The other day I had a dream that I was celebrating my birthday at a Chinese restaurant. The owners of the restaurant happened to be the parents of a good friend of mine...who is most definitely Latino.
So yes, in my dream, my friend's Hispanic immigrant parents were running an authentic Chinese restaurant (including cooking all the food) and hosting my party.
About halfway through the meal, my friend showed up wearing a tuxedo (minus the jacket), with his hair in an afro, singing showtunes. He was the restaurant's entertainment.
Let's not analyze this one, mk?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Jolly Good, Old Chap
Here in the newsroom, we have several interns who are given various projects to work on. We try to help them learn the process of producing news reports for radio, from start to finish. This includes coming up with story ideas, interviewing newsmakers and experts, editing digital audio, writing and voicing a story.
Last week, one of the interns finally produced a complete story, with her voice tracks recorded and edited together with sound bites. She asked one of my coworkers to listen to her story and critique it. My coworker happily complied, putting the headphones on and hitting play. She immediately started laughing and said "um, why did you record it in a British accent?!"
The intern proceeded to explain that she thought a British accent would be impressive and help her get a job in the industry.
As my coworker gently pointed out to her, "you're...not...British."
Last week, one of the interns finally produced a complete story, with her voice tracks recorded and edited together with sound bites. She asked one of my coworkers to listen to her story and critique it. My coworker happily complied, putting the headphones on and hitting play. She immediately started laughing and said "um, why did you record it in a British accent?!"
The intern proceeded to explain that she thought a British accent would be impressive and help her get a job in the industry.
As my coworker gently pointed out to her, "you're...not...British."
Friday, March 19, 2010
Rodeo Redux
I went to the rodeo again last night. Don't EVEN get me started on the nightmare that was traffic and parking. If I had known how bad it would be, I would never have gone.
The Black Eyed Peas put on a fun, high-energy show that had everybody dancing.
But the memorable incident of the evening for me was before the concert. I was standing in line to order a drink and the guy behind me leaned forward and asked "are you wearing perfume?"
Cue LJ's internal monologue "oh cmon...you can do better than THAT!"
But out loud I warily replied "maybe."
"What kind of perfume is it?" he asked.
"I honestly don't remember if I put on perfume this morning. But if I did, it's Romance by Ralph Lauren."
"Well I'm enjoying the aura of scent around you."
"Ok thanks."
And from there I moved forward in the line without looking back.
I didn't think much of the incident until this morning when I had a conversation with some coworkers about how a couple of people in our building use entirely too much cologne/perfume. All of a sudden it hit me: could I be one of those people?! Was Rodeo Guy actually pointing out that I wear too much perfume? I thought he was just trying to awkwardly hit on me...but what if the truth is much more insidious?
I'm having a identity scent crisis.
The Black Eyed Peas put on a fun, high-energy show that had everybody dancing.
But the memorable incident of the evening for me was before the concert. I was standing in line to order a drink and the guy behind me leaned forward and asked "are you wearing perfume?"
Cue LJ's internal monologue "oh cmon...you can do better than THAT!"
But out loud I warily replied "maybe."
"What kind of perfume is it?" he asked.
"I honestly don't remember if I put on perfume this morning. But if I did, it's Romance by Ralph Lauren."
"Well I'm enjoying the aura of scent around you."
"Ok thanks."
And from there I moved forward in the line without looking back.
I didn't think much of the incident until this morning when I had a conversation with some coworkers about how a couple of people in our building use entirely too much cologne/perfume. All of a sudden it hit me: could I be one of those people?! Was Rodeo Guy actually pointing out that I wear too much perfume? I thought he was just trying to awkwardly hit on me...but what if the truth is much more insidious?
I'm having a identity scent crisis.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Tales of the Rodeo
I went to the rodeo last night. Of course, you know me. You know that a trip to the rodeo for me is bound to include SOME sort of amusing sidebar. This outing was no exception.
I went with a guy I know, who invited me to join some of his friends in one of the fancy schmancy box seats. We had a private room and seats, a full spread of food, drinks and dessert and a personal server waiting on all our needs and requests. Then what I like to call the Cart of Joy came rolling into the room. They had a mobile ice cream sundae station that they brought around to the boxes and let you select your ice cream flavors and toppings, all served up in an adorable plastic coyboy hat bowl.
