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We are members of one great body. Nature planted in us a mutual love, and fitted us for a social life. We must consider that we were born for the good of the whole.
Lucius Annaeus Seneca
When we last left our heroine, she was at an Irish pub in the awful land of Washington, D.C.: a land full of people with agendas and horribly arranged streets…
We’d moved to a larger room in the back of The Dubliner and our group was gaining people like crazy. By this time, many in the group were inebriated. I was drinking my Coca-Cola (yeah, yeah, I’m drinking caffeine again–I’ll pay for it later) and enjoying the show.
It’s not my job to tell you everything that they did or said. It’s really not fair to them. Truly. They desperately need to be tattled on, but they all have their own blogs and if they can remember, more power to them. What I remember most keenly was our waiter. In an Irish pub, anyone with any kind of European accent sounds Irish. This is particularly true when everyone in the room is inebriated. What happens is that everything is much funnier than it really is.
Because of this situation, when it came to conversing with the waiter, I thought that it was hysterical that he wasn’t really Irish (look, he SOUNDED IRISH–if it looks like a Lucky Charm and walks like a Lucky Charm–yep, I’m kidding and yep, someone is gonna take that personally and yep, someone is gonna call me names). If you’d like to call me sauerkraut, go ahead.
Anyway, I made it my mission to discover the heritage of our waiter. As such, I refused to give him my order until he would disclose. What? I was in Washington. Disclosure is the name of the game. You can’t live there and not carry around your birth certificate, right?
Eventually, he gave it up to me and my friend Sarah that he was English and French. Sarah is French so this was an incredibly delightful conversation that ended with us holding our waiter up for ten minutes while we compared family histories and had a new best friend who was now required to serve all of our food “with love” because it was inevitable that we were somehow related (me being 1/4 English and Sarah being French).
And yes, I required him to say that everything had love in it.
This was much better than the experience we had at a bar later in the week where they wouldn’t allow us in because Caleb’s license had expired and they refused to believe he was over 21 even though he was supporting a full logger beard and it was clearly him on the license. And then when the guy who refused to let us in mouthed off to Caleb and Ben and made the situation ten times worse… Oh, you want to hear about that, too?
It was a long weekend. And I met a girl named Beer.
Today, Leon joined me on my lunch break and we took a quick troll around the mall which ended with me smelling like lemons (YUM!). On said trip, we swung by Claire’s, the mecca of all things 13-years of age and younger, so I might look for lanyards that would serve me during my time at the schools this year, as I have to wear a badge every day. Yes, I want pretty badge holders. I’m a girl.
While there, I saw something that made Baby Jesus cry. And now I’m going to make you cry. This is my amused face. The 1980s was 20 years ago for a reason.
I blame you, Kanye West. Don’t you bring back long dead trends without good reason. And there is no good reasons for wannabe sunglasses. Especially not in nasty plain plastic colors. You should be ashamed of yourself. I want you to stick your nose in the corner and take a time-out. Bad Kanye. It’s the least of your transgressions, but TIME. OUT.
Today, I want to welcome my first guest blogger, my husband, Leon! Thanks for stepping up to the plate, honey. — Jillian
This Sunday, my loving wife took me to see my first live comedy show, which was Ralphie May at Zanies in Nashville. She has graciously allowed me to write a guest post here about the experience, which I must say easily exceeded my expectations.
Sunday was a miserable day, weather-wise, but when we were actually driving up Franklin Road to get to Zanies, the skies cleared and it appeared that the weather would clear up. We were advised to show up by 6:45 in order to get good seats for the 7:30 show, and we arrived more or less right on time. The parking situation at Zanies was atrocious, however, and we had to park a couple blocks away (as we had been warned that parking at any of the nearby businesses would result in our car being promptly towed). Nonetheless, we were still in the door at or near 6:45. We found out that this was not nearly early enough, as we were seated at a couple of bar stools near the back of the first floor, and near the door. Our seating was, however, literally the only complaint I had about Zanies as a venue. Although my back got sore from not having anything to support it while we sat there for three hours, the sight lines were still good, the food was delicious and reasonably priced, and the service was shockingly prompt and attentive (especially given that our server appeared to be waiting on at least 9 or 10 tables). The warm-up acts were some guy from the Bob & Tom show (apparently neither Bob nor Tom), and Ralphie May’s wife. Both were good for a few chuckles, but neither had the talent to be a successful television comedian.
