New Jam I'm Currently Digging

Death Cab For Cutie "I Will Possess Your Heart"

I've heard this jam on the radio several times, and for some reason I'm digging it. It's a combination of the lyrics and trendy haunting melody. Borderline too indie, but I like. I actually went out and bought the entire cd because of this song, and the album isn't all like this one, but overall I think it's a pretty good album.

Three Purchases Made Today Of Things I Don't Need With Money I Don't Have.

Not So Yum-O

I found this article last month, and have been meaning to blog about it's ridiculousness for a while. The gist of the story is that some conservative right-wingers had beef with Rachael Ray's new Dunkin' Donuts commercial. Not because Republicans don't allow themselves simple joys like donuts or even that Rachael's voice distracts them from their work of sucking souls, but because of what she is wearing. Apparently Republican's have become the fashion police, the global fashion police. Surprise surprise, something else for them to have their panties in a bunch about. According to the MSNBC article, right wing people with some pull claimed that Rachael is wearing what appeared to be a kaffiyeh, which is an Arab head wrap. This of course confuses the general American audience, and tricks them into believing that supporting religious radicals and terrorists is a good thing, and now can't make the difference between a greasy donut-pushing television host and a Muslim extremist.

To me, (and probably anyone else with a rational bone in their body) the scarf looks like a hip fashion trend. I actually like the look, and wouldn't mind having one like it. In fact, Kanye West is even wearing one in his new video with Chris Martin. Oh wait, he already is the enemy of the Bush regime. What's worse, instead of Dunkin' Donuts' advertising team standing up to these goons and defending this ridiculous claim, they pulled the ad! Whatever Dunkin' Donuts, whatever.

What prompted me to finally get around to writing about this article was a conversation I had with a woman who I met at a wedding this weekend. This woman works for an advertising agency which handles some of Rachael Ray's products, which means this woman has met and worked with Rachael herself. I was a little bit surprised to hear her tell me that in real life, behind the camera and the overly kitschy Catskill Mountains charm, Rachael is "a total bitch". According to my conversation, she's a chain-smoker who won't leave Manhattan. I personally enjoy this little bit of information about Rachael. She seems a little too cute and campy on her shows (and her talk show is a disaster), so the smoking and bad attitude give her a bit of cred in my opinion. Terrorist sympathizer or not, any chain-smoking, trash-talking, beer-swilling mountain girl is my type of TV Chef.

Daddy-o!

In honor of Fathers Day, I present to you my father circa 1971. My dad and I have a healthy, but strange father-son relationship which includes small talk usually over several beers. Many people say that I get my temperament (not to mention charming good looks!) from my father. The man has the patience of a saint, but let things build up a little too much, and one small thing will send him (or anyone in his path) overboard. I consider myself to be pretty much the same way.

As I get older, I am also beginning to realize that I not only inherited his temperament, but also tinges of his anal-retentiveness and need for things to be organized. Not just tidied up in a pile, but turbo-organized. Now, in my defense, I'm not nearly as filed and labeled as my father (yet), but I'm close. The first time he came to my apartment and saw that my dress shirts were organized in my closet by color he was beaming with pride. Keep in mind that this is also the an who has every bank statement and canceled check from the past 20 years. While helping me move a huge recliner that my parents have given to me which was bought several years before I was born, I joked about him still hanging on the sales receipt for the thing. Sure enough, upon return home, he sorted through some file folders, found one labeled "1980" and there was the damned receipt. So why do my forks have to be facing the same direction, or my belts rolled and stacked in the drawer? My Pops.

So here's to you Daddy-o, and all fathers. Happy Fathers Day!

FOUND:

beside the parking lot of my apartment building today at 4:01 pm:

Open Letter To WalMart And All Applicable Companies, Associates and Customer

Dear WalMart,

You have me right where you want me, and I applaud your marketing skills and ploys that got me there. However, a few things need to be brought to your attention. First may I recommend a fresher produce section, as I discovered the green pepper I purchased today was mush at the bottom. Normally I would check for such things, but a busy mother of four was hustling me out of the vegetable aisle, so I grabbed and ran. Also a routine maintenance check on shopping carts might be in order, since for the past several times, my cart had at least one wheel that simply would not turn.