But really one of the best parts of the rodeo was the tram ride from the parking lot to the stadium. My friend and I hopped on the very front row of the tram, so we were seated directly behind the driver. I glanced up and took a long look at the driver's shirt, then leaned over to my friend and said "um, does the back of his shirt say 'boobs'?"
"Wow. Yes, it does," my friend replied.
A few moments later, the driver leaned forward and we could see the rest of his shirt which said "Boobs Rock."
To which my friend responded "well, they do."
I went with a guy I know, who invited me to join some of his friends in one of the fancy schmancy box seats. We had a private room and seats, a full spread of food, drinks and dessert and a personal server waiting on all our needs and requests. Then what I like to call the Cart of Joy came rolling into the room. They had a mobile ice cream sundae station that they brought around to the boxes and let you select your ice cream flavors and toppings, all served up in an adorable plastic coyboy hat bowl.
But really one of the best parts of the rodeo was the tram ride from the parking lot to the stadium. My friend and I hopped on the very front row of the tram, so we were seated directly behind the driver. I glanced up and took a long look at the driver's shirt, then leaned over to my friend and said "um, does the back of his shirt say 'boobs'?"
"Wow. Yes, it does," my friend replied.
A few moments later, the driver leaned forward and we could see the rest of his shirt which said "Boobs Rock."
To which my friend responded "well, they do."
Friday, March 12, 2010
Fava beans and a nice Chianti
I have a stalker.
I mean, he's not really a stalker, but kinda. I don't want to blog about him too much because, let's face it, if he's a stalker worth his salt then he knows about this blog. He seems nice and harmless (isn't that what they always say in horror movies?). He calls me at the radio station about once a month and tells me what a great job I'm doing. We chat for a few minutes as he rambles about whatever story I did recently or how much he enjoys listening to me on the radio. Mostly I just say things like "oh thanks" or "that's nice" or "thanks so much for listening." After about five minutes of that, he runs out of things to say and promises to check in with me again soon.
Maybe I should tell him I "just want to be friends."
I mean, he's not really a stalker, but kinda. I don't want to blog about him too much because, let's face it, if he's a stalker worth his salt then he knows about this blog. He seems nice and harmless (isn't that what they always say in horror movies?). He calls me at the radio station about once a month and tells me what a great job I'm doing. We chat for a few minutes as he rambles about whatever story I did recently or how much he enjoys listening to me on the radio. Mostly I just say things like "oh thanks" or "that's nice" or "thanks so much for listening." After about five minutes of that, he runs out of things to say and promises to check in with me again soon.
Maybe I should tell him I "just want to be friends."
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Guns don't kill people...
Chuck Norris kills people.
Today is Chuck Norris' birthday. My favorite Chuck Norris moment was on a mission trip a couple years ago. Our team met up with missionaries in another country, including a 17-year-old missionary kid whose parents allowed him to join up with us and spend a couple weeks traveling through the Amazon region of Brazil.
One afternoon we were all hanging out, waiting for things to cool off again before we went out to the village. For some reason we started swapping Chuck Norris jokes. We were cracking ourselves up thinking of all the jokes we could remember.
Suddenly in the midst of our hilarity, our little meek and mild missionary kid calmly announced he had a Chuck Norris joke to share. We all looked at him in surprise...as this quiet sweet kid who was raised on the mission field said "Chuck Norris once visited the Virgin Islands. Now they're just the Islands."
It still makes me crack up every time.
Today is Chuck Norris' birthday. My favorite Chuck Norris moment was on a mission trip a couple years ago. Our team met up with missionaries in another country, including a 17-year-old missionary kid whose parents allowed him to join up with us and spend a couple weeks traveling through the Amazon region of Brazil.
One afternoon we were all hanging out, waiting for things to cool off again before we went out to the village. For some reason we started swapping Chuck Norris jokes. We were cracking ourselves up thinking of all the jokes we could remember.
Suddenly in the midst of our hilarity, our little meek and mild missionary kid calmly announced he had a Chuck Norris joke to share. We all looked at him in surprise...as this quiet sweet kid who was raised on the mission field said "Chuck Norris once visited the Virgin Islands. Now they're just the Islands."
It still makes me crack up every time.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Reasons for my absence and other things cleared up
Sorry it has been so long since I last posted. I've been on an unplanned blogging hiatus because of a death in my family. My Pawpaw passed away just over a week ago and was in the hospital for a couple weeks before that, so the rest of my life (including the QQ) has been on hold for a while.
I won't go into a lot of detail about the past few weeks or the funeral, except to tell one amusing story about my family.
The family needed to select music for Pawpaw's service and they wanted to use songs that he liked. They picked a certain hymn and then an instrumental piece he enjoyed. The only problem was the instrumental selection was on a homemade CD and it was a live version that included applause at the end. Not really appropriate for a funeral. So I was charged with finding a "clean" version of the song. My family said the song was called "Anchor Built."
I commenced my search on iTunes, to no avail. There was no such song by that name. I progressed to Google, which again turned up no results. I tried different variations of the song "Anchor Built" "Anchorbuilt" "Anchor-Built" "Anchor Build"...nothing.
In my experience, if Google doesn't know the song exists, you are out of luck.
In desperation, I played the song for my roomie, thinking she might be able to suggest a way we could cut off the applause at the end. As she listened to the song, she exclaimed "I know that! It's from the Mr. Holland's Opus soundtrack! It's the clarinet solo!"
We quickly turned to youtube, typing in my search terms "Mr. Holland's Opus clarinet solo" and eureka! It was, in fact the same song. However, I still didn't know the same of the song so I scrolled through the dozens of comments to see if I could discover the solution to the puzzle.
And there it was. The answer to my search. "What is the name of this song?" a commenter asked. "Stranger on the shore," an expert answered. "It's by the musician Acker Bilk."
ACKER BILK!!!!!!!!!
My family is going to make me crazy one day. I can tell already.
I won't go into a lot of detail about the past few weeks or the funeral, except to tell one amusing story about my family.
The family needed to select music for Pawpaw's service and they wanted to use songs that he liked. They picked a certain hymn and then an instrumental piece he enjoyed. The only problem was the instrumental selection was on a homemade CD and it was a live version that included applause at the end. Not really appropriate for a funeral. So I was charged with finding a "clean" version of the song. My family said the song was called "Anchor Built."
I commenced my search on iTunes, to no avail. There was no such song by that name. I progressed to Google, which again turned up no results. I tried different variations of the song "Anchor Built" "Anchorbuilt" "Anchor-Built" "Anchor Build"...nothing.
In my experience, if Google doesn't know the song exists, you are out of luck.
In desperation, I played the song for my roomie, thinking she might be able to suggest a way we could cut off the applause at the end. As she listened to the song, she exclaimed "I know that! It's from the Mr. Holland's Opus soundtrack! It's the clarinet solo!"
We quickly turned to youtube, typing in my search terms "Mr. Holland's Opus clarinet solo" and eureka! It was, in fact the same song. However, I still didn't know the same of the song so I scrolled through the dozens of comments to see if I could discover the solution to the puzzle.
And there it was. The answer to my search. "What is the name of this song?" a commenter asked. "Stranger on the shore," an expert answered. "It's by the musician Acker Bilk."
ACKER BILK!!!!!!!!!
My family is going to make me crazy one day. I can tell already.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Close Encounters
Today I was covering a political event, interviewing candidates and milling about in a room full of people. At one point, I was standing alone off to the side, recording the sound of the busy room. A man walked up, stood directly in front of me and announced "I'm your cousin."
I laughed and said "oh really..."
I thought he was about to make some joke about having the last name Johnson or something like that. I was prepared to be unimpressed. Instead, he looked me in the eye and said "Yes. I'm your cousin. I'm Shane."
I literally gasped and threw my arms around him. It WAS my cousin Shane, who I haven't seen, talked to or heard from since I was 12 years old! I have no idea how he recognized me. We chatted for just a few minutes -- there wasn't time for a lengthy conversation. I just kept staring at him, amazed by the seemingly random encounter and the rush of emotions I was experiencing.
You see for a number of reasons, my father cut off ties with his family members when I was a young girl. As a result of that family break, I never saw my cousins again. It wasn't my fault and it wasn't my cousins' fault that we parted ways -- but we suffered the consequences of the separation. It wasn't until today that I realized I've missed my connection to my cousins. Growing up, we weren't close. We lived in different cities and only saw one another a few times a year. But there is something special about having family and relatives who are connected to you in a way your friends can never be.
