Sister came to visit this weekend.
After gorging ourselves at Kate's Joint on Sunday night, we headed to Williamsburg to engage in the long weekend ritual of Sid and Buddy Karaoke at Galapagos.
We vowed to get there early this time, so as to actually get to perform karaoke.
I went on early, committing a karoake faux pas by performing a song I've performed at Sid and Buddy in the past. Whatever. I was nervous.
Members of Sister's entourage performed intermittently.
And then... D! I was nervous for him. It's that phenomenon of being a stage mother - so excited that your loved one is on stage, but terrified that something terrible will happen. D makes up for in enthusiasm what he lacks in pitch.
Sid put on D's song, but it wasn't the right song! D said "This isn't the song."
Sid fumbled and, a minute later, put on the correct song. Except it was the wrong song again! The same wrong song. It was "I Saw Him Standing There," the Tiffany version. D later said "I wanted 'I Think We're Alone Now,' the Tiffany version. Where did he get that?" Someone had actually seen D right down "I Saw Him Standing There," but there was no arguing with him.
"That's not it!" he said from the stage.
"That's what you put," Sid said.
"No, it's not," D said.
Sid said "No, no, stay there..." as D began to leave the stage. "We're going to do karaoke roulette!"
What!?
"I'm going to pick a song and you have to do it."
Oh my god! Random-oke!!!
The crowd waited, tense, wondering what it would be. "Please let him know it, please let him know it, please let him know it..." I chanted in my head.
Oh. He knew it. I knew it. Everyone knew it.
I couldn't help myself. I jumped onto the stage, along with a member of Sister's entourage who helped himself to the inflatable guitar, and started moving my ass back and forth, as did D and Sister's friend, to the introduction of...
"Faith" by George Michael!
This was mostly a tribute to LBF, but man was it fun. I'd never have picked it for myself, but having it picked for me... delicious!
I think that there should be a karaoke that is entirely roulette.
Later that night, two insane guys got up there and tried to do "How Do U Want It" by 2Pac. I knew it was going to be a disaster. Sid stopped them a minute into it and said "You guys need to stop. We're doing roulette" and made them do The Beastie Boys instead.
It was awshummmmm.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
2Pac
My Ipod is in rough shape, folks.
While it was still semi-functional yesterday, I was able to listen to but not choose songs. This was achieved by starting at the first song, and then scrolling through, one-at-a-time, in alphabetical order by artist until I happened upon something listenable.
It all started with 2Pac. I'd forgotten I'd even had 2Pac's Greatest Hits on my Ipod! I wasn't in the mood for hip hop prior to photography class, so I scrolled through to 311. 311!!!! Hah!
Then I encountered things like Aimee Mann and American Analog Set, and such hipster darlings that I no longer enjoy like The Arcade Fire and Architecture in Helsinki.
Most bizarre, though, is that apparently all classical musician's names begin with A! I had to scroll through all of Chopin's Preludes and Impromptus because they were performed by someone whose name begins with A. And then Vivaldi's violin concertos. And then the entirety of Prokofiev's Cinderalla.
The Ipod no longer functions at all. I am dying to go home to see if it will charge, but I am not going home tonight because I have been emotionally blackmailed into seeing a movie that I don't really want to see because some people are masters of guilt.
Damn you, guilt masters! You prevent me from going home on a rainy night when I haven't been home in ages! You prevent me from curling up under a blanket and watching a movie and eating in and saving money and charging my Ipod and doing my photography homework!
Yeah. The rain makes me completely insane.
While it was still semi-functional yesterday, I was able to listen to but not choose songs. This was achieved by starting at the first song, and then scrolling through, one-at-a-time, in alphabetical order by artist until I happened upon something listenable.
It all started with 2Pac. I'd forgotten I'd even had 2Pac's Greatest Hits on my Ipod! I wasn't in the mood for hip hop prior to photography class, so I scrolled through to 311. 311!!!! Hah!
Then I encountered things like Aimee Mann and American Analog Set, and such hipster darlings that I no longer enjoy like The Arcade Fire and Architecture in Helsinki.
Most bizarre, though, is that apparently all classical musician's names begin with A! I had to scroll through all of Chopin's Preludes and Impromptus because they were performed by someone whose name begins with A. And then Vivaldi's violin concertos. And then the entirety of Prokofiev's Cinderalla.
The Ipod no longer functions at all. I am dying to go home to see if it will charge, but I am not going home tonight because I have been emotionally blackmailed into seeing a movie that I don't really want to see because some people are masters of guilt.
Damn you, guilt masters! You prevent me from going home on a rainy night when I haven't been home in ages! You prevent me from curling up under a blanket and watching a movie and eating in and saving money and charging my Ipod and doing my photography homework!
