Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Ooh! You Can Call Me Queen Bee, I'm Feeling A Flash Mob Coming On, Can Anybody Beatbox ?? by Allison

Ok, this is awesome.

College a cappella "Royals?"

I love the hardcore beat boxing girl in the front.

I am totally envisioning a flash mob in my near future.

The girls walked in, watched for a second because it is awesome,

and then were like "NO.
Do not embarrass us."

As if that has ever stopped me.

And ooh! I just realized!

 They look like a very talented and well groomed jury,
 delivering their decision via song.

I wish they also danced,
but I think you kind of have to pop and lock if you are beat boxing at the same time, I think that is the law of boy bands anyway. That would be hard to do in their nice black dresses from the jury pool.

No, Sorry, I Don't Have The Time. Or A Watch. And I Can't Look At Clocks, Either. I Have Reasons, I Swear, by Allison

So I got busted today at the gym.

This is why I do not wear a watch and should never look at clocks.
I know better.

It will get me in trouble somehow - it always does.

Today, in class, my cool friend and sadistic gym instructor -  who is both delightful and shows no mercy ever -  somehow,
amidst all of us doing a bunch of jumping around because she is making us -
she notices me looking over my shoulder at the clock.

I turn back around, she lets me know in one second she saw me looking at the clock,
and now I must suffer.
Horrible lunges.

I know better.

I have a collection - a random, nonsensical, absurd collection, but still -
of reasons why I cannot wear a watch or look at clocks.

It is like looking at Medusa, or saying Rumpelstiltskin three times.
Bad stuff will happen.

Why I Cannot Wear A Watch And Should Never Check What Time It Is Ever, An Edict, by Allison

1. Growing up, it wasn't until I was let loose with a driver's license to get my own self to school that I realized I was not inherently gifted in time/space continuum comprehension skills.

Before then, I was the beneficiary of people taking me places and stuff when I was supposed to be at whatever place.

I had no idea this was so very vexing and complicated.

Retroactively, thanks to everyone who had to deal with me. It is HARD.

When I did get my driver's license,
and was tasked with the basic requirement of: Get To School,
it all started to fall apart.

My nail polish wasn't dry.
(I used to change up my nail polish to match my outfit, like daily.
I plead temporary insanity, or that I was a teenaged girl, or is that redundant?)
Where were my books?
Ooh, I like this song!

But still, I could kind of pull Getting To School off,
except -
my Get To School side job was picking up my friend T.
T is absurdly awesome and one of my favorite people.
But when I would come barging up her driveway on the way to school,
she'd step out of the door, holding up a finger,
"One second!"

Total lie.

She would be in a kimono, with hot rollers in her hair,
holding an iron as she ironed her outfit (Thinking back, we were very high maintenance high school girls with all this upkeep at 7am) -

It was not one second.
Or a time frame best counted in seconds.

Truly, even then, I had a "I like her more than I care about time" philosophical ennui that is clearly skewed logic,
and apples and oranges or whatever,
but that is what I would think in my head while she got ready every day.

It wasn't even that stressful to wait,
except the stupid morning radio DJs would screech the time and weather every two minutes nonstop.
THAT was stressful.

Plus most of the songs were terrible.

I think those stupid morning radio Q 94 overly cheerful DJs may have ruined me for life.
Given me an intolerance for time or weather information,
as well as haughty rejection of subpar music, as determined by me,
while I sat there waiting for my friend T.

2. But I did have a watch back then.

It was very cool - it had a leather wristband that wrapped around my wrist like five times, and two  clock faces, one with a sun and one with a moon.

And upon reflection,
I never had a clue why there were two clock faces,
and why they should be different,
or what I was supposed to do with them at all.

It was an accessory, really.
Ornamental, not helpful in a time-providing way.
I was fine with that.

3. And when I was in college, I went watchless for two reasons.

First, I did not need a watch.

Because there was a guy who wore a cape and a stopwatch around his neck,
who would follow me from class to class,
and tell me how long it took me to get from place to place, such as
"It took Allison 10.57 minutes to walk from Morton to Wren Building."

He would then go along with his day.

And now this is where you are thinking,
Allison is a delusional, total liar who cannot even tell believable lies.
But I am totally not making this up.

