Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Tuesday Tune, vol 53 - August's Departed

Holy smokes.  August is the departing month for the blues and R&B genres.  Check it out:

Aquarius/Let The Sun Shine In - The 5th Dimension (RIP Ron Townson, kidney disease)
Satisfied - Little Milton (stroke)
Hang On Sloopy - The McCoys (RIP bassist Randy Jo Hobbs, overdose)
SuperFreak - Rick James (heart attack)
Truckin' - The Grateful Dead (RIP Jerry Garcia, drug related heart attack)
Bad Love - Luther Allison (tumor in lung)
Bodies - Drowning Pool (RIP Dave Williams, heart failure)
Rambling On My Mind - Robert Johnson (strychnine poisoning)
Little Less Conversation - Elvis Presley vs Junkie XL (RIP Elvis Presley, heart failure)
Ain't Too Proud to Beg - The Temptations (RIP Paul Williams, gunshot)
Then Came You - The Spinners (RIP Pervis Jackson, cancer)
Have You Seen Her? - The Chi-Lites (RIP Creadel Jones, poverty related?  Poverty related what?  Vera?)
The Sky Is Crying - Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble (helicopter crash)
Aw Shucks, Hush Your Mouth - Jimmy Reed (respiratory failure)
Spill The Wine - War (RIP Papa Dee Allen, heart attack on stage)
Sweet Jane - The Velvet Underground (RIP Sterling Morrison, non-Hodgkin's lymphoma)
Hey! Ba-Ba-Re-Bop - Lionel Hampton (heart failure)

Are you guys tired of this yet?  I'm not - totally the highlight of my month.  Thanks Vera!


Saturday, August 28, 2010

Three Cups Of Tea

Three Cups Of Tea
by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin


I am about to say something that I'll (most likely) never say again:  This Three Cups of Tea is a book that everyone should read.  Everyone.  I don't ever say that.  I have never said that.  There isn't another book out there that I feel all kinds of humans should read.  Mostly, I believe that there just isn't a book for everyone.  I don't expect people to like all the books I like, and vice versa.  Heck, I don't even think that my religion's Good Book should be read by everyone (because, well, people are either ready to read it or not, no matter how much you try to force it on them, with whatever wieldy method you profess to procure.  I'm a terrible missionary, but that's something we can discuss on another day.)

Anyway, aside from this Three Cups of Tea book, there isn't another book out there that I believe all kinds of humans should read.  You should really read this book.

How am I doing?  Have I convinced you to read it yet?  No?  Okay, I'll keep trying.

Greg Mortenson (maybe you've heard of him,) is a selfless humanitarian who has spent the last 15ish years raising money and building schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan.  His passionate altruism was delivered by a failed attempt at climbing K2 in Pakistan.  Mr. Mortenson set out to find himself by conquering a mountain, only to discover, that, perhaps finding oneself is more about exchanging your own dreams for the dreams of those less fortunate.

After wandering off and becoming lost, Mortenson found himself in a rural village called Korphe.  Mortenson was in bad shape.  He was skinny, cold, and hungry.  The people of Korphe took him in, fed him, kept him warm, and arranged for transportation into town.  While staying in the village, Mortenson noticed that the children had no school and no real teacher.  The children met outside with the high-altitude elements, and used sticks to write in the dirt.  On his way out of Korphe, Mortensen promised the villagers that he would return and build a school for them.  And build a school he did -- a couple of years, and $12,000 later.

Can you believe that?  Twelve grand for a school.  How much are our schools?  Millions, I'll bet.  Those fancy football and baseball fields are pricey and so is air conditioning and heating.  We are so very spoiled.

There's no question that Mortenson's planetary contributions are heroic, but let me tell you what makes the book so great.  First, it's not political, mostly.  It's about education. Specifically it's about getting education to those in remote areas with poor literacy, and it's about providing education for girls.  I didn't feel that this book had an agenda or was trying to radiate political views or motives in between the lines.  It's a book about one man doing his best to provide an opportunity for education.

Second, it's written well.  Really well.  I guess this David Oliver Relin guy is a freelance kind of writer who contributes articles here and there to various magazines.  To my knowledge he hasn't written another book, but if he decides to write another book, I'll be among the first to read his thoughtful presentation of events.  One chapter stands out -- it's the chapter where Relin tells the story of Mortenson meeting his wife and marrying her.  It's a terrific love story.  Terrific.

