Wednesday, March 28, 2007

The Torments Never Cease

So I missed school yesterday to visit a college in Pennsylvania. My mother and I went to visit (and eat dinner with) her cousin's family on the way to the hotel near the college. The visit wasn't awesome, so we decided to leave early. On the way home, we stopped for an ice cream at a nearby Carvel (a combination Cinnabon-Carvel, in fact). While enjoying my Brown Bonnet, a bit of ice cream entered the wrong pipe, and I broke out into a fit of vigorous coughing.

Apologies for the lengthy setup. Anyway, as I am coughing like an old smoker beset with emphysema, a little boy of three years of age (also getting an ice cream cone with his mother) begins to mock me by staring me down and fake-coughing in an effort to annoy me. Though there was a certain level of cuteness to this small child's behavior, he was nonetheless poking fun at me. It's like the people with whom I interact daily hire people to follow me around and torment me. Yes, I acknowledge that I'm horribly annoying, but please people, call off the toddlers!

Sorry. That wasn't a very good story. I'll make it up to you with an ironic lyrical selection.

"Baby I'm A Star," by Prince (presented with The Artist's alternate spellings of common words)

"Hey, look me over
Tell me do u like what u see?
Hey, I ain't got no money
But honey I'm rich on personality
Hey, check it all out
Baby I know what it's all about
Before the night is through
U will see my point of view
Even if I have 2 scream and shout

Baby I'm a (star)
Might not know it now
Baby but I r, I'm a (star)
I don't want to stop, 'til I reach the top
Sing it (We are all a star!)

Hey, take a listen
Tell me do u like what u hear?
If it don't turn u on
Just say the word and I'm gone
But honey I know, ain't nothing
Wrong with your ears
Hey, check it all out
Better look now or it just might be 2 late (just might be 2 late)
My lucks gonna change tonight
There's gotta be a better life
Take a picture sweetie
I ain't got time 2 waste

Oh baby I'm a (star)
Might not know it now
Baby but I r, I'm a (star)
I don't want to stop, 'til I reach the top
Sing it! (We are all a star!)

Everybody say, nothing come 2 easy
But when u got it baby, nothing come 2 hard
You'll see what I'm all about (see what I'm all about)
If I gotta scream and shout (if I gotta scream and shout)
Baby baby (baby) baby (baby) baby (baby)
yeah
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah (star)..."

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Gavrich Gets Lucky!

Yes, gang, the title says it all. On this day, the Feast of St. Patrick, I had a wee bit of the old Irish luck.

I briefly achieved the apex, the holy-of-holies in golf this afternoon, a hole in one. It wasn't the mightiest stroke (a paltry swipe of roughly 125 yards, more like), but it was true as true can be. I watched the ball take a little bounce, and then mosey on into the hole from the left side. My reaction was one of stunned amazement, rather than one of unbridled joy. Luckily for the inhabitants of the nearby houses, I did not scream, shout, yell, or even holler at my achievement. But don't get me wrong, it was a pretty cool feeling nonetheless. The best part was that I didn't even have to buy drinks for anybody (as is the typical protocol). Add to that a nice dinner at a nice restaurant, and I must say that I had a pretty decent day. I'd better not risk spoiling the ol' mojo (yes, even squares such as myself can capture this elusive intangible at times) by doing anything but moseying off to bed.

Good night; I apologize for not having too much in the way of sage advice, but sometimes one feels like sharing one's fortune. Fear not, dear readers, I have a little something-something in the works for the near future. Do stay tuned.

Thank you, nothing lyrical this evening (go find some Uileann Pipes or something, perhaps).

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

How Wiggly is Your Piggly?

Piggly Wiggly is much like any other supermarket chain, but for the fact that it has a funny name and emblem (a jolly pig with a hungry-yet-ecstatic expreession on its face). Anyway, it's a Southern institution, and I was there earlier this evening. Based on my observations there, dear readers, I have a little quiz for y'all.

What do the following words have in common?

ALL, BOLD, CHEER, DREFT, FAB, GAIN, TIDE, TREND, WISK, YES

Give up?

These words are all brand names. Terse, monosyllabic brand names--for laundry detergents. This phenomenon is fascinating to me because it only seems to occur in laundry detergents. Why do companies feel it's so important to pull in new buyers with these names? Are we so scatterbrained that the only way to catch our attention is with these brief, often-non-sensical names? I have no concrete theories as of now, but if you have thoughts on this strange occurrence, kindly leave a comment.

