Last night, a few good girl friends and I were chatting over a couple bottles of wine and plates of cheese fries. The conversation turned from guys to shoes to how guys never appreciate our shoes to why shoes are a Statement of Self to other things that would make a good Statement of Self. Eventually, we talked about what songs we viewed as personal anthems. Or songs that we just generally played a lot because they “spoke to our souls.” Yeah, there was a lot of wine involved. I couldn’t come up with any last night. So, the first thing I did this morning was check my iPod to see what might be a contender based on the number of plays or their prominence in random playlists. What I’ve come up with:

1. Looking At the World From the Bottom Of A Well – Mike Doughty
Because sometimes, I feel like I’m doing this.

2. Kate! – Ben Folds
It’s my name, it talks about how great I am, and Ben is a Hottie Potatie!

3. Free Your Mind – En Vouge
The Anthem of My Youth. Plus, I will still strut around my house to this late at night after a bad day. And it’s great for Drunken Supermodel Impresssions.

4. What Do You Hear In These Sounds – Dar Williams
Where the blog name came from. My most favorite, no question the best, totally number one song.

5. Fat Bottom Girls – Queen
I heart Freddy Mercury and his song-writing genius.

6. Supernatural Supergirl – Josh Kramon
Whenever I need to rock out and remind myself that I, too, and super beyond all reason.

7. Untouchable Face – Ani DiFranco
The big F-you anthem for women everywhere.

8. First Day Of My Life – Bright Eyes
The title says it all, about falling in love.

9. Living On A Prayer – Bon Jovi
This song got me through law school, the bar exam, and many a major life crisis. Until somebody writes “by the skin of your teeth,” this will have to do.

10. Ruin – The Pierces
A good newly-single woman song. All about not going back, being strong, and moving on.

11. Big Love – Lindsey Buckingham
Probably my second most favorite song ever written. Great guitar, great lyrics, great in any version ever done.

12. Woman – Wolfmother
Rock for the I’m Going To Go Kick Butt mood.

13. Just Like Heaven – any version, but I love Katie Melua’s
A declaration of Love.

14. I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker – Sandi Thom
For the Fans of Lilly Allen, this is another similar British woman. Tongue in cheek, but yearning.

15. God Is In the Roses – Roseanne Cash
It’s true. And Johnny’s daughter says it best.

Mystery Solved

I’ve always wanted to know what Kenny G’s real name was. Most celebrities will just give themselves a new last name if they don’t like the real one. No so, Kenny. I’ve always speculated that he just had a really long, unpronounceable, doesn’t look good on CD covers type of name. Or there obviously were several Kenny’s in his kindergarten class and he just got used to having his last initial tacked onto his name. Regardless, now I know what his last name is. Oh, ditto Meat Loaf. And Axl Rose is on his third name. Geez.

Some of the best things I’ve discovered today

1. The new White Stripes Album. And The Long Blondes. It’s a tie.

2. No more junk mail. For a dime a day. Which actually equates to priceless in my mind.

3. Ketchup on crackers is actually pretty good. When there is no chocolate, no ice cream, no candy, no popsicles, no fruit, no pizza rolls, no vegetables, no cheese, no leftovers, no chips, no french fries, no dried cherries, no baking chocolate, no frozen egg rolls, no…

4. There are a lot of videos featuring The Hoff. Lots. And lots. And oh yeah, lots.

5. The words “boob,” “booby (but not “boobie”),” “boobtacular,” and “boobalicious” make it through the recently installed email censors at the Place of Lawyerly Things. While I am informed that the censor was intended to keep our minds morally sound, it has in fact led to countless hours thinking of naughty, semi-naughty, and downright pornish words to test. Just in case somebody wants to sexually harass a co-worker through email, they will know how to best do it. Tomorrow’s test will involve euphemisms for male genitals. I am particularly excited to try “goldfish.” Stay tuned.

6. Bionic Kitty doesn’t like Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup. Either that, or she’s getting sick.

7. Cute shoes! Cute shoes! Cute shoes! Cute shoes! Cute shoes! Cute shoes! Cute shoes! Cute shoes! Cute shoes!

Buy me this

Invisible Ink. For the little part of me that still wants to be Harriet the Spy.

Untitled

A really good friend lost her mom about an hour and a half ago.

My friend is probably the most intelligent person I know. She has one of the most sophisticated but encompassing senses of humor I’ve ever seen. And without doubt, she’s one of the most loving people I’ve ever met. Knowing her, knowing what an amazing person she is, I can only imagine what a special person it must have taken to raise her.

The Name Game

My friend recently went through the harrowing step which helps move a relationship from Simple Dating to Alter Bound: she met the parents of her boyfriend. When I heard this, I internally groaned. I’ve just moved significantly closer to donning yet another ugly bridesmaid dress. Dang Nabbit.

Anyway, it seems The Introduction went well. Friend emerged on The Mom’s good side and genuinely liked Boyfriend’s family. She was particularly happy that things went smoothly since His Family is composed of avid wine connoisseurs. Friend is known as the One And A Half Beer Queer within her circle and emptying a stomach on the Potential Mother-In-Law’s couch was not part of her Impress Them Game Plan. With slow and skilled sipping, she managed to limit her wine consumption and remain semi-sober amidst the drinking madness. At the end of the weekend, Friend emerged knowing that The Rock was one step closer to finding its way onto her hand and that she still loved Boyfriend despite learning about his embarrassing childhood moments.