I am not that imaginative.
I don't think I could conjure up a cape-wearing, stopwatch-bedecked,  unsolicited personal timekeeper - because who would ever think of such a thing?

Unless you HAD an unsolicited
(But appreciated! Both the time information, and the story, although unless witnessed, nobody believes me about this)
cape-wearing, stopwatch-bedecked timekeeper following you to class throughout college.

Then, it seems totally plausible.
And as proof I proffer this:
I would otherwise have NO clue how long it took to walk from Morton to Wren Building.

Because I didn't wear a watch!

Did you notice I got back to my topic just now?
I do remember what I was talking about, way up there.
Not only did I not need a watch for basic daily life in college, I had a second reason not to wear a watch.

I was forbidden from wearing a watch!

Because of sorority rush.

It was a rule, like written down.
I was very happy to have official permission not to wear a watch,
and an excuse to give for having no clue what time it was ever.

The reason we were forbidden from wearing watches during sorority rush was this:

If you have a watch on during the rush events where you meet a bunch of new people,
and get stuck in a tedious conversation,
you might be inclined to look at your watch to see how much longer you are stuck,
and that would be very rude and make someone feel bad.
And that was Not How We Represent Ourselves.

So no watches.

There was some hand signal thing,
if you were really, really stuck, like -
I don't know, I was never stuck, I can obviously hold my own conversation with myself,
talking about whatever.
I had to make sure not to BE the tedious one, not letting the poor girl get a word in edgewise -

But if someone were to be very, very stuck, there was a hand signal you could use,
like once in your life,
and someone would come over and join your conversation and save you.

I did not learn the hand signal.
I can talk to a coat stand if I have to, I'm fine, no need for rescue.

I am a chatty "ooh, I have a story on that!" type,
but I am not an idiot.
I am not going to extricate myself from talking - to a person or coat stand  -
to throw myself on a conversational gridlock, crickets-chirping,
wish I knew what time it was scenario.

So no watch, and no hand signals! Awesome.

3. And in law school, I could totally not wear a watch,
or ever turn around to look at the clock during class.
Socrates and his Method of teaching does NOT approve of clear indications
you are not riveted to the lecture,
and Socrates -
(NOT the real one, I am not that olden.
Just olden enough to have been in law school pre-everybody has a laptop era.
I think we were the last class sans required laptops,
scribbling our exams in blue books like pioneers.)

basically wants you to NOT be looking at your watch,
or turning to look at how much longer class will last, trying to do math on the odds of your getting called on that day for a case.

Do NOT do that.
Don't risk it, ever.

(Helpful tip: If you are tempted to turn around and look at the clock,
do this instead:
Imagine a musical version of "The Paper Chase,"
cast it, and start writing songs in your head.
That is surprisingly entertaining,
and now that I think of it,
that is a great idea.
If someone makes a musical version of "The Paper Chase,"
I totally want credit,
and have some ideas on casting.)

It is a certainty that you will turn to look at the clock,
turn back around, and the professor is now staring at you.

Specifically you, you time-checking,
distracted, pitiful student.
And you are now ON, for the rest of class.

Don't look at the clock.

I am guessing with approved electronics with time and date information right in front of you,
the lure of the watch or the clock-checking is greatly reduced.


Although, am thinking the first cell phone ringing in class is the new bait for Socratic Fury.

I would have made out better on that as a trap,
because my phone is half of the time lost, or dead,
or both, or neither,
but my odds are way better with a cell phone staying stowed away than with the lure of the clock.

4. Once I was loose in the world as an alleged grown up, I still did not wear a watch.

I clearly was traumatized by years of Don't Look At The Time Or Else situations,
and also,
meetings with clients or colleagues are the NEW
 Don't Look At The Time Or Else situation.

It is still just as rude to look at your watch or turn to see what time it is.
And now you are offending people who are paying you.
That's dumb.

Don't do that, right?
No watch for me.

Plus at that point, it was a phobia of sorts.

5. And if you find yourself with the task of having babies and little kids to take care of,
 and tote around,
 and feed and water,
get this?

It does not matter what time it is.

It doesn't matter what day it is.

