Musical Offerings

(Guest Blogger Weith Kick at http://weithkick.blogspot.com/)

When it comes to music I consider mine to encompass a wide, if not impressive, gamut. I am by no means a musical expert (or genius), but it is easy for me to identify what I like. In other words, I think I have a good ear.

I know what you’re thinking. Doesn’t everybody say their musical tastes encompass a wide, if not impressive, gamut? Yes, but the difference between them and me is that I am sincere when I say it.

Does that make me a bit of a music snob? Perhaps, but not entirely so, because I know there are others whose tastes are even more off-the-richter than my own.

Generally, I keep my distance from anything mainstream for the simple reason that most of it is monkey shit. There are exceptions, of course. I really liked the songs Outcast put out a few years back, particularly Hey Ya and The Way You Move. The videos for these songs were nothing short of splendid. So it's not out of the realm of ordinary experience for me to like something I hear on the radio.

Crazy by Gnarls Barkley is another shining example of being caught off guard when listening to the radio, and it comes with a neat little video that is clever, creative and simple. The song's uniqueness and simplicity led me to believe that this would be a one hit wonder in the same vein of some of my favorite one hitters like Groove is in the Heart; I Want Candy; Baby Got Back (I defy anyone to not like this song-in fact, this song should take the place of wedding reception standards like the Electric Slide and YMCA); Come On Eileen (I defy anyone to translate the lyrics-what the hell are they talking about); Spirit in the Sky; The Safety Dance (another classic video); Afternoon Delight; Play That Funky Music, etc, etc, and so on and so forth. After hearing some of Gnarls' other songs I hope he sticks around for a while.

So please, allow me, if you will, to bore you with a sampling of some of my musical tastes.

On my Ipod you will find everything from John Williams, Thomas Newman, Jerry Goldsmith and Maurice Jarre (I am a huge collector of film scores and have been since the tender age of 10-does that make me a bit of a dweeb? Perhaps.) to Radiohead, Bjork, Yeah Yeah Yeahs (love Karen O). I listen to M.I.A., the adorable Kate Nash, the lovely Liz Phair and the ornery Lily Allen. I love the music of Sigur Ros, Sufjan Stevens and Devotchka. My music tastes never change but they constantly grow. I am constantly in search of new and interesting music. Because of the lack of anything remotely interesting on the radio I typically listen to NPR, or it's constant channel surfing until I find a song I like, which is rare.

So what is the point of all this drivel you may be asking yourself. It's to point out that for all my grandstanding there is a genre of music that I would normally deny liking. I am not even sure what label you would give this music. Some people might call it deranged. Others might call it frivolous bubble gum, insignificant trash or even meaningless monkey shit. But I can't help myself. Whenever I hear these songs I have to stop and listen. They do something to me. They soothe my inner sensitive sentimentalist. This music comes from the likes of JoJo (I feel your pain JoJo), Fergie (love your sensitive and naughty sides equally), Kelly Clarkson, Jordan Sparks, Leona Lewis, Rihanna and Alicia Keys. But you see it's when I hear them sing their dopey love songs that get me. I think it's because the way they pour their hearts out when they sing. The lyrics are sometimes ridiculous ("And I'm going to miss you like a child misses their blanket") but I don't care, I had a "baba" once and I know what it's like to miss it when it's gone.

If anyone ever calls me out for liking these songs I will deny it. But if you want to tell me how much you love them too then I'm right there with you, girlfriend.

It must be some sort of mental defect I have. I guess I'm just soft up there.

Lazy Lily

(Guest Blogger Weith Kick at http://weithkick.blogspot.com/)

We have a fat cat. Her name is Lily

She wasn't always this way. There was a time when she was as lithe as a ballerina, agile and graceful. Somewhere along the way she became a cow, and I don't mean cash.

It could be that since she was born with only 3 feet mobility is more of a challenge for her than that of other four-pawed felines; so getting in a daily dose of cardiovascular exercise proves difficult. But don't let 4 legs, 3 feet and one sad, little stub fool you. Typically, she walks with a limp, BUT when she needs to move she can move. She can run, she can jump. She reminds me of CGI Yoda (as opposed to Muppet Yoda.) He shuffles along with a cane, but when the chips are down he can to kick some serious Dark Side Ass. Put a lightsaber in his ugly, little, green hands and he'll give you an ass-whupping you ain't soon forget, fool.

Lily doesn't give ass-whuppings or any kind of whuppings. She's a lover, not a fighter, and always has been. She's delicate like the declining middle-class, sweet like the smell of my gas, fat like J-Lo's reverent ass.

Her brother Theo wasn't so lucky. He was born with only 3 legs. He was a wonderful pet. More dog than cat. He wasn't at all independent like how cats are supposed to be. He was codependent and in need of constant attention. He followed you everywhere and "meowed" incessantly if you weren't around. To the point where you wanted to sell him off to the neighborhood Chinese restaurant. When he died suddenly and inexplicably at the age 7 we were heartbroken. As was his sister, fat Lily. Lazy Lily.

It was after his death that her weight began to mushroom. Could it be that she sunk into a deep depression because of his death? I think not. You see, Theo, not only codependent, was insanely jealous and possessive of Misty and me. No one could have us but him. When Lily came into the same room we were in he would chase her out. When we were lucky enough to give Lily attention he unhappily allowed it. From a distance he watched as we showered her with love. But as soon as we stopped, the moment we left the room or focused our attentions elsewhere he would attack her and the cat fight would ensue. When Theo was alive Lily was forced to exercise, keeping her fit and trim.

Theo was a lover too, but he was a selfish lover. All love had to be directed toward him and then he was the sweetest, kindest cat. He ruled the house. He got more attention than even our dogs did. He demanded it. But he loved people. I think he was bitter toward Lily because she had 4 legs and he 3. When they fought he would always go for her Achilles' heel. Literally. He attacked her where she was most vulnerable, on her sad, little, stubby paw.

My theory behind Lily's weight gain is lack of torture by her brother. Now that Theo is gone she is the top cat. When Theo was around she was quiet and shy. Now it's as though she's been taken over by Theo's spirit. She meows a lot more and expects a lot more attention from us. There is no need for her to do anything all day but eat and sleep. There's no need for sharing. And while she may be lazy, she is also lovely. Lovely Lily.

Week in Review

Last night, while we were cleaning up after dinner, we decided to measure our head circumferences. The results? In inches:

Paul: 23
Robin: 22 5/8
Hunter: 22
Piper: 19 3/4
Keith: 22
Misty: 21.5

How sad is that my head is almost as big as Paul's? Anyway it was funny at the time..

Some pictures of this week: