HJ's computer to do this from home and was Not Pleased with the prospect of Leaving House (of Pain).

You go 'head now, Epson!

*P.S. I was unaware that my printer was was a girl until today.

When I Awoke At 4:30 a.m. I Thought. . .

. . . that I should get out of bed and just get all my chores done.

So, when I finally got out of bed between 7 and 8, I thought: Okay, I can get all of my chores done this morning.

After some morning staggering around and cruising the net (always a bad idea, always) and reasoned by 11:00 at the latest, I could get it all done. Then I looked at my clock.

10:12 am.

Whoops.

Well, I'm here to report that at 11:22 am the majority of my chores were done. Aided greatly by doing piecemeal chores in the two days leading up and my Hall & Oates Pandora station.

The H&O station was a little off, thematically, but it played several awesome songs in a row, which makes it all okay. For now.

I closed out with "Eye of the Tiger" and we just hit H&O gold: "She's Gone." This is possibly the greatest video ever. Penguin hand guitar. Devils. Bad lip syncing.

Get it? He'd pay the devil to replace her. Get it? I'm pretty convinced if I ever shot a video it would look like this.

Among the awesome songs shuffled through was "Miss You" by the Rolling Stones. Familiar with it? If you are like me, that song has been a part of your life so long that you don't even know the lyrics. Like, you sing along with Jagger's mushmouth ultra-twang, but you probably haven't stopped to consider what the song is about, how unique it sounds, etc. Sometimes you don't even realize you are singing along. Let's call it the R.E.M phenomenon (LEONARD BERNSTEIN!).

Here's the video if you need a refresher. If you aren't familiar with this song, I don't know if you would find this funny.

I will forever associate this song with my two friends, J-Dog and tink. It helps remind me that normal is totally relative.

J and I are in the front seat, J's driving, and tink is chilling in the back. We are all in town for holidays or something. "Miss You" comes on the radio and, rather unconsciously I think, J and I start singing the parts we know. Please note, this is first time I've ever looked up these lyrics.

Mumble hum
Mumble hum blah
(Lord/Mumble/Gibberish) I miss you 
Something something phone
Mumble something
Something hum
mumble something something you


Oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh

I think that might have been the part that led tink to lean forward to catch the song. If you think about it, synchronized Ooooohs are prolly pretty weird sounding with no context.

Mumble mumble
lots of humming
Making shit up
Blah blah something, humming for a while

When the phone rings

It's just a friend of mine that say
"Hey, what's the matter, man?
We're gonna come around at twelve
With some Puerto Rican girls that are just DYING' to MEET YOU
We're gonna bring a case of wine
Hey, let's go mess and fool around
You know, like we USED to"

Now, bless her, tink managed to make it through that outburst without saying anything. Oblivious in the front seat, J and I continue our scattered hum along, until we reach the next good part.

I've been walking in Central Park
Singing after dark
(creepy whisper) People think I'm crazy
Stumbling on my feet
Shuffling through the street
Asking people, "What's the matter WICHOO, boy?"
Sometimes I want to say to, to myself
Sometimes I say

Imagine two people just bust that out. You can't really hear the song, aren't familiar with it, and your friends seem to singing some ode to Puerto Ricans and repetitive nonsense sound. I think, fairly, tink had enough and demanded, "What the HELL is this song?"

I don't think J and I fully appreciated how confusing the whole thing was. If I recall correctly, we finished out the song. With profound shit, like

Oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh

Aaah aaah aaah aaah
Aaah aaah aaah aaah
Aaah aaah aaah

Lord, I miss you child

It was a small moment. You probably had to be there. It makes me smile.

ETA: Just watched the beginning of that Stones video. Holy crap, y'all. I think I know where Ted Levine got his inspiration for the Buffalo Bill dance scene. My mind. It is blown.

OMG WUT OMG

My mother is psychologically passive aggressively abusing me! Help! Send help!

pee ess: you know i lubs you mooooooooooooooo!

Mischiefin' Is Hard

Been perpetrating some mischief of the most time sensitive matters today. It was freaking exhausting.

The countdown begins. Updates when the Mischief officially detonates, for the interested.

UPDATE: I is woah out, toah up from the floa up.

All you office are belong to us!

You can't run, you can't run. Don't you know who I am?

Pocket Fredward!

And extra prezzies on the side. I worked really hard on color coordinating these. It's sad, isn't it?

 And that's how you do your little sister's 30th birthday up right. I may not have the oomph to pull off major coups anymore, but I can stealth up in yo shizzle and life-bomb you. There's nowhere to run. There's nowhere to hide.

Hun love. When you care to raid the very best.

A Rare Moment

Today started early and got interesting just before lunch, when the following exchange took place:

N: What are you up to?

H: Not much.

N: Let's get weird.

H: I'm already there. Let's do this thing!

What followed was a lovely trip along scenic beachfront down to the ridiculously priced but astoundingly lovely beach village. Wondering through overpriced shops, eating just enough overpriced food, and enjoying the lovely, cool weather.

It was easy and fun. Driving back to town, I turned on the radio to catch some bad local stations and I felt something I haven't felt in a long time.

I felt content.

I wanted for nothing. I cared not what lay ahead. I rued not what lay behind. No headache, not too tired, not too nervous. Like the third bowl of porridge, I was just right.

An unfettered Hawk is a happy Hawk. Nice change of pace.

Oxymoronic Endeavors and The Joy of Silliness

I had this whole other post, but it was a major downer, man. And I don't feel like dragging my gentle readers through more shit, or in getting raked over the coals again by folks who draw conclusions without ever reading my stuff or actually speaking to me.

Let's just say that it's been a bit of a struggle to stay mellow lately. Some might posit that exerting effort to stay mellow means you're doing it wrong. Those people are idiots. Or just really stoned. Some days it just feels like this:

Flames. . . on the side of my face. Burning, heaving. . .

But that doesn't mean that cool stuff isn't happening as well. I went to a party last night and chatted about. Lovely weather, but since it dipped below 70 degrees we had to fire up the outdoor heater for Princess O. Most people don't know she's originally from Jotunheimr. So I guess she's never recovered from her icy upbringing.

Though, if she is a frost giantess, maybe she can hook me up with some Jotuns.

Yes. I'm looking at his headgear.

Anyhoo, the party was lovely. Though if somebody offers you punch made from champagne, rum, and maraschino liqueur, you should perhaps stop after about two cups. Just a suggestion.

My lovely friend Blau, in addition to offering me some replacement parts from spare items around his house (it's basically an Apple stockroom in there), casually threw in the Adobe CS 5. Just in a sealed package  he had laying around.

And to top it all off, when I left I was handed the fish bowl that had a sign on it asking for "Donations for the Punch Preparation." That turned out to be code for "Alms for Hawkeye's Dickensian Life." It was a lovely and kind gesture, and quite sensitively handled, as I have been having some real issues with handling being the Pitiable Wretch once again. When I was sorting out the change in the fishbowl today I found a Ralph's giftcard and a $250 card for Target. I almost started crying.

Princess O's response summed up why this was so nice--it's not the gifts themselves: Most welcome. That's one of the things community is good for.

And in other fun news, there have been some goofy texts flying back and forth lately. My current faves.

After sending out a Michael McDonald lyrics spam, I got this:

K: I'm so taking to the streets and make you listen to the music just when you keep forgetting its only what a fool believes.

And my bro and I don't communicate often, but when we do it's super random. This exchange had me in tears. I couldn't even shoot pool, I kept laughing so much. I thought we might get thrown out of the place.

Bro: Diarrhea is like a storm raging inside you.

Me: Wwhat? Lol...wut?

Bro: I'm watching MST3K Fugitive Alien 2.

Me: I hope you are happy. I now cannot shoot pool for shit.

Bro: Diarrhea.

M: God damn you. You go to hell. You go to hell an you DIE.

B: Die...arrhea?

M: I hate you so much. My mascara is running. Running like the explosive sharts down your pant leg.

B: Just a little diarrhea? Or just a little torture? (Teenagers From Outer Space)

M: I thought for sure that diarrhea would hit them. (Eegah)


B: Why don't they wipe? (Eegah)

M: You are srsly gonna get me kicked out of this bar. Also: Squirt McChunderpants. (Space Mutiny)

Yup. More than you ever wanted to know. Classy all the way.

