Category Archives: music

A Little’s Enough

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I wrote fan mail once and I mean like once in my whole life. 

I facebooked Tom Delonge from Angels & Airwaves (also Blink 182) and tried at first to NOT sound like a deranged teenager and then gave up because who cares?  I wrote about what his music had meant to me at an especially wounded time.  I went ahead and threw in a “you saved my life.”  I’d be more ashamed except I really truly meant it.

Secret Crowds

Everything’s Magic

Love Like Rockets

A Little’s Enough

 

As I was writing a chat window popped up and “Tom” asked me for my info to send me free tickets.  It was obviously a hacker, and I don’t recall whether I bothered to hit send on my email or not.

All that to say that as much as I like to think of myself as someone who holds her shit together around people who are celebrities, Tom Delonge was above and beyond.  If I met him?  Pregnant and out on rape charges.  That’s how that would go down.

This weekend I had a mild inner ear infection.  The kind that make you dizzy, really, really dizzy.  I spent my weekend on the couch crocheting.  I was feeling better today and in yoga pants I’d put on Friday night and never bothered to change, I took my bike up to the corner grocery store.  It’s important to have a visual of my wet hair, sequined tshirt with cat hair, and bike helmet.  I had about 18 items in my cart but since I’m in that store like every third day I know that the express lanes are often waiting and totally accepting of more items.  I have the decency to pretend to care when I start unloading my items onto the counter. 

“I hope they don’t count past 15,” I mutter to the tattooed elbow in the corner of my vision, just so I don’t seem like the bitch who ignores signs.  Rocket ship tattoos, it registers.  Really awesome rocke- HOLYSHIT.

HOLYSHIT.

HOLYSHIT.

THIS IS HAPPENING.

HOLYSHIT.  I know who that is.  I glance at the clock beyond his head.  Yep, that’s Tom Delonge.  I pretend to consult my blank wrist to the time on the clock.  Still very Tom Delonge.  Stop looking at a blank wrist.  Tom is buying groceries with his daughter Ava.  I am melting down while wearing cat hair, sequins and a bike helmet.  He’s attempting to do normal people things.  I’M attempting to do normal people things while watching him do normal people things.  Do not touch him.  DO NOT BURY YOUR FACE IN HIS TSHIRT AND CRY, VJ.  STOP MUTTERING THESE INSTRUCTIONS TO YOURSELF  TO YOURSELF UNDER YOUR BREATH HE MIGHT HEAR YOU.

He turns and looks at me.  I hope I wasn’t making strange strangled noises, I don’t think I was, but who really fucking knows?  His eyes meet mine and my face splits in an enormous smile and there was a moment of I-know-you-know-that-I-know-and-I-know-that-you-know-that-I-know and Ava said “Daddy!  something I didn’t catch.”

.

.

The cashier said “cash back?” and I stopped blinking. 
“That was Tom Delonge from Blink-182, you know.”
“Was it?”
“He’s kind of the only person that I don’t know that I totally care about.”
“You should catch him in the parking lot.  I’ll hold your stuff.”
“No ……. I don’t think I could do any better with words.”

Also, I’m going to download Ice, Ice Baby.

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Thérèse: I must be off now.

Valancy Jane: Oh, can I tell you something first?
Thérèse: Yes.
Please tell me.
Valancy Jane: Right now I’m checking out new ringtones.
Thérèse: ICE ICE BABY
Valancy Jane: And my iPhone is plugged into my speakers.
Thérèse: Do ice ice baby. It’s the best ring tone in the world.
Sorry, go on.
Valancy Jane: Dulce is TOTALLY FREAKED OUT by the theme from Psycho.
Thérèse: * gigggggggle *
She’s a class act, that cat.
Valancy Jane: I find that adorable, and also, kinda sensible.

I think you’ll see why it’s my new favorite restaurant.

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There’s this place called Iris, about a mile away from my house.  I’d been there before with Jesse and Bethany, and now I go there a lot, because I like the food, and because it’s close, and because I am precisely the sort of person who gets in a total rut is loyal.

Last night I told our waiter that he’d spoiled me on my birthday, and I would now expect all my deserts with a candle and singing.  He insisted he shouldn’t sing, but was there a song I’d like to hear played?  Something romantic, I said.  Sentimental.

So when he returned with my candlelit pudding, BoysIIMen was singing over the speakers.  Now that’s service.

Well, the Halloween candy is gone.

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So I’m listening to Christmas music.  That’s right.  You heard me.

And by that I mean, you read me.  I don’t actually play the music loud enough for anyone else to hear because it’s been bludgeoned to my attention that some folks think there is a time and place for Christmas music.  And that time and place is Christmas Eve and Christmas Day only, if you’re in the mall or your car, and only, only if you’re wearing a sweater and have specifically submitted written consent to the radio station for the Christmas music to begin.

GOD FORBID THE MERRIMENT SPILL OUT A LITTLE ON THE EDGES.

I am not one of those people.  I also have sex with the lights on and will eat food off my plate that has touched other food on my plate.  Which is not necessarily to imply that those other folks don’t ……… I’m just sayin‘.

Anyway, all this to say Merry Christmas to you, whenever you’re ready for it.