Tea & Sympathy, Coffee & Panic

Sometimes, everyone needs a lil' prompt. Thanks, Mama Kat!

"Friends are on their way to your house for a coffee date...what kind of afternoon can they expect with you?"

 Oh, let's be honest here: there's going to be some Irish in that coffee and more than a few sighs of anguish from your hostess. Not to be a Dismal Dora here, but with the first snowflakes of the season - and the first day that necessitates the wearing of my winter coat - come the first days of my annual Blue Period.

Think days spent in bed unable to face the world, as opposed to The Old Guitarist.

I kid, I kid... kinda. The past few years have been better for SAD-related sick days, but it's no secret that Old Man Winter and I do not get along.

So for our coffee date? The heat in my apartment will be cranked to a cosy 25 degrees Celsius, the TV will probably be left on to either old episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air or Gilmore Girls and you will have your choice of milk, cream, Baileys, or Frangelico to go in that coffee. I will probably pepper you with questions that begin with the statement, "hey, is it normal to..." and end with "d'ya know what I mean?"

If you would like to go toe-to-toe as far as confidences are concerned, rest assured: I don't judge.

"Everything Except Rap and Country"

Those people who like "everything except rap and country" don't actually like music at all. Or worse (?) still are those who claim to like "whatever's on the radio", meaning they have no individual taste, or "everything".

Oh reeeeeally? So you like Scrotum Grinder, Napalm Death and Skrewdriver? Well that's odd.

I've never been shy about liking country; Dolly Parton and Johnny Cash are two of my favorite singers - and yes, I will throw down if anyone disagrees with me that The Man In Black is country. Garth Brooks, Shania Twain and Reba McEntire provided the soundtrack to a childhood spent largely in stables, learning how to take care of other living things. I don't exactly go home and toss on a copy of Garth Brooks' In Pieces, but I am more than happy to grab control of the YouTube-designated laptop ubiquitous at house parties and force everyone to watch the video for "Standing Outside The Fire".

Or, you know, MySpace, in a pinch.

Anyway, so this is all well and good, but for the most part country music and I were more like people who were BFFAs in elementary, but split up into stoners vs. jocks in middle school. You know, friendly but not friends.

Then I heard the Lumineers. And the new Mumford & Sons. I'm loving both, but if that ain't country, knock me down with a feather.

Still, there's always room for a little Napalm Death at this girl's house.

Ignition Remix

Every Friday - without fail - R. Kelly's masterpiece "Ignition Remix" pops into my head. This usually happens on my bus ride home, which is depressing and gritty in a way that no working professional should experience; like, standing at a bus stop in the 'burbs, halfway between a strip joint and a high school humming "can I get a toot-toot? Can I get a beep-beep?" to yourself is just UGH.

It's the line about the freakin' weekend that kills me. Every weekend starts the same for me: "oh man, can't wait to party! And after the party it's the after-party, and after that party it's the hotel lobby..."

In reality I fall asleep on the bus, end up face-first in a bottle of cheap Sauv by six o'clock and am probably blogging by nine. Heh.

Weekly Mixtape - Pump It or Dump It

Monday: Mondays, The Steinways

Tuesday: The Despair Factor, AFI

Wednesday: Bridge Over Troubled Waters, Simon & Garfunkle


Thursday: You Can Do It, Ice Cube

Friday: Ignition Remix, R. Kelly

Thank God I seem to have forgotten about Rebecca Black, like, completely.