Holy Shit, He's a White Dude! (And Other Musical Musings)

Coldplay is webcasting for free right now. Pretty cool. (Probably over by the time I finish this post).Thanx AMEX, guess this makes that yearly membership fee worth it. I know the points program sure as hell doesn't.

http://www.youtube.com/coldplayvevo?om_rid=NsmmUf&om_mid=_BOqEXyB8eGP0qS&om_lid=gen103

So, the Interwebz is both magical and a bit of a killjoy. You can find information about practically anything, no matter how obscure. While this is immensely gratifying, there are losses. People with minds for trivia (*cough*me*cough*) are being rendered obsolete. Especially with the advent of 3G/4G data streaming. Fucking iPhone has made me useless. And though I do have my hunches proved right in a more timely manner, I now make less money by betting against inebriated bar patrons.

The other loss is the joy in a certain type of reminiscing. The kind where you say, "Hey, anybody remember that song/movie/book that went 'Something, something, power windows, something, blah blah?'" and your friends go, "No, but I do remember 'Blah Blah babycakes whoopsie blah,' was it by that guy's brother?"

And from such modest and befuddled beginnings, hours of conversation and information exchange sprang forth.

Now everybody just whips out their phone/pocket super computer and we are forced to endure YouTube clips like we used to have to brave a wallet full of family photos. The video clips are only mildly less aggravating that the picture of your 22 month old covered in pudding. At least thumbing through the wallet pix was shorter.

Now that I'm done with my Luddite grumping, here's the part where I glory in all the Web does afford. Yesterday I went online to look for work. I didn't quite make it, as I got distracted by updating a playlist. I awoke with a lyric in my head, to the tune of  "Down in Jamaica they got lots of pretty women/ Steal your money and they break your heart." As the morning progressed, that song was interspersed with "That's how much/ That's how much/ I live for your loving/ That's how much."

Well, looking up those songs just started an avalanche. I started searching for all the songs I used to hear on the radio during that time in my life. Surprisingly to me, but I'm sure no one else, a huge portion of my music was Yacht Rock. I've also realized that Crosby, Stills, Nash (and sometimes Young) have had an unhealthy influence on my life. Ditto for America and Ambrosia. What the hell?

(This Coldplay concert is pretty damn good. I just squeed b/c Politik came on. YEAH!!!!! Oh crap, now it's Viva la Vida. This crowd is amazing.)

Anyhoo, I really was going to job hunt. But my computer froze and got all funky on me when I started doing serious stuff. Sign from god or happenstance? You make the call. I'm back on today, and as you can see, music has sidetracked me yet again. After the National Geographic Channel gave me a double whammy this morning with The Devil's Bible and the The Unreadable Book. Damn, I am such a sucker for that stuff.

But I have set aside Nat Geo and vow to get some shit done today. But first. . . . . . . (you see the problem here, right?)

I FINALLY remembered to look up a song that has been haunting me for years. Not just for the song itself, but I swear the horn melody has been sampled in many songs. Well, this is what I found:

Check his ass out! What the crap? This is right up there with finding out Rick Astley was a cracker, back in '88. Anyhoodle, that song is wicked smooth and has some soul behind it.

Ah, Coldplay is encoring with "Clocks."

I suppose some people would view this entire post as a condemnation of my musical taste. Hmmm.

Oh well, it makes me happy. Now they are playing "Fix You." It's weird, but I have this theory that you can spot when a songwriter has had children. This is one of two Coldplay songs that signal that to me.

In the midst of utter despair and wallowing in sorrow

One can sometimes find a moment of EPIC WIN.

http://www.youtube.com/user/jdryznar#p/u/7/CHLAq3VffHo

That clip is made of so much win, it blew my mind.

I heart Yacht Rock so hard, I wanna marry it and have ten thousand of its babbies.

ETA: Babby having inspiration here as well:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bOtMizMQ6oM&feature=related

It's like if Ed Grimley was an Elvis impersonator.

Watching Dean Martin makes me want to

..remake Rio Bravo
..get a better tan
..resign myself ton the life of a drunken drunkard from drunkytown
..shoot some fellers
..burst into song whenever i damn well please
..give up bathing (will also help with tan appearance)
..visit my old boss, who walks like ole Marion hisself
..sport a bandana and drink rotgut whiskey
..smoke cigarettes. A lot of cigarettes.
..get a rakish hairdo
..be awesome in general

Your Real Holiday Present

First of all, for anybody who doesn't know, I am fully aware of the Incredible Smoothness and Magical Rainbow Effervescence that is the Power of Kenny Loggins:

Now, in a wonderful bit of universal kismet, two of my favorite things have been combined.

