nah pop, no style

Remember that time I locked my keys in the house? Yeah, that was funny. Know what else was funny? The other night when I locked my keys in my car.

Brian, Pammer and I went skating at Schenley Park (adult skate on Saturday night — I suspect if they decided to do an ID check, 90 percent of those in attendance would’ve been tossed for being 16 or 17). All was well until we decided to leave and felt around in my pockets. Nothing.

I freaked briefly, wondering if they were actually in the car or lost somewhere else (it was dark, so we couldn’t see much inside). All this was complicated by the fact that Pam’s keys were also in my car.

I called AAA, and a friendly dude with a tow truck showed up in short order. It took him quite a while of playing around with wedges and glorified coat hangers before he was able to unlock one of the back doors.

The more long-term damage? In the process of trying to undo the front locks, he seemingly permanently damaged them. The passenger door doesn’t unlock or open at all now, and the driver side only unlocks from the outside. Fortunately, I was able to open it after opening the window and unlocking it manually that night when I got home; the “uh oh” moment of realizing I couldn’t unlock it from the inside was pretty funny, given that I thought I’d be getting in and out of my car via the back doors indefinitely.

Currently, my car has unlocked doors at all times so that I can be sure I’ll get back in, so if you’re a car thief interested in a Geo that’s  worth less than a grand and that you may or may not be able to get back out of once you get into it, get in touch and I’ll let you know where it’s parked.

On an unrelated note, to accompany me on a drive to the parents’ last week, I grabbed a mix CD I made in late 2001 (or perhaps very early 2002). It quite handily sums up my confusion at the time, and includes a few tracks whose artists I’m not sure of. This mix involves, but it not limited to: Q and not U (has held up very well; I should whip those albums out), Cibo Matto (indicative of the late ’90s, though perhaps not something I’d listen to regularly), Vice Squad (has not held up, or perhaps was never good to begin with), I Hate Myself (would have held up if not for that screaming dude), Tegan & Sara (not as into it as I was then).

Some folks around these parts of the internet are working on projects for the Fun A Day thing — the idea being to do something every day for the month of January. My unofficial (perhaps I’ll make it official at some point) project is to take one picture of something mundane in my house each day. The results will hopefully highlight the (potential) beauty of everyday things. Here are my first few:

1. Point Park College (now University) mug, chillin’ on the table next to my love seat.

2. Christmas lights. They have a little loopy part that hangs down. I’m not sure what that’s all about. I just work with it.

3. Faux-Tiffany lamp shade with little shiny Christmas lights in the background.

4. Candle. I like candles. What can I say?

Higher resolution versions on my Flickr.

So for years I’ve been seeking out the perfect travel mug: one that would seal tightly and not spill out of the lid if it were to be held on its side, and that has a handle that allows it to hook onto something (say, the strap of a bag) and not fall off. It’s relatively easy to find one or the other, but for whatever reason, impossible to find a product that puts these features together.

Until now.

Witness a Christmas gift received: Contigo Extreme Insulated Mug.

The handle unlatches with help from a pasty hand (I’m still getting the hang of picture-taking):

Lid closed:

Lid open:

It’s not as important to me now, since I don’t ride my bike as much — that was my real challenge: taking hot liquids with me while riding my bike. But still. I’m glad to have it. And maybe I’ll ride my bike more again soon.

Google Adsense ad found on a P-G story about Romeo Crennel’s firing today:

I’m not going to go defending the IQ of the average Steelers fan in most instances, but not as high as the average Browns player? COME ON!

So welcome back to my life, internet people. Christmas was a good time. Among the important developments is the fact that the Pammer bestowed upon me a camera, for which you are all likely thankful, since it means I won’t be bellyaching about not having a camera anymore. I got a flickr like all the cool kids, and plan on updating you now more often on the more visually appealing, but otherwise boring, parts of my life. Such as making dinner. Like on Saturday night: veggie reubens with asparagus, and I had a Dogfish Head Midas Touch (which, despite its interesting story and praise given here, didn’t seem all that different from, say, their I.P.A. Not that I’m complaining.)

The money shot:

Had I owned said camera before Christmas, I would’ve cataloged the gifts I was giving, and/or my Christmas card making process, but alas, no such luck. Ah well. No biggie. I’ll get back to you soon with more goodness.

WHAT’S UP.