I didn't realize how deeply that affected me -- it hit me today that it was a loss I had never really grieved. It's not so much that I missed Shane, specifically (although seeing him again was wonderful). It's that I miss having those bonds with people who are irreversibly connected to me, my history and my blood.
Maybe I miss the idea of what was lost -- images of picnics under the pecan tree in my grandmother's back yard -- sharing the excitement of Christmas with other kids my age -- enjoying my role as princess among a passel of boy cousins -- those are the mental images flying through my mind today. It's the loss of what was and also what could have been --lost possibilities that are probably idealized, mostly unrealized and certainly a defining part of who I am.
I laughed and said "oh really..."
I thought he was about to make some joke about having the last name Johnson or something like that. I was prepared to be unimpressed. Instead, he looked me in the eye and said "Yes. I'm your cousin. I'm Shane."
I literally gasped and threw my arms around him. It WAS my cousin Shane, who I haven't seen, talked to or heard from since I was 12 years old! I have no idea how he recognized me. We chatted for just a few minutes -- there wasn't time for a lengthy conversation. I just kept staring at him, amazed by the seemingly random encounter and the rush of emotions I was experiencing.
You see for a number of reasons, my father cut off ties with his family members when I was a young girl. As a result of that family break, I never saw my cousins again. It wasn't my fault and it wasn't my cousins' fault that we parted ways -- but we suffered the consequences of the separation. It wasn't until today that I realized I've missed my connection to my cousins. Growing up, we weren't close. We lived in different cities and only saw one another a few times a year. But there is something special about having family and relatives who are connected to you in a way your friends can never be.
I didn't realize how deeply that affected me -- it hit me today that it was a loss I had never really grieved. It's not so much that I missed Shane, specifically (although seeing him again was wonderful). It's that I miss having those bonds with people who are irreversibly connected to me, my history and my blood.
Maybe I miss the idea of what was lost -- images of picnics under the pecan tree in my grandmother's back yard -- sharing the excitement of Christmas with other kids my age -- enjoying my role as princess among a passel of boy cousins -- those are the mental images flying through my mind today. It's the loss of what was and also what could have been --lost possibilities that are probably idealized, mostly unrealized and certainly a defining part of who I am.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Oh what a day is today!
Nothing can stand in my way.
Now that you've shipped out from under my skin,
I think I'm ready to win.
Oh what a night is tonight!
I think I'm ready to fight.
Now that my broken bones all have been healed,
I think I'm starting to feel...
Something good...
Something good...
Now that you're gone, I can roll on to something good.
Oh what a way that we died!
Plenty of tears were supplied.
My eyes are wrung out and dry as a bone,
and I taste much better alone.
Now that you're gone, I can roll on to something good.
~Ingrid Michaelson
Nothing can stand in my way.
Now that you've shipped out from under my skin,
I think I'm ready to win.
Oh what a night is tonight!
I think I'm ready to fight.
Now that my broken bones all have been healed,
I think I'm starting to feel...
Something good...
Something good...
Now that you're gone, I can roll on to something good.
Oh what a way that we died!
Plenty of tears were supplied.
My eyes are wrung out and dry as a bone,
and I taste much better alone.
Now that you're gone, I can roll on to something good.
~Ingrid Michaelson
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Lady Doth Protest!
Back in December, I won the grand prize at my office Christmas party. It included a fancy dinner for two, transportation to a show at the Wortham Center and a suite at a luxury hotel. I decided to invite a guy friend of mine to join me for the dinner and show portion of the evening. We'll call him Tom, since that's his name.
So Tom and I enjoyed a really nice dinner, a chauffeured towncar to the Wortham and a fun live performance. After the show, while waiting for our car to pick us up (that sounds so important, doesn't it?), we were chatting with some work acquaintances. The subject of my grand prize came up and they wanted to know what all was included in the package.
"Well," I said, "it included dinner at a very nice restaurant, transportation down here and I get a one-night stay in a suite at the hotel."
"A one-night-stand?!" one of the guys exclaimed. Then he winked knowingly at Tom, shook his hand and proclaimed "Congratulations, man! You go! All right...a one-night stand!"
Cue Laurie turning about ten shades of red and stammering out a protest, while Tom is laughing and shaking the guy's hand.
How do I get myself into these messes? Sigh.
