Ellen Tackles the Hawaiian Chair

So, not to be totally melodramatic or anything, but I needed a laugh today. Like, a LOT. BIG lots. SOOOO many LOTS of… bigness. See? I NEEDED TO LAUGH! DO you GET what I’m SAYING?! Me! Needing to find the giggles! The happy, giggly, laughy place!

Okay. Maybe that was a little melodramatic. A tad drama queenish. But whatever. Because this? This clip from The Ellen DeGeneres show? Did the trick and THEN some.

OH! OH! That Hawaiian Chair will be mine!

Oh, yes. It will be mine.

(Donations are totally expected accepted. A PayPal button should appear in my sidebar shortly. Thank you in advance for your generosity.)

The Power of the School Hair

When you are starting junior high, sometimes you need… a change. You know, something to give you a little ooomph in the confidence department. Right? Right? Because of the hell on earth you will soon be thrust into with only your magnetic locker organizer, a ridiculously confusing even-odd class schedule, and a TI-84 Plus graphing calculator clutched in your sweaty, junior high hands?! HUH?! AM I RIGHT?!

Oh. Sorry. My issues. Projecting. It happens.

So, anyway, check it out…

We’ve got our BEFORE (see the curls? the handsome, manly curls?):

We’ve got our DURING (see the bouffant? the slightly less manly bouffant? of Danny Zuko proportions?):

And we’ve got our AFTER (see the manly flat-ironed hair?! the way handsome, totally manly, flat-ironed hair?! on my BABY BOY?!):

Awesome. Watch out boy-crazy adolescent girls. Here comes my boy.

(Break his heart, and I WILL cut you.)

Home Again. Jiggety Jig?

First, allow me to say that Twitter? Totally sucking my will to blog. Dude. I’m saying. Right? I shall categorize this under “BAD.”

That being said…

New York City? NYC? The Big Apple? New York, New York?

Awesome. Honestly. The Big Appliest! It’s Big Applicious! I wanna be a part of it… er, you know… New York, New York?

Shut up right now! YOU try to talk about NYC without even at least HUMMING the song. In your MIND. It just can’t be done!

Sadly, there was no Sarah Jessica Parker sighting, but no one ever said life was fair, or if they did, it’s like my daddy always said: “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” Wait. No, my bad, that was the Dread Pirate Roberts. But still! So very true.

I didn’t see a Broadway musical either. This also falls under the whole Life is So Terribly Unfair and Who Do They Think They Are Charging So Much Money For One Stinkin’ Ticket Anyway, Huh?! category.

I am composing this post using a Worpress app on my sweet li’l iPhone. I am saying this because it is slow GOING. Which means… bored now.

Must. Blog. Later.

Need. Chocolate. NOW.

And a nap would be nice. You know, if I didn’t need to get back to work and stuff.

MAN! Lunch breaks need siesta time built in! Hello?! That’s all I’m saying. Chocolate and Nap Time. I’ll totally bring that up at the next staff meeting.

And now I shall throw in a picture. Hopefully it will not be GINORMOUS. I will not be counting out the possibility, though. It may be huge.

Going on a Mini-Break!

Okay, so we’re breaking out! The stay-cation has morphed into a wicked cool mini-break! Woot! YES! Because stay-cations equal sadness for all. Honestly. Well, at least for DWM and clan. I’m just saying. Staying is NO FUN. At ALL.

So, now that I’m done with the filming (oooh, that’s what we call a “teaser” in the biz…) We’re off to NYC, all y’all. That’s right! New York City! All of us! Even TGIM! We’ve never been, so… EXCITING?! That being said, if there is anything we absoLUTEly need to do while we’re in the Big Apple (wait… do we still call it that? is that un-hip of me? Dear LORD! I don’t even KNOW!), let me know, mm’kay?

And now, I must pack. For the wicked cool mini-break I happen to be going on with the fam. Because we are done with the shoot. And we are no longer staying. We are mini-breaking. Which is way better.

Ode to P, My BFF: Happy Birthday!