You don't need a watch, the baby will just teethe and drool on it.
And those babies and little kids?

They never go away.

It does not matter what time it is.

And time is parceled out in different terms like,
Oh God Why Are They Up time,
Nap, Both The Children and Me time,
Witching Hour,
Where is my backup??? time,
cocktail time,
Where Is My Blanket???? hunt time,
and They Are Asleep If You Wake Them Up You Are Dead time.

It is less painful if you are just kind of semi-aware of those pesky details,
 like what time it is, reminding you how long you have been awake and is it really only Tuesday? What did we even do last weekend?

Ignorance is bliss.

6. Blissful Ignorance is short-lived, though,
if one of those babies or little kids turns out to be a Rooster,
 Obsessed With What Time It Is,
 And What Is The Weather,
And Did You Lose Your Keys Again, MOM type.

I do not need a watch.

I have no working clocks in this house,
other than the horror of Matt and his alarm clock that goes off at 3:57 am,
and I am not getting into that right now,
because it is dark outside,
and I am guessing it is late,
but I am not looking at the time,
because I am now All Worked Up.

I am kept aware of the time by E the Fashion Debate Rooster,
 helpful kind friends who kind of herd me to the gym on time,
 and then the violin or dance or whatever,
I am always usually supposed to be somewhere,
I know that,
I will be less recalcitrant about it if there is not a blinking alarm or alert.
(Note: that is one reason my phone is always on mute.
The other is, my kids steal my phone, turn the sound off,
play games or design dog hairdos on it,
and then it remains mute or dies somewhere in the house,
and I have to get the creepy iPhone Stalker Big Brother Cloud People to find it.)

So, for the above reasons, excuses, and irrational but long-held beliefs,

I Cannot Wear A Watch,
And Should Not Look At Clocks,
It Does Not Work Out For Me.

And as the exclamation point on the end of that sentence, I am now being forced off of the computer so others may look at information on weather and start negotiating bedtime.

I am all set, really,
no need for any time information ever again.

Friday, November 15, 2013

Dark, Delicate, Haunting Lullaby versus Thor? No Contest. Birdy's "Skinny Love" For The Win, by Allison

I've had Birdy's cover of Bon Iver's Skinny Love on constant repeat.

Is gorgeous. 

Ethereal, dark, haunting, tragic lullaby.

And since I have issues with traditional lullabies - too many babies falling and birds pecking out diamonds mirrors breaking and who wants a goat anyway?

They creep me out. 

I make no secret of that.

And as I am banished from the family viewing of Thor -
(Note: Partly self-imposed, and partly because I will start laughing at the costumes and everyone will throw stuff at me and try to make me be quiet - I am a known ruiner of superheroes in costumes movie viewing ( )

I have my big purple headphones on, glutting myself on this gorgeous, stormy, woeful lullaby.

And as always, am benevolent benefactor. Birdy's version of "Skinny Love"

Monday, November 11, 2013

Financial Planning By Allison, Orange Glitter Turkey Hands Edition

So it's getting near Thanksgiving time, apparently.
I know this because yet again, I bought orange glitter turkeys as a Halloween decoration - Yes, again.

(Note: Thanks a lot, Target. 
Glittery orange holiday things pre-Halloween should be pumpkins or whatnot,
stop embarrassing me in front of roomfuls of children and parents who purchase correctly themed holiday decor for parties)

And now I am not only grumpy that I am such an idiot that I repeatedly buy glittery orange turkeys for the wrong holiday,
but I am grumpy because I hate being forced to give thanks, color it orange, make it into the shape of a turkey by tracing my hand.

I am way better at giving thanks when something awesome happens and I say "Awesome, thanks!" Or, knowing me, I say a whole lot of other stuff, or if the recipient of my thanks is REALLY lucky,

I write an Ode, or an email that is five million words long that no one will read even if the subject matter is about how they are awesome and I am thankful for the awesome.

I am not good with crafts, so the possibility of an orange glitter turkey hand thank you is not likely to happen.

But this, I can do!

