Ordered this at dinner recently; strictly so I could say “Thanks for laying down those funky beets” when it was served. (A great idea borrowed from Zach Galifianakis – it was so satisfying to use that line and the reception was warm.)
The Lady in Red: The Annihilation of a Great Love Song
While on a lengthy drive, I found myself in the mood for soft rock hits from the ’80’s tonight. I’m probably partial to it from coming of age in the 1980’s, but you have to admit, it doesn’t get much better musically than ’80’s hair metal bands and soft rock.
One particular soft rock song that I’ve always loved is The Lady in Red by Chris de Burgh. If you haven’t heard it, you’re missing out on a great song. It lyrically paints the picture of the first time the artist saw his wife and how spellbound he was by her presence. What’s not to love about a story like that, right?
Well, now let me tell you about how all of that is forever spoiled for me. About a year ago while on a business trip in New Jersey I was surfing the web after work looking for interesting cover songs of it by various artists when I stumbled across Guignol D’Algol’s version.
It seems that Mr. D’Algol has Tourettes Syndrome and has put together a YouTube channel where he performs a karaoke version of several songs (unmedicated). I understand that it’s a terrible affliction, I know that it must be terribly difficult to deal with and there is nothing funny about Tourettes, BUT you have to hand it to this guy for his creativity in playing the hand he was dealt. A pretty admirable job of it to say the least.
Under the assumption that you haven’t seen this video before, I’d like to provide some warnings. 1) clear the children and the elderly from the room 2) don’t click on it if you’re offended by four letter words because there are many, many of them and 3) be prepared to never hear Chris de Burgh’s beautiful version of this song without also hearing this version. (I anticipate that to be the case for the rest of my days on earth.)
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Belle of the Blog
Hey everyone! I received a great review from Belle on my blog! In her comments, she calls me her loved one and my blog posting is “great written and include approximately all significant infos”!
No matter what other great things happen for me this year, this will remain the true highlight.
Christmas Songs, Church Songs and Coffee
I just spent nearly 7 straight hours in the car listening to uninterrupted Christmas music on Pandora and I’m not even sick of it.
I realized that I’m a Christmas song traditionalist though, favoring artists such as Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Andy Williams, Bing Crosby and Dean Martin. I’m even ok with Elvis, Paul McCartney (and Wings) and Johnny Mathis too but when we start to get newer than that, it just sounds too groovy to appeal to me (groovy in a hokey way).
It is for the same reason that I just can’t get in to a contemporary church service or listen to contemporary Christian music. I’m sure it’s nice and everything but I know I’m going to have a rough time when I see an electric guitar and drum kit in the pulpit because I’m not used to it – having attended more reverent services when I’ve gone in the past.
In summary, I prefer my Christmas songs sung mostly by mid-century artists and my church songs strictly with a pipe organ and hymns that were sung by Pilgrims. It’s how I’m wired.
While I’m at it, I should also mention that I like my coffee like I like my women – ground up and in the freezer. (Kidding, of course. I heard someone else say that once and thought it too good not to pass along.)
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“I’m a Medical Doctor. I have a fiancé.” (And I’m a Horrible Conversationalist With Strangers in Airport Terminals.)
You know what’s great? Being the silent observer to some conversations I’ve been watching.
I have been sitting in an adjacent row of seats in an airport terminal near a young woman for about an hour now. This lady is absolutely hell-bent on telling everyone who sits next to her that she’s a ‘medical doctor with a fiancé’ as she controls and dominates each conversation whenever each unsuspecting person or group of people sit next to her. It’s as if an invisible dark power pulls a string with a plastic ring attached to her back which makes her recycle the same lines of braggadocio with every pull. Nobody has lasted more than 15 minutes in the chairs that are next to her because her stories aren’t interesting and it’s pretty apparent that everything she says is designed to get people to ask further questions about her and her life successes. That is, until an older couple from Colorado sat next to her.
It seemed that the good doctor met her match as they forced their own conversational agenda on her while not acknowledging anything she said. I knew what she wanted to tell them and saw the frustration on her face when she realized that she couldn’t fit in any of her stories. My attitude here might seem a bit cold but I’ve always been one who appreciates two way conversations with strangers that build naturally vs. having someone announce their station in life right off the bat and then attempt to trap me in a one way conversation about how terrific their life is.