Except, apparently, there was one glitch. Around the dinner table, after his share of the wine stash, Boyfriend referred to Friend by her nickname. The nickname that happens to be the Super Secret Bedroom Name he had given her. Yeah, he referred to her as Nipples.

Of course, there was a reaction from The Mom. She was a bit startled as she had “raised her son better than that.” Then again, never underestimate the power of a good red to overcome years of the best breeding. Boyfriend apologized, grabbed some more wine, and nobody mentioned it for the rest of the weekend. Friend accepted the situation and thought it had died down. After all, who would remember a nickname when they were so awed by her shining personality? No such luck. It seems that yesterday afternoon, Boyfriend’s Little Sister called. She was the only member of The Family to have missed this event. Anyway, as she hung up the phone, she apparently told Boyfriend that she loved him and to “say hello to Nipples for me.” Appears that Nipples’ fame has spread across the Atlantic. Nipples is not happy.

I advised Nipples that she needs a Really Big Honking Rock if she’s going to live a lifetime with this moniker. Oh, and at the next event, she needs to accidently refer to Boyfriend by his New Name: Gherkin.

Wanted

One date for High School Reunion. Must be excessively cute, have veneers, and be able to convincingly top any success story presented by other attendees. Must also be able to fawn all over me for six hours. In front of others. Male or female negotiable (after all, it’s hip to be a lesbian). Compensation in the form of drinks and blackmail material.

Oh my God, I am old; or, my high school reunion looms

My dad ambushed me today on our daily carpool to work. He had a piece of mail that was sent to my parents’ house with no return address, no outer markings, nothing. I expected it was some sort of junk mail or some random letter from a relative who didn’t have my address. Not quite. It was an invite to my 10-year high school reunion. All black and gold and xeroxed 8.5 by 11 trauma inducing inches of it.

Yes, it appears I’ve been out of high school for ten years. My first reaction, after “Oh my f*ingmother God” and “I’m going to be the one that got fat” and “I wonder if any of The Mikes are still cute” and “and single,” was “there must be a mistake; it’s not been that long.” I was convinced that the person in charge of this even was one of the people once in remedial math (known in my high school as “normal level math”) and they just couldn’t properly add the years. But I guess adding 10 is pretty simple and no matter how many times I tried to make it come out to next year, it just wouldn’t work. It’s been a decade. Almost a third of my life. Time to reunion. Depressing.

I went to a school popularly referred to as Uppity Arlington. It is located in the “Golden Ghetto” and we boast famous alums like Wendy (as in The Wendy with the red pig tails and hamburgers), Jack Nicholas, and RJD2 (so not everybody has heard of him, but he’s gonna be big, I tell you). For years, my high school has unofficially prided itself on having 38,916,406,510,040,016,546 varsity sports, a Senior Men’s Club (aka the people who could get kegs) and a proud history of Senior Pranks (like the VM Beetle in the main hallway or the time they ran a mild electric current through the freshmen hall lockers). Officially, it has boasted strong academics, killer vicious lacrosse players, and money.

My feelings on high school are mixed. By no means do I look at those years as the best in my life. Between the bad hair, sporting a refined version of The Grunge Look, and driving The Shitmobile, I was not High School Hot Stuff. But it also wasn’t that bad. I was smart in a school where intelligence was all right, and even valued. I had friends and a boyfriend and The Shitmobile. There were some of the funniest moments of my life during those four years. I had my first kiss and my first make out session and my first Toilet Papering: all of which I look back on fondly. Despite all of that, the thought of going back fills me with the need to upchuck.

I think the nauseau stems from what I imagine conversations to be at this event. For example:

Other Person: I am a successful brainiac working as a junior level VP at a Fortune One Company, with a trophy (person of the opposite sex), a dog, and a metabolism which still allows me to eat excessive Chipotle without an expanding butt. What about you?
Me: *drool*
Other Person: You remember my friend, (insert Mike for a male/Jen for a female). (He/She) was the head (of the football and lacrosse teams/cheerleader and lacrosse captain). Today, (he/she) has quabillioned the family fortune through a savvy investment in Spanx Lycra Suck It In Pants {which I will be wearing in order to suck some of it in} and of course, you know (he/she) is dating that famous celebrity. You know, Tom Cruise. *Laughs in the non-laughy way rich people have*
Me: *drool*
Other Person: It’s been so swell to see you. {the real message being, You Are Not As Good As I Am So There!}
Me: *hurl myself off of the 4 story building while praying for a quick death*

Yes, I anticipate awkwardness with a side of shame. No wonder I am not looking forward to this. Oh, and did I mention it is being held at Frog, Bear and Wild Whore, I mean, Boar?

Videos that I found amusing

If God had a MySpace, would he friend you? Hmmmm…

A French Absolut Vodka commercial. I am totally about these types of protests.

The music video is totally done with Dominos. Groovin’.

The Hoff

Jill knows how much I love ’em. So she sent me a bootylicious video. I don’t know if the flying sequence or the Eskimo pelvic thrusting is better.