Embellish upon a tale I have already told
(Note: I am recycling. It is eco-friendly. I am saint-like, really)
and offer my very educated (or not)
and sound (or whatever) financial advice,
just in time for you to give me orange glitter turkey hand thanks for my sage (shut up) wisdom:

Financial Planning, Orange Glitter Turkey Hands Edition, by Allison:

So I never know what will emerge from the backpack/messenger bag/sparkly purses of my children when I routinely clean them out to make sure there is nothing living, rotting, needing to be signed, or otherwise dangerous in them.
I got an autographed photo of the actor who plays Carlisle in the Twilight series, and I am all, "Um V? Wha?"
And she said "Oh yeah, this was passing around school and it is for you."

1. That is very cool, anonymous donor of Twilight memorabilia. Thank you, and also for future reference, anything passed along to me via Matt or V will be completely forgotten about by them, randomly found by me, and never explained in any way by either of them. If you want credit, go to E. Or M, she will add glitter glue, though.

2. Sears is taking way better pictures than the ones I recall. Those were involving fur blankets and rocking chairs as props.  Because this actor looks decent in anonymous benevolent donor's photo, and in the movie he looks not his best, which may be karma due to him breaking heart of 90210's Kelly Taylor, just a theory.

But that was like, best backpack scrounging ever. I cannot even describe some of the things I have pulled out or gotten stuck on me or been completely embarrassed by, like form from August needed back and it is December.

Yet there are treasures to be had!

And those are often in the pre-school and younger elementary grades, before your
(Note: I am not saying this happened for real, but sadly it totally did) third grader writes a sixteen-page typed single spaced story involving the protagonist, who is a teenager wearing sparkly purple top, and her mother, who cooks really badly.

And this particular third grader is fast with the typing and good
(So in this case, stinging? scorching? harsh? genetically predisposed?)
with the adjectives so there is lots of discussion on the faulty cooking of the mom, mostly stream-of-consciousness as if James Joyce were inhabited by the brain of a Disney Channel tween star and Dorothy Parker at the same time?

But I digress, back to the treasures!

It is Thanksgiving, right?

We are supposed to list our thanks and things we are thankful for and such.

Turkeys made out of hands.

M the seven year old stylist is dressed as a pilgrim today, because it is MIRACLE otherwise known as, I found the pilgrim costume I bought for V 5 years ago and managed to save for E, lend it out to a friend, got it back, and put it in a hiding place so no dressup game murder would happen and then I remembered where I put it.

That IS a miracle, really, but miracles are one holiday away.
Giving thanks now.
And here is what I am giving thanks for (to?):

Teachers of young children, and your poker faces.

That is what I choose to be thankful for in this season of thanks.

Because you know what? If I had your job:

1. I would be in jail, there are so many reasons
(Note: not bad ones, I would not hurt anyone,
I would like, glue us all to the wall or lock the goldfish in the supplies closet and get tied up with string,
or have to leave due to complete inability to deal with .0000001 percent of what teachers of young kids deal with every day.)

2. I could not, at ALL, keep a straight face.

So aside from the forced sentiment of thanks that I actually really DO feel,
but hate to be made to color it orange and say it at this one time of year instead of randomly saying it when major props are due to whatever amazing thing happened that you made happen,
what I am really saying is this:

Elementary Teachers, go to Vegas.

You will win.

Don't stay forever, the children need you, don't forget about the children!

But when you can schooch away, you guys have the BEST POKER FACES IN THE WORLD.

Grizzled old poker dudes spotting people's "tell" sign, that indicates they are bluffing or hiding something?
They cannot break you.

They cannot even come close.

You keep a straight face when my daughter gives her goals for the year as "to make 3,001 friends" and her strategy for achieving this goal is "to meet 3,001 people."

I can't not laugh at that.
I did and continue to laugh, it is hysterical.

When everyone is coloring plates and writing what is special about their Mommy and you, teacher, help her with "Mommy is good at shopping online," that is one impressive poker face.

Although you better split winnings with me,
because it was super embarrassing for the entire known preschool world to see that lovely sentiment up there next to other mom's special qualities of  "saves orphans" and "feeds the hungry" and "cares for the sick," and if you perfected your poker face on Not Laughing At Allison's Daughter's Totally Exaggerated Paper Plate Thingy,
I want half.

