Category: etc.

Sorry I haven’t posted in several days. Life’s been too busy and I’m just feeling dry … I got nothin’.

Prolly have something up tomorrow.

Okay. WAIT! Here’s something: Do you ever just suddenly, randomly forget how to spell a word, even if you pride yourself on being a good speller?? I just did that. I could NOT remember how to spell “tomorrow” up there. I first wrote “tommorow,” it looked pretty good to me, and I clicked on dictionary.com only to validate the utter correctness of my choice.

Stupid dictionary.

But thank GOD! I thought I had nothin’.

I have to give a shout out to Bruce, dear reader and my hero because he’s reading Jane Eyre!

But, Bruce ……

FINISHHHH THE BOOK SO WE CAN HEAR WHAT YOU THOUGHT, ALREADY!!!

IT’S KILLING ME!!!

THE ENDING IS SO WORTH IT!!!

AND YES, I’M SHOUTING, BUT CAN I GET AN ‘AMEN’ HERE??

Remember how sometimes your mom, try as she might to rival that genius Chef Boyardee, would only succeed in making the most god-awful crap for dinner? And how she probably hoped you’d be a pliant little kid and chew it up good and choke it down nice? But how somewhere in her head thrummed the nagging notion that it really was the most vile and appalling slop? But how you didn’t know if she actually thought that because you were just a greedy little tot and didn’t give a rip about your mom’s inner thought life and deep, secret sorrows? So how all you really DID know was that she’d made you mush and it made you sick and it made you cry?

Well …. uh …. I’m afraid what I’ve been cooking up this last week in the ol’ Worship Naked post kitchen has seemed just a tad too much like this:

Okay, now dry your eyes. Sorry if your tummy hurts.

Kitchen closed ’til Monday. I’m in a timeout.

Tonight is 50s song night on American Idol. Let’s see how they do. Barry Manilow is coaching them this week. (Please excuse any typos. I’m frantically clacking away here!)

Up first, Mandisa: This girl is just gooey chocolate lava cake. SHE IS MELTIN’ SMOKIN’ HOT TONIGHT!! Crowd is on its feet. She completely deserves it, I think. Randy thinks she’s “unbelievable”. Paula thinks she’s a “thoroughbred.” Okaaay, Paula. Are you ever sober?? Simon thought she was “SEXY”!! Damn straight. You go, gooey chocolate lava cake! We LOVE you!!

Bucky: I’m totally serious when I say this — he reminds me of a girl I used to know named Jennifer. He looks EXACTLY like her. Except her mustache was better. Singing “Oh, Boy!” Oh, boy, poor boy. Ew. Blech. Can I please just call you Jennifer? Randy says “perfect song for you.” Which means nothing, really. Paula says, “You had fun.” Which means nothing, really. So now Simon, bringing the reality — “pointless karaoke performance …. a so-what performance.” Exactly. Sorry, Jennifer.

Paris: Singing “Fever.” Her dress is good, actually, but, well, her face always makes me think of Hattie McDaniel, who played Mammy in Gone with the Wind. I keep waiting for her to say, “And then Mista Rhett went out and shot dat po’ pony!” Oooh! Now, THAT I would actually enjoy! I dunno. She’s just not sexy and this is a sexy song. I’m not really a fan, I guess. They love her, though. But — really going out on a limb here — she won’t win this thing.

Chris: Oooh! “Walk the Line” Ooooh!! Let’s take a listen, shall we? Uhm, okay. Well, it’s got a certain gloomy edginess, I guess. Kinda. He sounds good. Just not sure I like this rendition. He’s made it new, though, and different, so that’s no small thing. Randy and Paula like it. Simon …. “the first artist whose refused to compromise.” Help me, everyone. I’m kinda headachey and out of sorts tonight. What did y’all think of that rendition?

Katherine: Bothered that Simon didn’t remember her last name. Watch out, hon. Keep having a wee attitude and a lot more people are gonna remember a lot less than that about you. “Come Rain or Come Shine.” Don’t like her dress. Hmmph. She really CAN sing, though. Really, really can. She keeps prancing around the stage, attempting to strut sexily and it doesn’t quite work. The audience cheers wildly and she says, “I’ve got my own dawg pound!” Randy says not his favorite performance, but she “worked it out.” Paula said something too. And Simon …. “tonight you turned into a star. Luuuuved it,” he says. Why does he keep doing Charles Nelson Reilly tonight?? She IS turning into a star, but perhaps not a very likeable star.

Taylor: (Did he cut his hair?) Singing Buddy Holly, “Not Fade Away.” And yes, he DID get a haircut. I think he’s doing great with a song that’s not much of a vocal stretch for him. He’s just so much FUN! Watching him do what makes him happy makes ME happy. (If that makes any sense. ) Randy and Paula like it. Then Simon ….. “that was just some hideous party performance.” Paula protests feebly. Simon counters, “Poorla, Poorla, Poorla, you’re talking rubbish!!”

Lisa: “Why do Fools Fall in Love?” Is it me, or does she have a kind of Natalie Cole-ishness to her looks? Don’t know what’s going on with her outfit — I think it’s ewwie. I think the song is too low. Starts badly. She appears to stumble on some words. Overall blah. Randy says “Wow wow wow” in that bland-ish way he has. Paula comments on her energy. Simon says it was okay. Yeah, just okay — shall I add another “ish” to this paragraph? It was just okay-ish.

Li’l Woody Allen: Ssthinging “When I Fall in Love.” Okay. That’s already better that last week’s “Part-Time Lover” Seacrest says “Prepare to shed a tear, America.” Ugh. “Sstheem to cool in the warmth of the ssthun.” AGGGHHH!! I’ve just realized Li’l Woody Allen’s got the George Bush no-lips thing goin’ on!! AGGGGHHHH!! I can no longer watch him sing. Closing my eyes NOW. Oh, someone, please, give him a woobie, read him a story, and put him to BED!! Randy said he did a pretty good job and that he likes him, dude. Paula — “you’ve got more moxie than anyone I’ve met in my life.” Simon, “Your target audience will love that.” Meaning all the gampies and gammies out there. Too bad it’s 9 p.m. and gammie’s asleep.

Elliott: “Teach Me Tonight.” Oops. He actually said he wasn’t “too fond” of Barry Manilow’s work before he met him. Haha. I like Elliott. He’s dorky cute. Hit a few clunkers here and there, but the song was lovely, nice. His voice is so smooth. Inevitably, Paula says something stupid and Simon says, “Thank you for those beautiful words, Poorla.” Then to Elliott, “It was fantastic.” Yay, Elliott!!

Kellie: “Walking after Midnight.” She also does a strut thing, but her knees come up so high, it’s like she’s trying to dodge piles of dog poo. Sexy. I dunno. She’s kind of a cartoon to me. She can sing, I suppose, but her persona seems like just that: a persona, a put-on for effect. Or perhaps I’m just hoping that she’s not REALLY that dimmm. She shares with us that her “eyelashes are better this week.” Um, WHAT??

And lastly, Ace: “In the Still of the Night.” I’m predisposed to dislike him a bit; he’s just such a pretty, pretty pony. And I don’t really like pretty men. Nice falsetto at the end, I guess. Props from Randy, etc. Paula — uh oh, dewey-eyed and slurry-mouthed means she’s getting a crush — “the sexiest, sultriest vocal you’ve done yet!” Simon says, “a helluva lot better than last week.” Well, pretty pretty pony, that’s SOMEPIN’, I guess.

Bottom 3: Hmm. Bucky, Lisa, and, PLEASE, Li’l Woody Allen!!

I’m a little addicted. First, there’s ….

Hot Pepper Jelly from Stonewall Kitchen

THEN, there’s ….

Tabasco Green Sauce

YUMMMMA DUMM DUMMMMMM!!!!

Okay. That’s really all I wanted to say. Confession being good for the soul and all.

But if y’all got addicted, too, I’d feel evah so much bettah.

At my church, the college students are revered for their venerable wisdom and vast life experience. This is only natural, of course. As with most sages, people seem to hang on their every word. So today, you could hear a pin drop when one of these august creatures introduced a worship song with this priceless pearl:

“God wants to give us a spirit of freaking out for Jesus rather than a spirit of despair. So just let yourself freak out for Jesus with this song.”

Man, you know what? Wise people totally kill me.

Being older and less wise myself, I can only speculate that she may have been trying to paraphrase Isaiah 61 and his description of year of the Lord’s favor, where it says the Lord will:

bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.

So we sang the song and I liked the song, but, in a blatant display of my clearly subpar Christianity, I did not FREAK OUT. And if, in this new lexicon of the postmodern Christian, I must choose between “a spirit of freaking out for Jesus” and a spirit of despair, frankly, I’ll take the despair, thanks. At least I’ll feel a little less like an ass.

Because the Lord ALSO says in Isaiah:

I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel, who summons you by name.

And again, this is all just conjecture and I could be wrong, but I imagine I’ve learned more from those treasures of darkness than I ever could from a few moments freaking out for Jesus.

A great new feature over at Chai-rista’s blog, Truly Bad Films.

I couldn’t agree more with what she says; so often it’s the players in those pivotal smaller roles who imprint on our hearts and memories, win our cinematic devotion, even. So I say YES, hooray, let’s celebrate the character actors!!

And she’s got a good’un up for March. Check it out!

I only have a few things to say about American Idol last night, because I only saw bits and pieces. They sang Stevie Wonder songs — freakin’ Stevie Wonder!!