Yeah. The rain makes me completely insane.
Possessive
I am a person who is possessive about ideas.
Possessive may not be the right word. It might be that I am just shy about my own ideas. I don't want them out there. I only want them to be available to special people, and, in most cases, a special person.
I'm not possessive about everything. I obviously have a blog and put a million ideas out there into the world every day. Personal things, words, that sort of thing. I don't, however, put ideas for screenplays or photo projects or whatever out there, because I may actually do them and I'd rather just have them be finished when people find out about them. Like the blog... I told people "Yeah, I'm doing this thing" and was then excited when I started it and all of the songs were there, complete. It ruled.
I didn't realize that I was possessive about ideas until I found myself with someone who felt compelled to broadcast my ideas to others. It is because he is proud and excited, and that's awesome. It makes me love him more, but I feel, though, that my ideas are mine, and that, if I would like others to know about them, I will choose to tell them and then do just that.
This causes tension. I don't know how to explain myself. I don't know how to explain this pet peeve without sounding like a paranoid loser.
I realized I had this pet peeve when we were standing around one day and he said "Hey, what do you think of this idea?" and started telling this random guy about this quick pillowtalk comment I'd made about how digital sheet music could be a cool thing. It was a conversation I didn't want to have. I didn't want to defend my idea. I hadn't thought it through enough to present it to the world. I wasn't ready. It was mine and it should be under my control.
The only time I said something to him about this was when he said, to a complete stranger, "Leah Lar has an awesome idea for a documentary!" and then started to tell her about it. "Tell her more about it!" he said to me. "No, really, I don't want to." "But it's awesome!" "Well, no, I'm not ready to talk about it." I didn't want to talk about it because this person is in the film industry. I didn't want to talk about it because it was none of her business. I didn't want to talk about it because it was an idea I'd had that I'd told only the person closest to me because that's what you do, right? It's part of intimacy. I don't go around telling everyone everything. I don't tell the same things to every person. You have different sorts of relationships with people.
Last night we were tipsy and listening to 80's music and pretending that we were in middle school. It was silly and wonderful. After we'd finished pretending, I said "You know what there should be? There should be a lip synch contest at work! What ever happened to lip synching? People were all over that in the 80's!" I went on and on about how it would work, and what the categories would be. I said "And it would be, like, you'd have to do it as a group! A boss and his/her employee. You and your boss would definitely win for best hair. And most elusive. And cutest."
"We used to do things like this all the time," he said, "when we were smaller."
"We should totally do it."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"We could do it in the conference room."
"No," I said. "We should wait until we move to the new facility. There's supposedly going to be an auditorium there. We could have it in there! It could be like our inaugural event!"
I wasn't even serious about it. It was something that seemed adorable at the time, but can you imagine? A lip synch contest at work?
I got an email from him this morning that said "I talked to NH about the lip synch contest. She said she's going to see what she can do."
Wtf?
First of all: My idea! If I want to pursue it, I'll pursue it.
Second of all: If the lip synch contest happens and is a success, everyone will think that it was NH's idea or, worse, his.
Third of all: Privacy!
I guess I'm just possessive of relationships and ideas and specificity.
If I want everyone to know about an idea I've had, I'll tell everyone. Things said within the confines of a relationship should not go beyond that.
Am I shy or insane?
I don't know.
My guess is that he would think me insane, which is why I can't say "Could you stop telling everyone about the things I say to you in private?"
It's also a throwback to the old days when my parents would force me to play piano in front of other people. It puts you on the spot. It's very uncomfortable. "Tell the nice people about your idea, honey!"
"If I wanted to tell them, I'd have told them, honey."
I blame the weather. The weather is making me insane!
Right. That's it.
Possessive may not be the right word. It might be that I am just shy about my own ideas. I don't want them out there. I only want them to be available to special people, and, in most cases, a special person.
I'm not possessive about everything. I obviously have a blog and put a million ideas out there into the world every day. Personal things, words, that sort of thing. I don't, however, put ideas for screenplays or photo projects or whatever out there, because I may actually do them and I'd rather just have them be finished when people find out about them. Like the blog... I told people "Yeah, I'm doing this thing" and was then excited when I started it and all of the songs were there, complete. It ruled.
I didn't realize that I was possessive about ideas until I found myself with someone who felt compelled to broadcast my ideas to others. It is because he is proud and excited, and that's awesome. It makes me love him more, but I feel, though, that my ideas are mine, and that, if I would like others to know about them, I will choose to tell them and then do just that.
This causes tension. I don't know how to explain myself. I don't know how to explain this pet peeve without sounding like a paranoid loser.
