Friday, October 12, 2007

barbie

My neighbor is trying to talk me into doing an Iron Girl competition next year. I try to point out things like: I haven't run since high school phys ed. She seems to think this doesn't matter very much. She seems to think wrong.
"The running part is only three miles," she says.
Yeah, but...
"And the swimming is only 30 minutes. You can swim for 30 minutes."
Yeah, but...
"And the bike riding is only 15 miles," she says. "What's 15 miles on a bike?"
Fifteen miles on a bike is FIFTEEN MILES, I think. 
"I'll think about it," I tell her. And I will.
Our discussion led to whether or not there was a Triathlete Barbie. My daughter got a bunch of Barbies from a kind neighbor recently and Triathlete Barbie was not among them. Enough has been said about Barbie to know that I'm already covering tired ground when I accuse the Barbies she did get of being whores. But I have to say it anyway. I mean, can't Barbie be fancy without a faux leather pants suit that was obviously designed for a dominatrix?




Wednesday, October 10, 2007

betta

For our first pet beyond caterpillars we got a betta, as of yet unnamed. (Candidates include Screwblue, Aqua, Sharky and Zeke.)

One hour after we got him home, my daughter said: "Look! He's not dead yet!"

So far so good, but I still think we'd better name him soon. If we don't, what will go on his tombstone?

Monday, October 1, 2007

Be kind to others

In trying to teach my kids the Golden Rule I have realized that I don't follow it myself, at least not often enough. I'm not kind to strangers. I try to be kind to the people I know, but deep down, I can still be a bit of a bitch. Since this is the information age, I decided to look it up on the internet, a simple google search for "how to be kind." I came up with this from WikiHow. It's a decent list as far as that sort of thing goes, but I cracked up when I got to the bottom. Related searches included "How to be happy" and "How to cheer up a grumpy coworker" and "How to make simple beaded earrings." Until now, I hadn't put together the link between kindness and simple beaded earrings. Now that I know, I'm off to the craft store. I feel kinder and gentler already.

Friday, September 28, 2007

Uncle Monk

I went out last night to Jammin' Java in Vienna. This is the first time I've been to Jammin' Java without the kids, and therefore the first time I've been there after dark, the first time I've been there to see someone other than Rocknoceros or Mr. Frank the Banjo Man. The someone was actually two someones; a duo called Uncle Monk that featured Tommy Ramone.

I love the Ramones. And I love bluegrass. So the idea of one of The Ramones playing bluegrass was impossible to pass up. (Plus, my brother had seen Uncle Monk in New York. "Isn't this kind of a nexus for you?" he said. "You need to go.")

You might remember Tommy as The Sane Ramone, if you watched the documentary on the group, which I did. Sort of. I had to turn it off half way through because I was afraid too much information would ruin my fantasy about these guys and things turned dicey fast.  You also might remember him as The Living Ramone, as he's the only remember of the original four who's still alive today (though later Ramones, including Marky, who replaced Tommy as drummer and was around circa Rocket to Russia days, are still kicking, too.)

Tommy does not show up for performances in a leather jacket. His hair is still long, but it's gray now, pulled back in a ponytail. He wears suspenders. He looks like a guy you might see sitting outside a vegetarian restaurant reading Mother Jones Magazine. He plays mandolin pretty well. Not well like Ricky Skaggs or Dave Grisman or Ronnie McCoury, but he doesn't have anything to be embarrassed about. He also sings. His voice isn't high and lonesome. It is simply his voice, on key, honest, singing the songs that speak to him now, like "Working on a Building" and "Long Journey Home" or any of the roots-inspired tunes he made up. 

His partner, Claudia Tienan, has a voice built for bluegrass and old-time. She sings the way the old folks do, like a ventriloquist, with her mouth hardly opening at all. She plucks a steady rhythm on the guitar but I didn't see her try so much as a G-run. Her last band was called "The Simplistics," if that serves as explanation. And perhaps it does. You don't need to be Mozart to make good music. You just need guts.

In the 1970s, Tommy Ramone knew enough about music to help change it. I wouldn't say that he's changing music now. But he's making music. He still has something to contribute so he's doing it. That's punk. And that's what counts.

Monday, September 17, 2007

rip Sunday morning bluegrass

Okay, it's not totally gone, they say. They've just moved all of my Sunday bluegrass programming to HD Radio. But I don't have HD radio, I have no plans to get HD Radio and if HD Radio is responsible for the loss of my bluegrass from the regular ol' airwaves then I don't even LIKE HD Radio, no matter what the merits may be.

I could rant more, but more than anything else, this just makes me sad. 

Friday, September 14, 2007

nuts!

From deep in the burbs of Washington, D.C., we offer you this tribute (or, if you prefer, parody) of The Boss. Nutstock, Vienna, Va., 2007.


Friday, September 7, 2007

random thoughts

I figure the least they could do is figure out a way to make spam gender-specific. That way I wouldn't get so many e-mails asking me to buy Viagra.

My family is on what we lovingly term "financial lockdown," due to the purchase of the new vehicle and the first car payment we've had since 1995. This, of course, makes me want to spend more money than ever before. Thus, even as we dined on beans and rice, even as I knew I could jeopardize our mortgage, I felt I absolutely HAD TO HAVE this piece of Obama ephemera after I saw it mentioned in the Washington Post. I know historic schlock when I see it.