I love my son. Lo and I woke up Jack this morning with the promise of ‘driving on the highway’ as soon as breakfast was over, and his excitement of going in the car pushed him out of bed, even though his sleepiness caused him to walk smack into the doorway. He is such my little carbon copy sometimes. He’d be content to drive for hours listening to music (mine, thankfully) if it were up to him. After merging conversations he once asked if we could return the movie to the store in Colorado. I was up for it.
So we picked up our Christmas cards today, and I’m currently taking a break from addressing them. Personally I’d be ok if it were federally mandated that everyone be forced to give picture cards. I know some people think that’s lame, but I think a random card with a Santa-hatted cartoon mouse, signed with just your name, is not as much fun. But really it doesn’t matter, I just love getting Christmas cards. This is the only time of the year I check the mailbox – Jon teases me about it.
Unfortunately, I seriously underestimated the number of cards we’d need, and now I’m forced to put people into regular-card or picture-card categories. And it’s not a popularity contest, I promise. It’s more likely that if you see me all the time you’ll get a regular card while my friends across the states (world – two in Germany!) will get the picture. And I know part of this is because I just enjoy sending hellos to people – especially if the pictures are so damn cute (which, since they’re from that slide-show, they are). But also it’s because I don’t know the etiquette of whom to include or not. It’s a ripple effect on who you know, and it’s the edges that I seem to err on the side of caution – if that makes any stupid sense. I just don’t want anyone to feel badly that they didn’t get one. It’s not that big of a deal, I know, but it’s something I think about nonetheless. And it’s really not that hard to send them, so I do. Unless I don’t get enough, and then we’re back to the original problem. Sigh.
Moving on.. I finished another book Jon brought home from the library (which despite Jon’s insistence, I don’t enjoy, because then you have to give them back) and it was great. It was Chuck Klosterman’s Killing Yourself to Live . Klosterman is the main reason we subscribed to Spin for the last few years, despite it totally becoming Top-40 suckage from being bought by some horrible devil-like Clear Media or something. ANYWAY, I love Klosterman’s writing style, which is tied with Steve Rushin for how I’d love to sound like. He’s got another book out I haven’t read yet, so I’m jonesing to get it. (Or have H.Pimp get it from the library I guess. Boo.)
And finally, to end an oddly meandering post, a question thrown out there: An ongoing conversation with our friends is what song would you choose to be your intro from the bullpen, if you were a pitcher? Jon said his was something by Rage Against the Machine, which makes sense, because you want your song to represent you as a total baddass, which Rage is (are). I suggested for myself the last minute of Zeppelin’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’ or the intro to Ozzy’s ‘Crazy Train’, but he just gave me a look and shook his head at my apparent un-badassedness. So I’m curious what I should pick and what you would pick. That is, if you’ve ever thought about it.
Happy Wednesday.
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Wednesday, December 5, 2007 at 3:18 pm
B
Hands down, it would be Black Dog by Led Zeppelin.
Ideally, I would begin walking out onto the field at the same time the guitar part starts — The initial lyrics would just be a harbinger of my awesomeness.
Also, I would like to point out that I used dictionary:harbinger on Google to make sure that I spelled that word correctly (and I did), but misspelled dictionary. Not cool.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007 at 3:18 pm
B
Wednesday, December 5, 2007 at 3:22 pm
jen
There you go. That is a perfect song. Nice choice, sir.
(Wordplay, too. I usually associate harbinger with doom, so it could go either way depending how you look at it. )
Wednesday, December 5, 2007 at 3:27 pm
B
My awesomeness, their doom.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007 at 3:30 pm
jen
Right. Call Theo Epstein.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007 at 6:58 pm
Casey
I’d want them to play One by Metallica, where it really gets intense with the drums and guitar doing the triplets.
As for Christmas cards, I’m finding it difficult this year to decide who should get one. There are some friends who are self-avowed haters of the holiday, who regardless may get their feelings hurt if they’re excluded. Maybe the solution is a cynical, sarcastic card?
Wednesday, December 5, 2007 at 8:00 pm
Annie
Well my ringer is the intro to “Crazy Train”…and people love it. So I can’t imagine what Jon doesn’t find bad ass in the Prince of Darkness. I mean, I could totally take Ozzy down now with his brain all fried from the booze and drugs, but there was a time when birds trembled to be in his presence.
Thursday, December 6, 2007 at 12:03 am
hamburgerpimp
It was “Sleep now in the fire” by RATM, and there is no more badass choice for a closer. First of all, the first 14 second sets the stage perfectly: guitar intro that leads to the drums, and finally, Zach’s growl. Second, if you’re a closer, you need something that matches the fact that you’re a flamethrower, eh? There is no better. Bow before your master.
And Ozzy is always badass, it’s just that that song is probably Top 5 on “Most overplayed rock songs at sporting events.” Only the Rolling Stones and Gary Glitter get more aural masturbation.
Other suitable choices:
And, of course, a timeless classic:
Thursday, December 6, 2007 at 3:38 am
Brandi
“Crazy Train” was my high-school fight song. We were the Railroaders. What can you do?
Thursday, December 6, 2007 at 9:06 am
SS
If I could get them to play to opening line “YOU KNOW WHERE THE FUCK YOU ARE!?!?! YOU’RE IN THE JUNGLE BABY, TIME TO DIIIIIIEEEEEE!”
Then it has to be Welcome to the Jungle. Hands down the most fire up song there is with that opening line. That, or to keep in the 80s hairband line, Dr. Feelgood. ha. But if no Jungle, then the standard “Smack my bitch up” by the Prodigy. Either way I’d be a badass.
Thursday, December 6, 2007 at 8:22 am
jen
Hmmmm. Thanks for the “It’s Raining Men” suggestion, but I think I’ll vote for Casey’s “One” since I thought of it the other night but had since forgotten.
(And don’t post Andrew W.K. on my blog yo, you know I think he’s a total tool.)
Thursday, December 6, 2007 at 11:26 am
B
What about this?
Thursday, December 6, 2007 at 11:29 am
jen-nay
I got my first two Christmas cards in the mail yesterday. I love checking the mailbox in December too. I haven’t even bought my cards yet, so that’s a project for this weekend. I was going to do the picture card with my dogs, but that’s pushing it. I can live with the picture card from friends with children, but I just can’t go there as a dog-owner, even though they are my babies. (Dork, I know.)
And Casey, I’m usually the one with the cynical, sarcastic card. Fun for everyone.
I don’t do library books. I have to own my books, weird English major obsession. I rarely bought used books in school either.
Reading your post & commenters’ suggestions, I am reminded of the song my high school basketball team played for warm-ups: “Hair of the Dog” Nazareth. I loved it.
And those music thingees you embed, is that a wordpress thing, or can I do that on blogger too? How?
Thursday, December 6, 2007 at 11:42 am
jen
Jen:
1. Someday let me tell you about some dog owners I know. It includes Santa and pajamas, I swear.
2. English major: EXACTLY
3. It’s a WordPress thing, it’s part of what I like so much more than blogspot. I suggest you switch, m’dear.
Thursday, December 6, 2007 at 11:47 am
jen
Oh and Brandon – don’t take the bait! If you guys are going to start this, move it to Jon’s blog!
ETA: Also, I don’t think you can rickroll me if I already got it from Jay. Surely there’s a clause somewhere..
Thursday, December 6, 2007 at 1:23 pm
jen
P.P.S: Hi Annie, we’ve missed you! Jack still asks for Andy Chool (though the pool is out obviously).
Sunday, December 9, 2007 at 10:07 am
hamburgerpimp
Ain’t nothing wrong with a little Rickrollin’.