I made a birthday cd, as is my birthday custom, and this year's selection included Judy Garland's Get Happy. I don't understand this song. For those of you who haven't heard it, it involves a zany Judy singing excitedly about .... the judgement day. Maybe the many years that I spent as a young, mulleted Anglican weren't as informative as I previously thought because I was under the impression that Judgement Day involved a lot of pestilence and burning and death from above, possibly at the robotic hands of THE TERMINATOR. Likewise, "Forget your troubles, come on get happy" is probably going to be a bit of a chore if you're BURNING ALIVE UNDER A PLAGUE OF PUS-FILLED, BUBBLING SORES. *

I also put Cryin' on there, which is a particularly awesome gem from the Dirty Dancing Soundtrack. If you listen to it, the entire Sovereign Family would entirely recommend closing your eyes and doing a dance move that kind of resembles humping the air. Trust me though, it looks classier than it sounds. Much classier. Ready for church classier.

If I could change my name to anything, I'd change it to Josephine. There are tons of awesome songs about girls named Josephine, one of which is done by the Wallflowers and is on my cd. There are some awesome songs about girls named Sarah, too, but they are only awesome if you've done about a mountain of coke and gone back in time to 1987 under the false impression that you've built your city on rock n' roll. I hate the Sara of Jefferson Starship fame. This one time, back in the 80s, Melissa's brother Dan started singing it to me and I freaked out, hopped the backyard fence and ran home crying. And then my brain exploded. I'm pretty lucky to be alive to tell the tale actually.

Years later I would discover the Bob Dylan Sarah song and I'd feel much better about things. I did put Like A Rolling Stone on my cd, although my current all time favourite Bob Dylan song is All Along the Watchtower.

All this blogging has made me tired and now I need a nap.

*I came so close to describing puss-filled as "pussy" you just don't even realize.

Labels: For Your Listening Pleasure

Give me two Latte's in the span of one afternoon and I will be ready and prepared to clean your house and possibly reorganize your spice rack at 5 in the morning while doing a jaunty two step to anything by Nelly Furtado.

Even if I don't know what that girl is saying, I will make up my own lyrics and sing them, possibly throwing a few obscene gutteral sounds in there for flavour. I did, after all, grow up in the early 90's, where "Unnnnhhhhhh" was a perfectly acceptable chorus. Honestly, I don't care what hour of the night it is, there is always time to get Nelly Furtarded.

As some of you may know, our wonderful kitchen came equipped with a dishwasher which we've recently started using.

I have no idea how to use that dishwasher. One night, after staring at the mountain of dishes that had somehow accumulated in the span of 10 seconds we decided to load it all up and kind of ... forget about them. God forbid we find a usable spoon in this house for two days, but at least we could almost ignore that plate encrusted with dried guacamole.

Only, there are a wealth of buttons and options on that dishwasher, and a host of places to put soap. The first attempt to buy actual dishwasher soap had me skipping home with a vat of Jet Dry, which, while making our dishes sparkle, is unlikely to make them actually CLEAN.

I don't know about any of you, but I'm the kind of girl who enjoys eating just the one meal, rather than sampling the remnants of last Saturdays' Chicken Soopreese on my fork.

However, I am determined to work that dishwasher into submission. We've been rewashing at the sink after each load, because apparently we can't waste enough water in one night, and one of these days we're going to find the right option and the perfect balance of EconoWash and PURE WILL and those dishes will come out sparkling and yet, also, clean.

I won't speak for you guys, but I dream of the day I can pull a spoon out of that rack and just eat my goddamn yogurt without noting that.. yeah. That's turkey there. Delicious.

Labels: For Your Listening Pleasure

For years I have been promising to sing a song to you, Internet. A song that didn't involve screeching a sampling of the entire Mariah Carey catalog with all the hotness of a talented Mongolian Yak, or a random burst of musical joy as "WOULDN'T IT BE NICE" by the Beach Boys suddenly hits the cd player. Violently. Beautifully. Beach Boyfully.

Not that Laura and I aren't awesome beyond measuring for the above. After all, we're the kind of girls who cruise around in a minivan blaring a 1999 Monica, when the boy was still hers and no one could properly sing any of her massive run ons. EXCEPT MAYBE ME AND LAURA.

Like, we were connected even then in our love of Monica and Mariah Carey. Except that while she was chronicling the sexcapades of her rabbits with a disposable camera, I was wearing pants made out of vinyl and angst-riddenly making mixed tapes featuring Stabbing Westward, Marilyn Manson and ... the Spice Girls.

Anyways. A few years back I discovered this song ... this wonderful, magical, marvellous song that is now mainly my signature "I AM DRUNK AND YOU WILL LISTEN OR I WILL THROW THIS JAR OF PEANUTS AT YOUR HEAD" song. However, to be fair, I sing it everywhere and to everyone. There is something so deep and meaningful about the lyrics, in that way that they aren't just beautiful words ... it's also some really great advice.

And so, I present to y'all, a slightly rusty version of me singing one of my favourite songs accapella --

FUCK HER GENTLY.

Please be kind. I am no Raffi.

Also, that is CSI you hear at the beginning. I was nervous about singing in front of my iRiver apparently and had to have some Gil Grissom in the background for backup.

Labels: For Your Listening Pleasure, Sarah Land