Well, shit.

I've been trying since Sunday evening to post photos from The Geej's small but fun b-day bash. (That's right folks: I'm officially the mother of a two year old. Yikes.) But Blogger won't let me. Seems to be a common occurrence these days with blogger.com. I know it's free and all, but really--get yer shit together blogger!

Speaking of The Geej, that lucky girl got to enjoy a very special and enthusiastic performance of all of the Olivia Newton-John numbers from the Xanadu soundtrack tonight while she was eating her dinner. I love having a captive audience. And by "captive," I mean literally, as she was freakin' strapped in her Kinderzeat and could not escape my dinnertime musical theatre. I'm sure she'll pay me back when she's a teenager by huffing gas or something, but for now, it's fun to sing my brains out for her and watch her smile and bop along.

Let's see...Guess what I figured out yesterday while sitting at the midtown offices of the Austin Radiological Association: that barium "pudding" stuff they make you eat before you have a CT scan is really exactly like eating a big ol' thing of Noxema. For reals. It's the same consistency exactly. As soon as I locked on to that fact in my little pea brain, I had to do all I humanly could not to hurl. I sat there for 20 minutes with the trash can between my knees, concentrating HARD on not vomiting. I mean, bend-a-spoon-with-your-mind hard. Eventually the tsunamis of nausea passed. But now that I've figured the Noxema thing out, I don't think I'll ever be able to ingest that stuff again.

The company I work for had it's Q3 earnings release yesterday, and although our numbers were good, we missed analysts' expectations by about 5 cents, and our stock took a fucking nosedive from hell today as a result. Sad, sad stuff ladies and germs.

I'm beat. Wish I were more inspired to write something, but I just ain't feelin' that disco beat.

Awwww...oh, wait. Nevermind.

Sometimes The Geej can be so cute she just melts your heart. Like today, right after we got home from getting her hair cut, and she was looking in the window at me from the deck.

I mean, come on. She's a freakin' pixie. Cherubic. Angelic. Precious.

But then, in a milisecond, this happens:

Yep. That's my girl.

Sometimes I hate people.

See this?

This is a little slice of heaven. It's one of those low water crossings you see when you're driving around in the Hill Country. They're everywhere. They call to you. They say, "Stop. Get out of your car. Come, get cool." And so you go to them, hoping for some relief from the brutal Texas summer.

But once you get out and get closer to (what you hope will be) the pristine, cool, clear water, you start to notice some things. Things like empty Sonic cups, dirty discarded diapers, plastic forks, an empty tube of toothpaste, an empty chip bag, a couple of eaten corn cobs, plastic shopping bags, ziplocs, sunscreen containers, a Whataburger bag, lots and lots of cigarette butts, styrofoam containers that once held fishing bait, many empty soda and beer cans and bottles (a large number of which had been shoved into the hollow center of a majestic cypress tree), and--the most amazing thing of all--a very large, very fresh human turd. That's right people: A large, long, stinky log of shit.

I was just beyond amazed. Who ARE these fucktards? Did their parents raise them to think that leaving this shit (literally) behind in a place like this is acceptable behavior? Haven't they ever heard the goddamned phrase, "Don't Mess With Texas" for pete's sake? Maybe they should change the phrase to be a bit more specific to say, "Don't Shit on Texas" for the stupid dickwads who don't understand the meaning of the word "mess."

God, I wanted to take the jackass who took that dump and rub his fucking face in it like a bad puppy. I mean, how did that even happen? "Hey bro, I'm having a really nice time swimming, but I've got to take a righteous crap. Right here on the banks of the water should be fine, dontcha think? There's already tons of other trash here, so my enormous pile of putrid feces won't really make much of a difference, right? Let me just toss my empty Bud Light can into that tree trunk, toss this cigarette into the water, and adjust my backward baseball cap, pookah shell necklace, and wraparound shades before I get to it."

Yes, I'm stereotyping, but who cares? An asshole is an asshole, and I've seen my fair share who fit the description I just gave, so I'm sticking to it.

And while we're talking about assholes, here's an open letter inspired by this morning's commute to work:

Dear Small-penised Wonder in the Ridiculously Huge Ford Pickup Halfway Up my Tailpipe,

Back the fuck off. And quit making those "What the fuck?!" gestures with your hands because you think I'm going too slow. I was going 65 in rush hour traffic, and last time I checked, the speed limit where we were driving was, you guessed it, 65. And I was going at least 15 mph faster than the tool in the other lane, so you should've just chilled. I had a damn toddler in the car, damnit! Didn't you see her waving her little stuffed bunny in the air?

Here's what I wish for you, cocksucker. I hope that you ram that truck of yours into a tree somewhere while you're hauling ass to get around someone you think is going too slow. I hope you total that truck and seriously injure yourself--and only yourself. I hope the airbag doesn't work, and that the steering column goes into your crotch and turns you into a woman.

Go to Hell,

Karla May

Can you tell it's been a rough week?

ARRRRRGH!

I have been writing the Part 2 post to my previous one, trying like hell to download a bunch of photos on to Blogger, but it won't put them in the damn post! It acts like it's downloading them, you hit "Done," and then they get lost somewhere in cyberspace and never appear in your post.

Grrrrr...

Is anyone else experiencing this?

Does it make you want to kick in a wall somewhere?

Too happy for words (part 2).

The tale of the perfect weekend continues (in photos). But don't worry Millardman--there's a post LOADED with F-bombs brewing in my skull at the moment.

Okay. Here we go:

This part of the state is just gorgeous. It invites a lot of driving around, seeing the sites. One of the best parts about traversing the long, winding, hilly roads is that every few miles, you come across a low water crossing that just begs you to get out and stick your feet in. Or swim. This particular one said, "Come wade around for a bit." So we did.

Here I am, ankle deep in the crystal clear, cool water, with the minnows dancing around my toes. There were about a billion of them, and after a few minutes, they started really tickling me and sort of freaking me out. So I had to take my silt-covered tootsies and get the helloutta dodge. But it was nice while it lasted.

Another thing this particular area and time of year invites is grilling. Here is pretty much the perfect meal: A grilled turkey burger with pepper jack cheese, avocado and all the fixins, tater tots, a copy of the most-recent "Weekly World News" a bloody mary, and a view to die for. I must say, it was one of the best burgers I've ever had. Period.

And then, what if, not too long after you chowed down on those turkey burgers and treated yourself to a damn ice cream sammich while sitting by the pool, what if an amazing storm rolled through? How great would that be? Well, it WAS great. The wind kicked up, the temperature dropped significantly, and low, rumbling thunder ushered in a long, steady rainfall. And you just got to sit there on the sleeping porch and watch it give the ground a much-needed drink. And then the next day, we went and checked out a local swimming hole to see what affect the rain had had on it. Other people had the same idea, and they were swimming with their kids, enjoying picnic lunches along the banks, and kayaking.

Finally, that evening, we went and visted an old friend who lives out in Driftwood. His property backs up to a pasture with horses. We walked up to the fence, and I called to the horses. Without hesitation, an old male horse wandered up. He had wise eyes and enjoyed being petted. Soon after, the other horses joined him at the fence. It was great.

Meanwhile, in the background, an amazing, vibrant sunset was going on. (I'd love to post a photo of it and of the cool old horse, but Blogger is, once again, being a whiny bitch when it comes to posting pictures.)

Like I said, the weekend was "Perfect."

Too happy for words (part 1).

Suffice it to say that this weekend was as close to perfect as I could've imagined it. Seriously. I'm sitting here stunned by it all. And I'm tired and sad because he is gone. So I'll just post a bunch of photos from this weekend, along with a few sparse commentaries. (And apparently, I'm going to have to spread this out over several posts b/c Blogger's being a whiny bitch when it comes to posting photos tonight).

We were staying in a cabin on riverfront property between Ingram and Hunt. If you don't know where that is, here's all you need to know: It's one of the most lovely, laidback places you could ever want to visit. And this cabin/land? Magical.

Our shadows in the late afternoon as Mr. Wonderful and I walked down to sit by the river and listen to the kids at the summer camp across from us laugh and squeal.

An amazingly huge cypress tree at the property/riverline. You can't really understand the scale of this sucker until you see a human next to it.
Like here, for instance:Mr. Wonderful is standing right where the dip in the trunk is that joins the two sides of the tree. And Mr. Wonderful is not a short guy--he's about 6' 3". So that might give you some idea how ginormous this tree is.

And here's the view that awaited us when we finally perched ourselves on the old stone landing at the river's edge:

So serene. So amazing.

More to come tomorrow. Night night, my kittens.

Don't you, forget about me, no no no no.

I'm off! Out to meet Mr. Wonderful at the airport then on with our fin de semana romantica. Sigh. So I won't be updating this sucker until at least Monday. But in the meantime, please don't forget about me, your little Pine Curtain Refugee.

Here's something cute for you to look at for a couple of days:

Aww...kitties.

Karla May. Out.

Freakin' me out.

So here's the dream I had last night:

I'm in a big, cavernous restaurant, and as part of the entertainment therein, they had one of those rides that you see at carnivals and stuff that looks like a big pirate ship, and you get in it and it goes back and forth to ever-increasing heights. But this ride is sort of miniaturized so that only two people can sit on each side, but it still goes WAY high during its back and forthing. I find myself in this ride, seated across from the husband of the woman my dad cheated on my mom with. His name is Big Tom (because of course they had a son named, you guessed it, Little Tom). Big Tom always reminded me of and extreeeeeeeeemly countri-fied version of Abe Vigoda, but with more hair (if you can imagine that). So there he is sitting across from me, wearing deep red lipstick and a white "Fantasy Island" type suit, enjoying the hell out of this ride we're on.

And there were a few random people from my highschool watching in the wings, hooting and hollering for us as we rode this stupid ride.

At the end of the ride, while it's still going, these doors open up, and we're flung out on to some gymnastics mats. And I'm cringing because I'm sure that Big Tom, at his age, is bound to break a hip. But no, he gets up and bounds out of the restaurant, waving his goodbyes over his shoulder.

Um...

What the fuck?

Not much to report, really.

The Geej is in a really good phase right now, being extra funny and cute and scrumptious. Although the Teletubbies drive me insane, they have taught her to say "Big Hug!" while giving me a hug and a kiss to die for. So damn precious.

Work is manageable. I'm almost done with all of my pre-interview chats with the various "stakeholders" scattered around my company. I've spoken with 20+ people, and next week I have to sit down and sythesize everything I've heard and learned into some sort of cohesive vision for this team. Whew. Lots and lots of work ahead, my friends.

I've got just TWO MORE DAYS until Mr. Wonderful gets here for his nice, long visit. I am beyond excited. Not just to see him (duh), but also for him to get to spend some more time with The Geej. He only got to hang out with her for a couple of hours during his two previous visits, so I can't wait to see her really warm up to him and for them to enjoy each other. He likes kids, and his two boys are long past the nearly-two-year-old phase. Geej is hardly ever around men. So the whole thing should be entertaining to witness.

Due to Mr. Wonderful's visit, I'll be taking off of work Thursday afternoon, Friday, and the following Monday. The timing's kind of wonky, but I sure do need a break from this place. And to get to spend it with the man I love? Total gravy.

Hotter than flippin' hell here for the past few days. Yesterday, the outside thermometer on my car read 107 when I left work. Yowzah. And it's dry too. Everything is crispy. I absolutely hate this time of year.

Today I turned out of a parking lot going the wrong way on a one-way street, right into oncoming traffic. Brilliant. Especially considering that I drive down this street (the correct way) EVERY SINGLE DAY when I leave work. Sometimes my own dingbat-ness alarms me.

That's it for now. Hopefully I'll have something more interesting to report next time.

3 random photos

Random photo #1:

Taken Thursday morning. I'd just gotten The Geej dressed for school, and she looked so fuhdorable (new slang I'm trying to popularize that means "fucking adorable") that I had to take a picture. Okay, is it just me, or does she look like 14 in this picture?! Wow. There are some photos of her that I take where I can totally see into the future. This is one of them. She's such a stunner, and it's totally okay for me to say that because I had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Random photo #2:

This is one of my favorite pictures of my mom. It was unearthed from a box full of flood-damaged photos that we discovered after my grandmother died. There are a bunch of great snapshots from this particular day. The other little baby is my mom's cousin Butch. Yes, that was his given name. Anyway, they were apparently running around in their diapers and getting into all sorts of mischief. Eventually, they both got a bath in a washtub up on that porch. I know this, because there are some amazing snapshots of them going nuts with the water.

I had a similar one of me, about age 3, sitting on the front porch sporting a badass macrame vest that my hippie aunt had made for me. I'm tilting a can of Budweiser up to the sky, having a big ol' swig, and you can see my mom's hand reaching for it. I don't know what happened to that photo, but how great would it be to have both this one and that one side-by-side in a frame.

Random photo #3:

'Member the other day when I wrote about my new glasses? Well, here I am with them on.

Go ahead. Ask me any kind of brainy question. I'm sure I can answer it as long as I'm wearing these specs.

Inappropriate laughter.

I took my team to see "An Inconvenient Truth" this afternoon. Man. Whoa. I'm not going to go into a big movie review, but suffice it to say, it was very, very thought provoking.

Well, right in the middle of the movie, there's Al Gore, standing up before an audience, delivering his global warming slide show, and out in the audience I see this sort of doofy looking guy wearing a white shirt with green lettering that reads: "Sweet Jesus, I hate Bill O'Reilly." I burst out laughing. Loudly. I'm sure the other people in the theater thought I was a lunatic. My team already knows this about me, so they were unfazed.

Yipee!

I got a wild hair up my butt and went and bought some new glasses. "BFD," you say. Well yes, it is. I haven't gotten any new glasses since spring of 2001, so I figured, I'm due. I went and picked them up today, and I'm SO in love with them. I look totally smart when I wear them. Like the brainy chick in the back of the class that knows shit about trig or physics or something.

Welcome to My Nightmare, Part 2*.

Thanks to the fabulous Mags for this loverly meme.

Let's see what it's like in my hell, shall we?

Drinks in my hell:
Buttermilk
Absinthe
Coffee
Red Bull
Wheatgrass shots
Diet Coke (or any diet drinks for that matter)
Sweet tea (you know, the kind you order in southern restaurants or at Milo's)
Bongwater (not technically a drink, but still...eww.)

Food in my hell:
Beets
Unagi
Veal
Licorice
Mayonnaise
Burnt microwave popcorn
Bleu cheese
Thousand Island dressing
Butterscotch anything

Occupations in my hell:
Maid at a frat house
Person who picks up roadkill
Toby Keith’s road manager
Line worker at a slaughterhouse
Whitehouse Press Secretary under George Bush
The nurse at the pediatrician’s office whose only job is to give babies and kids shots
Road construction worker in Texas in August
Person who has to clean out port-a-potties after some big music festival
Rodent exterminator

Music mix in my hell:
Toby
Celine
Slipknot
Big and Rich
post-Van Halen David Lee Roth
Norwegian death metal
Anything sung by Elmo

President in my hell:
GWB. OMG. WTF.

Only author in my hell:
Anne Coulter

Husbands in my hell:
A chain-smoking hardcore born-again Christian active military sexist/racist republican jack off with a Napoleon complex
Kevin Federline
Robin Williams
Tom Arnold

Only activities allowed in my hell:
Shopping for bathing suits
Getting bitten by mosquitoes or other types of bugs (horseflies, chiggers, spiders, etc.)
Putting away laundry
Having a gynecological exam
Dealing with car trouble
Dieting
Standing in line at the Social Security office
Doing my own taxes
Sitting in traffic
Cleaning out the garage. In August. In Texas.
Packing to move or for a trip
Putting together furniture from IKEA

*The original "Welcome to My Nightmare" can be found here.

Just stop it.

Enough with the "designer" dogs. Just cut that shit out.

Chiweenie? (A chihuahua/dachsund mix.)

Dorkie? (dachsund/Yorkshire terrier mix.)

No. NO. NO! BAD humans!

I hate to tell you this, baby.

But I'm going to neglect you for the next couple of days. Not because I don't love you. You know that I do. But because I am, literally, buried at work. So much so that I'm going to have to work at home for the next night or two. You know I'd much rather be spending time with you in the blogosphere, but I just can't right now. I mean, I could phone it in. But you don't want that. Do you?

This isn't the way it's always going to be, baby. I promise. It's just that I'm doing my work work, and my prepare-for-the-big-interview work, and it's a lot to handle. I'm just trying to make it happen, baby. So we can get that big house in the country you always said you wanted. You know, the one with the porch swing where you and me and all of the other Internets could watch the sunset together.
You understand, right?

Life stuff. Love stuff. Etc.

Well, the job interview has been postponed. Until like August. It's a logistics thing (they're assembling a big ol' interview panel, and it's proving almost impossible to get everyone they want to be on it in the same room for a couple of hours during the month of July). So I guess I've got about another month of being in the unofficial Team Leader role. Sigh.

I've finally made the move to get that damn wiring done on my deck and to get my garage door opener fixed. It's only been broken for about 6 weeks. Damn, I'm lazy.

I've discovered that The Geej likes--no, LOVES--onions. Especially purple onions. I can use them to bribe her. "Baby, if you'll eat 2 more bites of peas, I'll give you some onion." It WORKS! She's so wonderfully odd.

Mr. Wonderful just booked a flight to come down here and visit the weekend of the 21st. Thank GOD!! I was on the beginning edge of spiraling into major withdrawal followed by a major depression. But now I have it written on my calendar IN INK that he's coming to see me. We're planning on spending most of the weekend in an amazing cabin on the river in the Hill Country. Heaven on Earth.

This weekend, I've GOT to start planning The Geej's 2-yr. old birthday party, which is going to be hard since I pretty much loathe children's birthday parties. I'm figuring: keep it small; only invite people with kids around Gracelyn's age (since I don't want to torture my friends without kids, and those of us with munchkins hardly ever get to see each other unless it's at these things); and basically turn on the sprinkler and fill up the baby pool and let the wee ones go nuts. There will be cupcakes and adult libations, of course. And I'm sure The Geej will dig it, even though she probably won't really "get it" that it's all for her.

I've got kitten fever. I know of several friends who've adopted kittens recently, and I'm just longing for the pitter patter of little paws around my house. I'm not going to do anything about this for now. But I'm not going to be able to resist the siren song of the kitten for much longer.

I'm really not watching T.V. anymore. It's weird. We watch about 15 mins. of the Teletubbies each night, and The Biscuit Brothers on the weekend, but that's kind of it. I mean, I haven't really even been watching The Daily Show lately. And yet I pay like a jillion dollars a month for digital cable, DVR, etc. I am very much looking forward to the return of Reno 911 this weekend. Praises be, I love that damn show.

The past two nights I've stayed up until past 1am talking on the phone. Night #1 was with my dear friend Lisa C. Night #2, it was with Mr. Wonderful. Both mornings after these marathon conversations, I had to get up at 5:50. You do the math. That ain't much time for shut eye. So here it is 8:35 pm, and I'm seriously wondering if I'm even going to make it to 9.

And finally, I'd like to thank Blue Bell creameries for ensuring that my ass will soon be expanding thanks to this: Chocolate Covered Strawberry ice cream. Good God. I haven't had it yet, but I will. Oh yes, I will.

Is this an okay song to sing to a toddler during bathtime?

(Sung to the tune of "Mama's Gonna Buy You a Mockingbird.")