When your TGIM and your kiddos are all the way across the country and everyone else– except for ONE of your FIVE siblings– yes! even including your MOTHER!– forgets that it is your very happy birthday, and you wake up lonely and depressed because, hello?! birthday breakfast in bed?! presents?! tradition?! does no one care about TRADITION?!, do you know what the one thing that could make it better would be? DO YOU?!

Well, yeah, a guest starring role as a Horrible Evil Sidekick in Joss Whedon’s next internet musical venture, sure, but I meant the OTHER thing. The thing where you hear pounding on your front door, so you run downstairs in your comfy pajamas and crazy bed hair because you were feeling too sorry for yourself to make any kind of effort, you know?, and who is standing there but your BFF holding a ginormous paper bag from McDonald’s.

And you smell bacon.

“I didn’t know what you usually get for your birthday breakfast in bed, so I got a little of everything,” Paige said as she pushed past me into the house. “Now go get back in bed!”

And dammit if I didn’t scamper upstairs and plop into bed! After I snapped out of the bacon-smell-induced euphoria that held me quick, that is.

Paige followed and we spent the next hour eating all sorts of (nasty yet somehow delicious) McDonald’s breakfast food while I introduced her to the joys (and sorrows) of Dr. Horrible.

I know, right?

Who could ask for a better BFF? Not I.

So, happy birthday right back at’cha, Paige. I would have returned the favor, but you’re off on adventures, so this meager happy birthday wish will have to do.

I hope your day is SCRUMPTRILESCENT. You know what I mean.

Love ya, P.

In the 80’s, everything was copasetic.

(I originally posted this back in August of ‘05, but now with my 20-year reunion a’loomin’ and me feeling wicked nostalgic and whatnot, I thought I’d do a little DWM REWIND and post it again, slightly altered for timeliness. Because it’s my blog and I CAN, that’s why!)

Feeling nostalgic. That is all. Feel free to add to the list. In fact, I strongly encourage you to do so!

Things I Miss from the 80’s:

1. Seeing 95 pounds peeking out at me from my scale. *le sigh*

2. Cruising for boys on Gurley Street with my homies, blasting the remix version of Billy Idol’s “Catch My Fall” (killer bassline, y’all), sipping Sundance Sparklers (nonalcoholic!), screaming “Memory! All alone in the MOOOOONLIGHT!” every time we passed by the scene of a make-out or break-up. Of which there were several. Ooooh! And “Old Man Driiiiiiver!” (to the tune of “Old Man River”) whenever we passed by guys WAY TOO OLD to be out cruising. Of which there were several. Huh, Di?! Huh?!

3. My ginormous Esprit and Guess? bags, which held everything from my Adventures in Literature textbook to my clunky cheer shoes to five or six really radical to the max cassette tapes to my assorted jelly bracelets and banana clips. And sometimes my lunch.

4. Rainbow-colored eyeshadow and blue mascara. And blue eyeliner, of COURSE. Duh.

5. Wham! The Wham Rap? Classic, y’all. CLASSIC. I still know all the words. Ask anyone. Go on. Try me. Do it. No, really. DO IT.

6. The Solid Gold Dancers. No, seriously. LOVED. THEM. Wanted to BE. THEM.

7. Saying “psyche!” Oh, and “freak!” Wait…

8. Star Search. When it was GOOD.

9. The Brat Pack.

10. Crimped hair, big bangs, strategically placed headbands, bangle earrings, and Swatch Watches with jelly Swatch Guards.

11. Cyberpunk Max Headroom. CATCH THE WAVE!! ‘Member, guys?! Do ya?! Dude. That was totally our Homecoming slogan one year. Go, Badgers!

12. Atari. I mean, c’mon… Frogger? Pitfall? GALAGA?! Hello?!

13. Spandex biker shorts under my paint-splashed, acid-washed denim mini. It just LOOKED COOL, okay?! Geez.

14. Debbie Gibson…. What?! I DO! And if you must know, it is possible that I miss Tiffany, as well. PERHAPS.

15. A time when I actually WANTED my MTV.

16. Echo & the Bunnymen, Cutting Crew, Scritti Politti, Tears for Fears, and Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark.

17. My acid-washed jean jacket covered with ENORMOUS, entirely superfluous silver buttons and an assortment of safety pins with multicolored beads strung through them. Which meant I was very popular and had lots of friends. Right?

18. Sleep overs with my girlfriends, at which we listened to KISS FM, gossiped about boys, experimented with our hair, traded comfy pink Esprit sweatshirts for zip-tapered, pastel-flowered Guess? jeans, and– contrary to TGIM’s much-fantasized belief– DID NOT engage in naked pillow-fighting. But TGIM? Said girlfriends DID teach me how to French kiss. That one’s all yours, baby.

19. Slap bracelets. Preferably neon. Lots of ‘em.

20. Freezing my ass off while cheering at home football games. In the snow. In a cheerleading uniform. With NO pantyhose or tights. Because that would have been TACKY.

21. Singing along to “Wig” by the B-52’s at the top of my lungs on the bus during away football trips: “What’s that on your head? A wig! Wig, wig, wig! Wig’s on fire! Wig’s on fire! Wig’s on… fire! It’s 2525 and we’ve got the most wigs alive!” Why does nobody REMEMBER this song?

22. Tanning on the roof with a fluffy towel, my boombox, and big-A bottle of Hawaiian Tropic Dark Tanning Oil. For the Tan of the Islands! Or more freckles! Usually more freckles! Whatever!

23. Every single solitary stinkin’ John Hughes movie. I mean, sometimes I used to watch The Dead Zone on USA just to see Farmer Ted (AKA: The Geek from Sixteen Candles) and reminisce. “I never bagged a babe. I’m not a stud.” Seriously. Who writes movies like that anymore?! No one, that’s who!

24. Jams with coordinating t-back tank tops.

25. Comfy, unlaced Keds.

26. First REAL kisses. Cheetos optional.

27. Boys in cuffed jeans and unlaced Reebok high tops. I don’t know why, really.

28. Slouch socks. Ooooh! And slouch boots! Because they totally hid my freakish chicken ankles, all right?

29. My mini black lace ra-ra skirt, a la Madonna in Desperately Seeking Susan. HAWT.

30. Wearing sunglasses at night. Hey. Don’t be afraid of the guy in shades, oh no.

Sadly, I could go on and on and on…

Not that NOW isn’t good! Oh, I LOVE now! But your high school years, they stay with you, you know?

Which, once you think about it, is at the same time slightly comforting and absolutely horrifying. Especially, it seems, if you lived out your teenage years in the 80’s. Just sayin’. That’s a hard era to shake. The hair, the styles… I mean, just look at all the Mom-Pants out there. Totally 80’s! Honestly. It’s 2008! Lose the MOM-PANTS, ladies! LOSE THEM NOW.

And sometimes, guys? Sometimes? I have this almost overwhelming desire to poof up my bangs. You know, just a little. Like, “Oh, just an inch or so won’t hurt….” But it would! Dear lord, it WOULD!

Oh, NO. I just realize that the bulk of my childhood was spent during the 70’s! Don’t even get me STARTED on homemade polyester bell-bottoms, roller skating rinks, my Donna Summers fixation, tetherball wars, and hula hoops. PLEASE. Just… don’t.

That’s a post for another day, y’all. A post for another day…

Random Thoughts on a Friday Midmorning

The kiddos come home next Friday, so YAY! You know, I always miss them SOOO much more than I think I will. Honestly. What does that say about me– as a momma– that I think I won’t miss them?

Great. Now I have thoughts.

Speaking of Dr. Horrible, if you haven’t seen Felicia “Penny” Day’s webisode series “The Guild” yet, you should totally check it out! (What? I wasn’t speaking of Dr. Horrible? Well, there’s a mad crazy switch.) It won the 2007 YouTube Video Award and e’rything! I’m spreading the love because I think it is hilarious so I want to share AND because I absolutely ADORE being the one that points out fun, pop-culturally-relevant stuff to people. It makes me feel happy and important. Sometimes, even, I get tingles. Tingles in happy and important places. So, you’re welcome.

