I love 4-day weekends. The problem with coming back after the long Thanksgiving weekend is that everyone at work has to talk about their holiday. And the thing is--and here's where I sound really cranky and annoying--is that I just don't particularly care. Sure, there are a few coworkers that I'd like to hear what they did. And I have no problems comparing notes with my friends. But for the most part? I don't need to know. Really. I'm sure they all had lovely Thanksgivings and it was relaxing and nice to see family, etc., etc. Because the typical coworker isn't going to go into how Aunt Sue ripped into Cousin Jen over the stuffing. You know?
On a more positive note, it was actually kind of nice to go back to coming into work a bit earlier. I had been coming in around 8 the past couple of weeks, but am back to 7:30. The traffic is just so much easier to deal with at 7:30.
Tonight: Barenaked Ladies!
Current song in my head:
"La Vie Boheme" from Rent--I don't actually know it, so I just keep hearing those three words over and over and over; very annoying
Here she lies
No one knew her worth
The late great daughter of mother earth
On this night when we celebrate the birth
In that little town of Bethlehem
We raise our glass- you bet your ass to-
La vie Boheme
La vie Boheme
La vie Boheme
La vie Boheme
La vie Boheme
To days of inspiration
Playing hookie, making something out of nothing
The need to express
To communicate,
To going against the grain,
Going insane
Going mad
To loving tension, no pension
To more than one dimension,
To starving for attention,
Hating convention, hating pretension
Not to mention of course,
Hating dear old mom and dad
To riding your bike,
Midday past the three- piece suits
To fruits to no absolutes
To Absolut- to choice
To the Village Voice
To any passing fad
To being an us-for once-, instead of a them -
La vie Boheme
La vie Boheme
Is the equipment in a pyramid?
It is, Maureen
The mixer doesn't have a case
Don't give me that face
Ahhemm
Hey Mister- she's my sister
So that's five miso soup, four seaweed salad
Three soy burger dinner, two tofu dog platter
And one pasta with meatless balls
Ugh
It tastes the same
If you close your eyes
And thirteen orders of fries
Is that it here?
Wine and beer!
To hand-crafted beers made in local breweries
To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese
To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo
To huevos rancheros and Maya Angelou
Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion
Creation, vacation
Mucho masturbation
Compassion, to fashion, to passion when it's new
To Sontag
To Sondheim
To anything taboo
Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunningham and Cage
Lenny Bruce
Langston Hughes
To the stage
To Uta
To Buddha
Pablo Neruda, too
Why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow
To blow off Auntie Em
La vie Boheme
And wipe the speakers off before you pack
Yes, Maureen
Well - hurry back
Sisters?
We're close
Brothers!
Bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens,
Carcinogens, hallucinogens, men, Pee Wee Herman
German wine, turpentine, Gertrude Stein
Antonioni, Bertolucci, Kurosawa
Carmina Burana
To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, ecstasy
Vaclav Havel - The Sex Pistols, 8BC,
To no shame - never playing the Fame Game
To marijuana
To sodomy,
It's between God and me
To S & M
Waiter...Waiter...Waiter
La vie Boheme
In honor of the death of Bohemia an impromptu salon will commence immediately following dinner
Mimi Marquez, clad only in bubble wrap, will perform her famous lawn chair-handcuff dance to the sounds of iced tea being stirred
Mark Cohen will preview his new documentary about his inability to hold an erection on high holy days
Maureen Johnson, back from her spectacular one-night engagement at the eleventh street lot, Will sing native american tribal chants backwards through her vocoder,
while accompanying herself on the electric cello
Which she has never studied
Your new boyfriend doesn't know about us?
There's nothing to know
Don't you think that we should discuss-
It was three months ago
He doesn't act like he's with you
We're taking it slow
Where is he now?
He's right - hmm
Uh huh
Where'd he go?
Roger will attempt to write a bittersweet, evocative song
That doesn't remind us of "Musetta's Waltz"
Angel Dumott Schunard will now model the latest fall fashions from Paris While accompanying herself on the 10 gallon plastic pickle tub
And Collins will recount his exploits as an anarchist Including the successful reprogramming of the M.I.T. virtual reality equipment To self-destruct, as it broadcast the words:
"Actual reality -- Act Up -- Fight AIDS"
Check!
Excuse me did I do something wrong?
I get invited then ignored all night long
I've been trying I'm not lying
No one's perfect I've got baggage
Life's too short, babe, time is flying
I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine
I should tell, you-
I've got baggage too
I should tell you
I got baggage, too
I should tell you
Baggage - wine And beer!
*beeper sound*
AZT break
... Oh, and Barb, it's been in my head since Wednesday. I just figured I'd go ahead and give you the words... Most of that I wrote from memory, but I'll admit that I had to look a few things up (especially toward the end of the song). Talk soon!!!
Posted by: Dave at November 28, 2005 02:19 PMDude, I forgot how COLD Maryland can get. I was there this past weekend for my 10 year high school reunion. Froze my ass off. And now I'm back in L.A. where it's a sunny 65 degrees.
Oh, and because I'm a copycat (sorta), just wanted to let you know that I got Orioles license plate frames for my birthday, too (which was back in October, but it took over a month for them to get to me).
Bye bye, BJ Ryan.
Posted by: Paul at November 28, 2005 05:24 PMbarb, this song is FLITHY!!! are we sure that movie "rent' isn't pornos? oh well i am an old one for my day.
on a serious note, please don't smoke marijuana barb! i know you are a kid still and they experiment, but my filomena is 72 AND got "Mary's Jane" for her cataracts... sufficient to say that she just eats cornflakes and watches "Maury" now (so what's different you ask... LOL.)you start smoking this and now YOU'LL be writing porn-songs!!
Posted by: edgar at November 29, 2005 04:10 PMlegalize it!! for reals, yo. you're lady is hackin some sweat jays, so wheres the porblem at son??
Posted by: j. cron at November 30, 2005 12:23 PMSorry Barb... didn't anticipate that discussion ensuing.
Posted by: Dave at November 30, 2005 01:37 PM