Thursday, January 25, 2007

Partly scattered babble, clearing toward morning

Here are the answers for the word quiz thingie from the other day:
  • Bart's advice to chill out: Don't have a cow, man
  • Symbol of Hinduism: Sacred cow
  • A long time: Until the cows come home
  • A money-making endeavor: Cash cow

The next word quiz has "saint" or "St." in each answer:

  • An herb that makes you feel good (no, the other one)
  • An orange Monopoly property
  • Two of the three U.S. Virgin Islands
  • A 1980s TV medical drama


I'm feeling scattered this morning, so I'm going to follow up on a couple of past entries to fool myself into thinking I'm all organized and clear-headed and smart. First, Daniel seems to be coping well with the little red-haired girl's rejection of him. He's stopped moping around and dragging his feet, as though the "Volga Boatmen" song was his own personal soundtrack. His dad bought him an iPod as an early birthday present, and a new electronic gadget takes the sting out of quite a few heartbreaks, especially for 17-year-old boys. I suspect he's still harboring a crush for her, but crushes don't go away overnight.

Second, thank you for your understanding comments about my mom. As a few of you pointed out, laughing my irritation off is probably my best option, and usually, I do that fairly well. My sense of humor seems to fly out the window when my mom's around, though. Why is that? I know I'm not the only one with this problem, and I don't think it's confined to daughters, although it might be more common than in sons. I've known friends who are smart, funny, well-adjusted, and capable, yet are reduced to humorless masses of insecurity and self-doubt after one encounter with their mothers. If there's a school where moms learn to wield that power, I missed the enrollment deadline--because of procrastinating, as my mom would be quick to point out.

Third, uh . . . is there a third? I can't think of anything. Well, if I left a question (or participle) dangling, nudge me.


AI blather: Tuesday's auditions in Memphis were blessedly less full of The Crazy, although my retinas were still seared by images of unfettered breasts. If that's going to be a theme this season, I'm not strong enough to handle it. A woman named Janita strode into the auditorium with her boobs threatening to escape the tenuous hold of her halter dress and described herself as "innocent and conservative." Clearly, self-awareness has gone out of fashion these days. She also claimed that her attention to fashion details helped boost her "confidentiality." Oy. I swear these contestants say things like that just to cause me pain.

However, I was impressed by a guy with the improbable and vaguely porn-star-like name Sundance Head. Odd Amish beard, but a clear, strong, bluesy voice. I liked Melissa the backup singer, too--gorgeous voice but not much confidence in her talent, or maybe she just has a degree of humility not found in most AI hopefuls. Most surprising was Sean, who looked like a cross between Castro as a young man and a scruffy Jesus dressed in fatigues. Immediately, I thought "Oh, crap, another deluded crazy person." He sang Johnny Cash's "God Is Gonna Cut You Down," an interesting choice (and, much to my relief, not a Christina Aguilera song), and did a decent job. I bet he got a thumbs-up from the Man in Black. If he makes it to the final 10, I'll be curious to see what kind of makeover the AI stylists give him.

Funniest line of the night: When Simon asked Robert "I'm the Next Elvis" Holmes, who also said he's writing a story about his life, how he saw his story ending, he said "With a period." Bwah!