Also, I am very weird.

Super Evil Chassy and the Evil League of Evil

Well CHECK IT OUT! I’m FAMOUS! SIX people have VOTED for me! SIX! As of RIGHT now! And only ONE of those was ME! FOOYAH!

Dude, I’m saying. Wonderflonium.com ROCKS, yo? Solid.

So, yeah… feel free to click over and vote for Super Evil Chassy’s quite compelling argument for a spot in the Evil League of Evil as Dr. Horrible’s Sidekick. And while you’re at it, head on over to YouTube and spread the love. Joss Whedon, I mean Dr. Horrible, MUST pick me! MEEEE!

The Horrible Evil Sidekick gig will be mine. Oh, yes. It WILL be mine.

Now excuse me. I need to go call everyone I know.

SIX. Woo!

Redesign at TechnoGeekery

Check it out!

Okay, I got a little crazy. And, hey, carpal tunnel is SO not my friend.

Also, at many viewers’ request, I reposted at YouTube ONLY the song portion (”Horrible Evil Sidekick”) of my last TechnoGeekery episode. Please click over and leave lots o’ love. Because I’m NEEDY that way, okay?!

Finally, if you are interested (and heck! why wouldn’t you be?!), I’ve made an .mp3 and iPhone ringtone of “Horrible Evil Sidekick” available for download over at TechnoGeekery. You’re welcome.

*rushes off to get ice pack for wrist*

Stuck on the Escalator

(Disclaimer:  I do not fancy myself a surrealist with an intuitive and spontaneous understanding of the world. I don’t even believe I have a certain predisposition to recognize the surrealistic quality of my existence. It’s just that there are moments when the world is strikingly surreal. More than what I see. Or more accurately, more than what I choose to see. Okay. You have been warned.)

I am exiting the Metro station when it happens. You know, that thing that has been happening to me lately? That thing where I am struck by a moment of dreamlike clarity, where everyone and everything around me suddenly seems so real, so true, but in a way that is wholly unreal? You know? That thing?

It is the escalators. I blame them completely. Or, I suppose, I blame the people on them. As I approach the escalators I am arrested by a flash of pure light in my mind’s eye, and it is as if I am suddenly outside of myself– not me, not Cat, I just am– and an explosion of silence drowns out the hum of hurried voices, the scuffs of shoes, the sneezes and coughs. The world spins around me but I remain still, mesmerized by the view. Because the colors are bolder and brighter than before and everything is somehow bigger, larger than life. Life in High Definition.

And these people on the escalators, they aren’t moving. They aren’t stepping. They are just… standing. Staring with eyes unfocused on the gum-defaced billboards. Listening with ears plugged up with white iPod ear buds. A thinning river of humanity, standing to the right, quiet, unmoving, patient, content to effortlessly travel the straight line, up and up, propelled by unseen hydraulics along an unwavering, predestined course. Together, but so disconnected from one another that there could be miles between each of them rather than only a step. A part of the machinery, slave to hydraulic lift–

–but a passerbyer shoulders me, shatters the illusion, and it all changes. Dulls. Hums. I can just make out the tinny crackle of the loudspeakers announcing more outages on the Orange line. As a surge of newly-arrived travelers wash past me, I bow like a weed in the stream, momentarily able to withstand the rush, but knowing that despite my tenacity my immobility cannot last. I see that there is nowhere to go but up, and it occurs to me that such is life. We all move inexorably forward, up and up…

With that thought, I take a breath and charge up the escalator.

So if you happened to see a wild-eyed gal garbed in business cazsh thundering past you on the left-hand side of the escalator this morning, taking the steps two at a time, know that the wild-eyed gal was me. Because while I accept that we must move forward, up and up, how I go about getting there?

Well, that is entirely up to me.

Birthday Conversations with 10-Year-Olds

Over the phone, from Podunky Small Town AZ:

“Happy birthday, Momma! So, did you get any presents from Daddy?”

“I did. He took me shopping and bought me a pair of jeans.”

“Uh, jeans?”

“Well, they were designer jeans.”

“Oh… so he bought you fancy pantsies! Cool.”

Horrible Evil Sidekick

What? Like I could resist doing a TechnoGeekery episode about this?! Please, biznitch.

Or, you know, refrain from composing a song to Dr. Horrible…

Shut up! It’s a sickness! Enjoy.

(This is also posted at YouTube, so feel free to click over and give me some luuuuv… or a video response! Whatev.)

More Singing Along with Dr. Horrible

So, if for whatever reason– illness, family emergency, personal crisis– you haven’t yet managed to see Joss Whedon’s Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, a three-act internet musical starring the super awesome Neil Patrick Harris as a blogging, low-rent super villain named Dr. Horrible, who longs to gain entrance into the Evil League of Evil and talk to the pretty girl at the laundromat, feel free to take a look-see at the sneak preview:

Teaser from Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog on Vimeo.

Okay, so I have now seen all three Acts, and DUDE. I have Thoughts. Of course, my thoughts would be considered spoilers to any and all Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog virgins, so be warned. DO. NOT. CLICK. Unless you want to be spoiled. For real. Clicking equals No-No. Unless you’ve seen the whole thing, in which case, come on doooooown! (In other words, click on the “read more” hyperlink below… if you dare. Mwah ha ha.)

[Read more]

TechnoGeekery? Yay, technology!

Despite the heavens opening up and God saying, “I hate you, Chassy Cat!”, the latest episode of TechnoGeekery has finally clawed its way out of the jumbled mess that was my iMac hard drive and found its way to the surface.

That’s right, y’all! Despite technical difficulties that may have driven a lesser TechnoGeek even closer to the edge of mind numbingly crazy monkey madness, the technogeekery has prevailed!

TechnoGeekery Show #36:  Buying Domain Names… What’s the Point? (Part II)

See?! Yay, technology!

Now I don’t want to brag or anything, but I think this episode is just chock full of the techno tutorial goodness that is the geeky… okay, I don’t know where that was going, so let’s just say you can learn a whole lot about what to do with a domain name if you get a wild hair and buy one. Mm’kay?

Plus, I threw in the musical stylings of one Alexz Johnson for good measure. Uh, because I LOVE her?

Duh.

Enjoy. And LEARN and stuff.

Singing Along with Dr. Horrible

Okay, I fully admit I had NO IDEA that Joss Whedon had gone live with his latest project (bad Joss Whedon fan! BAD!), Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, a three-episode internet musical starring the super awesome Neil Patrick Harris as a blogging, low-rent super villain named Dr. Horrible, who longs to gain entrance into the Evil League of Evil and talk to the pretty girl at the laundromat. Seriously. No clue.

But he did.

And I had NO IDEA that if I decided to watch said super villain internet musical while, say, riding the Metro into work this morning, there would be the possibility that I might, perhaps, nearly bust a gut laughing and freak out the very nice-seeming gentleman in the army uniform sitting next to me, who might then, maybe, swiftly move across the car from me and stealthily watch me for signs of The Crazy, fully intent on taking me DOWN if need be.

But I did.

But, c’mon. By the time Captain Hammer (played by the super awesome Nathan Fillion) jumped atop the wonderflonium-filled courier van that had been hijacked by Dr. Horrible’s Horrible Van Remote application on his iPhone, I was gone. I mean, a blogging, singing super villain?! With an iPhone?! Loaded with applications of super villain evil?! How genius is that?!

Hey. You know who’s an evil genius? Joss Whedon, that’s who! Honestly. What I wouldn’t give to work with that man!

Well, probably not my first born. Or my soul. Or, you know, anything remotely dear to me. But still! I would so love to hang with the man for a day. Pick his brain. Learn his process. See how he does it. Check for signs of soul-sellage, what with his evil genius and all. Maybe take him out for a beverage of some sort. You know, geeky stuff.

Enough with the sharing. If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to watch Act I, Episode I again while, perhaps, this time singing along. Because it’s Dr. Horrible’s SING-ALONG Blog, that’s why! Sheesh. Keep up.