Third, it was interesting to see Mortenson's view of world events while he was sauntering about in Pakistan and Afghanistan.  Mortenson was scouting for new villages in need of schools when Ahmad Shah Massoud (defense minister of Afghanistan) was assassinated.  The authors explain the panic and doom felt by the people.  The villagers could sense a tragedy ahead.  We clueless Americans had barely heard of this news and had no reason to be suspicious.  Which is unfortunate, because September 11,  2001 was two days later.  A coincidence?  Nope.  And yes, Mortenson was in Pakistan on that dreadful day -- not a good time to be "over there."

Another chapter worth mentioning is one titled "Rumsfeld's Shoes."  I don't have an opinion of Donald Rumsfeld.  Mostly its because I'm too lazy to actually research the varying facts and whatnot of his tenure as the Secretary of Defense.  Lots of people like him.  Lots of people hate him.  I suspect, however, that the United States' Secretary of Defense is prolly among the most difficult of jobs in the entire world.  Wouldn't you agree?  I mean, the poor fool is responsible for keeping 300 million safe yet is required to be both political and practical.  Is that possible?  Prolly not!

Anyway, Mortenson met Rumsfeld because Rummy was impressed with Mortenson's peace making practices.  During the meeting, Mortsenson couldn't quit looking at his shoes.  Mortenson's own shoes were dusty and beat-up from the travels of a war-torn Afghanistan.  Rumsfeld's were not.  Rumsfeld's fancy shoes seemed a perfect metaphor for politicians and their perpetual state of being out-of-touch.  How often do politicians and decision makers actually get their shoes dirty?
"'I wish I could tell you I said something amazing to Donald Rumsfeld,' [Mortensen said,] 'the kind of thing that made him question the whole conduct of the war on terror, but mostly what I did was stare at his shoes.
"'I don't know much about that kind of thing, but even I could tell they were really nice shoes.  They looked expensive and they were perfectly shined.  I remember also that Rumsfeld had on a fancy-looking gray suit, and he smelled like cologne.  And I remember thinking, even though I knew that the Pentagon had been hit by a hijacked plane, that we were very far away from the fighting, from the heat and dust I'd come from in Kabul.' 
"Back in the inhospitable hallway again, walking toward a room where Mortenson was scheduled to brief top military planners, he wondered how the distance that he felt in the Pentagon affected the decisions made in the building.  How would his feelings about the conduct of the war change if everything he'd just seen, the boys who had lost their potato salesman father, the girls with the blowing-over blackboard, and all the wounded attempting to walk the streets of Kabul with the pieces of limbs the land mines and cluster-bombs had left them, were just numbers on a laptop screen?"
This War on Terror is a hot topic.  One that might receive criticism and praise to match through the end of time.  I do know of some good that has come about it, however.  One of my running buddies returned from Afghanistan in April.  He says Mortenson dedicated two schools while he was there.  This running buddy, a member of the U.S. Military, spent most of his time overseeing the building of schools and medical clinics.

The carnage of this war is horrendous, no doubt, but there's some good coming too.

Next up: The Haj by Leon Uris.  I'm almost finished and it's a dandy!  After that I think I'll read Eat, Pray, Love so as I can make fun of it in a somewhat educated fashion instead of making fun of it uninformed -- which is what I'm doing right now.


Thursday, August 26, 2010

Football Ruins Everything

I'm not a big fan of football.  Scratch that.  I'm not a fan of football at all.  I tried to like it once.  Honest.  But seriously, why spend four hours watching a sporting event to see only 20 minutes of action?  I like action.  Football has no action. 

We live by a high school.  This past summer, we'd take the Pound Hound over to the track/football field at this high school.  This field is completely fenced in so we take the Pound Hound over, close the gate, and let him run.  And boy does he run.  All the way up and all the way down -- for many minutes.  He's also pretty fast.  Faster than The Winder (sorry Winder, but it's true.  I still say you're the fasted human I know.)   

Last week, we leashed up the Pound Hound and headed over to the track.  And look what we found:


Can you see that?  Football ruins everything.   
(But get a load of that lovely mountain in our back yard!)

We discovered, though, that the baseball field is also enclosed.  Bonus!  We took the Pound Hound over there to let him rip.  What will we do when Baseball season starts?  Prolly bark about how Baseball ruins everything. (So much for not complaining.  Hehehe.)

Look at the dog go!  I told you he was fast.


Wednesday, August 25, 2010

My New Thing

I decided yesterday that whenever I complain, about any person, place, or thing, I must step back and decide if I'm a good example of whatever it is I'm complaining about.

