Wordless Wednesday: Dead Flowers

A couple weeks ago I stood at the edge of the East River just as this wee procession traveled past. The first thing I thought of:

Each bloom a floral Ophelia,
petalled and pistilled and
twittering en route to a watery beginning or end.
Drowning in gowns of pinks light and dark.






I really like the musical selections today, even if they're all big-a$$ bummers. Bright spot: two Nick Lowe tunes in a week!

Meezer Monday: Wooly Bully

Confession--my cat is a total nutter. Seriously, I've told you how Derrick has been known to go all mental and attack Bing, but lately the consequences are greater, particularly 'cause Bing's been sick this summer and he's already a frail oldster to begin with.

I figured it was time to call in the big guns--and on Friday we had an appointment with the animal communicator. Just in time, because Bing was feeling pretty distressed. "It's so hard to be in a situation where I never feel any peace," he told the animal communicator.

And Derrick's reply? "I just can't stand seeing him in my space sometimes."

WHA??!!!! Entitled much?! I get it, Derrick, I get how easy and well, cheap, it is to take your own $hit out on someone else, but couldn't you pick on someone your own size? Derrick's so tall that Bing can fit right under him like they're stacking end tables. I've walked in the room to find him straddling Bing like he's the freakin' Colossus of Rhodes, wobbling along like the family pet in a deranged Weeble family.

Oh wait, wait, that was me taking a bit of a poetic license! In Derrick's defense, 90% of the time, he's sweet and full of vibrant energy. He's one of those cats who licks your arm, follows you everywhere and talks to himself constantly. From 10 am to 3 pm, he and Bing cuddle together on the bed, Bing resting his head on Derrick's tummy. Total charm-ball.



Then, it's like this switch flips on and he's a psycho. I've seen Bing slink around the perimeter of the room to avoid the wrath of BFA (Big Fat A$$), the behemoth that takes over Derrick's kitty brain at times like this.

And no, he can't promise he'll try to be better because he doesn't really know what's going on with him. "I just go berserk," he said.

Berserk? Does anyone use that word anymore, except my dad, who pronounces it just like it's spelled and not the usual morph of ba-zerk? And is that the end of the discussion then? It's like he's copping the insanity plea, story's over, periodtheend.

Well, in this case, we're working on an entire treatment protocol to put Derrick back in balance. This will involve a visit to the holistic veterinarian, so maybe he'll get a chiropractic adjustment. Wish us luck. And honestly, if ever you're in a tight spot in which you, say, tripped a lady wearing a fur coat (egads! who would do that?!) or went postal on someone for cutting you in line at the store, tell 'em Derrick made you do it.

Do you know that the original "Wooly Bully" was supposed to be called "Hully Gully," but there was already a song named "Hully Gully"? And I still have the stickers that go with this album, even if it was the recent vinyl reissue:






OK, so since Mr. Lowe wrote that above song for Mr. Cash, it seemed only fair to feature this next one. And what a great vid this is! I've never heard this version, which is even more exciting than the costume changes. And if Nick can change his song, Derrick can certainly change his tune.

Wordless Wednesday: Washington Post

Doods! Join me in celebrating this delicious day off as I fill this riotous space with words, most likely silly ones, just because I can… wheee! So we’ll call it a LessWord Wednesday, and if it gets too jumpy and bumpy, skip the trip and simply ponder this amazing pic…

Elyse and I were walking to Adams Morgan in Warshington (Valerie told me that’s how the natives say it), D.C., last week, when we came across a butt-load of photos on the ground, all glossy and tossed all over the sidewalk. Ooooh!! I’m sort of embarrassed about my Dumpster diving-ways, so I quickly grabbed a handful and we went on our way. Found art, I marvelled, and so ridiculously silly, too, but they were mostly just shots of drunk girls with balloon sculptures on their heads. I consciously stopped myself from making any judgments and focused on their smiley faces and the pretty Tootsie pop-colored balloons. All good. I can do something funny/creative with these..

But then I thought about the others I left behind, and felt cheated. If the universe is giving you a big bowl o’ inspiration, do you just take a sip? Heck, no, you jump in and mainline it. So Elyse remembered where they were, and when we went back—S Street, everybody—I grabbed a whole bunch more, including this one. I noticed there was a couple sitting at a table outside the brownstone behind us, holding one of the photos and drinking wine. Did they spill the whole lot on the ground and wanted to see if passers-by would stop, or were they drinking in what the cosmos sent, just like me?

So no, I’m not gonna make any cracks about “pole position” or anything, but if this is your a$$, well, hats off and bottoms up to you.

Music to listen to when you’re on candid camera:

Brilliant! Be sure to catch the first two words…



Um, OK, so I don’t get this channel at all..this was the only video I could find for Nick Lowe’s “Stick It Where The Sun Don’t Shine.” Do the lyrics relate to the imagery in some way I am missing? Turns out the whole channel is full of Nick Lowe songs accompanied by “Japanese fashion girls.” 82 vids’ worth! Oh well. Kinda makes sense in a non-sense way.




Oh dear, this blog wouldn’t be complete without this one! I tend toward this sentiment about picture-taking…I’d rather be in the moment than have someone try to capture it, which is impossible, but funny how social networking is sort of making ‘the act of taking’ the moment itself. Not quite sure how I feel about that, but I love Ray’s lyric here…

Wordless Wednesday: It's Not How Deep You Fish...

…it’s how you wiggle your worm. Today’s post is dedicated to the Blaster worm that infected my work computer earlier this week. Um, so sorry you had to leave in such a hurry.

The Girl Can't Help It

I just found out today, while doing some background research for this post, that not only is Peteena supposed to be wearing a green bikini and a sun hat, but she’s also supposed to have A TAIL—and a retractable one, at that!

I apologize. If you’ve never seen Peteena before, we probably need to start at the very beginning. She’s a doll. And she’s a poodle. And Hasbro made her in 1966.

Some of you may know about my early publishing days at DOLLS magazine, and my purchase of Peteena on eBay was a definite tip-of-the-hat to my career there. I’m actually really uncomfortable around dolls (it’s like they absorb the sad, scary secrets of their owners, and their heads can swivel!), but I always liked vintage Barbies—the true tough broad, circa 1959, not the airhead she turned into—and Peteena was created in the fashion doll tradition. (Oh yeah, Mod Hair Ken is pretty hot, too.)

Anyway, if you want to know more about Peteena, this is a pretty funny site. I personally don’t think she’s as big a b*tch as portrayed here, but heck, just look at her.

Music to feed your inner Peteena
Little Richard, The Girl Can’t Help It
Look at Little Richard Penniman. Look at Peteena. Now look at Little Richard again. Great gosh a’mighty!

Nick Lowe, Switchboard Susan
Oh, I can totally imagine Peteena as the canine version of the vamp in this song. I always imagined her (Susan, that is) with a headset, of course, wearing a very tight, sexy librarian-esque orange ribbed turtleneck sweater. Well, not quite orange, but rust. And just think, Peteena-as-Susan could probably connect multiple calls at once—one per paw, while the tail does triple duty at a switchboard behind her. (Oh wait, that’s assuming her tail’s prehensile, not retractable. Oh wait, that’s assuming the telephone company only hired Peteenas who hadn’t misplaced their tails.)

P.S. Learn more: No one writes about Nick Lowe better than Holly over at The Song In My Head Today.