Lift your head way up to the sky,
That way you don't get soap in your eyes.
If you choose to just look down,
chances are you're gonna drown.

Seriously baby, why you gotta fuss?
Cuz it's no fun for either of us.
Just shut your eyes, it's not hard work.
Please stop being such a jerk.

I don't know. I think it's pretty awesome. Maybe I have a humungous future in children's song writing. I'm thinking of seeing if the Biscuit Brothers or Sara Hickman are interested.

So if I don't work on the 4th, do the terrorists win?

Hi. I'm at work.

You see, at the large retail company I work for, we don't get holidays off. Ever. If we want to TAKE the day off in order to enjoy a holiday, then we're more than welcome to. However, that involves drawing on time from our "time off bucket," and the time in that bucket is also used for vacations, sick days, personal days, etc.

In theory, this is great, because it gives you the flexibility to take off (and get paid) for Arbor Day if that's what's important to you. However, in practice, it sucks. They are notoriously stingy with how much time off they put in your bucket, so you're fearful of taking off too much time in case--God forbid--you happen to get sick later or have some sort of emergency that would require you to be away from work.

Right now, I've got 69 hours in my time off bucket. That's like 8.5 days. And that's it. Period. And I've been at the company for nearly 7 years, so even if I don't get paid holidays off, it still seems like I should have at least 3 weeks of vacation built up, plus sick time, plus personal days. But no. I've got only 8.5 days. Total.

"But how do you get more hours in your bucket, Karla May?"

Well, you earn them in little, uneven increments by amassing "Service Hours" (or time with the company). For instance, when I passed my last service hour threshold (12,000 service hours), I got 69 hours dumped into my bucket (prior to that, my time off balance was zero). My next threshold is at 12,500 hours, at which time I'll get 8 hours dumped in the bucket. Yay. A whole day off. Hooray. You go through a couple of these cycles each year, ending up with a grand total of 19.25* days off in your bucket. So that's basically 2 weeks of vacation (10 days) then 9.25 other "days" that are intended to cover Christmas, New Year's, Thanksgiving, Memorial Day, 4th of July, etc. and any sickness or other time away from work you may need.

Sucks, no?

Oh well. Eat a hot dog and drink a cold one for me, okay?

Happy Fucking 4th.

*Unless you've been here less than 5 years. Then you only earn a total 15.5 days off in a year.

Overhang.

You know how when you're feeling particularly puffy or bloated or maybe like you've allowed yourself to gain that damn extra 5 pounds and you put on your favorite pair of jeans and all of the sudden, there's like "overhang"? And you look in the mirror, and you're like, "Oh shit. It's salads. All week. Every meal." And you mean it because really, overhang is not a good thing.

Well, sometimes it IS a good thing.

Take Earl, for instance.

He decided to perch his (substantial) ass up on my bathroom counter while I was getting ready the other day. He was lying there, between the sink and the edge of the counter top, purring profusely and looking generally edible. But then I noticed The Overhang:
And, because I'm a dork, I thought to myself: "What is that? Like a quarter of him? Maybe one-third?" So then I decided to look at it from a different angle.

One-third. Definitely.

Welcome to your future, Bookhart.

Overheard on their first date:

Danger Boy: So...you live in south Austin? What is that like?
The Geej: Oh, it's cool. I have a tree painted on the wall in my room.
Danger Boy: That sounds nice. I've got a playscape at my house.
The Geej: Really!? Does it have a slide?
Danger Boy: Oh yeah.
The Geej: Awesome.

Awkward pause.


The Geej: So, you like juice?
Danger Boy: Oh yeah! All kinds! Apple. White Grape. I've even tried cranberry!
The Geej: Me too!

Awkward pause.

Hardest. Meme. Ever.

Wow, Bookhart. You really threw down the meme gauntlet. This one was TOUGH. But fun.

The Up to Three Music Meme!!

