Not feelin' it

I'm kinda bummed. They changed one of my favorite radio channels from an R&B/dance mix to a Spanish channel. Like most changes that they know are going to piss off the great majority of the current listening audience, there was no warning. I just woke up one morning to the strains of Spanish language pop. Which almost always sounds like bad 80s pop to me. I was not amused.

The reason I liked the old Movin' station was that it actually got me Movin' in the morning. They'd play from P-Funk to Prince and from Beastie Boys to Beyonce. I need something that gets my groove thang going in the morning.

And finding a subsitute has been tough. A lot of radio channels have gone Spanish here lately. And there's always a stong country contingent. But that ain't gonna happen. And definitely no talk. Radio talk is divided into 2 categories: feel good gab where everybody agrees with everybody cause we're all just great, or antagonistic, in-your-face, you're wrong and I'm going to tell you why shouting. And it's all so much blather to me.

That leaves your basic adult contemporary, current pop hits and hip-hop. Adult contemporary is more of an afternoon/evening thing for me. Pop is okay, but I run the risk of hearing a Nickel Back song, and I just can't start my day that pissed off. And I've never been a hip-hop gal. White boys have Eminem and Vanilla Ice as their standard bearers in hip-hop. The white woman's place in hip-hop can be summed up with "Oh, my god, Becky. Look at her butt." You know it's true.

So, I'm fumbling around scanning the dial in the morning. Just hoping that I'll find something that fits. My thang hasn't been properly groovy in at least a week.

All in favor?

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/26/fashion/26CODES.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&ref=style

If this is the new trend, I'm going to have to say "here, here!" I've always been a fan of the nicely formed male touchus. And if men are going to stop wearing pants that make them look like they're smuggling ham sandwiches in their back pockets, I think that's the best news I've heard in a long time. It's been a crying shame for years that the only men with pants that fit in the backside were gay men.

I've wondered for a long time if they just don't have 3-way mirrors in the men's dressing room. Actually, I worked retail in college. I know for a fact that they have 3-way mirrors in there, but men just ignore them. (I also know for a fact that men don't just try on clothes in there, but that's a story for another day.)

And I've never quite bought the "baggy drawers are more comfortable" argument. While the looser is more comfy axiom is often true, at a certain point all that extra fabric flopping around back there has to be uncomfortable, as well as unsightly.

And it's not just that I like the visual aspects of a man who takes care of business in the backfield. I also think that if they have to find pants that fit in the ass, they might develop a little more understanding and sympathy for women. Fitting curves is harder. That's why it takes us so long to shop. And men, for the most part, only have one curve to fit. We got all sorts to accommodate. Try walking in our britches for awhile.

Good Day, Sunshine

It's one of those typically atypical days in the Big D. 80 degrees for the high. In February no less. What kind of sense does that make? None. I don't care how or why. Whether it's the dry line, gulf stream, a really delayed Indian summer, or just that the weather gods heard my prayers, I'm going to enjoy it.

It's this kind of day that gives my seaonally affective disordered brain to make it through the winter. About February I start to give up hope. It will never be warm again. Spring has forgotten us. The sun has abandoned us. Waaahhhhhh!

But then - whammo! 80 degrees. My body just soaks up the warmth like a rechargeable battery. Awwww! Roll-over, more, more, more. I bust out the sandals. And my feet are sooooo happy to be free.

Back to 60 tomorrow. Sigh. But my batteries will be full and happy. And I'll be able to make it to spring.

This must be stopped

http://popwatch.ew.com/popwatch/2009/02/why-new-clue.html?cnn=yes&eref=time_entertainment

I'm hoping this is all just a hideous, baseless rumor with no grounding in fact. Remake Clue? That's just sacriledge. And I'm no-end please that the Popwatch column at EW is aghast at this prospect as I am. Remaking a great movie is always a risky proposition. People have expectations. And people are not kind when a movie falls short of a past favorite. Imagine if they remade The Wizard of Oz, and it sucked. The fur would fly.

But Clue is not a great movie. It is Clue. It was flawed and brilliant at the same time. It has one of the best character actor casts ever assembled, but some of the people in bit parts are horrifically bad. It has Tim Curry giving one of the greatest summations of "the story to this point" that has ever been committed to film, and a dog poop joke that runs too long. But it's the stupid parts as much as the lame parts that make it the sui generis classic that it is. Sure, you could take a B movie like Big Trouble in Little China and make it better. It wouldn't be hard to do. But then . . . it wouldn't be the whackadoodle masterpiece that is Big Trouble in Little China. And you could remake Clue and tighten up the script, and put in big-name stars, and, you know, pick an ending instead of throwing 3 at people. But, in the end it would be better, but as good.

All that said, if they ever turn Clue into a stage play, I will be front row center. It would make fabulous theater.