I have some shopping to do.

And when you, Teacher With Best Poker Face Ever, are tasked with helping first graders write a paragraph about what they are thankful for, and you are given these nuggets of gold:

I am thankful for my teachers because they give me gum.
(Start with the gathering of goodwill, but random enough not to make a whole lot of sense, rookies would giggle.)

I am thankful for my sisters because they are really nice.
(See, this is the subterfuge, where a lesser player would get tripped up and say "awww" and the Grizzled Poker Guys would be on to you. You don't fall for that. Because you know more crazy is coming.)

I am thankful for my mom and dad because they feed me.
(Sidenote: Really????????? I mean, yes, I do and have done so and will continue to feed my children, but please.
I got her cheetah ballet flats yesterday.
I have scrubbed pizza based throw up off of elaborate bedskirt with bleach pen! For hours! In the middle of the night!
 Remember the indoor pony?
Your giant baby head I toted around for quite a while?
Name me another seven year old stylist who can appropriately apply makeup when given "go for A Midsummer Night's Dream look"?

Sorry. rant over.

But still.

That was MY attempt at a poker face, which would have me on the nickel slots in two seconds.

I am thankful for the solar system because the sun shines light on me.
(Note: This is where you realize M the seven year old stylist wants you to notice how cute her outfit is, like, NOW. Keep the poker face.
You realize she wants the sun to shine on her because it makes the glitter on her fingerless gloves sparkle.)

I could not keep a straight face for two seconds in any scenario with little kids and ridiculousness and you throw in a puppet show and I may as well hand over my wallet, I can't even get myself TO Vegas to lose to you at poker.

So instead of orange  pumpkin lists of thanks, or reasonable financial planning for the future, Allison's Advice is this:



You're welcome.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

So I Think We Just Invented A Thing. Snarky Texting = Snarxting? A Transcript, By Allison

So get this?
Long car trips are way more fun when I am NOT in the car!

Who knew?
I have a fairly well-developed guilt complex,
plus nobody was in the house to bother me or need stuff,
so I was being productive, doing tedious things I hate to do while not on long car trip.

Delightfully, the tedium was broken up via ludicrous, snarky text messages from Matt and E, my 10 year old Extreme Communicator.
(V and M were in the car as well -
But V uses texts for the purpose of conveying relevant information only, making me possibly the only parent ever to grump about the LACK of texting my 12 year old daughter is doing,

And M does not have a phone yet, as she is eight and also just got a bedazzler so she's fine.)

I have decided Snarky Texting is a thing.


Is that a thing?

If it's not, I am making a thing and totally get credit.

Our Snarky Texts
(Snarxting? Seriously, right? That could be a thing - and I can't shorten it to snexting because that actually is a thing and that is NOT what we were doing)
began with normal exchange, and descended into jousting entertainment.

And I am going to just write it out verbatim off of my phone, not adding any punctuation or deciphering, this is a transcript.
Except for when I add deciphering via Note after some of the texts, but that is just color commentary. Excellent, fall leaf color commentary.

And I am not editing to make us look like less of a bunch of wordy freaks who should be using their time to better the world instead of Snarxting.

Below, Behold the Snarxting. A Transcript, by Allison:

Me: "I am grumpy with you people and all your laundry.
Tell me when you are an hour away so I can put the tenderloin in the oven. "
(Note: tedious tasks I don't want to do! I am saint-like, really.)

Matt: "Start the food woman."
(Note: He is joking. I think it began years ago with "get in the kitchen and make me a pie."
Shorthand for:  If you want me to do a tedious chore, entertain me, even with nonsense he-man jokes, you have to sing for your supper.
More fun that way.)

Me: "I have been doing LAUNDRY and SOCKS  and cleaning up after the dogs in the soggy backyard, so I was unable to get your poorly chosen directive.
Fret not, caveman and savages.
I started tending to your grub as well as sterilizing trash cans.
By the way, Matt?

What on earth did you leave in the oven?
I preheated it while doing CHORES and went to put in your vittles and it looks like a crime scene in which you cooked Rumpelstiltskin and some leprechauns. "

Matt: "They were Smurfs."

Me: "Excellent.
I hate the Smurfs. I am all Gargamel up on them."

