Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Bucket List Update

Gary and I seriously investigated a visit to see Northern Lights. This was a bucket list item for me.

It has been struck from the bucket list, joining other de-bucketed items such as an outdoor wedding, and for the same reason: it just isn't remotely practical.

To see the lights at their best, you have to travel very far north. The uncivilized North. Canadians don't even live there. Russians send their prisoners there. Without the wind chill it's negative X degrees.

I could get past the -40 degree weather as long as I was insulated, especially in a pod like this:

I just can't gamble thousands of dollars on the weather. I can picture being trapped in that pod with Gary, our gasses mingling as we stare at a leaden sky. 

I've always heard that the aurora is impossible to capture on film, but evidently they've invented cameras for that purpose now, and they're just waiting for the spectacular solar storm that's supposedly going to hit this January. Some film called "Mysteries of the Northern Lights" is in development right now that supposedly lets you experience the lights in an IMAX theater. A climate-controlled theater in a major city where you can get a pizza afterward then go diffuse the gases into a reasonably sized house.

Stupid inconvenient auroras. They will have to come to Mohammed, then.  

Scene: The Guest Room Last Night

Me, nesting in the guest bed, because Gary's Delicate Back has sent me there. 

Gary suddenly appears at the foot of the bed.

Gary: Hey!

Me: What's up?

Gary: I just had an epiphany!

Me: What's that?

Gary: It's like a Eureka -

Me: I know what an epiphany is. What was your epiphany?

Gary: My body's been trying to tell me for years. I don't know if if I've ever mentioned it, but I have a recurring dream. It's the No Pants dream.

Me: Sure, like the naked dream. That dream means -

Gary: I was afraid it was an Alzheimer's dream, but now I know what it means and it's going to solve all of my back problems. (Gary pauses so to give me the chance to say how curious I am to hear about this.)

Me: (silent)

Gary (conspiratorial whisper): My body is telling me I'm getting chilled and that's why my back is going out.

Me: (raises eyebrow)

Gary:  I'm gettiong a cold in my back and that's why my back hurts more when I wake up.

Me: I know you use that phrase all the time but you can't really catch a cold in your back.

Gary: That's what muscles do when they get chilled, they cramp up.

Me: So ... do you plan to tell the back doctor this when you get an appointment? Because he's been telling people to lose weight and walk more. 

Gary: Look, doctors don't know everything. I know more than a doctor about me, and how I feel, and what works for me.I am the expert on me.

Me: Seriously?

Gary: Yes.

Me: So you're going to do a scientific study? With controls?

Gary: No. I just need to start wearing pajamas, and then my back will get better. Do you have any pajamas that will fit me?

Sadly, my oldest pair of pajamas are huge on me. I've had to take to tying the pants elastic to the top shirt button because otherwise I walk myself out of them when I climb the basement stairs.

Gary did indeed sleep in the bottoms last night and reported the experiment was a success.

 

Productivity

In the past, the house has always been at some level of disarray, no matter how clean, because the basement was a mess. The messy house is always a damper on my fun. "I want to play my guitar! But ... really ... I should clean the house first." And then I do neither. 

However, I cleaned the house prior to the party. Now I find myself thinking, "I want to play my guitar! But ... really ... I should reorganize the pantry first." (Which I did, and it is fabulous.)

All parts of the house are now hyper-organized but for half the laundry room and the hall bathroom cabinet. I could do those things today. I would have nothing to do but play my guitar. I don't even have a World Series game to watch tonight.

You'd think I could count on Gary to dirt things up again, but he is on top of the dishes and the crumbs, and really that's the most noticeable mess. It's all part of the new S_____ World Order. I like the new dynamic. I was driving home last night thinking "I'm the sole provider," just to see if it would bother me, and I LOVED IT. I giggled with power. 

So nothing has fallen apart, and as long as people come over on a regular basis so I can do a Big Clean, the hearth and home will tick along.

What's that Alanis line? "Why are you so petrified of silence / Here can you handle this? / Did you think about your bills, your ex, your deadlines / Or when you think you're gonna die / Or did you long for the next" [pantry to whip into shape].

Best Part of the Party

The pinata was hard to kill. Eventually, it was on the ground while Libby bludgeoned it. She struck a mighty blow and red fluid poured on the basement floor.

I was appalled. What had gotten into my uetrus pinata? I searched my mind for what chemical interaction could have caused red fluid to build up in my pinata.