As you were.

Have I told you lately…

… that I freaking LOVE my sweet new job?!

Um, or that I HAVE a sweet new job?! That is totally sweet?! Full o’ the awesome sweetness?!

No?

Oh. Well, I do. And it is.

Just thought I’d share.

Slings and Arrow of Outrageous Fortune and Stuff

It’s so true, what they say– and by “they” I mean people such as myself who employ hackneyed phrases when they are too beaten down by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune (see?) to find more eloquent words to express a thought– it never rains but it pours. You know, like all that water pouring from a broken hose in our washing machine and pooling under our kitchen floor, ruining the floor and collapsing the ceiling below it, fortunately not maiming or injuring anybody but still really, REALLY sucking nonetheless? Because of course we needed to pay for a new washing machine? And a new floor? And a new ceiling? And then there’s that mildewy smell, which YUCK?

And did I mention that our air conditioning fritzed out recently and needed repair? And that my 24′ iMac’s hard drive just FREAKED THE HELL OUT THIS WEEKEND WITH NO WARNING WHATSOEVER I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HOLY and totally needs to be replaced and I may not have backed up recently or– perhaps!– at all, ever?! Well, that happened, too!

Right?! RIGHT?! I’m SAYING.

On the other hand, they also say that into each life some rain must fall and that every cloud has a silver lining. And by “they” I mean stupidly optimistic people who’s lives are obviously NOT a perfect graveyard of buried hopes because they spent all the extra money they had set aside for a sweet new iPhone G3– and then some– on stupid new appliances and home repairs, and may have– perhaps!– lost their entire hard drive (on which several future episodes of TechnoGeekery may have resided) because they were– perhaps!– waiting for the 1 terabyte external hard drives to go on SALE! PERHAPS!

*deep breath*

So… yeah. And how was YOUR Fourth of July?

Lost in the Din

The office is so quiet, so hushed, but a clamor in my head pervades the stillness, not jarring, like the faint creak of a door at the edge of an afternoon nap, but incessant, like the faraway buzzing of a halogen light.

Four years. Four years they’ve gone while I’ve stayed. Four years they’ve played while I’ve worked. Four years they’ve reconnected while I’ve disconnected. Four years.

If I admit I can’t get used to this, will the restlessness subside, or will I lose myself in the din?

The Wonkerers *updated

(If the video below doesn’t work for you, click HERE for some serious Wonkerering.)

We weren’t allowed to video tape TD’s musical, Roald Dahl’s Willy Wonka, (what is UP with that?! HUH?!) but hey! Who needs to tape the show from waaaaay back in the audience, when one’s kiddos have memorized the whole darn thing anyway, and commandeer the family computer for an afternoon to capture the entire show– up close and personal– for posterity? Not me, that’s who!

So, yeah. I have no actual tape of Tanner performing on stage as Charlie, but I have him (and his sisters) performing every other role in the musical– with FEELING, no less… so FOOYAH!

Yup. Feel free to take a quick peek at what it’s been like at MY house for the past five months.

Enjoy.

What the…?! TechnoGeekery at Real Simple?!

Fooyah! Guess who’s podcast o’ Technogeekery was featured in the Simply Stated: Technology blog at Real Simple online magazine? Chassy Cat’s, that’s who!

Honestly. Ain’t that a kick in the pants…

Thanks to the Simply Stated: Technology blogger, Erin of Manic Mommies, for the shout-out. I couldn’t be more jazzed!

*jazz hands*

See?

(Feel free to click on over to Real Simple and leave TechnoGeekery some love… you know, if you want to. I don’t even care. Whatever. But feel free!)