I realized I had this pet peeve when we were standing around one day and he said "Hey, what do you think of this idea?" and started telling this random guy about this quick pillowtalk comment I'd made about how digital sheet music could be a cool thing. It was a conversation I didn't want to have. I didn't want to defend my idea. I hadn't thought it through enough to present it to the world. I wasn't ready. It was mine and it should be under my control.
The only time I said something to him about this was when he said, to a complete stranger, "Leah Lar has an awesome idea for a documentary!" and then started to tell her about it. "Tell her more about it!" he said to me. "No, really, I don't want to." "But it's awesome!" "Well, no, I'm not ready to talk about it." I didn't want to talk about it because this person is in the film industry. I didn't want to talk about it because it was none of her business. I didn't want to talk about it because it was an idea I'd had that I'd told only the person closest to me because that's what you do, right? It's part of intimacy. I don't go around telling everyone everything. I don't tell the same things to every person. You have different sorts of relationships with people.
Last night we were tipsy and listening to 80's music and pretending that we were in middle school. It was silly and wonderful. After we'd finished pretending, I said "You know what there should be? There should be a lip synch contest at work! What ever happened to lip synching? People were all over that in the 80's!" I went on and on about how it would work, and what the categories would be. I said "And it would be, like, you'd have to do it as a group! A boss and his/her employee. You and your boss would definitely win for best hair. And most elusive. And cutest."
"We used to do things like this all the time," he said, "when we were smaller."
"We should totally do it."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"We could do it in the conference room."
"No," I said. "We should wait until we move to the new facility. There's supposedly going to be an auditorium there. We could have it in there! It could be like our inaugural event!"
I wasn't even serious about it. It was something that seemed adorable at the time, but can you imagine? A lip synch contest at work?
I got an email from him this morning that said "I talked to NH about the lip synch contest. She said she's going to see what she can do."
Wtf?
First of all: My idea! If I want to pursue it, I'll pursue it.
Second of all: If the lip synch contest happens and is a success, everyone will think that it was NH's idea or, worse, his.
Third of all: Privacy!
I guess I'm just possessive of relationships and ideas and specificity.
If I want everyone to know about an idea I've had, I'll tell everyone. Things said within the confines of a relationship should not go beyond that.
Am I shy or insane?
I don't know.
My guess is that he would think me insane, which is why I can't say "Could you stop telling everyone about the things I say to you in private?"
It's also a throwback to the old days when my parents would force me to play piano in front of other people. It puts you on the spot. It's very uncomfortable. "Tell the nice people about your idea, honey!"
"If I wanted to tell them, I'd have told them, honey."
I blame the weather. The weather is making me insane!
Right. That's it.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Broke
I am having one of those days - the sort of day that convinces you that there's a conspiracy against you, or the sort that convinces you that you have super powers to destroy everything in your path!
It all started this morning when I tried to listen to my IPod, which, apparently, has broken again! This time it is without reason. I listened to it on Friday and it was fine, and today - the main button doesn't work, which means I can listen to music only if I want to listen to it in alphabetical order. I suspected something like this would happen, because I'd noticed this weekend that the time had reset itself.
Drat.
When I arrived at work, I tried to print out my experiments for the day and, of course, the printer didn't work.
I wrote everything out by hand and decided to just do my best.
Once I'd written out my experiment, I went to the -80 freezer to get my samples and, of course, it wouldn't open. This was due to a combination of the seal's being broken and there being an obscene accumulation of ice. I asked a stronger person for help. He was able to open it but not without his body flying across the room.
I finally had the experiment and the samples, but when I went to read the plate, of course, a glitch in the software prevented me from analyzing the data. Two hours later I figured out the problem.
Ridiculous.
I don't even want to know what's going to happen later.
I hate rainy Tuesdays that feel like Mondays.
It all started this morning when I tried to listen to my IPod, which, apparently, has broken again! This time it is without reason. I listened to it on Friday and it was fine, and today - the main button doesn't work, which means I can listen to music only if I want to listen to it in alphabetical order. I suspected something like this would happen, because I'd noticed this weekend that the time had reset itself.
Drat.
When I arrived at work, I tried to print out my experiments for the day and, of course, the printer didn't work.
I wrote everything out by hand and decided to just do my best.
Once I'd written out my experiment, I went to the -80 freezer to get my samples and, of course, it wouldn't open. This was due to a combination of the seal's being broken and there being an obscene accumulation of ice. I asked a stronger person for help. He was able to open it but not without his body flying across the room.
I finally had the experiment and the samples, but when I went to read the plate, of course, a glitch in the software prevented me from analyzing the data. Two hours later I figured out the problem.
Ridiculous.
I don't even want to know what's going to happen later.
I hate rainy Tuesdays that feel like Mondays.
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