As for your greeting card section, it became apparent to me this evening that unless you are a child of 6 years or less, a daughter or married, finding an appropriate Father's Day card is near impossible. I did end up purchasing a card for my father at your store which had a reasonable sentiment, however it was laden with scripture, which goes completely against my better judgment. I'm quite sure this is part of an elaborate religious right scheme by your company which has yet to be uncovered. Further more, I felt the need to explain my selection to the check-out associate as he looked over my card by saying "It's the only one I could find." I'd prefer if next time he didn't read my purchases.

While on the topic of checking out. Perhaps a more rigorous enforcement of the "20 items or less" policy could be considered. The pair of less than savory women in two-size-too-small denim short shorts bought well over their fair 20 items in skimpy swim suits and black "Peace Love and Elmo" tank tops (side bar: you may consider pulling those from the shelves completely) while shamelessly flirting with the aforementioned sales associate held the line for much longer than necessary. Which not only annoyed me, but also the young father and two screaming toddler girls behind me, who in turn annoyed me even further.

And to the Tropicana company, please restock the organic apple and pear juice. It is my favorite, and I get very angry at WalMart for not carrying it.

Also, WalMart, your brand new "McCafe" isn't fooling anyone. It's clearly a McDonald's with a better decor and a coffee machine that congests the entrance to your store.

I do hope you take my suggestions into consideration, as you will undoubtedly suck me back into your low priced web again.

Oh, and I saw a mother and her son in the cereal aisle eat all the chicken fingers they just picked up from the deli and threw the container away without paying.

Update

What have I been up to as of late you ask? Well, not a whole lot, but here's a week-in review submitted for your reading pleasure.

• The Dave Matthew's concert was a smashing success, I think. I'm ashamed to say that I paid absolutely no attention to the performance, but had a great time anyway. The traditional tailgating ritual turned into a frat party about a half an hour into it when it was decided that "shotgunning" beers was in order. That was the downfall of the entire night as I see it. But it was complete with gourmet burgers, peeing in the woods and a visit from some random pot-smoking stranger-friends sporting "Dee's Nuts" tee-shirts. Fast-forward about 4 hours to the concert which included $8 beers, a lost pair of shoes and a French-speaking friend and I running through the crowd jumping over people and yelling "It's O.K.! We Speak French."
• I'm preparing myself for a golf outing for work this coming weekend. My foursome includes myself and 3 middle aged women. All of whom play little to no golf. I've been out golfing maybe three times before, none of which would I ever consider elevated my playing ability. Stay tuned for the embarrassing update and pictures.
• I've been on the hunt for a new place to live with no luck in sight. My current living situation is alright, however I'm growing very tired of living under and over someone. Buying is not an option a) because I have no desire for the financial and physical responsibilities b) I am in absolutely no position to cough up any amount of house-buying cash. My search by word of mouth and online has made me feel frustrated and inadequate on a number of levels and am starting to resign myself to signing over another lease for my apartment, at least for one more year.
• I was told today by a 14 year old that I certainly wasn't the type of person to party or have fun and probably find myself sipping tea instead of "really partying". Actually, I think the term "with your pinky up" was included also. I simply agreed in modest humility and neglected to tell the youngster that I had a hard time remembering my name the previous weekend.
• Yesterday evening, in search for something "Mmm Mmm Mmm Toasty" and over priced, I dropped by Quizno's for dinner. When I asked the kid making my sandwich for the "Turkey Bacon Guacamole" sandwich, his only reply was "Gross", and made my meal in silence. Ok, thanks Quizno's kid, my guamalee was, in fact, quite delicious.
• Along with my housing search, I've also been looking (although with an obvious lack of enthusiasm) for graduate programs to obtain a Master's degree. My specifications are a bit specific, as I want/need an intensive summer program, however, the idea of it all stresses me out to the extent that every time I begin to do some research I have to take a permanent break.
• Over the weekend I watched the entire first season of "Big Love" which I really do love. I'm not sure if it's the creepy/well-written story line or the fact that you're guaranteed a graphic sex-scene in every episode, but I'm definitely a fan of the series.