I’m pretty much done with Christmas gifts. That will end tonight. They’re almost all wrapped. I made lemon-ricotta cookies yesterday; I should ice them tonight.  Stockings are hung by the chimbly with care, roast beast is in the oven, crumbs much too small for the other Whos’ mouses, etc. etc.

In the course of getting a few last gifts yesterday I picked up a little self-gift, which was a copy, only a few dollars, of Greil Marcus’s The Shape of Things to Come: Prophecy and the American Voice. It should do as my Main Book for a little while; don’t worry, I’ll keep up with my weird physics book too, but that’s something I can only put a little time into now and then. Otherwise my head would explode.

Let this link be my early gift to you. Ah, my nostalgia for the late 1980s may never ebb.

Sometimes when I have the opportunity I write things on that other blog, the one that’s linked to in my sidebar. I think my post from yesterday was somewhat interesting, so check it out if you want. It starts out with a kind of funny story from Seed and ends in me talking about Paul Virilio. And somehow has to do with local music too.

Pammer and I made some Christmas cookies last night. They are pretty. She is much more attentive to aesthetics then I when it comes to cookies. The ones I made are kind of ugly.

What’s up. I am on a roll right now. I am killin’ it. My afternoon bus came at the right time yesterday, for the first time in probably two months. My freelance check (it’s a double since I accidentally forgot to invoice for one of my columns a few months ago) came yesterday. It’s payday. I thought I had a column for said freelance job due today but it’s due tomorrow. What’s not to love? I mean, besides the general impending doom and fact that I probably won’t have a job in six months.

In other news, I made holiday cards last night. Well, mostly made them. I did the main print on the front. There are 20 and I only have 13 or 14 definite people on my list so if you pine for a card in the mail, holler at me and I might be able to oblige. They’re nothing too impressive, kind of a primitive folk art lino cut thing.

Charlie Brown Christmas is on again tonight. ABC. Hopefully I’ll be home and watch while finishing my cards. It’s the best thing ever. And hopefully this time my reception won’t get all weird and the kids won’t have deep voices like they’re all 35. That happened when I flipped it on at the end last week — just when Linus was about to say “That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown!” It came out like Lou Ferrigno saying “Astm wuht brsssmis baaul bruout Raareli Bwwwolm!”

Also, the physicist whose book I’m slowly reading again is apparently writing a libretto for an opera about dimensionality and stuff. Read the interview here.  It’s from the Boston Globe. You know, a newspaper. One of those things that won’t exist soon.

The article had potential for hilarity due simply because of its content — it’s about the suggestions received in a contest to name the new school district formed by the merger of Center and Monaca, in Beaver County. The list itself is pretty great — I mean, who wouldn’t want to go to a school called Sprnts? Or Journey?

But the Post-Gazette article exceeds expectations. Since the double entendre inherent in the quote

“There are too many ‘Beavers’ already,” Mr. Mowad said.

wasn’t enough for the journalist, he took matters into his own hands, producing this line (boldface mine):

General Daniel Brodhead — last name rhymes with “road head” — was commander of the western frontier during the Revolutionary War.

Here’s the mix I made for the party last weekend. It ended up being a mix of what I consider to be devotional songs — from the obvious (Staple Singers) to the more metaphorical (Baby Dee) and songs about going places and being home. So I titled it Devotional/Locational. It’s a 90-minute tape, because I didn’t have any 60s around. The upside to doing a 90 is that you can put a 10-minute tune on there and not worry about shortchanging the recipient.

Side one

Baby Dee: Safe Inside the Day
Staple Singers: Samson & Delilah
Alice Coltrane: Shiva-Loka
Frida Hyvonen: Come Another Night
Van Morrison: Madam George
Galaxie 500: Tell Me
John Fahey: Worried Blues
Nicole Reynolds: Fire
Jolie Holland: Nothing to Do But Dream

Side Two

The Sundays: Hideous Towns
Silver Jews: Wild Kindness
Erik Friedlander: King Rig
Steve Reich (Kronos Quartet): After the War
Bee Gees: Massachusetts
Melissa St. Pierre: Fig. I
Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young: Our House
Tara Jane O’Neil: Need No Pony
Simon & Garfunkel: Blues Run the Game
Human Bell: Hymn Amerika
The Mountain Goats: Going to Georgia
Neil Young: After the Gold Rush