the sloppy copy

As I typed this, I realize that I dated everything I did at work today 10/19. Eh. Oops.

Aaaanyway: Today’s sotd is a dreamy and hopeful little tune that’s fun to sing, so I’ve included the lyrics below:

“Our Day Will Come” / Ruby and the Romantics (1963)
Our day will come
And we’ll have everything.
We’ll share the joy
Falling in love can bring.

No one can tell me
That I’m too young to know (young to know)
I love you so (love you so)
And you love me.

Our day will come
If we just wait a while.
No tears for us –
Think love and wear a smile.

Our dreams have magic
Because we’ll always stay
In love this way
Our day will come.
(Our day will come; our day will come.)

Our dreams have magic
Because we’ll always stay
In love this way.
Our day will come.
Our day will come….

Dear Brother,
I just wanted to finally forgive you for, well, being born.
Wait! Come back! Let me explain!
See, I had it pretty good when I was a kid. I was the very proud owner of a red plastic suitcase filled with Legos. In fact, my suitcase o’ Legos was THE go-to toy when people (not just children!) came over to the house. Aunts, uncles, family friends, cousins… I built (built! get it? haha! I am clever!) many fond memories around those Legos. Primo bonding time occurred when I would innocently bring a hunk of Legos to an adult and sweetly ask him to take it apart for me (why did everything always get stuck on that damn flat green piece?). And don’t get me started on the Lego people. Oh, how I loved playing with the Lego people.
And then came you. Somewhere between your birth and your second birthday, the suitcase disappeared. By that point, I was distracted from my Lego phase (you yourself were a pretty fascinating, albeit loud, addition to the household), but I clearly remember the day when I went to the cabinet in the laundry room looking for that damn suitcase only to be told by Mom that she “got rid of them” because “your brother might choke on them.”
You might choke? Like hell I’d let you get THAT close to them!
Oh, it was on.
While my resentment did not, actually, last for long (though I admit it has since been unearthed numerous times for dramatic effect) I thought that it might be nice to formally forgive you. You probably never even saw the Legos, had no idea they existed…
…or did you, you little fucker? Did you try to play with them behind my back and almost choke? Is THAT what the old woman was talking about? Huh?
…making my ill will ill-placed.
So for that: I’m sorry, baby brother.



But for the record, the Cabbage Patch Doll incident is still fresh in my mind.



Yours truly,
Julie

When I checked my phone this morning, I had a missed call from a phone number that was exactly my number, but with the area code of a neighboring state. I can only imagine what lead up to this:

Drunk guy* in a bar #1 (Let’s call him Kevin): Dude, are you drunk texting Krista? That’s hiiiiiiilarious!
Drunk guy in a bar #2 (Let’s call him Scott): No! This is hilarious! I just sent her a sentence, one word at a time! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Oooh! Jager bombs!
Kevin: Fuck yes, bra! Oh, you know what would be even funnier than drunk texting?
Scott: What? There’s something more fun than drunk texting? [slams back a Jager bomb] Wooooo!
Kevin: [slams his Jager bomb] Aaaaahhhh! No, seriously, you should call YOUR cell phone number, but use another area code and see who picks up!
Scott: Fucking christ that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard in my fucking life! You are THE MAN, bro! [dials number]
Kevin: Is it ringing? Is it ringing?
Scott: Ssssshhhhhh, fuckwad!
[Julie’s voicemail picks up, because Julie turns her ringer off at night so Julie is not disturbed by fuckwads like Kevin or Scott]
Scott: Shit! It’s voicemail! Do I leave a message? Do I? Do I?
Kevin: Ahhhhhh! No! Hang up! Hang up!
Scott: Okay! [snaps phone closed] Fuck yeah! That was awesome! Your turn!
Kevin: Okay! Ooooh, look, more Jager bombs!

Fin

*It’s a guy. It’s always a guy.

This e-mail from my brother was waiting for me when I checked my inbox just now:
Also, I think I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) is that happiest song I can think of at 4:05 in the morning.

Yup, that was the entire e-mail.

Today’s sotd is dedicated to insomniacs (or just college kids) everwhere:
“I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” / The Proclaimers (1988)
Tangent: I am a sucker for Scottish and Irish accents. Mmmmmm.

Not sure where this one came from, but heeeeereyago:
“Poison” / Bell Biv Devoe (1990)

Love, love, love it on it’s own… This, however, takes the cake.

Today’s SOTD surfaced from a deep fold in my brain today (or maybe yesterday?), and I haven’t been able to get the first few lines out of my head since.

“All For You” / Janet Jackson (2001)

Enjoy!

(originally written 11.15.09)
I was tired this morning. Real tired. I worked late last night, came home, popped two Advil PMs to settle my achy legs (why is it that just standing and walking for six hours is more tiresome than, say, running? I should have paid more attention in physiology), and proceeded to watch TV with my eyes closed. When I woke up this morning at 8:30 still exhausted, I remembered that I usually only take one Advil PM and thus, I still felt like I my brain was wading through pudding.

Anyway, fast-forward to about 11:30, and I’m still dead on my feet. PJs still on, I crawl back into bed and turn on the television. Football, football, Degrassi, quilting show, football, and… then… I stumbled onto this.

Go ahead, click on the link. I’ll be here.












So? What did you think?
Yeah, that’s what I thought. I was sucked in, too.

I’d not heard of Rogue Wave before watching this, and have not been converted into an avid fan since, but as I became enveloped in their story I became aware of other things – things completely unrelated to D-Tour, but still somehow neurally entangled in my brain.

Many, many years ago, I envisioned a documentary about a nearby town and its struggle to keep open a profitable factory. This town won that particular war, only to lose a bigger one later. The story unfolded so gracefully before me that I couldn’t imagine not documenting it. But I was “just” a high school student with a “lack” of resources, and the idea eventually faded away.

Until yesterday, when it popped up again in my conscious mind.

I first heard this song in Bon Voyage, Charlie Brown (and subsequently always mashed it up with “It’s Been a Long, Long Time,” as it’s heard in the movie).

Ahem. Anyway, here’s today’s SOTD:
“Sentimental Journey” / Doris Day

And, for those in need of full context…
A clip from one of my favoritest movies everrrr

Dear Michael Ian Black,
Just wanted to say thanks, bud, for writing such a stellar work of nonsense punctuated by ingenious bursts of inanity, topped by a heaping helping of oh-holy-shit-my-sides-hurt-from-laughing-so-hard-no-really-I-can’t-breathe-I-think-I’m-dying-please-call-9-1–…

I bought this book used, for about what it cost to print it, so I know you probably made no money off of my purchase, but don’t mistake my cheapness for a lack of enthusiasm for your written word.

In fact, I purchased the book in September, and finished reading it about a week later. I’m just now getting around to writing a review because it [the book, not the month of September, though it had its share of highlights as well] was just so flippin’ fantastic that my brain experienced multiple Literary Orgasms [the attending physician in the ER called it brain damage caused by prolonged use of PCP — details, details!] and am just now recovering! [at a top-tier neurological rehabilitation facility].

My point is, when I wasn’t tweaked out on sherm, I found your work to be just exceptional. And inspirational! When I’m released from prison [I should be transferred from the rehab hospital in about 4-6 weeks] [and also, that playground I plowed into with my car while flying high on angel dust was NOT THERE the day before, Isweartogod!] I plan to get me a van, customized to your exact specifications [even the fudge drawer!] and park in the CostCo parking lot [they tell me my license has been revoked] and just wait for the hotties to roll my way.

Thanks in advance for helping me to score some intense back-seat lovemaking.

yours truly,
julie

p.s. You don’t know a place near Rochester where one could purchase a little supergrass, do you? Just kidding, just kidding. But no. Really. Anywhere?

“It’s my birthday next Tuesday,” Dad said last week.
“No it’s not,” said my Mom – indignant and confused.
“The Marine Corps birthday! November 10, 1775!” he explained.

And she knew, and I knew, that Tuesday would be his birthday. Because the day that one joins the armed forces – isn’t that the day you start over, become someone else – someone new?

Happy Birthday, United States Marine Corps.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

From the Halls of Montezuma
To the Shores of Tripoli;
We fight our country’s battles
In the air, on land and sea;
First to fight for right and freedom
And to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title
of United States Marine.

Our flag’s unfurled to every breeze
From dawn to setting sun;
We have fought in ev’ry clime and place
Where we could take a gun;
In the snow of far-off Northern lands
And in sunny tropic scenes;
You will find us always on the job–
The United States Marines.
Here’s health to you and to our Corps
Which we are proud to serve
In many a strife we’ve fought for life
And never lost our nerve;
If the Army and the Navy
Ever look on Heaven’s scenes;
They will find the streets are guarded
By United States Marines.