"I Get A Kick Out Of You," written by Cole Porter

"My story is much too sad to be told,
But practically evrything leaves me totally cold.
The only exception I know is the case
Where Im out on a quiet spree
Fighting vainly the old ennui
And I suddenly turn and see
Your fabulous face.

I get no kick from champagne.
Mere alcohol doesnt thrill me at all,
So tell me why should it be true
That I get a kick out of you?

Some get a kick from cocaine.
Im sure that if I took even one sniff
That would bore me terrificly too,
Yet I get a kick out of you.

I get a kick evrytime I see
Youre standing there before me.
I get a kick though its clear to me
You obviously dont adore me.

I get no kick in a plane.
Flying too high with some gal in the sky
Is my idea of nothing to do,
Yet I get a kick out of you."

Monday, March 05, 2007

Oh the Irony! or Only in the South!

I am elated as I write this, sitting in the kitchen of my family's condo in South Carolina. My mother, sister, and I made the !14 hour journey all today, having left Connecticut at 8 AM.

About five miles outside of the town of Dunn, North Carolina, along I-95 South, is perhaps the greatest pair of billboards in all of billboard-dom. They are not witty, and not terribly noteworthy by themselves, but their synergy is incredible. They are on opposite sides of the freeway, and are read in quick succession.

BILLBOARD ON THE LEFT: A blue background, with white lettering, and the text, "Jesus is Lord, have you accepted Him into your life?"

BILLBOARD ON THE RIGHT: A black background, with magenta lettering, all in caps, and the text, "Café Risqué! 24 Hour Topless Bar! XXX Videos and Toys! Food n' Fun!"

I believe I need not elaborate any further.

Tonight's lyrical selection: "Closing Time," by Leonard Cohen

"Ah we're drinking and we're dancing and the band is really happening
and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high.
And my very sweet companion she's the Angel of Compassion
she's rubbing half the world against her thigh.
And every drinker every dancer lifts a happy face to thank her
the fiddler fiddles something so sublime.
All the women tear their blouses off and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME
Yeah the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME

Ah we're lonely, we're romantic and the cider's laced with acid
and the Holy Spirit's crying, "Where's the beef?"
And the moon is swimming naked and the summer night is fragrant
with a mighty expectation of relief.
So we struggle and we stagger down the snakes and up the ladder
to the tower where the blessed hours chime.
and I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
but CLOSING TIME

I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
CLOSING TIME

I loved you for your beauty but that doesn't make a fool of me:
you were in it for your beauty too.
And I loved you for your body there's a voice that sounds like God to me
declaring, declaring, declaring that your body's really you.
And I loved you when our love was blessed and I love you now there's nothing left
but sorrow and a sense of overtime.
And I missed you since the place got wrecked
and I just don't care what happens next
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME

Yeah I missed you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex.
Looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME

Yeah we're drinking and we're dancing but there's nothing really happening
and the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night.
And my very close companion gets me fumbling gets me laughing
she's a hundred but she's wearing something tight.
And I lift my glass to the Awful Truth which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth
except to say it isn't worth a dime.
And the whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME

The whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME

Oh the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
It's CLOSING TIME
And it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops
It's CLOSING TIME
I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
It's CLOSING TIME
The Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
But CLOSING TIME
I loved you when our love was blessed
I love you now there's nothing left
But CLOSING TIME

Saturday, March 03, 2007

Yikes!

I just turned on the television to the end of an episode of the show "COPS!" A 70-odd year old woman was speaking angrily with two police officers as her ~12 year old grandson--slumped in a chair, stroking a gray cat. This boy has been disrespectful to the point that the grandmother wants the police to quote "give his ass a good whippin," but must settle for the assurance from one of the cops that she has the right to do that herself.

The events of the episode are no what warrants the title of this post, but the fact that I recognized the episode tells me that I might be watching too much TV. I also noticed that there wasn't anything interesting on TV this evening, and yet I'm still watching. It just goes to show how TV runs our lives, at least in our free time. Ah well--I know I'll really be in trouble when I have to resort to watching "I Love New York" on VH1, but hopefully I'll have beaten myself unconscious out of boredom before that happens.

Pink Floyd, "Brain Damage"

"The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
Got to keep the loonies on the path

The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more

And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forbodings too
Ill see you on the dark side of the moon

The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me till Im sane
You lock the door
And throw away the key
Theres someone in my head but its not me.

And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band youre in starts playing different tunes
Ill see you on the dark side of the moon"