Image via LeFunny.net
I was so thrilled with the concept of a weekly playlist that I was going to post another one this week. But I ran into this quote in the middle of my mixed tape creation and I had to put it up there.
I had no idea who Frank was, but he seems to understand a chick’s mind.
I felt pumped at the beginning of the week having succeeded in my most recent challenge … roller derby. I felt badass.
Life caught up with me on Tuesday.
And in the middle of the week when you’re usually feelin’ crappy, I did a little turn around and found some inspiration.
Picked up some pep and things got a little better.
Ended the week feeling pretty good … not quite badass, but definitely on my way back.
Quiet down.
Dude, no shouting.
Lower the volume.
Keep it down.
No yelling.
Not so loud.
People are sleeping.
What did I tell you about being noisy?
Shhhhhhhhhhh.
This is what my four-year old son and one-year old daughter heard for most of their short toddler life. I don’t really live in a country-like atmosphere where your next-door neighbor lives like an acre away. We got thin walls here in the city. Sound travels and not everybody appreciates the musical creativeness of banging on pots, pans, and empty five-gallon Sparkletts water bottles. Some people may not enjoy the Guat’s version of STOMP or The Blue Man group. They’d prefer the real thing. So I needed to regulate the noise level in our living room from time to time.
Well … in truth sometimes my son was just too loud in general, while his sister was napping, and that put an end to a much-needed nap, which was not cool. So the shushing might have been an everyday occurrence outside of our “music time”.
But not today.
Today my kids, got a chance to rock out with all kinds of instruments on our all day music adventure. We headed out to a couple of free musical workshops where my kids got a chance to jam it without hearing one shush from me. They rocked out STOMP/Blue Man Group style and they loved it. I wasn’t sure everybody else was jamming it, but I know my kids were … Sandbox List Adventure No. 2 … Check!
At the first workshop, my kids were not shy about checking out the instruments … We were new to the scene but made ourselves feel welcome.
My kids jamming it with their mini tambourines, jingle bells, and castanets. Grooving to the Beatles. Yeah … I know … the Beatles.
My son warming up on some little Target drums before we hit the Big Leagues.
The Big Leagues. We hit our second workshop: A Drum Circle. Our very first. And it wasn’t really a circle more like a gigantic oval. But no matter the shape, the Guats came ready to rock the rhythm party.
My daughter ready to jam it, as my son, sitting next to her, keeps up the pace.
But it wasn’t only drums and percussion beats at this awesome musical hangout, there was some microphone action, too. And as the drum leader asked for volunteers my son jumped at the opportunity to test his singing skills. After hearing the ABC song from a cute little girl, the Itsy-Bitsy-Spider song from another little boy, my son decides to sing “One Thing,” from One Direction, followed by a Maroon 5 ditty.
I was all smiles and laughter. No shushing at all.
Rocking out … rocks. We’ll definitely be back.
I remember it. It was the 80s and it meant so much when you got one … You thought yeah … this is my Jake Ryan and he must definitely like me. The mixed tape. It was the plastic four-inch prized possession of any girl growing up. It was your die-hard four-week, four-month, or four-year love story caught on a Maxell, TDX, or Memorex cassette tape — a CD or iTunes playlist for those of you who don’t recall the awesomeness of Lloyd Dobler or the Breakfast Club.
Yes … the cassette tape … it rocked. It was a time machine that transported you back to the hallway where you met him at your locker, back to football games, back to 4th period math, back to the homecoming dance, back to kissing in the rain, and back to any after school special kind of moments.
Image via ct.com
Mixed tapes … yeah they took me back in time. So when I came across this week’s Daily Prompt Challenge that involved creating a musical playlist of songs that describe my life, including what I hope for my future … I said yes. Most definitely yes.
Every life involves love, heartbreak, drama, strength, healing and empowerment. I’m a chick … empowerment is always part of the deal. In the early years, when I was in junior high, there were plenty of love songs … the kind where I pine for a guy and he doesn’t really notice my awesomeness because I was more of the Chapstick type of girl, instead of the lipstick type. But it was all good. I got over it. Things changed in high school and college. So here is Side A and Side B of the Guat’s Life Mixed Tape.
