jubyred

Ashamed to Admit...

...that starting at 7:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, I am without children for ten days. And how do I spend that time?

As I heard them pulling out of the driveway and the garage door was closing, I proceeded to watch a Biography on Rick Springfield and then, immediately following it, the Biography on Weird Al Yancovich. 

Jools Holland

I don't have much time for TV these days.  By the time I get home and get through the mad rush with the kids and the 30 minute catch up on one another, I don't have the patience to flip through 20 reality shows to find the one that's least offensive (or, in the case of Rock of Love, most offensive).  I keep thinking maybe we'll get HBO or Showtime just to have something to watch, but then when would I watch it?  I am never awake past 11pm and am adamant about not having a TV in our bedroom, so I guess I'm just not a committed television viewer. 

But a few months ago, we discovered this musical gem on Fuse. I keep asking my friends who are into music if they're watching this, but no one seem to know about it.  But this has become our nightly ritual.  It comes on during the day, so we record it and watch it after the kids are down.

Hosted by Jools Holland, it features a diverse range of musicians, usually 4 or 5, who all play once or twice.  There may be a quick chat with on of them, but otherwise, it's just them playing. 

Below are some of my favorite performances that we've seen recently:

Watch this to the end.  Love the drummers.

Cat Power.  God, that voice.

 

Muse.  They do the formula so well.

High and Dry

Jamaroquai

 

Ben Folds Five.  They have a place in my heart because they used to play in Atlanta constantly. 

 

James Morrison.  God, I looove this song.

Arcade Fire.  How many people are in this band anyway?  The weirdness seems a bit forced to me, but I do love this song.

The Grammys

My thoughts after watching the Grammy Awards over the course of a week (Thank you, TiVo):

1. Alicia Keys is amazing and I love her.  Gorgeous and graceful. 

2. Kanye, really Dude, lighten up. I loved the Daft Punk sampling but then I felt like the Mama thing was a moment he should have had in his own house.  Alone.  And his acceptance speech...ok, we get it already.

3. Taylor Hawkins can play my drums anytime.  I wanted the dynamics to be more severe in the song.  And I wanted Dave Grohl to spit. out. the. gum.  Has Britney taught us nothing?

4. Everything Jason Bateman says is hilarious.  Huge crush on him.

5. Why didn't John Legend sing?  Why was he accompanying Fergie.  Blech.  I was watching the Target commercials that kept coming on during the show with him singing Slow Dance and wondering...is he ever NOT getting laid?

6. Amy Winehouse on drugs?  Nah.  She could pull it off while she was singing like she's uh, improvising.  But when it came time for the acceptance speech, every word was like a beat behind.  I'm guessing blow isn't her DOC.

7. Ringo Starr always just seems like he's milking it. 

8. Josh Groban's pants were embarrassing.  When the blind guy dresses better than you, time for another mirror check.

9. Aretha, for all that is holy, please wear some sleeves. 

Andy Rooney

Sunday night, I'm up and down the stairs trying to get everything together for the week, signing homework, getting an overview of the week's schedule, and paying out BoyChild's allowance. The kids have been promised a bath in Mommy's tub and while Daddy is monitoring the bubbles, I am getting fridge water (somehow tap water has become a serious drag to my kids), locating the princess footie jammies, organizing the stuffed animals in the beds, finding Stanley and Otis and Madeline, and preparing to clean ears and clip little fingernails and floss little teeth.

As is starts to wind down and Drew and I finally make it downstairs, we catch the last 10 minutes of 60 minutes.  The Andy Rooney segment.  Did anyone else see this? I don't catch it often, but every time I do, I ask Drew the same question... "Why is he still on TV?" 

Last night's segment was "Andy goes to the Superbowl."  In case you missed it, imagine a montage of Andy Rooney bitching about, oh everything, on his way there, while he was there, and afterwards.  And some poor sap had to go with him and film it.

So we were trying to imagine how that conversation goes...

-Ok, Frank, this year it's your turn to take Andy to the Superbowl.

-No way, man,  I did it two years ago.

-Well, after the bad scene with Jim last year, you're the only one we've got.  We need someone to follow him around and film him.