Matt: "We are bringing more dirty clothes with us so you won't get bored."

Me: "If by throwing a giant fit and tantrum so I cannot peacefully enjoy observing the massive efforts I made to benefit you ingrates you mean "I won't be bored," let me state this for the record:

There is no such thing as bored.
Only boring people.

And your repetitive laundry needs and mess making do not bore me, they aggravate me.
It is boring of you to repeatedly deposit dirty clothes for me to handle.
I am not bored - you all are bor-ing.

Is difference."

Matt: "Boring."

E: "Umm, English please and maybe in one sentence please."

Me: "It is spelled bor-ing. Emphasis on second syllable - get your inaccurate insults correct at least."

Matt: "Huh?"

E: "Huh is right. Gibberish."
(Note: Am I allowed to be pleased that my ten year old uses the word "gibberish" appropriately? Even in snarky text format?)

Matt: "Whuh?"
(Note: They are trying to make me go crazy with the one syllable non-words.
Is pet peeve of mine.
One of many.)

E: "Say huh, wut whuh how do you spell that?"

Me: "I am feeding your dinner to the dogs and throwing your laundry out of the window.
How do ya like them apples? Girls, let your dad explain the Good Will Hunting reference if his head hasn't rotted out from Star This and Star That's."

E: "We are watching a movie, un-der-stand, smart creature?"

Me: "You are all turning into slack-jawed troglodytes.
Are you watching movies in a vegetative state instead of having scintillating music conversation and dodging car wrecks?
That is boring.
Whuh is not a word, FYI.
My phone says so.
I haven't upgraded to the new version that talks in monosyllabic caveman language.

E: "Huh? ENGLISH."

Matt: "Kk."
(Note: he is baiting me again. He knows I hate Kk as shorthand for OK because they are the same number of letters so it is not shorthand and that is another one of my pet peeves.
I have many.)

Me: "E, Laugh Out Loud Ta Ta For Now Love You Like A Sister Got To Go.
I have to translate text language too?
Troglodytes.  Savages. Not worthy of the nickel seats.
Again, ask your dad for the reference on nickel seats, hint: it does not involve "Luke I am your father."

E: "Movie. Shhhhh you."

Me: "E, is a bit of a pot/kettle scenario -
Again, ask your dad to explain that in case you are too busy worrying about Disney Channel Austen and Ally to read enough to interpret long-held turns of phrase most educated English speaking people understand from literature and conversation -
for you to call me wordy, as you are wordy yourself,
when you are not trying to be purposefully non-wordy to mess with me."

E: "Movie."

Me: "Bye, bye, brain cells."

E: "Shhhh."

Me: "See? This movie is clearly not fully stimulating your mind like, for example, music and talking would - so you can text at the same time.
Proof! Ha!
I am texting while scrubbing the detritus of Smurfs your dad left in the oven.
Ask him for a Macbeth reference on that."

E: "Movie. Shhhhhhh. You don't like people talking during Twilight."
(Note: She is cracking me up, and snarxting is now officially a thing.)

Me: "I haven't watched a Twilight in ages - Breaking Dawn is still shrink-wrapped.
Because instead I am doing your laundry and cleaning up after dogs and registering you for stuff and filling out FORMS ad  nauseam.
Again, ask your dad for the ancient language term meaning over and over and over - is not translated in any Taylor Swift song."

E: "The movie is about zombies and it is the worst movie in my opinion.
I stopped listening and listened to Dad listening to Helen Keller giving a talk so I started watching again."

Me: "Your dad is giving you a lesson on Helen Keller and "The Miracle Worker?""
E: "No. The radio. Daaaashgahhh."

Me: "Bet he does not know the key word/noun that unlocked the entire universe for her. Or the teacher's name, unless he cheats on Google."

(Note: I would be proven wrong on this when they got home, unless he totally cheated and used Google and then pretended not to.
Even if he did, he made me laugh when I was asking what people wanted to drink with dinner and he said "Water, Annie Sullivan."
Subnote: That is how hardcore nerd we are in this house.)

E: "And get my bags, servant, they're in the driveway."
(Note: They had just gotten here. I was busy being happy she said "they're" and not "their" or "there" to notice.)