1) Li’l Woody Allen sang “Part-Time Lover.” Now that’s just icky, icky, ICKY! HE IS 16, for God’s sake! No one wants to hear him even TALK about that. “Knowin’ it’s so wrong, but feelin’ so right.” AHHH!! Where are your parents, young man?? You’re grounded, or something.

It’s just impossible for me to take him seriously because of his prominent Groucho Marx eyebrows and, last night, his very prominent — and may I say unfortunate? — Groucho Marx walk/dance steps. I’ve noticed, too, he has a slight lisp when he sings. It seems to me that this could be worked on — uh, that this SHOULD be worked on.

2) Mandisa — my new favorite. She is just LIT from within, that girl. And can she ever SAHHHHNGG!!

3) Katherine McPhee — Simon said she reminds him of Kelly Clarkson. You know what? I think she’s beautiful and I think she can DEFINITELY sing.

BUT …. I remember Kelly, during competition, not seeming to really get just how GOOD she was. She had a freshness and lightness to her. And by “lightness” I mean she didn’t take herself so seriously — was kind of amazed by it all, even.

This girl, Katherine, is very self-aware, conscious of her beauty and talent. And that’s not necessarily a good thing here. There’s a wee bit of the diva I’ve seen creepin’ in. You know, a bit. Gotta keep an eye on her.

4) Still LOVE Taylor and ….

5) …. not sure what I think of that Rudy Huxtable, er, Paris Bennett. Very much a schoolgirl playing dress up to me. Huge voice, just …. I dunno ….. something about her …… Dare I say she has no sex appeal?

Whereas,

6) Chris …. ahem.

Thoughts, anyone?

Okay. These are FABULOUS and FUN!

THESE are known as Art*o*Mat machines: vintage, retired cigarette machines filled with small pieces of original art. Seems back in 1997, a clever fellow named Clark Whittington saw the decline — or outlawing — of public smoking as a chance to give new life to these classic but unused machines while at the same time, giving artists a way to repackage their work in fun, fresh ways. Right now, Art*o*Mat machines can be found at over 80 galleries, museums and other public places. About 400 artists worldwide contribute, pricing their little, 2-by-3-inch pieces at about 5 bucks each.

If you happen across one of these machines, you can select which artist’s work you’d like to receive, BUT since each piece is handmade and unique, “you never know what you’re gonna get,” I guess.

You’ve just gotta let go and take a chance on ART!

Look at some examples of what you might get if you DO:

I like the art, but, can I say this — I REALLY want one of these machines!! In my house. So I can sell my “stuff.” Oh, hullo, Betty. You want that necklace I made? Machine. What’s that, Peaches? You want one of my Mocha Chip Cupcakes? Machine. Oh, it’s you, Joey. You want all my posts about how you think I have demons? Umm, yeah …. you ain’t NEVER gettin’ those.

(Anyway, check out the link above if you’re interested to see if there’s an Art*o*Mat near you!)

Okay. Who here is a Certified Barista?

Anyone?

Hullo?

SO AM I THE ONLY ONE???

Yes, it’s true, peeps. I am now a Certified Barista.

And you know what that really truly means? It means is that if I made you a decaf soy hazelnut no-foam latte yesterday, it SUCKED.

But today, TODAY, if I made you a decaf soy hazelnut no-foam latte, it was sheer java perfection. Oh, coffee art, actually. So yesterday, sucky badness. TODAY, pure javaliciousness.

And if you don’t have a genuwine Certified Barista pouring YOUR espresso shots, well, you, my blissfully ignorant friend, are on shaky coffee grounds. Who knows what Slappy the Coffee Guy is pouring you? Are you sure he used nonfat with that? Are you sure that’s decaf? Are you SURE he used sugar-free vanilla syrup?? NO. No, you’re not, my jittery friend. Because Slappy is a Little Dude and Slappy is sloppy.

Look at him, with his unkempt, frowsy hair, his back-of-the-hand, runny-nose wiping, his inferior whipped cream application technique. He’s pathetic. And UNCLEAN, UNCLEAN!! Does he even know how to make wondrous and stripe-y layered drinks? I AM SURE HE DOES NOT. I mean, look at him. He has damn Lincoln Logs poking out from his earlobes like pedals on a bike. If he doesn’t care about this flippant misuse of good ol’ Lincoln Logs, he surely doesn’t care that you just said “extra foam, please.”

I, myself, a Certified Barista, do not have any Lincoln Logs in my earlobes. Lincoln Logs are for building tiny log cabins on the banks of Plum Creek, not for stuffing in your earlobes like little pigs in fleshy blankets.

I mean, seriously, good LUCK with Slappy, the non-certified coffee slosher. Don’t say I didn’t warn you if he uses 2% instead of 1% and you stroke out from all that extra milkfat.