You know what this means, don't you?  It means that I will have to quit complaining.

p.s. Facebook suspended my account for some reason.  Can I complain about that?


Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Tuesday Tune, vol 52 - Accidentally Knotty

Today's Tuesday Tunes come in two parts.  The first part was inspired by the Son of Running Brother Bruce and his potential accidents.  The second part was inspired by my knotty calf.

Running Brother Bruce is a neighbor.  Running Brother Bruce is the reason we live here for he lured us with the flowering prospect of happiness.  Turns out he was right.  We're pretty happy here.   Running Brother Bruce has this son.  Quite fun, that son of his is.  Ten years ago I took the son of Running Brother Bruce to Lagoon on my company's Lagoon day.  Turned out to be the funnest day at Lagoon ever.  He was 14 then.  Now he's a responsibly spritely 24.

Late last night, Son of RBB posted this on his Facebook status: "had the ipod on shuffle today and it gave me "Accident Sex" by Vendetta Red followed immediately by "Accidental Babies" by Damien Rice. Lesson learned ipod... lesson learned"

I read this in bed early this morning just before it was time to bark at the day.  Made me Laugh out Loud with a boisterous LOL.  In all-caps, no less.  One might say I also LMFAO'd for I continued to laugh and laugh.  I didn't really LMFAO because I checked and my ass is still there.  Oh boy is it still there!  (Where did this Laugh The Ass Off business come from anyways?  It's a colloquialism that needs some research.)

Before I stepped out of my bed to bark at the day, I declared that today's Tuesday Tunes would be:

Accident Sex - Vendetta Red
Accidental Babies - Damien Rice

The Tuesday Tunes became complicated, however, once I stepped out of bed to bark at the day.  Once I stepped out of bed, to bark at the day, something barked back.  It was my left calf.  Oh how it barked!  There would be no running today.  Prolly a result of Saturday's Hobble Creek Half Marathon.  Prolly no running tomorrow too.  UNLESS!  Unless I can find the immediate magic of a masseuse.

Just look at that knotty calf.  
Also note those adorably hip and stylish red pumps.

I found someone to work me in and over.  I just now returned from a grueling hour and a half of trigger point and pressurized deep tissue massage.  It was grueling.  I didn't get the joy of any relaxation at this one, and was able to practice my breath-fer-birthing techniques.  My knuckles are still white from grabbing the table.  White, I tell you.  Not a nice pink or apricot.  White.

Part two of today's Tuesday Tunes are about Rubbing Out The Knots.  Now I'm gonna cross those legs and hope they feel better tomorrow.  They certainly feel beat up right now.

Trigger Happy Jack (Drive By a Go-Go) - Poe
Knotty Pine - Dirty Projectors + David Byrne
Pressure Drop - The Specials
It Takes A Muscle - M.I.A.
The Stroke - Billy Squier
Hotty Naughty - Sunidhi Chauhan
Under Pressure - Queen and David Bowie
Deep Enough - Live
Table Top Joe - Tom Waits
Back Rub - The James Boys
Loosen the Knot - Lissie  (Can't find this on youtube.  Too bad it's a good one.)
Muscle Museum - Muse


Sunday, August 22, 2010

Celebrity Sightings

On Friday, I woke to inform Spouse that I had plans to have my picture taken with George Hincapie.  This is what I said:  "I'm going to have my picture taken with George Hincapie today."  He said, "Okay.  You do that."

Now.  This isn't quite as far fetched as you might think.  Yet.  George Hincapie was in town with the Tour of Utah.  We live in Utah.  And we also had plans to go to Friday evening's time-trial.  Can you see, now, why I felt that I had my own private date with George Hincapie?  It's only logical.  But here's where the far fetched part comes into play:  Spouse arrived home later with, "I have some bad news, dear.  Your little buddy George wrecked and is out of the Utah Tour."

NO!  Say it isn't so!

We still went to the time trial.  Turns out that the celebrity sightings were twelve times better than just George.

Celebrity Sighting #1: Levi Leipenheimermeister
Note that I'm saving the best for last.  Did I get my photo with Levi?  Negative.


As we walked into the venue (Miller Motorsports Park), there that Levi was, in all his bibbed glory, warming up on a trainer.  And here he is again, finishing his 2nd place time trial, then riding back to the holding tank for important cyclists.