Ralphie took the stage at around 7:50. I was prepared, to some extent, for some recycled material, especially since I have been a fan of Ralphie’s since Last Comic Standing, and I was worried that I might have heard most of the jokes before, but I needn’t have worried. I didn’t hear a single recylced joke from any of his 4 DVDs or from any of his Last Comic Standing material. It was all new and fresh and quite a bit of it was obviously pulled from the events of the last few weeks and months. Ralphie had clearly put a lot of effort into keeping his material fresh for an audience that had doubtless heard him before (Ralphie is a relatively frequent guest at Zanies). During the middle of the show, the weather apparently turned inclement and we eventually briefly lost power. Ralphie picked up without a beat and continued the show. In fact, due to the weather, Ralphie extended his show an extra full hour, nearly doubling the length of his show, and did so without recycling anything I had ever heard before. At the end, he stayed around and took free pictures and gave free autographs to all who had stayed. I was truly impressed with his generosity with his time, especially given the fact that his wife delivered a baby less than 3 weeks ago and by his own admission, he is recently recovered from the flu and sleep deprivation. He furthermore displayed a remarkable knowledge of Nashville and surrounding localities, perhaps because he may have actually moved here (I think he said at the end that he and his wife had moved here, but I can’t be sure. It could just be that he visits frequently enough to have been briefed on these things).
Ralphie as a comedian is of course not for everyone. His jokes are not appropriate fare for the faint of heart, nor the politically correct. His show suffered somewhat from a needless and extended jag into pro-Obama politics. I more or less expect this from a comedian of Ralphie’s variety, so the problem in this case was not the politics, it’s that the jokes were not especially funny. Ralphie sounded more during these jokes like a talking head, less like a comedian attempting to entertain his audience. Thankfully, given the overall length of the show, this portion more or less faded into the background of an otherwise hilarious experience, especially since he quickly redeemed himself with a bit about Chick Fil-A that was… well, look for it to come to a special on Comedy Central soon. I don’t want to ruin the surprise. When he was finished, a grateful audience gave him a standing “O” and we waited in line for less than five minutes to meet Ralphie. I got a copy of “Austin-Tatious” (the only one I didn’t already have) and Ralphie signed it (as pictured here), although he was clear that he would have signed a picture for free as well. We then headed back home, late but satisfied with our first comedy experience. Whenever we get the chance, we’ll be seeing Ralphie again soon.
I’m so excited! I’m so excited! I’m so….scared!!! If you know what that’s from, you get 5 pop culture points. For those of us who grew up in the 80s and 90s, you know exactly what I’m talking about and to say that life has been one big ball of Jessie Spano losing her marbles lately is an understatement. This is all to say that life just got really complicated really quickly and here’s why: school. Yep. That’s it. School.
It’s rare that I talk about school-related stuff because the majority of you out there aren’t in school, or, if you are, you have your own problems. Translation: You don’t give a monkey’s Heineken about my problems. And that’s cool. I probably wouldn’t either.
What happened was that I was taking one, full summer course. It met one night a week from 5-9. That’s not a problem. I can handle it. Then, summer term II came around and added a second class. However, since it’s only ONE summer term, it means that the class must meet 2 nights a week. Are you still with me? The gist is that I am now in school from 5-9, 3 nights and week and the overall effect is that A.J. is gone those days because of the problems between my schedule and Leon’s. I’m finding it hard to focus.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still paying attention and I’m in class. When you get to the level I’m at in my education, you can’t avoid paying attention or you will fail. I just miss him. And it’s not healthy for him to not see me for 3 days straight in a week. He’s gone before I’m up in the morning and in bed before I get home. I hate it.
But it’s only a month. And until then, I’ll be ok. Remember, a blue shell isn’t permanent. It’s temporary. Every now and then I have them and so do you. I know this probably isn’t my most insightful or my best post, but I felt obliged to let you know what was going on and why things had been different lately. Bottom line: I’ve been blueshelled. Now it’s time to pull out the stops and get back on top.
The title is the disclaimer. See how easily I did that? We can all do that. It’s a choice. I’m not into demonizing the man that was my first six year old crush or idealizing the same man who, as a helping professional breaks my ever-loving heart with the issues I can see in his interviews.
I am choosing to focus on raw talent and the way that his music and lyrics connect with me, which is what I always do here. I’m an energy type person and the energy that I feel when I hear the music is something pervasive. I have found a particularly touching version of Man in the Mirror, which is one of the first songs that I can remember.
I know that you are saturated with this material. You are tired of hearing about Michael Jackson. You are looking for relief from the news and his pictures. I want to ask you to give Jay Brannan a chance because this is a truly beautiful cover of this song. While I was listening to it, my 8-year old son, A.J., came up to me and said, “Mama, that man has a beautiful voice.”
He sure does.
The music and how it makes you feel is what matters. Let everything else go because it’s done now. Please forgive me for adding to the noise. This is too beautiful NOT to share. I hope that you enjoy it the way I did. It’s not my favorite MJ song (Smooth Criminal, anyone?), but Jay nails this one. Please enjoy. And then let go, and be at peace and with happiness, and focus on the things that matter in your life. Thanks to each one of you for being a part of mine.
Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
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When we last left our heroine, she was at an Irish pub in the awful land of Washington, D.C.: a land full of people with agendas and horribly arranged streets…
Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