Me: "You mean soon to be in the trash?"

E: "Ahh, if you mean the laundry then yes, yes I do."
(Note: "Yes, yes I do" is way more snarxty than just "yes I do."
 She is very skilled at this invented thing I just invented)

Me: "No, I mean the dog mess- filled trash cans."

E:  "Well. You need a nap, Grumpelstiltskin."

Me: "Fine. Napping now, clever child.
Do your own laundry and dinner and FORMS."

E rings the doorbell.

Me: "Nobody is home go away."

E: "Hymn, you'll be disappointed."

Me: "You mean hmmmmmm. Hymn is a song sung in a church."

E: "I know. Spell check is not good, except for when I just typed jyst and noy."

And that ends this edition of Masterpiece Snarxting, Good Thing We Have Unlimited Phone Plan.

We are all in the same house now, so we can snark in person.

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Traffic Snarls, Downpours, Creepy Trucks. But The Whole Wide World Is Whistling! A Catalyst For Awesome, NONONO, by Allison

So yesterday,
I was in the car for a LONG time, and for part of that time I was stuck in crazy downpours,
yuk highway traffic stoppages, and several wrecks -
it was super lame.

For the first part of the trip, I had the girls with me,
and it was one of those trips where nobody was bickering, or electronic gadget zombie.
We got to have those random, spontaneous conversations that are silly nonsense -
ephemeral, fragile bubbles of fabulous.

I love those.
Non-bickering, non-zombie, funny kids?

Plus the music was fab.

And a hilarious silly conversation punctuated by great music?
That makes treacherous driving way more fun.

Mute Math song on.
E goes, "Wonder if they thought of calling themselves Silent Science?"

I laugh.

M offers up: "Asleep Art? Quiet Quiz?"

E: "Shushed Spanish? Bashful Biology?"

Me: "AntiSocial Studies?" 

We are all giggling away,
plus note for the record,
I was encouraging vocabulary expansion, alliteration,
and did I mention no bickering?
With a cool soundtrack?

That part of the trip ruled.

The other part, when I was solo,
in the worst of the downpours,
and traffic seeming to be Giant Trucks Only,
including a truck with a cooler in the back, with a bloody mannequin hand sticking out?

I know it was just Halloween, but it was gross just the same.

That part of the trip was no fun and I was pouting and grumpy.

But do not worry!

The Music Gods saved me again!!!

Super in love with the song "Pumpin Blood" by NONONO.

And it is excellent car dancing song,
but I couldn't really full-on car dance while holding steering wheel in death grip and trying not to get smooshed -

But it cheered me up just the same.

Why, you may ask?

And I may answer:

Because it is awesome, it rules, it is cheery, and there is whistling!

I cannot whistle, so I am always impressed when whistling happens,
unless it is from creepy construction workers when you are walking down the street.

This is the good kind of whistling.

And I love the lyrics, and the whole vibe -

If I were slightly more delusional and narcissistic than I already am, I'd think they wrote it just for me (Maybe they did!)

"You got the part, in the front seat/ You're the decider of the world that you will get to know . .
You're a catalyst to your own happiness, you know . . and the whole wide world is whistling . . ."

As I mentioned above, I am delusional, and take advice from the radio.
But that is nothing new.

I decide, while trying not to run off the road or get smooshed by creepy bloody mannequin truck,
I will be the catalyst to my own happiness and chill out.

Given the band's  name is NONONO,
I decided a cheery song with that band's name was suitably contrarian.

And therefore,
I could get on board with the "You can decide to see this traffic monsoon and mannequin truck nightmare as a ridiculous, weird experience, plus excellent music, instead of a lame and dangerous waste of an afternoon"
without feeling like Pollyanna.

I was able to be all whee yay tra la la for a bit -
I totally got pouty and grumpy again during yet another downpour/traffic snarl -
but still.


So, since I am benevolent benefactor, I'm including NONONO's "Pumpin Blood" studio official version, as well as acoustic version.
Since I am in such a good mood and all.

"Pumpin Blood," NONONO

and acoustic version:

Safe travels courtesy of Totally Excellent Awesomeness.