Celebrity Sighting #2:  Random Professional Cyclists
Did I get my photo with random professional cyclists?  Negative.  Did the Yahoos get their photos with random professional cyclists?  Affirmative.



Celebrity Sighting #3:  My Cousin
Did I get my photo with this cousin?  Negative.  Did I get any photos of my cousin?  Negative.

So I have this cousin, 2nd cousin, actually, who married a Miller.  As in she married a son of Larry H. Miller.  The venue was the Miller Motorsports Park, so naturally, the cousin would be there sporting some fancy VIP neckware.  Naturally.  So I flagged her down to chit-chat and catch up.  When we walked away, Spouse was in awe.  Kept saying, "That girl owns this place.  That little girl owns this place!"  Then I just had to set him straight by explaining that she doesn't own this place, the Miller group owns this place, and the Miller group has many members.  He wanted to keep thinking she owned the place, however.  Can't say that I blame him.

Celebrity Sighting #4:  SkiBikeJunkie
Did I get my photo with SkiBikeJunkie?  Negative.  Did I get any photos of SkiBikeJunkie?  Negative, for we were busy cowering in his famed glory.

Get a load of this story.  We didn't just casually run into SkiBikeJunkie, we pulled into the parking lot right behind him and parked right next to him.  What are the odds of that?!  He and his family were getting out of their car just as we were getting out of ours.  It appears as though each of us performed a mental assessment of each others' kids and spouses, then made that, "Hey! You are....!" at about the same time.  Super cute family.  Prolly lots of fun too.

Celebrity Sighting #5: Bob Roll
Did I get my photo with Bob Roll?  Oh yeah.  Did we get in close and wrap our arms around each other?  Oh yeah.  Did Bob upstage George Hincapie?  Oh yeah. 


Here's a couple more.  Just for giggles.

Total Psycho

Total Propeller Head


Friday, August 20, 2010

I'm Never Doing Leadville

Every year it's the same.  I call or visit Hillene two days before she embarks on the famed Leadville 100 (+3) mountain bike race.  The object of the call or visit is to be a cheerleader of sorts -- to pump her up and tell her to kick some serious "A."  Being as 100 (+3) miles on a bicycle at around 11,000 feet is very difficult, the days before this race need some serious cheerleading.  I'm one of the most talented cheerleaders in all of the land, so naturally I feel an obligation to spread my cheerleading talent.

Every year it's the same.  I call Hillene.  And every year the conversation get's flipped into this "Rabid!  You need to do Leadville."  Every year.  I'm not kidding.  And every year I spill my guts about how I'm slow.  And timid.  And lack bike skills.  And have no one to train with.  And on and on and on...

The biggest reason, however, is the duration of this bike race.  I'd be lucky to finish it under 12 hours.  The longest I've ever spent on a bike was three hours -- and that was because I got lost.  Folks, my taint just ain't built for 12 hours on a bike.

It just 'tain't.


Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Jupiter Peak Steeplechase

Not too long ago, there was some discussion about runners and their window stickers.  These window stickers are placed so as the vehicle beholder can display their footpath awesomeness by strutting their mileage achievement (13.1! 26.2! 100!) or by bragging about the number of times they've done the Ragnar.

The Winder says she wants a 100m sticker.  Frankly, she deserves one 'cause I've yet to meet anyone personally that can run 100 meters as fast she can.  (I'm a-working on it Winder!  Do you want some scrapbook flourish on that sticker? Like nuggets of this and brads of that?  Would you like you're photo on it too?)

On Saturday, the 7th day of August, I ran the Jupiter Peak Steeplechase, a 16 mile (+/-) race to benefit the Mountain Trails Foundation, which is responsible for maintaining the 150+ miles of single track in the Park City area.  This was my second running of the Jupiter Peak Steeplechase and I've decided that if the Jupiter Peakers were handing out stickers, I'd put one on my dyke mobile and display it with pride.  This trophy sticker would be installed in the back window, dead-center, with arrows pointing to it.  I'm also thinking that the sticker would need some twinkly rainbow lights to accessorize.

Look at me!  Look at me!  I ran the Jupiter Peak Steeplechase!

Now why would this Steeplechase deserve a sticker when I don't get into the running sticker soiree?  Because it's an awesome event!  And I'm about to describe, in fluffy phraseology and loads of snappy cynicism, the reason for it's awesomeness.

