When I Grow Up...

My mom and I went to a tap dancing performance at the Capitol Theater last night. It was called the Soles of our Feet. A part of the performance was a tribute to Arthur Duncan.

This guy:

You'll understand why they call him the "King of Taps" around the 1:15 mark. 

It wasn't just a tribute to him, he was a part of the show. 

When he first came out, he tapped and sang. 

I leaned over to my mom and said, "I want to be him when I grow up."

He's about a billion years old (really I think he's about 76 according to IMDb), he still doing what he loves and singing and tap dancing. 

That pretty much kicks ass.

THEN! Then, there was the second part. The rest of the (much!) younger cast came out and they tapped together. And not some slow, piddly tap routine. It was insanely fast. And he was right in sync with the young kids. 

Did I mention he's about a billion years old?

He was doing things with his legs at 76 that I'm pretty sure I could not do at my tender age of 28. 

That's when I leaned over to my mom and said, "I think I overshot. I think I'm going to have to settle for being maybe about as half as cool as he is. Possibly one-third." 

It's something to shoot for, at least. 

The Power of Cheese

There's no way around it. I'm having a bad week.

I wore my "Power of Cheese" shirt from Cheese Days today. I was hoping it would help power me through.

"The Power of Cheese compels you!"

So far, all it's gotten me is a speeding ticket.

I keep trying to tell myself that I see the light at the end of the tunnel, but then the little voice of evil in the back of my mind keeps cackling and says, "Yeah, that light at the end of the tunnel? Probably a train. Toot, toot! Peanut butter!"

Shut up! Stupid evil voice.

Where am I?

This is where I've been all day... 

... I have no idea why. 

Rhyming

The husband and I were watching Best Week Ever on VH1 this morning. They were talking about the controversy between Perez Hilton and Miss California. 

According to Best Week Ever, Perez called Miss California "the C-word."

The husband turns to me and says, "The C-word? Does the 'c-word' rhyme with cunt?"

Yes. Yes, husband, the c-word does indeed rhyme with cunt.

He followed that with, "Oops. I meant 'punt.'"

Yes. On both accounts.

ETA: When I read this blog to the husband he said, "I said 'bunt', not 'punt'. Bunt. Bunt. Punt isn't even a word." 

Thank God he's pretty.

iPod Journey

I went to visit my friend, Fatty, last month. He told me that he listens to his iPod play list alphabetically through all the songs since the iPod shuffle function is suck. He even took some artists (Daughtry) off his iPod because his shuffle function loved them so much and he didn't love them quite that much. 

At first, I thought he was crazy. What the hell kind of way is that to listen to music? Alphabetically? What the hell?

But then, I had to agree, the shuffle function does suck. You get the same songs over and over again no matter where you start.

So, I tried it.

I listened to all 1154 songs I currently have loaded on my iPod alphabetically. It took me one month and 20 days. I finally finished my entire play list today. 

On the one hand, it was nice to get to hear songs that don't come up on the shuffle play list very often. It forced me to slow down and listen to some of the lesser known tracks on some of my Cd's.

On the other hand, it made me very impatient at times. VERY impatient. Because, of course, there were rules and I since I made the rules I couldn't break them. 

Rule 1: I can skip Christmas songs, but I don't have to.

Rule 2: I can't skip a song I like just because I'm not in the mood for it.

Rule 3: I can't skip a song just because I don't know it.

Rule 4: I can skip songs I really hate, but only if I really hate them. 

Anything by Colbie Caillat falls in this category. I thought I would love her when I bought her CD, but as it turns out I don't. Her voice gets on my nerves the more I hear it. Oops.

It was an interesting experiment, but I'm not sure if I'd do it again. It took too long. 

Then again, I have to do something to combat shuffle suck, so it's always an option on the table.

Why do I feel like I've accomplished something worthwhile, like running a marathon, instead of something completely nonsensical?

Possibly because I'm completely delusional.

Or it's possibly because completing it thoroughly satisfies that OCD place buried deep within my heart.

I think I end up on the crazy side of the teeter-totter either way. 

Blogs and Belts

Bloggers are extremely useful. 

People write about weird stuff. They blog about their stuff in great detail. In insane, minuscule detail. 

Thank goodness they do. Our trivia team benefited from their bizarre cadre of knowledge. I don't know how we could have found some of the answers without them. We had to find a race car driver by his pit crew, which we only found from some guy's blog. 

Next year, we should remember to look at the saying on the Belt's sign, so we can actually get that question right next year. 

I'm tired. I'm glad we're on question 7 of hour 54. 

Trivia 40 Hour 3

So it begins.

The searching and questioning and googling. 

Hour after hour after hour. After hour.

But, now we're still in the beginning. When it's fun and exciting and I can't wait for the next question. Instead of when I'm addicted. When I want to stop, but I continue on, for just one more question. Just one more. And then, one more. 

It's a marathon, not a sprint.

You can stream it on-line if your interested. 

http://www.90fmtrivia.org/

If you know me and you know an answer, give the husband's cell phone a ring... unless you're here. Then just say the answer. No need to call him.