My mom told me the other day that when I was a really little kid I would always get this look on my face that very clearly said "I'm thinking of something really bizarre and it's HILARIOUS!" I still get that look sometimes. Mom says I've always had that odd sense of humour.
This comment was prompted by my telling of something that amused me at work last week. The music on the radio is usually Top 40 stuff, most of it fairly current but occasionally they'll play some fantastic music from the '50s/'60s/'70s. Anyway, I was straightening some swimsuits that our lowlife customers had fucked up when "The Space Between" by Dave Matthews came on the radio. Just as Dave was singing "...the space between..." I happened to glance left and was visually assaulted by a woman with ginormous breasts and a very, obscenely low-cut tank-top. Her cleavage was deep and cavernous and could probably swallow a small child or at least a gerbil. As I was blinded by this horrific sight...in the background, "...the space between..."
Brief comment on Dave Matthews: I don't know why everyone thinks he's awesome. All his songs sound alike and his voice sounds like he's constantly chewing on marbles. He's tolerable, I guess, for a song or two, but I can't figure out why he's popular.
That's all the blogspace I'm willing to devote to Dave Matthews.
I went to the library today. I ended up with a few books and two CDs that could not be more different from each other. One CD is "Once In A Red Moon" by the Norwegian group Secret Garden. It's like Celticy-folky-acoustic-new age stuff. Like Enya, except it doesn't suck. The other CD I got is "Freak Out!" by Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention. Umm...I won't even try to explain that one. Music nerds will know (and beat me with sticks, I'm sure).
Frank Zappa cracks me the fuck up. I don't always like his music, probably because I'm not really used to it, but the man was a damn genius with a great sense of humour. Unfortunately, he named his kids stupid things like Moon Unit and Dweezil. Seriously, man. That's what nicknames are for. The names of your children are not the appropriate forum for you to show off how unique and quirky you can be. This goes for all parents, celebrity or not.
Speaking of asstacular baby names...here are some, um, gems I've come across recently:
Mackyndsea (what the flying fuck?)
Mckaylee (because I want my daughter's name to sound like it came from the dollar menu)
Kyleaha (phonetically unreasonable in seven billion languages!)
Latoria (nothing says "cheap hooker" like...)
I don't have the emotional fortitude right now to compose a manifesto on naming atrocities...but it will happen, eventually, I promise.
On an entirely different note, many tiny seed beads have found their way onto wire in the past couple days. Most of these wires have been twisted and shaped into flower petals, and most of these flower petals have been gathered together and resemble flowers. Hooray for me.
Tomorrow I "get to" work from 2-close, which translates approximately to 2-8. Hey, whatever, it's a way to pass time. I'm cool with that. Farz's countdown is at 64 days. My countdown is stuck at "forever." Well, sort of. Officially it's 2 months and one week until move-in day at the apartments. I can't bloody wait.
Fun fact: In first grade, my bus driver threatened to "flip the bus over" if we misbehaved. I was, understandably, terrified.
Fun lie: Most zebras speak Portuguese.