First, it's macho.  Mah!  Cho!  Elevation gain in seven miles is somewhere around 3000 (feets.)  Runners start at 7 thousand something and peak at 10 thousand something.  The course starts at the base of the Park City Mountain Resort and wanders through the Crescent Mine Grade, Mid Mountain, and Powerline trails.  After you've done your time on those three trails, it travels up a canyon called Thaynes, up a road called Jupiter Access, then over to a ridge called Pioneer.   The Pioneer Ridge ends up at the highest peak on the mountain -- a peak called Jupiter, hence the name Jupiter Peak.  (For the record the final climb is easier in running shoes than ski boots.  And all that trail naming crap was to throw proof at the biker crowd that I know stuff about trails too.  So there.)

Once you've made it to "the Peak," where the wind's a-howling, and the temperatures are nippily,  you follow another ridge to yet another peak, one called the Tri-Counties Peak.  This peak is about twelve stone-throws higher than the Jupiter chairlift.  (That info provided for those familiar with the Park City ski 'n ride area.)  Now.  Once you've hit the second peak, you head down on the Scott's Bypass trail, which coincidentally lands itself on the backside of a bowl called Scott's, which coincidentally is the spot for Spouse and I to have our ashes laid upon death, so, like, it's way freaky for them to name it the Scott's Bypass, 'cause, like, maybe that means Spouse and I will both die from a bypass?  Scott's Bypass nearly took me out.  I hooked a toe on a tree root and fell flat on my front side.  Ended up with a bloody knee.  After the run finishes Scott's Bypass, it ends up on the Thayne's canyon road again, then you run down the Spiro trail to the finish.

Few!  That toot-your-trail-knowledge crap is hard work!  How do you bikers do it?  Time and time again?!

I finished this 15-mile run in 2:41:35 (they say it's 16 but it's actually 15.)  To compare this one to a non-mountain jaunt, note that I ran 21 miles last Saturday in 2:44.

Here's the map:


However, that pansy-ass map doesn't do the run justice.  Here's my own:


I believe my graphic shows the macho-ness of the Jupiter Peak Steeplechase adequately.  So macho was this race, that finishing gave me (more) chest hair, as can be seen in this photo:

Impressively macho, yes?  Yes!

The second reason for this event's awesomeness is the fact that you can show up on the day of the race and register right then and there.  Name another macho race in the 'Tah that has the luxury of race-day sign-up?  Right.  You can't.  My little buddy Radracer showed up on race day to run.  He prolly came home with more chest hair too, but I don't have proof of that.  Yet.


See you next year?

P.S.  The last time I ran this race, some 14 minutes slower (macho macho), it helped me learn part two of a valuable lesson.  Check that action out here.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Tuesday Tune, vol 51 - Peace

Today's Tuesday Tunes are brought to you by controversy.  Specifically, these Tuesday Tunes are brought to you by the controversy brought upon by a Mosque.  (They're also brought to you by a family feud or two, but that comes later.  Hang tight!)

It all began last Saturday afternoon.  A friend of mine made a Facebook comment about The Mosque Situation.  You know about The Mosque Situation, don't you?  It's the one where a Muslim group has announced that they plan to build a Mosque near the hallowed ground of Ground Zero.  I'm calling it Mosque-gate.  (Many would argue that The Mosque Situation is far too sensitive a topic to ad the "gate" pun to it, but that's just how I deal.)

Back to the intensity of Facebook -- 'cause that's what Facebook is for, you know -- to spew your intense opinions 'round about and have people hear 'em.  Yes.  Facebook is a place for seriousness.  Heaven forbid that you use Facebook to make light.  Heaven forbid.  Anyway, this friend of mine makes a fairly neutral comment about this Mosque, one along the lines of religious neutrality, only to have two of her "friends" drop hatred bombs back and forth well into Sunday.

It was awesome.  Two people were screaming "you're wrong, you're wrong, YOU'RE WRONG!" back and forth, all through the Saturday, into the Saturnight, then on to the Sunday.  To prove each of their points, they used some fancy words, and some fancy quotations, and some even fancier references to that document known as the Constitution.  About half way through their vicious banter, it became rather clear (to me) that these two chitlins were after the same goal; each wanted the same result.  They each want peace.  Although their respective methods of acquiring this peace were completely bass-ackwards, they both wanted it.

So there they were, on this serious and stupendously academic Facebook, throwing anti-peace sentiments at each other in an effort to make peace.  Reminded me of my own family. (Still hangin' tight?  Good!)

Truth is, the world is full of difference.  At the heart of this vast array of differences, everlasting in it's fury, lays the omnipresent goliath of them all: Religion.  More shit has hit the fan over religion than anything else.  Wouldn't you say?  Look at the history of our world (but don't take too long, 'cause, like, I got a point to make here.  And if you're off looking at the history of the world, then you will most assuredly miss my point.)

Looking at the history of our world, one can conclude that more wars, more contentious disputes, and more hateful murder has transpired under the armor of religion than anything else.  It's true.  Do I need to list proof?  Doubtful.  I have a theory, though.  Wanna hear it?  I have no proof, it's just my opinion so don't bark at me for being so.... whatever it is you think I'm being.  I believe that this hateful war crap is about Power and then Religion (not Religion and then Power.) The "good" power-seekers, the ones who are successful at creating war, figure out a way to hide behind that religious armor.  They want a kingdom.  And they do it in the name of their Almighty One.  These kingdom builders must find a common enemy among their constituents; a common enemy with passion.  So what better way to find a passionately common enemy than to throw in a religion card?

Ask Hitler about that common enemy.  Oh.  Right.  You can't ask Hitler.  Or the millions he eliminated in pursuit of building his kingdom.

Suddenly, this is getting rather serious.  I better back off a bit.  I'll start by telling about Jessica's comment during this beyond-heated Facebook argument.  One of the arguers made a comment about Muslims getting their "virgins."   So Jessica buts in with, "Virgins are super cool" so as to say YO!  Lighten the eff up.  I must agree with Jessica.  Virgins are super cool.  I was a virgin once.  Twice, in fact.

Truth is, the world is full of difference.  In regards to The Mosque Situation, there are definitely two sides to this story.  Let's try and present a few points from each perspective, shall we?  The Anti-Mosque people are considering this Mosque a metaphorical slap in the face.  Terrorists have been known to mark their targeted territories with a Mosque -- as a symbol of victory.  So naturally, the Anti-Mosque people believe this Mosque, at Ground Zero, is funded and built, by and for terrorism.

The Pro-Mosque people, on the other hand, believe that America is still is a free country.  A country that was established on the wings of religious expression.  Pro-Mosqueres believe that if they, themselves, are to receive freedom of religion, they must also grant it to others.  There's also the "private property" argument.  The land used to build this Mosque is private property, zoned for a religious building.  If you own land, you can build what you want on it, as long as the result is legal.  As far as I know, a Mosque built on the specified land is legal.

I have said it twice now, and I'll say it again:  The world is full of difference.  Big, fat, sloppy amounts of difference.  Is building this Mosque insensitive?  Perhaps, yes.  Could they build the Mosque somewhere else?  Perhaps, yes.  However, I believe that for us to live in peace, someone must get off their high horse and walk the high road.  And it might as well be us.

Speaking of the world being full of difference, families are full of difference.  Did you know that?  (Here comes the part about my Family Feud!  You hung tight!  Way to hang tight!)  It's like each family is it's very own mini microcosmic world, complete with opinions, territories and religious views.  There's always that difference, the one where you just cannot agree to disagree, that leads to a battle.  And suddenly, you're all so hell-bent and drowning in your own swampy opinions, that it leads to a war.  Then what?

Both must get off of their high horse and walk the high road -- a high road called agree-to-disagree.  It's the only solution.

I suppose another gesture would be to send some "Peace" tunes to the assailant.  (I'll let you know if it works.)

Peaceful Solution - Promise Of The Real
Peace Frog - The Doors
Peace Dance - The Bacon Brothers
Peace Dog - The Cult
Peaceful Easy Feeling - The Eagles
Peace On Earth - U2
Love And Peace Or Else - U2
Peace Beneath The City - Iron & Wine
Peace To The World [Live] - B.B. King
Peace (Sebastian Ingrosso remix) - Tony Senghore
Peace On Earth - Railroad Earth
Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth) - George Harrison
Peace - Depeche Mode
Peace Train - Cat Stevens
Peace, Love and Happiness - G. Love and Special Sauce

From Dug, (What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace Love and Understanding - Elvis Costello

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Who's The Wise Guy?

All right.  Time to fess up.  Who's the wise guy that put me on the e-mail list for Sexy Modest? Hmmmm?  Go on, go ahead, reveal yourself.

(Maybe you'll get a prize for providing a good funny.)

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Tan Lines

Which one are you...?


Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Tuesday Tune, vol 50 - This is 50!

Did you know that today is my 50th issuing of the Tuesday Tune?  It is, notice the title.  That's 50 individual playlists on 50 different Tuesdays (and perhaps a Wednesday or Thursday here 'n there.)  Each of these Tuesday Tunes are gathered together in a playlist called Tuesday Tunes (clever title, yes?)   With today's addition, that playlist has 439 songs.  Goes to show that someone (we won't name any names) knows how to waste some serious time.

This is 50 (clean) - 50 cent
Hawaii 5-0 - Theme from that one TV show
Mazurka #2 in A Flat, Op. 50 - Chopin

My posts will be a bit sparse in the next couple of weeks.  School starts in 14 days and we plan to cram an entire summer's worth of activities in those 14 days.  We just returned from a vacation -- one in which I was able to sleep and live at 8100 feet altitude.  I can't wait to run tomorrow.  My blood is boiling with oodles of oxygen.  I can feel it.


Thursday, August 05, 2010

Catching Fire

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins


This Catching Fire book is book 2 of Suzanne Collinseseses Hunger Games series.  While Hunger Games had plenty of intrigue, enough to get me turning the pages in a down-right sprightly fashion, Catching Fire did not.  Total snoozer.  But I finished it anyway.  I prolly won't run out to read the 3rd book, which is scheduled for release in the next bit.  I'll wait for the entire country to buy their copy, then borrow it from one of 'em.

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

Tuesday Tune, vol 49 - Broken Hip Edition

Today's Tuesday Tunes are brought to you by broken pelvises.  Or is it broken pelvii?  Who knows.  Either way, I know of several people who have fractured their pelvii while riding bicycles.  There's Rick (not his real name), two of Hillene's friends, and my good friend 'n running buddy, Trailtrekker.  This last weekend, Trailtrekker was racing the Spudman triathlon.  Just before the bike-to-run exchange, she swerved to avoid a spectator and went down.  Hard.  Hard enough to crack her precious pelvis in two different places.

Although Trailtrekker has many talents, thousands even, holding still is not one of them.  Recovering in bed will be a challenge.  (Come to think of it, all of my running buddies have trouble holding still. I wonder if there's a correlation between people who can't sit still -- spastic movers -- and runners...)  Since Trailtrekker will be in bed for many weeks, I figured she could use some songs to listen to -- songs that remind her why she's stuck in bed.  I'm so very nice that way, yes?

Innocent Bones - Iron and Wine
Bicycle Race - Queen
Roll The Bones - Rush
Hippy Hippy Shake - The Swinging Blue Jeans
Broken - Cherryholmes
Nitemare Hippy Girl - Beck
Two-Timing Touch and Broken Bones - The Hives
I Can't Hardly Stand It - The Cramps
The Tracks of My Tears - Smokey Robinson and the Miracles
Pleasure And Pain - Ben Harper
The Heart Of Life - John Mayer
Bottles and Bones (Shade and Sympathy) - Califone
Hospital Bed Crawl - The Hush Sound
Bone Broke - The White Stripes
Bed Bed Bed - They Might Be Giants
Painkiller - Kill The Pain (DJ Shadow vs. Depeche Mode) - Depeche Mode
Heal the Pain - George Michael
Teardrop - Massive Attack
Rehab - Amy Winehouse
Heal Over - KT Tunstall
Time Is A Healer - Eva Cassidy
In Repair - John Mayer


Monday, August 02, 2010

Grosse Pointe Lame

You know in Grosse Pointe Blank, when John Cusack shows up at the high school reunion, and is invaded by that smiling, red-lipsticked, welcome-lady?  High school reunions are just like that.  For reals.

As was mentioned last week, I was tinkering with the idea of going to my 20-year high school reunion.  By Friday night, I had decided to go.  Spouse, being the good-natured freak that he is, obliged.  I had previously arranged for three-ish friends to meet us there.  Meeting people at the reunion -- people that we like and enjoy spending time with -- would keep the evening from becoming a total bust if, per chance, the reunion ended up being lame-o.  (That part right there was some foreshadowing.  As if the title weren't foreshadowing enough.)

First, let's describe my high school.  Generally speaking, there were three groups of people: F People, Jocks and Cheerleaders, and the Preppies.  The first and most rowdy of the groups were the "F" people.  Each gender in this particular posse had it's own name.  The girls were referred to as "F Chicks" and the boys were called "F Dudes." Both genders of this "F" clan had big hair, usually permed, wore thick black eyeliner, tight-as-hell pants and black rock-group t-shirts.  Metallica, Megadeath, Black Sabbath, and Ozzy were the most popular.