-Ok, but I am not getting in that car with him. 

-Yeah, actually you are and he's driving.  You should be able to get some great footage of him getting lost and bitching about parking.  Priceless footage, really.  Vintage Andy. Don't worry, when we edit it all together, it's going to be really great.

God, they were so wrong. 

Long Way Round

A year ago or so, I was obsessed with this show. 

In case you didn't catch it (which was probably the case since it aired on Bravo or A&E or some channel like that), the basic premise was that cutie pie Ewan McGregor (yummy) and his adorable friend whom you've never heard of, Charley Boorman, get this idea to ride their motorcycles around the world.  They begin in London and go west through Russia, Mongoloia, Asia, all the way around to NYC months later.  And they document the entire adventure.

In addition to the fact that they're both hilarious and smart and funny and sexy, the show itself is remarkable in its documentation of their friendship and the logistical and mental struggle to accomplish what they've set out to do among very primative cultures.  Plus, you get to see their butts in one episode.

The good news is that they are now about to release their latest adventure-Long Way Down, which documents a similar trek except this time, they go south and end up in South Africa.  I can't wait to see it. 

Ashamed to Admit

...that I have a slight crush on Shane from the Upside Down Show.  Oh, how I love that show.

A few months ago, I was getting my hair cut.  This event never has as much to do with my hair as it has to do with

1. The hairwash/headrub

and

2. Getting through as many fashion/gossip magazines as I can in the allotted time

So, I was sitting there, reading Details, because it is fascinating to me to see how men are marketed to.  Each one starts with a 4 page ad spread with the prettiest boys I've ever seen then progresses to the end with the spread featuring men's fashion and lots of young girls with bedhead and moist mouths gazing upon them.   But it's really about the suit, right?

Anyway, stuck somewhere in the middle between the gay and the straight was an article on being a new Dad.  Kind of a guidebook to the adventure for those who found themselves in that situation.  It was organized into sections like Fashion (do not dress like Matt Lauer) and Money (college will cost $8 million by the time your little tyke is ready for his SATs).  And then there was a little paragraph about Mommy which caught my eye.

In a very sweet way, the writer explained how new Mommies are often quite moody and borderline insane.  He wrote that New Daddy must imagine that a little alien just grew inside your body and forced its way out.  Mommy feels about as disgusting as she can feel and the last thing she needs is Daddy grabbing at her lactating breasts.  He explained that those sorts of gestures will not turn her on.  And then he summed up the roller coaster of hormones and post-baby sexuality like this--Imagine spending all day nursing an infant, having gotten a total of four hours sleep in the past six days.  You haven't showered, you haven't eaten, and you haven't had any adult conversation.  Your sexuality comes down to determining, if you were stuck on an island with The Wiggles, which one you'd fuck.  And it's gotten so desperate that the Blue Wiggle doesn't look half bad.

I think this is why I love Shane so much.  After years of enduring both Joe and Steve (who looks like this now)..

...It's nice to have an option that doesn't seem a.) perverted or b.) completely asexual.

I could envision Shane just hanging out with a beer.  Watching a little footie.   He likes girls.  His own age. He doesn't wear clothing in primary colors.  I'm guessing he's into Radiohead.

Ashamed to admit...

...that this clip made me a little weepy.

Who's Cryin Now?

I spent most of Saturday and Sunday in some sort of weird funk.  Didn't feel like doing anything but then felt guilty about not doing anything.  I must say, I hate this part of adulthood.  I'm not sure when it happened to me.  It kind of snuck up on me, I guess. 

Maybe we had children and never stopped moving and now that we can at least slow down, I've forgotten how.  Yes, maybe that's it.  that's kind of what it feels like.  As though I must learn how to do nothing again.

We did spend the better part of the weekend watching TV, which feels so decadent and selfish and pointless to me.  It was kind of nice.  The kids actually sat with me and watched a good hour and a half of the Live Earth concert.  Highlights included The Foo Fighters (I luv me some Dave Grohl), Smashing Pumpkins, & Joss Stone. BoyChild loved the Roger Waters stuff and the Chilipeppers.  GirlChild was into Lenny Kravitz and Alicia Keys. 

In addition, we spent a bunch of time watching the Tour de France.  For the past ten years, Drew has been a dedicated viewer.  For, oh, seven of those, I've basically, spent time in another room when it was on or sat on the couch and read a book or something, but it's pretty addictive.  I mean, there's really nothing like it.  I love the announcers.  Love them. And I love the whole mental aspect of it.  It's so much about spirit and digging deep.  I'm a total sucker for that.   

But a lot of my weekend was spent trying to figure out what to do next.  Drew said, "Go take a nap."

I tried, but couldn't sleep.  I couldn't figure out what I wanted to eat.  He said, 'What do you want?  I'll fix you something."  I didn't really know.

He said, "Let's go somewhere.  Let's go see a movie."  But no, that wasn't it either.  For a moment, I thought maybe we should go look at houses.  After all, that's how we used to spend our weekends. 

Instead, I kind of followed him around and sighed heavily like some sad puppy dog.

Then a little light bulb went off in his head.  He said he had something to make me happy.  He turned on the TV and found the following video that he had recorded for me the night before:

And it worked. Happy happy happy.  I needed that little slice of blue sparkle jumpsuit right then and he just knew it.

Inspired,  I then made him get his guitar and play a bunch of Journey songs while I sang along for the kids for the next two hours while they banged on drums and shook tambourines. Thank God we don't have that on video.  Although I'm sure we rocked, it's probably best not to chance it.

There's nothing like belting out a little "Lovin Touchin Squeezin" to make you lose the rainy afternoon blues.

A Captive Audience

How remiss of me not to mention Lost last week.  Kate and Sawyer.  In the cage.  Holding onto the bars.  Uh, hell yes. Sawyer kicks Jack's ass.  That's all I'm saying.

On that note, I see that some people have a bit too much time on their hands.  But, being the dork that I am, I think  may have to check out some of these stories.  Such a sucker.  Check out the music video.    Too bad it only runs though Episode 8.

American Idol

So everyone is all abuzz over American Idol last night.  Me, I chose the 2 hour season finale of Lost instead.  (So, Henry Gale is the new Kaiser Soze, huh??)  I admit, I started watching American Idol, but then, it just became too painful.  Once the guys came out for the ensemble number of "Takin' Care of Business" all dressed in black complete with choreography, it touched a nerve deep in me that I'd soon forget was there.  I was so painfully embarassed for all of them, that I had to turn it off.  Had to avert my eyes.

You see, I was that person.  In high school, I had amassed so many performances that I was inducted into the National Thespian Society as a "Master Thespian."  I have the ID card to prove it should I ever attend any of the meetings.  My senior year of high school, I had 4 performing electives out of 6 classes.  My credits were kind of screwed up from moving so much, so it turned out I had completed my prereqs already.  So, my schedule looked like this:

1. Mixed Choir
2. Camarata (singing class of 6 girls)
3. Show Choir
4. Theatre
5. AP English
6. Chemistry

Now, in case you aren't familiar with the social heirerarchy in high school, we ranked well below the jocks and even the stoners.  Only the band geeks were below us.  It's no wonder I had no friends.  Maybe it was the fact that I had to dance on stage wearing a gold lame bow tie and tap shoes.  The cane and hat probably didn't help matters much.  Then there was the fog machine.  To this day, a fog machine makes me feel like I might vomit.  I have paid my dues with the fog machine.  Vivid memories of West Side Story, singing "Somewhere," and choking on the fake fog.

So, yes, watching the foot-tapping, fake cameraderie among the American Idol contestants as they did their little medley of awful songs was just too much.  It's that "I'm-really-into-this" face that sends me over the edge.  Like they are REALLY believeing that they ARE "Takin' Care of Business."  Meanwhile, I see all the strings being pulled.  I see them in their rehearsal clothes with the choreographer telling Bucky to play some air guitar like he's feeling it during that second measure of the song.  Yeah!  Great idea!  That will be sooo cool!

And then the girls hit the stage with wonderhits like, "It's Raining Men" or whatever in the hell they sang.  Honestly, choral medleys shoudl be outlawed.  Maybe my calling is to move forward with some sort of Medley Boycott.