The Big Green House

If the game gets bad, you can always watch the boats out on the lake

I’m too wiped at the moment to dive into anything more intense than a quick recap of the weekend, which goes something like this:

Saturday night we went to the Husky game. A couple of my clients at work are retired UW professors; one of them was kind enough to let Science Girl and I use his tickets, since he was really into going to a night game.

SG had never been to a football game before, aside from one or two in high school. I was afraid she was getting bored, since the Huskies stayed true to form and used the first half of the game as a warm-up; the Dawgs were really stinkin’ up the joint , and by halftime ASU was up 20 – 3. The lackluster Carl Bonnell stepped his game up a bit, got injured, and was shown how the position is played by third-string QB Johnny Durocher, who tied the game at 20 late in the fourth quarter. By this time, SG was fully engaged. UW pulled ahead in overtime, only to be shut down on the very next play. That’s two games in a row that were lost in overtime, and three that came right down to the wire. Frustrating, but fun once the team gets going. Thumbs up for the barbecue sandwiches we got at the stadium, too.

We live close enough to the stadium that we could walk to and from the game, which was nice. Traffic after games is something of a nightmare, so it was a treat to hoof it past the trapped motorists and be home with beer in hand and dog on lap before most of them had even left the parking lot.

Sunday was all about running errands too boring to write about. So I won’t.

Tattooed Love Boys

Hey kids- Work has been kicking my ass six ways to Sunday this week, and while I'm reasonably certain that I'll be turning the corner tonight, I probably won't have time to post anything. Sorry about that. Since nature truly does abhor a vaccuum, my head is full of all sorts of stuff to cover - the de-sexualization of current music and the Pathetic Aesthetic, how the post-college/pre-retirement demographic has been virtually abandoned by music media, and other such topics - which I'm hoping to purge either this weekend or sometime next week. No, really. Hang tight and I promise to deliver the goods, such as they are, as soon as possible. In the meantime, enjoy this video of The Pretenders. (PS - Back in the 80s, I too had the Pete Farndon mullet, although I didn't pull it off quite so well. Sadly, there is no known photographic evidence remaining.)

The invisible hand of the marketplace is currently giving a hand job to the next Kurt Cobain

Wish I'd written it, but at least I can link it: Elaine Corden explains how indie rock became the new easy listening.

Radio Birdman - Aloha Steve and Danno

No, I'm not gone, just cogitatin'. Look for something next week. Maybe.

Little-known facts about the war

I lived in the same building as the war for awhile. I was on the second floor, and the war sublet a basement apartment for about three months. I wouldn’t say we got to know each other, but we were on a nodding acquaintance. Here are some of my observations.

• I once saw the war chain-smoke an entire pack of Kool 100s while waiting for a bus.
• One time I ran into the war at the grocery store. We chatted briefly, mostly about the weather. In the war’s cart, I saw a pound of bacon, a jar of green olives and a TV Guide.
• Our laundry room was in the basement, across the hall from the war’s apartment. Often, the door was ajar. Curiosity got the better of me one Sunday afternoon and I peeked in. I couldn’t really see anything other than a couch with a stack of newspapers on it, but the room smelled like old tomato soup.
• The war was generally pretty quiet, all things considered. Well, there was a fairly loud argument one night, right before the war moved out; I couldn’t hear it clearly, so I couldn’t tell you what it was about.
• We had a huge recycling bin for glass out back, but the war refused to use it. Direct quote: “What’s the point?” I didn’t feel like arguing.
• One time my cat ran away. I asked everybody in the building, including the war, if they’d seen her. No one had. About a week later, she showed up on the balcony outside my bedroom window, smelling like cigarettes and old soup.

Billie Holiday - "Fine and Mellow", 1957

Shamelessly stolen from the always wonderful Locust St.

I'm gonna burn your bongos tonight

Some of you may have noticed that my reviews have dropped off since Number One Hit Song bit the big one. I sure have; I’ve got a stack of CDs here in front of me that I just haven’t been able to pull the trigger on. I’ve had one of them since sometime in July, fer crissakes. There’s really no excuse for that, but I would like to explain it if I can.

It was while I was taking Lucy for her morning walk the other day that I came to the conclusion that I’m just in a weird place in my life right now, with regard to indie rock, pop, and all that sort of thing.

I tawt I taw a puddy tat...

Not dead, just writing.

Stay tuned.