Cheap China Balls

So someone actually chatted me up, right? Using the Chat with Cat feature I added to TechnoGeekery (and DWM)?! Fellow by the name of Jim, it was. I was all helpful and stuff because dude’s audio made his voice all Gobot-like and whatnot, right? So after singing a few bars of the Transformers theme song (More than meets the eye!) and a few obligatory references to Decepticons, I sussed out that his podcast was indeed formatted in the proper, uh, format, so I was like, “Hey, I have no idea why your audio is all jacked up! Why don’t you contact Podango, yo?” and he was like, “Okay! I think I will! Thank you, Chassy Cat. You are so very awesome!” Except I may have added that last part, but who knows?! It all happened so fast, and it’s sort of fuzzy now, but I’m pretty sure he thought I was helpful and awesome because guess what? He totally emailed me to thank me and to offer some constructive technogeeky advice regarding the lighting for my oh-so-humble podcast o’ TechnoGeekery.

Unfortunately his email went straight to my Junk Mail; fortunately I often skim over said Junk Mail, so I totally caught it amongst the offers to increase my… er, girth… well, whatever!

Anyway, I SO appreciated the advice. I mean, I’ve been told before that I should look into lighting, but I was like, “Dude. No way am I spending that kind of money! That’s a whole lot of Taco Bell!” Except, I totally don’t ever eat at Taco Bell. Their beans are DEHYDRATED. As for filming TechnoGeekery, I’ve tried moving around a bit, and my best lighting has been up in my room facing the window, but the natural light can be a little too harsh. Like, “Hello, freckles! How you doin’?” But my new TechnoGeek friend suggested I forgo spending what he called “a butt load of money on studio lighting” (which, HA! he said “butt”) and invest in a type of (cheap) lighting (totally inexpensive) he called China balls (which don’t cost much money at ALL).

Apparently, China balls—those paper globes with the metal ribs and a light bulb inside—are perfect for creating natural soft light. YES. Hello softer shadows! My freckles and I thank you, TechnoGeek Jim. No, really. From the bottom of my photoprotective melanin-deprived heart. Or skin. Oh, you know what I mean.

And I mentioned the “not expensive” part, right? Like, Blue Light Special cheap? That’s all I’m saying.

So… China balls! I didn’t know that is what those were called, but my aunt had several of them hanging in her bedroom in the early 80’s, so I am familiar with them. Hmmm, come to think of it, now that I know they are generally used to create natural soft light and pleasing skin tones… well, frankly, I’m a little wigged out. I am also forcibly reminded of her totally radical boyfriend back then, however, and I suppose the need for softer lighting would come into play… boyfriend had a perm AND a ’stache! Couple that with his trendy 80’s fashion sense, and well, I’m not surprised. Honestly.

So, a big shout out to my new TechnoGeek peep, Jim! Thanks. I will definitely try to implement a new lighting arrangement as soon as I can get my hands on some cheap China balls!

Oh. Oh MY. Well that just sounds dirty. How embarrassing. I shall now call them cheap China lanterns.

Heck. I may even devote an entire TechnoGeekery episode to the benefits of cheap China ba– er, lanterns! I mean it. Ain’t technology grand?…

… Transformers! Robots in disguise! 

Ha! That never gets old.

You Did It, Charlie!

Not to brag, but a certain desperate working momma’s son was sensationally awesome as Charlie Bucket in a certain Willy Wonka Jr. musical at a certain elementary school!

Hey. I call it like I see it.

Okay, but tonight? I’m bringing the GOOD camera!

Think Positive

Is it normal for me to be MORE nervous than TD? He’s the one singing all of Charlie Bucket’s songs and performing all of Charlie Bucket’s lines in the 6th grade Willy Wonka Jr. musical tonight! It’s out of control!

I’m a wreck, that’s what I am… A wreck, I say!

Aaaaaand TD just rushed by me, belting out “Think Positive,” complete with wild gesticulations that I certainly hope are a part of the choreography. Because if not? EMBARRASSING.

“You’ve nothing to lose so why not choose to think positive?”

Well all righty then. I’m off to the show.

And TD? Break a leg, kid.

Aerosmithsonian

When you’ve been together a while, it’s bound to happen. You know, the whole ending each other’s sentences thing? Accordingly, one shouldn’t be surprised by the following conversation I recently had with the DWM padres who have traveled all the way from Podunky Small Town Arizona to see Numbah One Grandson (Yeah-huh! Okay, Numbah TWO Grandson… happy Kim?! SHEESH.) in his musical theater debut as Charlie Bucket in Roald Dahl’s Willy Wonka Junior Ramma Lamma Bing Bang Extravaganza!