If you have never read the blog Hyperbole and a Half, you are seriously undermining your quality of life.

I happened across this little gem today. Allie is one of those storytellers who makes me laugh out loud, often to the point of tearing up. Among the little gifts in this story are

The wise men, who were heavily intoxicated at that point in the evening, decided to dress themselves like gypsies.
******
The wise men were in the kitchen making more cocktails while Jesus was being "born" and they missed their cue. My mom ran into the kitchen and yelled "Jesus is here!" to which the wise men responded "Oh! Right! Shit. Hang in there, Jesus! We're coming!!" 


And there are pictures!!


So check out the quick, illustrated tale. I can't recommend the blog highly enough. You can thank me later.

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/12/year-kenny-loggins-ruined-christmas.html

And remember kids:

I Get More Done Before 3:30 pm. . .

. . . than I'll get done for the rest of the week.

Guess what, guys? (What, blatherblahg?)

IT'S NOT RAINING TODAY!!!

Though I have relocated to a climate conspicuous for its absence of precipitation, even immortalized in song, there has been nothing but constant piddling drizzle for nigh on a week now. There was even talk of tornadoes and hail.

The folks here are aghast. But I'm not surprised. It's well documented that the gods hate me, so a literal cloud of gloom and doom following me out here really isn't too far afield from the norm. Joke's on the locals--I'm used to oppression and misery, just another day for me.

Anyhoo, today dawned bright and sunny, and I made haste yon nearest Ross discount store, for a thing or two. Well, $150 later, I nipped back across the way to FINALLY resolve my banking issues, then off to try out a yoga and tai chi class.

Pause for a word on Ross'--if you find yourself in the way of needing housewares, check here before anywhere else. The clothing you can take or leave, but the prices on crap like glasses, plates, cookware, organizers--it's insane. Example: over the door rack hanger thingy cost $18 at Target. Ross price is $9. And dumb stuff, like packs of hangers--it's just ridiculous what you can find there at cut rate prices.

I was THE ONLY ONE at this yoga class. Which would have normally made me very uncomfortable, but the instructor must have had some kind of magic mojo going on, because I never gave it a second thought. I'm not quite sure what all we did up in there, but I think some of it was Flow style, with some Hatha stretches. It was a good workout. She claims my hamstrings are not tight. I will be sure to discuss that with them tomorrow.

Even though I look like a fat slob (i.e. I am a fat slob), she was very surprised that I hadn't worked out in over year and that I hadn't been involved with yoga or dance. I tell you what I told her: any grace or body awareness I have I owe to my sensei. I don't like to mention that I studied with him for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being I feel like I'm an embarrassment to his art. But what little I can do stems from my years under his tutelage. A natural athlete I am not, but I might have picked up the art of listening to instructions along the way.

The tai chi class was a little different. Part of the point is to go slow, at which I am no good. (I wanna go fast! I wanna go fast!) And not just slow paced, but slow learning. Big focus on body awareness there, which one can never have enough of--evidenced quite clearly by my impatience to move past the slow stuff to. . . the what? That's the whole point of so many things. We are so busy rushing to get to whatever we think is the goal that we forget how to get there. Or we half ass it. Strange little class, but amusing. Some of the core moves made me feel like I was sneaky creeping around. Hee. No, it doesn't take much. Shut up.

Home again, and to two Christmas cards in the mailbox. Yay! I still need to go to a grocery store and buy some crap to make some junk for Christmas day dinner with my ree-lay-tive. Maybe I'll just bring booze.

I have one more appt later tonight then I'm Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Except for the Christmas thing. Whoopee!

Too many words? Not enough pictures? Okay.


Colorform flowers!


Monkey wearing fez!


Kenny Loggins!



Michael McDonald!

And to round it out, two fellas who, inexplicably, haven't gotten around to asking me out. What could be the reason?

Perhaps they are discussing it right there. Somebody looks a little unsure of himself. Maybe Gerry is suggesting that they go get spruced up before making THAIR BEEG MOVE. Yes, I'm sure that's it.

In closing, Happy Holy Kwanzaa everybody. And really, don't get me anything for the holidays. Let me get you something: