For the next five SOTDs (through 04.13, that is), I’m going to highlight my Current Favorite Songs (note: these are not my All-Time Favorite Songs, which do not change. This is just what I’m listening to and loving right now).
More than just a loser:
“Guess I’m Doing Fine” / Beck (2002)
So now my window opens, which is nice, except I couldn’t really get it to close all the way last night so I slept with it open, which was nice, except the tree that grows outside of the window gives off some sort of something that gives me a wicked sinus headache, which is not so nice, so I took some Benadryl, which I think is supposed to help, except I can’t remember if Benadryl makes me sleepy or wired, and I know what you’re thinking: you’re thinking “Julie, this entire post has been one long sentence, how can you think that you might be sleepy?” but to that I say: “Actually, I’m a little wired because I just drank a cup of coffee, thankyouverymuch,” and that’s nice, I guess, except I worry that by the time I go into work tonight at 5:00 I’ll be either hopping off of the walls or asleep on my feet and neither of those conditions is very nice for the workplace, unless one works as a Bouncy House operator or a professional sleep study participant and, sadly, I am neither.
Whew.
For the next five SOTDs (through 04.13, that is), I’m going to highlight my Current Favorite Songs (note: these are not my All-Time Favorite Songs, which do not change. This is just what I’m listening to and loving right now).
This video is pretty swell, too:
“These Days” / Nico (1967)
For the next five SOTDs, I’m going to highlight my Current Favorite Songs (note: these are not my All-Time Favorite Songs, which do not change. This is just what I’m listening to and loving right now).
“Young Pilgrims” / The Shins (2003)
The town I tore up before moving here is abuzz: a Jack in the Box restaurant has been opened there at last, and holy shit – the locals are excited.
For those of us who grew up eating from a fast food chain where one could get french fries AND tacos (!!!!) for lunch if one had such a death wish, this ain’t no thang. Churros for breakfast? No big. A hamburger on a sourdough bun? Eh. Been there. Done that.
But to those in my former home, this is BIG. Before this franchise opened, I think the nearest location was about four hours away. And while I’m not sure anyone jonesed for teriyaki bowls bad enough to make that trek (a la Harold and Kumar’s* White Castle expedition), I would bet every last cent I made on my last paycheck that the drive-thru line the day it opened stretched a long, long way down the street.
Is it because the food is just that damn good? Um, no. Not at all (unless one is very drunk, in which case the aforementioned tacos are like manna from Heaven). It’s simply the novelty of the place; it’s what I like to call The Olive Garden Phenomenon.**
Before I even lived in my previous home (where they just put the Jack in the Box – pay attention, people!), I lived in a small, rural college town. The university was (I think) the area’s largest employer, and I’m also pretty sure that the town’s population was cut by half during summer breaks. Altogether, I enjoyed living there. I felt no gaping void in the local nightlife, dining, or shopping. Sure, there were things that it would’ve been nice to have, but the lack of – for example, a high-end night club – did not make me irate.
To others, though, the town had significant, almost deal-breaking, deficits, and the largest of these was the fact that the nearest Olive Garden was at least an hours’ drive.
Yep, you read that right. The entire fucking town was obsessed with the fucking Olive Garden.
I recognize the exaggeration in saying “the entire fucking town,” but honestly? If I had a dollar for every time I heard someone bitch about it, I could have built my own damn Olive Garden for them (and you bet your ass I would! I’d be turning a profit in no time!). I mean, I had friends-of-friends organize entire day trips planned around eating at the Olive Garden.
My favorite manifestation of the insanity was the Olive Garden Rumor Mill. Each time a business closed down, the rumors spread like gonorrhea:
Did you hear? They’re putting an Olive Garden in!
OH MY MOTHER-LOVING LORD THEY’RE PUTTING AN OLIVE GARDEN IN!!
Sweet Jesus and fucking Virgin Mary! They’re putting an Olive Garden in!!!
You think I’m kidding, but when the K-Mart closed down, that was the first rumor I heard. Yes. A K-Mart. A regular-sized K-Mart. Not a mini-K, an normal-sized discount store. These people’s delusions had become pathological: to their breadstick-starved minds, it was completely rational to assume that the thousands and thousands of square feet would all become one gargantuan restaurant. This rumor stuck around for a disturbingly-long period of time; even after the space remained vacant for almost a year, I still heard whispers of never-ending soup-and-salad.
Before you become indignant and accuse me of excessive High Horse Riding, here’s some full disclosure: a Dunkin’ Donuts franchise opened a few miles from my house a few months ago, and there will be a vague ache somewhere deep in my soul until I can finally get my ass down there for some Munchkins and coffee.
In the meantime, though, I’ll probably just get some tacos.
*Speaking of Kal Penn, congrats are in order for our President! Sir, you can now go down in history as being the only presidential administration that had a member quit to go make a movie about chasing pussy and smoking a fuckton of weed (no, I didn’t get an advance copy of the script. I’m just spitballing here).
**And when I say “I like to call,” I mean “I just made that phrase up that very second.”
things I did last night, in no particular order:
1. Forgot how to turn on the flash on my camera. It completely and totally mystified me. I literally stared at the camera until someone took it from my hand and started taking inappropriate photos with it.
Actually, I think that right there sums things up pretty well. I’ll leave it at that.
Haha, now it’s in your head for the next three days!
“There it Go (The Whistle Song)” / Juelz Santana (2005)
Oh, girls.
I’d say that Diablo Cody and her impossibly-quirky Juno MacGuff* ruined it for you but you’ve been eccentricizing yourself for years now.
I’m not sure that you understand that you don’t, you know, need to. You are lovable enough as-is. The name-dropping of obscure bands is actually a little annoying. We don’t care if your favorite band is “just” The Beatles. They’re a solid group of musicians; it’s okay to like them. I mean, If you tell us that Corky and the Juice Pigs is your favorite band, I’m sure that even Corky himself would raise an eyebrow.
It’s okay that your clothes match. Quit shopping at Goodwill for your t-shirts. We know that you didn’t play on that softball team. And do you even like orange Crush?
And your mom isn’t actually crazy. You know that, right? She takes no psychopharmaceuticals. She just likes to sing to herself. I mean, who doesn’t? And she loves you, that’s why she calls to check in.
Oh, girls.
Isn’t it exhausting to be that witty, all of the time? I mean, doesn’t it give you a headache to be constantly thinking? And seriously: no one understands all of the references on Family Guy, so you can stop laughing knowingly when you watch it. The show’s funny, but when you laugh that hard it’s a little forced.
It’s okay to like girly things. Sneakers are nice, yes. But it’s okay to like wearing high heels sometimes. If you’re actually into punk, cool. But if you’re not, and you pretend that you are, it’s sorta obvious.
I’m not sayin’ that I haven’t fallen victim to these traps myself. We all probably do, from time to time. Hell, it’s actually kinda fun to reinvent yourself that way. But all the time? That’s just fucking irritating for the rest of us.
Oh, girls, wake up.
*or Zach Braff and his Sam, or Amy Sherman-Palladino and her Lorelai Gilmore, or…
the sloppy copy 