Songs that I Loathe to the Core of My Being:
We Built This City—Starship (Really. Is there a shittier song?)
Walk Like an Egyptian—The Bangles
Mony Mony—Billy Idol

Musical Artists I Loathe to the Core of My Being:
Toby Fucking Keith
Celine Fucking Dion
P. Fucking Diddy

Rolling Stones Songs I Love:
Faraway Eyes
Torn & Frayed
Prodigal Son

Beatles Songs I Love:
Because
In My Life
If I Needed Someone

Who Songs I Love:
Me no likey The Who, so I’m putting Pink Floyd songs I love:
Goodbye, Blue Sky
Wish You Were Here
Us and Them

Reggae Songs I Love:
Walking On the Moon—The Police
Could You Be Loved—Bob Marley
Red, Red Wine—UB40

Country Songs I Love:
Tattle Tale Tears—Faron Young
Long, Black Veil—Lefty Frizzell
Silver Wings—Merle Haggard

Movie Soundtracks I Love:
Cotton Club
Xanadu
Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood

Musical Soundtracks I Love:
I got nuthin’ except "The Wiz". So I’ll give you three more movie soundtracks I love:
Ghostworld
Stealing Beauty
Boogie Nights

Cover Songs I Love:
Across the Universe—Rufus Wainright
Alone Again Or—Calexico
Man Who Sold the World—Nirvana

Contemporary Top-40 Artists I Secretly Love:
Justin Timberlake (but it’s not really a secret, is it)
Gwen Stefani/No Doubt
Beyoncé

Songs That Bring Me To Tears:
Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain, Willie Nelson
Breathe Me, Sia
Into the Sunset, Neil Finn

Songs That Make Me Shake My Ass:
Black Sweat—Prince
Gold Digger—Kanye West
Crazy—Gnarls Barkley

Classical Composers I Love:
Vivaldi
Satie
Mozart

Rap/Hip-Hop Songs I Love:
Vivrant Thing, Q-Tip
How Do You Want It, 2Pac w/K-Ci and Jo-Jo
The Fabulous Ones, Blackalicious

70s Disco Songs I Love:
I Feel Love, Donna Summer
I Was Made for Loving You, Kiss
More Than a Woman, Bee Gees

70s Supergroup Songs I Love:
Melissa, Allman Bros.
Simple Man, Lynyrd Skynrd
Red Barchetta, Rush

Metal Songs I Love:
Too Young to Fall In Love—Motley Crue
Some Heads Are Gonna Roll—Judas Priest
Stinkfist--Tool

New Wave Songs I Love:
Love In Itself, Depeche Mode
The Killing Moon, Echo and the Bunnymen
Planet Earth, Duran Duran

Soul/R&B Songs I Love:
That’s What My Heart Needs—Otis Redding
He Loves Me—Jill Scott
Overjoyed—Stevie Wonder

Power Ballads I Love:
Lights—Journey
Waiting for a Girl Like You—Foreigner
Sister Christian—Night Ranger

Pre Rock-n-Roll Era Songs I Love:
Ill Wind—Ella Fitzgerald’s version
Be My Life’s Companion—Rosemary Clooney’s or The Mills Bros. version
Ain’t That a Kick in the Head—Dean Martin’s version

Punk Songs I Love:
Dirty Boots—Sonic Youth
I Wanna Be Your Dog—The Stooges
Lithium—Nirvana

Singer/Songwriter Songs I Love:
Waiting for my Real Life to Begin—Colin Hay
Save Me—Aimee Mann
Live Forever—Billy Joe Shaver

Music Videos I Love:
Sabotage, Beastie Boys
Big Me, Foo Fighters
Karma Police, Radiohead

None of the Above Songs I Love:
Autumn Sweater, Yo La Tengo
Nautical Disaster, The Tragically Hip
Independence Day, Elliott Smith

Guilty Pleasures:
Toxic, Britney Spears
Drive, Incubus
Yeah!, Usher

Songs to Have Sex To:
Simply Beautiful, Al Green
Cracklin’ Water, Giant Sand
Fade Into You, Mazzy Star