After far too long one of my actual friends told me that - out of my sight - Joy had spilled her red wine at the exact moment the pinata finally burst. 

Marcia cleaned it up with a Kotex. That explains this photo.

Took five swings to kill it

Games

Bonfire

NSFW Candy

Watermelon

Cake

Damn Redbirds.

The Saint Louis Cardinals were up three to one against the LA Dodgers. All they had to do is win one more game. But did they? DID THEY? NO.

This means there's a good chance the seventh game of the playoffs will conflict with my MenoParty on Saturday, damnit.

It also means I may have to make good on the Governor’s bet I made with Long Time Reader Catherine in LA. If the Dodgers win, I have to eat a cup of Ramen Noodles, breaking my lifelong streak of never eating a Ramen Noodle ever, and if the Cards win she has to eat Gooey Butter Cake.

The Cards were not IN the playoffs when I planned this party, but it is an odd-numbered year. I should have known.

Strangest BNL Concert Ever

This was the strangest BNL concert since the infamous Chicago concert when former-lead-singer Steve was "on cough medicine."

Normal BNL concert:

The opening act is great, but not mind-blowing.

This BNL concert

This pair, Whitehorse, didn't play their music so much as assembled their music live on stage.

They did a lot of work stomping those loop-making machines that have a name that I don't know. They banged on a lot of pots. My only critique would be that the female singer was so breathy (or the mike was so diffuse) that I have no idea what the lyrics were for most of the songs. Someone should alert Quentin Tarintino to this band: they need to be on his soundtracks.

Normal BNL concert

Crowd is on their feet immediately.

This BNL concert

As ~~Silk had noted, BNL concert-goers are encouraged to hug the stage and dance, and I suppose that means the front row has to stand up to see, making the second row stand, etc. I always assumed the standing was because we like to dance, but evidently it's just a domino effect. Well, the very front row seats to this concert cost five hundred dollars ... that number is not exact. It was some appalling amount, and I am not easily appalled by high ticket prices. Since the right center front row kept their butts planted on their $500, I didn't stand out of courtesy to the rows behind us. (Plus I was still a bit thoughtful / dazzled by the opening act.)

Normal BNL concert

Rare lighting or sound glitches. Any glitches are acknowledged and ridiculed.

This BNL concert

See these lights?

Those lights swiveled into my eyes routinely and painfully. I had to put on my sunglasses. And for an entire song the sound system crackled the way my headphones crackle when you plug them in, only 500 decibels louder. Techs were RUNNING across the stage. It was just one song, though.

Normal BNL concert

I listen to the lyrics reverentially. Talkers make me insane, especially the ones who get louder when the band gets louder.

This BNL concert

The talking started early, even in the VIP seats, and you know, it didn't bother me as much as usual. It bothered Gary. I can only assume the change of life has mellowed me. Perhaps. My mid-life mind had this tape running through it. "Oh well, these people are talking, they're drunk, let it go. Quit shining the lights into my eyes. It's very comfy in this seat. Quit shining the lights into my eyes. This is the loosest show I have ever seen."

Normal BNL concert

The crowd is on Ed's side.

This BNL concert

Since the National League baseball playoffs were happening a few yards away, someone in the crowd yelled, "It's 2 to 2," and Ed replied he did not "give a shit about baseball."

(Analogies: saying you don't give a shit about football in Dallas. Beer in Milwaukee. Soccer in Brazil. Springsteen in New Jersey. Jesus in Rome. Hockey in Canada.)

The crowd turned on the news of the Toronto / St.Louis shit deficit. This improved the show, because the rest of the band had to step up to win them back. Tyler jumped in. Kevin jumped in. Jim, actually, just let him sink, but the other band members became much more engaged. And I like to hear from the whole band. It's as if Broadway showed only monologues except for one play. BNL is the one play. The members interact. They interacted more before Steve left, and now Jim, Kevin, and Ty keep a little too quiet. But after the crowd turned on Ed, Kevin made a lot of musical commentary and Tyler, bless him, did a spontaneous riff about the St. Louis blues hockey team, name-dropping Bobby Orr and Gary Unger.

"GARY UNGER!" I screamed in response to what Ed later called blatant crowd pandering.