Groovy Kind of Love – Phil Collins
I’ll Give All My Love To You – Keith Sweat
You Belong With Me — Taylor Swift
One Headlight – The Wallflowers
We Belong Together – Mariah Carrey
If You’re Going Through Hell – Rodney Atkins
Live Like You Were Dying – Tim McGraw
Got My Toes In The Water – Zac Brown Band
Roll With Me – Montgomery Gentry
Break My Stride – Matthew Wilder
Don’t Stop Believin’ – Journey
Hope you enjoyed the album.
Fours hours.
I waited four hours.
And we went through …
Three juice boxes.
A bag of pretzels.
Nine Cutie Tangerines.
A bag of Pirate Booty Popcorn.
A muffin.
32 ounces of Gatorade.
Two trips to the bathroom
Two diaper changes.
Two paper airplanes.
One Hot Wheels.
One hour of Angry Birds play.
Seven piggy back rides.
And endless dance moves to the tunes of the pre-concert DJ. You know me, I didn’t need a dance floor to bust a move, the parking lot was just fine. My son and daughter joined me.
But why… why would I wait four hours outside a ginormous mall parking lot on a Saturday morning-afternoon with two kids in overcast weather? I hate malls. I hate shopping. So why? Why would I do this? Who was worth the trouble?
My man … my main man … Country Music Star Blake Shelton.
I hadn’t been this close to any singer since my Enrique Iglesias concerts in college. Dude. Duuuuuude.
My son decided to wear his firefighter gear to the concert. He told me just in case there was an emergency. He met a little cowboy playing the same Angry Birds game. They decided to share strategies while we waited for Blake to come out.
Blake Shelton singing acoustic style.
Smiling as he finished his last song. I’d like to think he was smiling at me … but you know … the random chick next to me thought it was for her.
It was a good morning for a little country music.
My Prince cassette
Purple
Purple is this 5-foot-2 bad ass.
Purple is his hallmark color.
Purple are the leather pants he rocked in the movie.
Purple Rain was the movie I was forbidden to watch in my youth.
Purple Rain won him an Academy Award and he’s not even an actor.
Purple Rain was too rated R for my Latino parents, so I got the album instead.
Purple Rain introduced me to When Doves Cry and Let’s Go Crazy.
Purple Rain was one of my favorite cassette tapes … yeah that’s right I said cassette tape. I’m old school.
Purple is Prince … and yeah he can pull off purple … he’s Prince.
I couldn’t believe what I was watching. It must be this new techno-crazy-iPhone generation.
I woke up early this morning, with purpose. Usually I wake up to the sounds of a crying baby at 6:30 in the morning, with my only purpose being going back to sleep as soon as possible.
But today, it was Maroon 5 that woke me up.
My son likes Adam Levine. He’s a huge fan of his songs. So when I found out they were going to be on the TODAY Show. We woke up and decided to catch the show.
Apparently over 10,000 people showed up to see Maroon 5 perform. They took the stage and began some of their famous tunes. He started with Moves Like Jagger, followed by Payphone, and One More Night.
Image via aceshowbiz.com
As my three-year old son stood on the bed, dancing and jumping up and down, I noticed something. Nobody in the front rows was dancing. Nobody was letting loose. Well, maybe one or two fans, but the majority were standing there. They were smiling, but no one was enjoying the show. Maybe the people way in the back, the ones not shown on television. But everyone else in the front row was standing with their arms up in the air holding their phones and cameras.
I couldn’t believe it. There was no dancing. No jumping with excitement. They were so busy trying to capture the moment with their recording devices that they actually missed the moment.
This dude … this band travels to places like Tai Pei, Buenos Aires, Indonesia, and Australia. Thousands of miles away from the States. Today they were up close and personal at a free concert in New York, that only cost them sleep. And they didn’t go wild with dance moves and enthusiasm, because they needed to hold the camera just right.
They were looking at Maroon 5 through a small camera screen, instead of just looking up at them in person.
I didn’t get it.
I’m all for recording special moments, but sometimes there’s just too much technology.
I turned to look at my son, he was fully enjoying the moment. Dancing away, jumping on the bed and using the remote control as his microphone.
No need for recording devices there, I’m gonna remember that.
You hear a song and you remember …
Journey back … way back.
Journey to the Virgil Junior High School Gym.
Journey back to dim lights and bad decorations.
Journey back to gravity-defying hair with the help of Aquanet Hairspray.
Journey back to wearing jelly shoes, Vans, or Reeboks.
Journey back to standing with your friends, hoping that the “Jake Ryan” in your life asks you to dance.
Journey back to Journey singing Open Arms.
Journey back to seeing him dance with girls in short skirts and you wear jeans and t-shirts.
Journey back to Journey singing Don’t Stop Believin’.
Journey back … way back.
There it was … the big red box with white letters, spinning flashing its sign. She wanted to go inside. There were no other fast food places around. I insisted that her GPS said there was an In-and-Out about seven blocks north, but apparently she was starving.
I’ll wait.
What’s the big deal?
Are you kidding me? What’s the big deal? Bono…The Edge?
Oh.
In-and-Out it is.
Image via Wikipedia
I had never been to a U2 concert. They said it was an experience. A must see. I thought I would surprise my boyfriend (at the time) with floor tickets. He was a huge U2 fan. Apparently he’s known and loved them since Bono had a mullet. I wasn’t aware what floor seats were and whether they were any good, but when he opened the envelope I realized they were amazing seats and I was an amazing girlfriend.
The day of the concert was so rushed. We didn’t eat home-cooked meals, but thought we’d pick something up along the way. We saw a Jack-In-The-Box and McDonalds on our way to the arena. I wasn’t a big fan of either one. I told him maybe we should look around, I’m sure there’s something else. It’s this or eleven dollar hot dogs from the arena. Jack-In-The-Box it is I guess.
I got the basics: Burger, fries and a lemonade. But then I saw the sign and changed my mind. “We make are shakes fresh. We use real vanilla ice cream, Oreo cookie pieces, whipped topping and maraschino cherries.”
The chocolate lover in me said: dude how can you not order that, I mean really lemonade, or Oreo Cookies Milkshake? C’mon now.
Milkshake, please. Large.
After we ate, we made our way to the arena and something didn’t sit well with me. My stomach began swelling and I had that bloated feeling. He asked whether I wanted a beer or wine cooler before going in to the stadium. I politely declined, said I wasn’t feeling too well, probably full from the meal. One won’t hurt, may settle your stomach. All right.
So I picked the strawberry kiwi fizzy wine cooler. Thought it’s carbonated, it may help.
Always listen to your gut. It’s trying to tell you something.
We entered the stadium, bought our souvenir t-shirts and made our way to the floor. The floor. It meant the floor next to the band. The floor, where I could see the microphone stand and wires and if I reached my hand up toward the stage, Bono would probably high-five me, well he’d probably high-five my dude. Sweet, I thought. These were good tickets. He was happy, I was happy.
The lights dimmed and the opening act, The Pretenders, took the stage. As I nodded my head to the tunes, I got a funny feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t the butterflies of a new romance. It wasn’t the boom-boom of my inner musical soul thriving. It was the disharmony of a Jack-In-The-Box. It was my gut, calling me a jackass. I had no Sal de Uvas Picot to save me. But I tried to shake it off. I tried to dance it off.
The set continued, the band rocked on, and the people continued trickling in, filling up the arena. It began getting crowded on the floor … and then that’s when it happened.
It just came out. I threw up. I couldn’t stop. I was like Paul Rudd in I Love You, Man. My dude turned and looked at me, then at the floor. A couple of fans witnessed the spectacle and then probably wished they hadn’t witnessed it at all.
Disaster.
Oreo Cookie Milkshake indeed.
I was mortified. I couldn’t stop. The band didn’t stop jamming. The other floor ticket holders didn’t stop rocking. They didn’t hear me or the Oreo Cookie splat. But I did hear massive profanity as a few fans accidentally stepped in something that shouldn’t have been there. I needed to evacuate.