So Tom and I enjoyed a really nice dinner, a chauffeured towncar to the Wortham and a fun live performance. After the show, while waiting for our car to pick us up (that sounds so important, doesn't it?), we were chatting with some work acquaintances. The subject of my grand prize came up and they wanted to know what all was included in the package.
"Well," I said, "it included dinner at a very nice restaurant, transportation down here and I get a one-night stay in a suite at the hotel."
"A one-night-stand?!" one of the guys exclaimed. Then he winked knowingly at Tom, shook his hand and proclaimed "Congratulations, man! You go! All right...a one-night stand!"
Cue Laurie turning about ten shades of red and stammering out a protest, while Tom is laughing and shaking the guy's hand.
How do I get myself into these messes? Sigh.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Another Day in the Life...
I finally have blog material again. Shall we commence? Ok.
Last Thursday I was working in the studio, minding my own business, doing my air shift. I finished a break and turned off my mic. Just then, two of my bosses walked into the studio and stared at me. I nervously asked if everything was ok. One boss said "I have something to tell you and it's going to give you a heart attack." The other boss snickered and said "I can't wait to see the look on her face when she hears this..."
Needless to say my heart started pounding a little faster.
Boss #1 then tells me that one of the cast members of an extremely popular radio program has been delayed because of the snowstorm in DC and his flight will not land in time for him to appear on stage at a live event here in Houston. His absence leaves a gaping hole in the event. The show must go on, but what to do without him? Then she says "we want you to go on in his place."
EXCUSE ME??
"Yes, we'd like for you to head over to the Wortham Center right now and start rehearsing with the rest of the cast. You will have a script to work from and you won't have to worry about memorizing anything, but you should head there now to get familiar with the material and the rest of the team."
So in a daze, I turned off my computer, handed over my air shift to someone else, went to the Wortham Center and calmly announced that I was Carl Kasell's understudy for the live taping of Wait Wait Don't Tell Me.
I spent the next two hours backstage, reading scripts, prepping for the show, joining the cast for dinner and preparing in my own dressing room.
About 15 minutes before show time, Carl Kasell walked in, hurriedly changed his tie and was briefed just in time to make it on the show. I never went on.
BUT, although it would have been a blast to do the show with a live audience, I was so relieved. I kept imagining walking out there to a sold-out audience with the knowledge that every person in the room was wishing I was an old white guy.
Last Thursday I was working in the studio, minding my own business, doing my air shift. I finished a break and turned off my mic. Just then, two of my bosses walked into the studio and stared at me. I nervously asked if everything was ok. One boss said "I have something to tell you and it's going to give you a heart attack." The other boss snickered and said "I can't wait to see the look on her face when she hears this..."
Needless to say my heart started pounding a little faster.
Boss #1 then tells me that one of the cast members of an extremely popular radio program has been delayed because of the snowstorm in DC and his flight will not land in time for him to appear on stage at a live event here in Houston. His absence leaves a gaping hole in the event. The show must go on, but what to do without him? Then she says "we want you to go on in his place."
EXCUSE ME??
"Yes, we'd like for you to head over to the Wortham Center right now and start rehearsing with the rest of the cast. You will have a script to work from and you won't have to worry about memorizing anything, but you should head there now to get familiar with the material and the rest of the team."
So in a daze, I turned off my computer, handed over my air shift to someone else, went to the Wortham Center and calmly announced that I was Carl Kasell's understudy for the live taping of Wait Wait Don't Tell Me.
I spent the next two hours backstage, reading scripts, prepping for the show, joining the cast for dinner and preparing in my own dressing room.
About 15 minutes before show time, Carl Kasell walked in, hurriedly changed his tie and was briefed just in time to make it on the show. I never went on.
BUT, although it would have been a blast to do the show with a live audience, I was so relieved. I kept imagining walking out there to a sold-out audience with the knowledge that every person in the room was wishing I was an old white guy.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Ooops! I did it again!
Sometimes technology works against us.
A couple of days ago I had plans to meet up with some girlfriends for dinner after work. The other girls went a bit early to catch happy hour and I planned to meet them a bit later. About half an hour before I got off work I sent a text message to one of the girls, asking her to order a Texas martini for me before happy hour ended. I never heard back from her and just assumed that she didn't hear her phone in the noisy restaurant.
The next morning I got a text from a friend of mine who is a missionary attending seminary.