Do you follow?

So we were sitting down, having a nice little chat, when my dad leaned over my mother to ask if it would be difficult to get into DC to visit some places.

I asked, “Where do you want to go?” while mentally conjuring the Metro transit rail map.

“Well, I wanted to go to the Smithsonian…” he began.

Ah. See, there is a common misconception out there in the aether that the Smithsonian is one particular building in DC. This is not, in fact, the case. Let’s see…. you’ve got the more well-known Natural History Museum (check out the Hope Diamond!), the Air and Space Museum (ooooh! IMAX and Planetarium!), the National Portrait Gallery (don’t step too close to some of the exhibits… the sensors are freaking sensitive) and let’s not forget the National Zoo (Giant Pandas! Giant Pandas!). Then, of course, you’ve got your American Indian Museum, African Art Museum, your Postal Museum… and quite few more that I am much too lazy to look up, so there.

It’s evil I know, all show-offy and whatnot, but of course I asked, “Which one?”, and blinked innocently at the confused look on my dad’s face.

To his credit, I think he must have remembered my lecture on the Great Smithsonian Conundrum (yes! I’m a horrible geek! duh!) because he was only fazed for a moment.

“I wanted to see–”

And then it happened. The finishing each other’s sentences thing. (See? I’m focused! HA!)

My mom leaned over and butted in– er, interrupted– I mean, lovingly finished his thought, “Oh! He wants to go see the Aerosmith Museum!”

I blinked again, but this time in confusion. “The Aero…Smith… what?”

There was one of those pauses where it is completely silent except for the almost perceptible sound of cogs whirring and twirling in the collective brains of those assembled. As my dad and I began to snicker, my mom blurted out, “Oh! Air and Space! Air and Space!”

But it was too late. Oh, yes. Much too late.

My dad grinned. “Yeah, hon, I really wanted to hit that rock and roll museum… see all that rock star memorabilia?”

“Oh, sure! I’ll tell you how to get there! Just walk this waaaaaaay! talk this waaaay!”

My mom, adopting her patented I Totally Meant To Say That blasé attitude, was all, “Oh, you knew what I meant!” And just in case that wasn’t enough to save face, she quickly added, “Although an Aerosmith Museum would be pretty cool, come to think of it…”

My dad and I gave her a hard time of it for a few more minutes, after which I assured my father that I would make sure he got to see the Air and Space Museum.

Then I launched into my Smithsonian Conundrum spiel one more time for good measure, naturally.

Aaaaaaand now you know me better. You see? I can’t help how I am. It’s like the magnet my parents had on their refrigerator as I was growing up:

“Insanity is hereditary. I get it from my children.”

Wait… Hey!

More Riding in Cars with 3rd Grade Drama Queens

We now join the post-kiss-and-ride-pickup conversation of a desperate working momma and drama queen daughter, already in progress:

“It was a good day… except, do you know what so-and-so thinks is a good insult, Momma? He says,” here Alli adopted a gruff schoolboy’s tone, “‘Your grandma’s butt!’”

I threw a quick, raised-eyebrow look at her. “Huh,” I said as I signaled and pulled into the jam of after-school traffic. “That’s kind of a stupid thing to say.”

Alli snorted. “I know. Me and Hannah think a good thing to say would be, ‘I’m sorry. We need an interpreter. We don’t speak idiot.’”

Wow. I didn’t even teach her that one! “Nice one,” I said, throwing a quick glance of motherly pride her way.

A proud smile crossed her face, but almost as quickly as it came, it wavered. “Of course then he’d probably hurl a rock at me, or something, huh, Momma?”

I pictured so-and-so in my head for a moment. “There is that possibility,” I finally agreed.

She was quiet for a moment. Then she smiled mischievously. “I’m sorry. I don’t speak idiot!” she said with a giggle.

I suppose she figured the satisfaction would be worth the risk.

That’s my girl.

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