To be fair to Jim, he eventually pitched in and brought up Ted Drewes, and I believe Ed referred to a Ted Drewes concrete as a blizzard. Outrage. More crowd pandering needed to be administered, and by the last encore Ed bowed and scraped to a Cardinals towel someone had thrown on stage.

But as always, the crowd was on its feet when The Old Apartment came up. It was nice. Perhaps this is a new routine to keep it fresh, turning the crowd against you to win them back over.

The Phone Scammers Have Gone Too Far

Remember the phone scammers, the ones who call me with wrong number messages and they insist I call back? The Internet revealed they were a particularly hated group of cruise telemarketers.

It would seem I'm a tough nut to crack, because they've escalated. Every day there's a call. Once it was "You gotta call me back, man, I'm gonna lose my job!" once "Hey, I'm calling to see if you're going to pick up this stuff you won at the auction."  They've started to vary the numbers they call from too. I never answer an unknown number anymore.

Except for today. I had my phone in my hands, wondering why the new iPhone feature that blocks calls wasn't working for me, when I got an unknown call. It was from my area code this time, and it surprised me, and I'm afraid to say I answered.

"Hello?" I said.

"I'd like to ask, who are you?" she said, sweetly.

I said, "I'm not anyone you know. You have a wrong number." And I'm ON TO YOU, I thought.

"Well, I'm calling you because my husband's been calling your number."

"No he hasn't," I said, "Goodbye," and I hung up.

Of course she called back and left this message.

 

Nuts

If you don't want to listen, here is what you missed. She says all this in a huffy tone that would break down at the end of every sentence and turn into a question.

"Hi I just called you; I just wanted to know what your name was so I could speak with my husband about this because I'm having issues with him right now? So, evidently you have been talking to my husband, which, you need to call me back, because I need to know what your name is, and how you met him? If you met him on a line or something? So, call me back, thanks bye." (Barely audible woman's voice in the back says "Give her the number.") "Oh it's 314-XXX-XXXX."

Of course I did a reverse lookup and it's the number for some woman in Hillsboro. The previous messages were from Washington Missouri, so they're moving closer.

I'm really mean it this time: I'm not answering my phone if I don't recognize the number from now on. Let's see how good the acting gets. Right now it's a tie between the guy who was going to lose his job and this cuckolded wife.

A Video You Have To Watch Three Times

Once, for the action.

(Close the damn ad as soon as possible. It's in the way. My ad wants to know if "He's Cheating on You," and that's offensive.)

Twice, to read the banner.

Three times for the crawl at the bottom. 

BNL coming to town Friday! Eeee!

Bulletzzzzzzzz.

I had a long week auditing a class, and I am exhausted from leaning forward and pretending to listen. Truly, I sprained my neck with the attentive posture.

I capped off my draining training with a non-stop weekend. First, Gary took me and his tricky back out to see Gravity. I have no idea how they made that movie. Sadly, I had spent too much time the previous weekend on a hunt for information about the lost cosmonauts. It's been a grim month of death (deathhh ...) in (innn ...) space (spaaaaccceeee ...).

Saturday and Sunday I built a brick edge for my front walk and finished almost all the party projects. I'm at a loss for what to serve. I need to make food for 10-20 people, and this is my first normal party in twenty five years. Everything else has been all tea and lobster. What do normal people serve at parties? There will be chips, soda, watermelon, and a lot of chocolate. I don't want to serve pizza.

Right now I'm thinking mini quiches, because of the eggs, of course. Baby corn and baby carrots would be vile in a quiche, though, but it would keep the theme going. Or perhaps I should just serve people Ensure cocktails and have one food everyone likes, and drop the theme for that.

What's a food everyone likes?

Piñata

Needs some tweaks to be more scientifically accurate.

Brief Party Update

Papier Mache is hard. (That's how Martha Stewart spells it, people. Maybe that's my problem.) I have encountered indestructible piñatas. I wanted my piñata to break at some point, but I ended up making it as thin as ... paper. As thin as my own uterus. So, now the basic structure's been dismantled and I've reinforced. Gotta bolster up my uterus.

It never occurred to me before but I've only ever seen a cross section of a uterus. Nine out of ten uterii on Google images look like this:

A real one does look like a balloon. I'm going to have to integrate the cross section in mine anyway, otherwise It just wont look like a uterus.

We have now added a tampon bonfire and Pin the Kotex on the Underwear to the festivities. The uterus piñatas has absorbed all my time, though. You'd think it could produce babies after all the research I've put into it.