He wanted to know why I had asked him to order a martini for me.
*Slaps hand to forehead AGAIN*
A couple of days ago I had plans to meet up with some girlfriends for dinner after work. The other girls went a bit early to catch happy hour and I planned to meet them a bit later. About half an hour before I got off work I sent a text message to one of the girls, asking her to order a Texas martini for me before happy hour ended. I never heard back from her and just assumed that she didn't hear her phone in the noisy restaurant.
The next morning I got a text from a friend of mine who is a missionary attending seminary.
He wanted to know why I had asked him to order a martini for me.
*Slaps hand to forehead AGAIN*
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Tele-Miscommunication
Sometimes technology works against us.
The other day I was searching through my call history on my phone, looking for a specific number. A few moments later I carried my phone (along with all my groceries) into the house. As I was putting my groceries away, my phone rang and I looked and saw the person calling me was a guy I used to be in a relationship with.
I answered the phone with that tone in my voice reserved for these situations...you know the one that says "hello, I may or may not be happy to hear from you but WHY are you calling me?!"
"Hey, is everything ok?" he asked.
"Yes, everything is fine. What's going on?" I replied.
"You just called me," he said.
"I didn't call you. You're calling me," I responded.
"No. You just called me and left a long message with nothing but silence. I was worried that something was wrong or that you might be in trouble. Are you ok?" the Ex said with confusion.
(This is where I slapped my hand to my forehead and realized what must have happened.)
"I'm sorry. I didn't intend to call you. I think I must have bumped something on my phone and called you without realizing it," I said, sheepishly.
"Oh. Ok. Well good because I was worried. Next time you call if you're in trouble, leave a message."
Tune in tomorrow for the next installment of Tele-Miscommunication...
The other day I was searching through my call history on my phone, looking for a specific number. A few moments later I carried my phone (along with all my groceries) into the house. As I was putting my groceries away, my phone rang and I looked and saw the person calling me was a guy I used to be in a relationship with.
I answered the phone with that tone in my voice reserved for these situations...you know the one that says "hello, I may or may not be happy to hear from you but WHY are you calling me?!"
"Hey, is everything ok?" he asked.
"Yes, everything is fine. What's going on?" I replied.
"You just called me," he said.
"I didn't call you. You're calling me," I responded.
"No. You just called me and left a long message with nothing but silence. I was worried that something was wrong or that you might be in trouble. Are you ok?" the Ex said with confusion.
(This is where I slapped my hand to my forehead and realized what must have happened.)
"I'm sorry. I didn't intend to call you. I think I must have bumped something on my phone and called you without realizing it," I said, sheepishly.
"Oh. Ok. Well good because I was worried. Next time you call if you're in trouble, leave a message."
Tune in tomorrow for the next installment of Tele-Miscommunication...
Thursday, January 28, 2010
To Dad
All in all it wasn't bad
All in all it wasn't good, but I still care
That's the problem with the days
They're never long enough to say
What it is you never said
All the books you never read
I throw myself into the wind
Hoping somebody might pick me up and carry me again
Where are you now? Do you let me down?
Do you make me grieve for you?
Do I make you proud?
Do you get me now?
Am I your pride and joy?
I believe this to be true
There's nothing sacred, nothing new
No one tells you when it's time
There are no warnings, only signs
And you know that you're alone
You're not a child anymore, but you're still scared
All your mountains turn to rocks
All your oceans turn to drops
They are nothing like you thought
You can't be something you are not
Life is not a looking glass
Don't get tangled in your past, like I am learning not to
Where are you now? Do you let me down?
Do you make me grieve for you?
Do I make you proud?
Do you get me now?
Am I your pride and joy?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1g7PrM8GOhQ
All in all it wasn't good, but I still care
That's the problem with the days
They're never long enough to say
What it is you never said
All the books you never read
I throw myself into the wind
Hoping somebody might pick me up and carry me again
Where are you now? Do you let me down?
Do you make me grieve for you?
Do I make you proud?
Do you get me now?
Am I your pride and joy?
I believe this to be true
There's nothing sacred, nothing new
No one tells you when it's time
There are no warnings, only signs
And you know that you're alone
You're not a child anymore, but you're still scared
All your mountains turn to rocks
All your oceans turn to drops
They are nothing like you thought
You can't be something you are not
Life is not a looking glass
Don't get tangled in your past, like I am learning not to
Where are you now? Do you let me down?