Very satisfied in the last exchange that I just witnessed, I fished my noise-canceling headphones from my bag and cranked up my Gordon Lightfoot playlist.
Posted in Air Travel
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Suburban Desperado
I think it’s illegal to burn leaves within city limits but I just drove past this man’s house who has filled the neighborhood with smoke, which prompted me to look up the regulation.
I should note that I wasn’t going to rat him out and it didn’t bother me in any way, I was just curious. It seems that if fire pits are permitted, leaf burning should be ok. The smell of burning leaves is a pleasant one for me mostly because it brings back fond memories of burning leaf piles on the curb when I was a child.
Under the assumption that it is not permitted to burn leaves in the city, I put myself in that man’s shoes and it really stressed me out for a bit. He probably thought, “I have to get rid of these leaves so I’ll just burn a few and nobody will notice.” His plan to stay under the radar with it had the opposite effect as you could see exactly where the massive smoke plume originated from and the smell of what he was burning was unmistakable. If he were like me, he would go into full-blown-panic-mode once things got out of hand and rush around trying to cover up this illegal activity, all the while picturing himself standing in front of a judge pleading guilty in front of his disappointed family and friends then being led away to county jail for 90 days with a probationary period to follow. Based on a handful of similar experiences that I’ve had myself, I projected that whole scenario on the situation. Things like that are such dreadful experiences for me.
Anyhoo, I left the area and arrived at my destination so that I could quickly look on the city’s website. I didn’t see any clear prohibitions on burning leaves so I guess I put myself on that emotional roller coaster for nothing.
One highlight that I’d like to share though is something I found during my research of city ordinances. I pulled up the “frequently asked questions” section of the website and it seems that “How do I pick up dog poop?” is a frequently asked question in this neck of the woods. FYI: “With your hand in a bag” is the answer.
You Say ‘ba-LAZZ-mik’, I Say ‘ball-sa-mik’
I was offered a selection of salad dressings over the drive thru speaker at a Burger King in Indiana recently.
According to the drive-thru worker, one of my choices was the “Honey Balasmic” [(sic) – pronounced ‘ba-LAZZ-mik’] dressing.
As one who can’t possibly ignore a situation like this and just let it go, I said, “I’d like to have some Honey Balsamic”, with careful and deliberate pronunciation of the word balsamic, hoping she’d hear the difference in pronunciation and grow as a person with my gentle correction.
She confirmed my order, unknowingly or stubbornly using the ba-LAZZ-mik pronunciation again and asked me if that was correct? Carefully balancing the pros and cons of 1) letting her know that all was correct or 2) risking the perception of being an a-hole to another human being who is just trying to earn a buck by letting her know all was correct EXCEPT her pronunciation, I opted to outwardly agree that it was correct and came to terms with my defeat. But, man, that internal struggle was a big one.
Posted in Restaurants
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Let Me Be Nick Nolte With You
In hindsight, when I run in to someone I know when making a quick trip to the grocery store after working from home the past couple of days and not paying much attention to basic personal hygiene and being dressed like a mental patient, when all of that comes into play, it’s probably not necessary to proactively mention that I’ve been wearing the same clothes for two days straight.
Some things can and should remain unspoken. Well, we live and we learn.
Two Minutes (In God’s Time)
This week on the road, I learned that not everyone literally means ‘two minutes’ when they ask if I “have two minutes to hear a story?”
In fact, when some people say that, they mean something more like “I’d like to bait you into this room where I’ll block the door and then proceed to tell you the longest story you’ve ever heard in your life that has absolutely nothing to do with anything we’ve talked about up to this point. My story will be void of interesting highlights and a point but you have agreed to listen to it. Then only way this will end is when you’ve had enough to the point where you no longer care about interrupting me mid-sentence to say that you’re running late for an imaginary appointment. You will notice that I was born without the basic human instinct to detect when someone is no longer interested in my story. I will talk to you until my face is sore.”
Man, I’m going to be nervous the next time somebody asks me if I have two minutes to talk.
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The Golden Driller
This 75 foot statue in Tulsa is called The Golden Driller (which was coincidentally my nickname in college). <insert laughter, applause and an Ed Mcmahon “Heyooo” here>
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Let Me Be Frank With You 