I didn’t know what to do.
What do you do when you lose it on a date? But not only a date, a concert … a most awesome U2 concert? Probably get ready to take a cab home, who wants a throw-up chick in their car?
I was unsure of my standing with my date at the moment.
My dude looked at me, walked me up the stairs, found the nearest bathroom, handed me one of the U2 shirts, and nodded his head.
After twenty minutes I came out of the bathroom, a little more refreshed and unsure of what was to come. We’d probably need a different spot on the floor. We’d probably be in the back, not even close to the microphone stand. We’d probably be better off in seats. And there would probably be no good-night kiss … No … there was no probably about it. I was sure of it. No kiss. But I was O.K. with that.
He took my hand, led me back to the floor, found a different spot, and he continued to rock on. Just when I felt the need to say something, an apology, a this-doesn’t-usually-happen-to-me-speech, he said:
I guess next time we’ll eat tacos, no milkshakes. Just lemonade.
He smiled and rocked as Bono took the stage.
Regardless of his compassion for my Oreo Cookie Milkshake mishap, I have yet to eat at Jack-In-The-Box again.
Fresh milkshakes with real vanilla ice cream … yeah … I’m not sure about that.
I was one of “the last Mohicans” … until Blake Shelton. Do you know this tall drink of water?
I first heard him on the country air waves in 2004 when he sang “Some Beach” … then fell in love with him when he sang “Home” a couple of years later. Now I’m just a full-blown fan. He makes my knees wobbly. So I blame this conversion on him.
I didn’t necessarily despise reality television, but let’s just say I didn’t like it.I reeeeally didn’t like it.
As a writer, I enjoy watching quality television. Real television: drama or comedies. Shows where there are writers, plots, and character arcs. Sons of Anarchy, Mad Men, Breaking Bad, Justified, White Collar, Person of Interest, Seinfeld … you know shows of that nature.
I wasn’t fond of watching the lives of chicks with too much makeup and absolutely no talent. I was not even aware of why people were interested the lives of “Housewives…” regardless of where they lived. I am probably the only person on earth that doesn’t like the fake drama of Bravo TV, or of Survivor. I’m not a fan of all those singing or dancing competitions either, I mean honestly how many American Idols or X Factors can you watch? I couldn’t. I needed more shows like Lost. I wasn’t a TV snob or anything, I watch sports. I just wasn’t a fan of that type of television… it didn’t call to me.
And then last year I saw my tall drink of water on something called The Voice, and I thought: dude, how could you? How could you betray me like this?
It was yet another singing competition, but this one had a twist … no horrible, fake singers at the beginning to boost ratings. There were quality singers in something called blind auditions. The coaches have their backs turned and can’t see the singers, only hear them, basing their decision to select them solely on their voice … thus the title. It’s different. But still, I thought … dude … c’mon. What are you doing?
Then I watched a couple of episodes last year and saw my tall drink of water interact with the other coaches, and it was funny. The talent was actually good. The coaches helped out the contestants and provided constructive advice instead of just clapping and using empty words. The host wasn’t annoying, either. Then I saw Blake perform … and I was hooked.
Image via Wikipedia
So after the Super Bowl this year, I watched it. I had become a reality tv fan, granted it was just the one show and I was undercover, but soon I would be outed.
One night I thought everyone had fallen asleep early and my dude came downstairs and caught me watching it.
What are you doing? Are you watching Cinemax?
What? No.
Why’d you change it so fast?
I was caught. I didn’t know what to say. I hit the “previous channel” button on the remote. He noticed the singers and raised an eyebrow. Then he saw Blake Shelton and smiled.
I’m watching something called The Voice.
He shook his head.
You’re watching Blake.
I laughed. This was definitely Blake Shelton’s fault.
Now you can find me on Monday nights hurrying to put the kids to sleep. Rushing downstairs taking hold of the remote control, ready to see what Blake and the other coaches have in store for me. This Monday battlerounds begin. I’ll be on the couch, rocky road on hand, and relaxing with my secret undercover reality TV pleasure.
Do you have any undercover reality TV pleasures?