Do you make me grieve for you?
Do I make you proud?
Do you get me now?
Am I your pride and joy?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1g7PrM8GOhQ
Monday, January 25, 2010
TMI
My coworkers were just having a conversation about our aging relatives. My grampa recently was ill, but is now recovering. One of my coworkers shared that his grandmother's health has greatly improved, but her mind has slipped. Now she has a habit of sharing a little too openly about her past.
One day the family was together and gramma (who was 83 at the time) started talking about some of her boyfriends from when she was young. She concluded her story with a big sigh and said "I miss having sexual relations."
GRAMMA!
One day the family was together and gramma (who was 83 at the time) started talking about some of her boyfriends from when she was young. She concluded her story with a big sigh and said "I miss having sexual relations."
GRAMMA!
Friday, January 22, 2010
What's in a name?
I've been thinking about changing my on-air name. It would be nice to have a little more anonymity when in public and not have to worry about protecting my identity. I was thinking of something hyphenated...that way my radio listeners will just think it's my married name and it won't be too confusing for people.
What do y'all think of Laurie Anderson-Mabie Warner...? Too wordy?
What do y'all think of Laurie Anderson-Mabie Warner...? Too wordy?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Do I KNOW you??!
I've been pretty stressed lately and decided I needed a day of self-nurturing on Monday. I spent the day doing things that make me happy and spending time with people who encourage me. I decided the perfect wrap-up to the day would be a massage.
I made an appointment at a location I hadn't been to before and looked forward to a relaxing and soothing experience.
I got there, checked in, met the massage therapist and settled in. She asked me a few questions about where I was tense and what my trouble spots were. She then asked me if I ever grind my teeth. "No, I don't think so," I said. "Do you clench your jaw?" she asked. "Oh, yes. Yes, sometimes I do clench my jaw when I'm concentrating," I replied. "Ok, I'm going to give you a small facial massage and work on your jaw if that's ok." "Yes, that's fine."
There I am, on the table, breathing in the aromatherapy lavender scents, eyes closed, waiting for her to work her magic. "Open your mouth and relax your jaw," she says. I obey.
And she promptly shoves her finger in my mouth and pushes hard into the joint where my lower and upper jaws connect! "How does that feel?" she murmurs. Ummm....awkward and uncomfortable, I'm thinking. Out loud "uhhh...iss ok I guessh...ish difficult to shay how thish feels," I slur, talking around the probing digit.
I don't think I'll try that again.
I made an appointment at a location I hadn't been to before and looked forward to a relaxing and soothing experience.
I got there, checked in, met the massage therapist and settled in. She asked me a few questions about where I was tense and what my trouble spots were. She then asked me if I ever grind my teeth. "No, I don't think so," I said. "Do you clench your jaw?" she asked. "Oh, yes. Yes, sometimes I do clench my jaw when I'm concentrating," I replied. "Ok, I'm going to give you a small facial massage and work on your jaw if that's ok." "Yes, that's fine."
There I am, on the table, breathing in the aromatherapy lavender scents, eyes closed, waiting for her to work her magic. "Open your mouth and relax your jaw," she says. I obey.
And she promptly shoves her finger in my mouth and pushes hard into the joint where my lower and upper jaws connect! "How does that feel?" she murmurs. Ummm....awkward and uncomfortable, I'm thinking. Out loud "uhhh...iss ok I guessh...ish difficult to shay how thish feels," I slur, talking around the probing digit.
I don't think I'll try that again.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Warning
This post may not be suitable for all audiences. Namely, guys. Well, actually I'm pretty sure you guys can handle it...but I wanted to put the disclaimer out there just to cover my...ahem...bases.
Chalk this up under the heading of Things You Do NOT Want to Hear When Meeting Your New Gynecologist: "Ok, regarding sexual activity...let me just look over your paperwork here...oh wait...are you THE Laurie Johnson?! I listen to you every day!"
Let's just say there are some places where I prefer NOT to be recognized.
Chalk this up under the heading of Things You Do NOT Want to Hear When Meeting Your New Gynecologist: "Ok, regarding sexual activity...let me just look over your paperwork here...oh wait...are you THE Laurie Johnson?! I listen to you every day!"
Let's just say there are some places where I prefer NOT to be recognized.
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