The Jocks and Cheerleaders group is a self-exclamatory group.  Most of these boys and girls participated in sports while the other boys and girls pumped pom-poms and yelled "Rah!  Rah!  Rah!" during the sporting events.  I don't recall that they cared much for music.

The third and final group was the Preppies.  The Preppies wore everything Ralph Lauren.  Sometimes Ruff Hewn was allowed, but I'm pretty sure you could only be a Preppy if you had closet-full of shirts with silly horses embroidered about your right breast.  Or was it the left breast...?  I don't remember.  The Preppies listened to Howard Jones.

I explained this to Spouse last week.  And he said, "Where on earth did you fit in?"  Hah!  That is the eternal question for my very existence.  Where on earth do I fit in?  I feel as if I'm in a state of flux for positioning when it comes to people grouping.

In high school, I was in serious limbo.  Most of these groups are defined by what you listen to, your athletic prowess, and what you wear, right?  (Sex 'n drugs prolly had something to do with that too, but we won't go there today.)  I liked Metallica, Ozzy and the like, but couldn't be limited to heavy metal.  I couldn't run or jump or hit anything good enough to be athletic, and well, even back then, I knew it silly to dump $80 on a polo shirt with a horsey on it.  So there you go:  Limbo.

Here's the first 18 people of my class (alphabetically.) Can you spy the Rabid?

Now back to the reunion.  Wouldn't you know, that as the events of Saturday unfolded, those three-ish friends dropped their supposed commitment, one-by-one.  The last friend bailed on us just as we were driving to the Grand Ballroom at the UVU.  We were dressed and ready.  Spouse was even wearing khakis.  We also had a babysitter.  So what did we do?  We went to the Grand Ballroom anyway.

The plan was to show up late so as to avoid the overpriced buffet du grandeur and maybe sit in the back for the program.  I wanted to sneak in unnoticed and announced.  Well, like that's gonna happen at a reunion.  And maybe I should have known that because I've seen Grosse Pointe Blank 12 times and in each of those 12 times, the welcome-lady accosts John with uncomfortable cheer.  Every time.

Some lady (who I don't know) sees us at the door and runs over, all-smiles, while chewing on her three-day-old dinner roll.  "HI!" She screams over the blare of Whitesnake.  "What's your maiden name?  Did you sign up for dinner?  Are you just coming to the program?  Do you want to buy the DVD?  Did you register on the web site?  Do you want to put your name on a name tag?"  After a few moments of me staring at her like she's alien, she decides to back off and finish that three-day-old dinner roll.

Spouse and I started to walk toward this Grand Ballroom.  And as we approached, I could smell the pretension.  I could see the old cliques and the brainless flitting about to and fro.   It was just too much like high school.

This is where I looked at Spouse and said, "I don't want to go."  To which Spouse replied, "Look woman.  I put khakis on for this thing.  You get in there."

Yeah, but, there's no one in there that I want to talk to.  I already see everyone I care about and none of those bastards care about me.  They didn't care way back then, so why the heck would they care now?  Then I remembered Tom's comment from the Should I Go post.  He said, "Stay at home, create a Facebook page, and ignore those bastards simultaneously in two different worlds."

Why didn't I listen to Tom?  Or Lifein360 who said his reunion was lame?  Or Megan in her Green Glass post where she talked about leaving the past behind and moving on?  Why the hell did I think that attending my 20-year reunion would be even the least bit entertaining?!

"Let's go see Inception."  I said to Spouse.  "But take my picture first, as proof that I was here."

He was all over that idea and we left.  Only we discovered later that every showing of Inception within a 20 mile radius was sold out for the night.  Is there nothing else to do in this town?  Movies and reunions?  Is that it?  Lame.

Now, had my date been a hired contract killer, like John Cusack, then maybe the reunion wouldn't have been so lame.



Sunday, August 01, 2010

Funny Friends

I have some funny friends. I just do. That's kind of a prerequisite for being my friend. If you're my friend, and we've been friends for some time, you can rest assured that you're a funny friend.

Here's an example of a funny friend in all her flurry:



"Pssst! Funny Friend!"  Rabid says in her best hushed of tones, looks side-to-side to ensure no one is watching, and says, "It's post marked from The Big City."

I suppose this means that the "Eagle has Landed,"  the "Bills Have Been Folded," the "Cat Is In The Cradle," and "Another Brick Has Been Placed In The Wall."