But movie? No. No. Definitely no. Put down whatever jacked up script you've put together, and whatever Zac Efron and Julia Roberts nightmare of a cast list you've concocted, and step away. And nobody will get hurt.

Can't say I didn't put in the effort

So I can say that I made the most of my Mardi Gras. I'm well and truly buttressed for Lent.

On Sunday, I went to a friend's house for a shrimp boil. While we were preparing the feast (and I do mean feast: shrimp, potatoes, corn on the cob, andouille and cippollini onions as boiled in ass kickin spice - yuuuum yum!), the hostess was playing a New Orleans jazz channel on the cable tv. I tried to restrain myself from dancing around the kitchen (not the greatest thing with a paring knife in your hand), but when we got to Lay Off A My Toot-Toot, it was pretty much a moral imperative to boogie my butt around the room. I remember that song from when I was a kid. When you're 6, any song that has the word Toot-Toot in it is comedy gold. Right up there with My Ding-A-Ling. Music, dancing, refreshing, beverages, and lots of food. What more could a girl want? Well, other than a few throws. But no matter how many times I flashed my friends, they wouldn't throw many any beads. Pikers.

But try as we might (and we tried really hard), we still had a pound of shrimps left over. What to do? Re-convene on the vrais Mardi Gras for shrimp and grits. And while I'll grant sitting around the table shooting the breeze and drinking beer is not as wild and crazy as some Fat Tuesday celebrations, it was pretty dang good for me.

So, hopefully I got all my ya-yas out and am ready to be good straight up to Easter. Yep. No problem.

Ful il sa

I really can't even tell you the amount of anxiety I'm having over tomorrow. Major trepidation. Tomorrow is the first day of Lent, and the beginning of my meat-free adventure. Egads. At first I thought, well that would be interesting. Give up meat just to see what it's like. But as the day approaches, it's gone from no-big-deal to BIG FAT HAIRY DEAL. I'm eating my last steak salad before Easter, and wondering what I've got myself in to.

Not that I'm like a heavy meat-eater. I would never do the Atkins Diet. Makes my stomach wobble just thinking of it. But I do enjoy meat in moderation. It's definitely on the menu for this omnivore.

Some of my concerns are just health related. Am I going to get enough iron? Protein? Of course, a person with a moderate lifestyle can eliminate meat if they are thoughtful about their diet. But being thoughtful about what I put in my mouth is not my strong suit. As a matter of fact, the whole iron issue didn't occur to me until just this morning.

Other concerns are just a result of knowing what a contrary little cuss I can be. Tell me I can't have something and it's exactly what I want. A lot. I love the taste of forbidden fruit. I know as a result of the Great Lent Coffee Sensation of 2008, my obsession with the thing I'm denied can get pretty mountainous. The only thing that is really saving me right now is knowing that, unlike coffee, I don't have any daily rituals built around meat. I'm not going to have to get out of bed every morning knowing that I won't get my cup of steak for breakfast. It's really the cumulative effect, of day after day denial that will get to me. Day One - fine. Day 25 - maybe not so fine.

But then, all these qualms tell me that I'm probably picking the right thing to give up. I may be damming myself for a masochist and a martyr in a couple of weeks. Or it could be the best thing I've ever done. What's life for if you can't try new things?

Happy Mardi Gras, y'all.

Hey, let's put on a show!

Okay, so I went to a play on Friday. I heard about it through my Daily Candy e-mail. It was a small theater company with a new comedy featuring a mad scientist. And let's face it, mad scientists are just catnip for me. Plus, at $12, it was about the same price as a movie ticket. In these tough times, I feel like if I can use my small cache of discretionary cash to feed a starving artist, and get some entertainment out of it, that's my definition of fiscally responsible.

Was it a good show? Mmm. Technically speaking, . . . no. The script was uneven. There were several times when they'd really get swinging, and I found myself giggling quite a bit. The recurring bit about the attack cats (simulated by someone standing behind a bit of scenery and waving stuffed animals at the actors) just didn't get old. Not every bit could say that (surprisingly, the girl dressed in bee costume with yak horns (don't ask) wore thin pretty fast). Unfortunately, in this kind of show, if you're not laughing, you're really just sitting there. I'm assuming that the longer they do the show, the more it will tighten up.

But the cast really strove make sure you got your money's worth. Even adding the scenes that they cut as a bonus "out take reel" to the end of the show. Overall, it was a good time. My only real quibble would be that 1 - I don't do audience participation - even a mid-show sing-a-long; and 2 - the space was so small that even though I had cleverly positioned myself at the back of the audience to avoid my phobia about eye contact with performers, that placed the hunchbacked henchman character frequently in my sight line. Luckily, the character was cross-eyed in the great Marty Feldman tradition, so no real eye contact, per se. But if he'd focused for even a second, I was at hazard of being seriously weirded out.

Any way. I got that rosy glow of having supported the local arts community. And at $12, it's a cheap glow.