The Heart of Rock and Roll Is Still Beating

After writing my previous post at the beginning of this holiday weekend, I jumped in the car for a two-hour drive to my friend’s house. I still had loads of summer songs dancing in my head (as if I was going to continue the list and bore you all to death). I really just wanted to listen to them all and get pumped for the impending dance party. By the time I got to my destination, I was hoarse from singing along to my iPod and I don’t care how strange I looked to passersby. But while I was having a one-woman-karaoke-party in my car, I couldn’t help thinking about how much of an impact music has made on my life. I love it. I need it. That is, if I’m not watching TV.

My memories are surrounded by music, the songs that were playing are just as vivid as the images in my brain. I can see the view while sitting on my Dad’s shoulders at the Michael Jackson concert with the Jackson 5 in 1983, not being able to hear after seeing Kool & The Gang with my Mom and step father the following year, being subjected to my step father belting out his best falsetto along with his favorite Queen tape on road trips in our old Buick Riviera, the whole year my Dad was obsessed with and played The Phantom of the Opera soundtrack everywhere we went, and being embarrassed along with my sister when my Dad would pump his brakes along to the beat of Madonna’s first album at red lights. I wore out Paula Abdul’s Forever Your Girl tape almost instantly and was banned from watching her ‘Cold Hearted‘ video because it was too suggestive. I remember being invited by a friend to see Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch, we sat in the front row, right next to his dressing room and I thought I was in love. You get the picture, I need to get to the point, I should probably save some memories for future posts.

During my car ride sing-along, Huey Lewis and the News popped up on my iPod. It brought me back to the days when my older sister, my two older cousins and I would secretly choreograph then perform routines for our parents after big family dinners. We’d lock everyone out of the living room so we could create some silly dance reminiscent of your typical 80s music video, complete with plastic sunglasses and cheesy synchronized moves. One of our showcases included The Heart of Rock and Roll, by Huey Lewis. With our footwork down we’d call for our audience. At the beginning you hear a heartbeat, which sets the tone for the rest of the song. We’d all be hiding behind the curtain. One-by-one we would spin around from behind the heavy, yellow and brown, woven drapes while miming the heartbeat over our chest. The rest is a blur, because I’m pretty sure I forgot a step, got embarrassed and ran away. The curse of being the youngest and most eager to impress, I suppose.

Maybe, in a few years, my nephew will start doing routines for his parents and me to Lady Gaga or something. That would be amazing.



A Weekend of Fun and Sunshine

It’s the unofficial start to summer and I’m on my way south of the Mason-Dixon line to celebrate with my best friend, M (among others)! How do I celebrate Memorial Day, you ask? Like every other holiday (or typical weekend with the amazing Miss M.), I say. With lots of food, booze, and dance parties til dawn. This time, I think we’re adding some bowling in too, just for good measure. A-meri-cah!

In the spirit of summertime, mini road trips, and dance parties I present to you a sampling of some of my favorite warm weather tunes!

Summer of Love – B-52’s:  So airy with a nostalgic feel, it always starts me off with a huge smile on my face.

Promised You a Miracle – Simple Minds: Perfect song to dance to with a beer in your hand while mouthing the words along with your friend across the dancefloor (or living room floor).

(Not Just) Knee Deep – Funkadelic: Great for cruising down the back roads with the windows down.

I Can’t Go For That – Hall & Oates: A karaoke staple of mine, and also a chill outdoor summer party tune.

Cruel Summer – Bananarama: Duh! You can’t go wrong with the Karate Kid soundtrack & a poppy girl group!

Oliver’s Army – Elvis Costello: What a better song for your Memorial Day playlist than a tongue-in-cheek song about the armed forces!

World In Motion – New Order: Yes, was a song for the World Cup in 1990 but it always gets me pumped and ready to dance.

Club Tropicana- Wham!: And lastly, it’s so hard to not have the silliest time dancing after having a few too many to this song. It makes me feel like I’m on Dance Party USA or something.

There are so many more where this came from but I’ve got to get on the road. What are your favorite summer tunes?

Have a great weekend everyone!


So (Not) Like Candy

I know some of you will freak out at this statement but, I don’t like chocolate. I don’t like sweets in general, really. Of course, when I was younger I did. Give me a candy necklace, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, Pixy Stix, NutRageous, or one of those white chocolate lollipops you could only find on Easter or Valentines’s Day and I was happy. Hell, I even just carried around packets of pure sugar to down throughout the day. But in my twenties, maybe once the soothing nectar of alcohol completely took over my life, candy just didn’t do it for me. At a birthday party? No cake for me. Happen to be celebrating Valentine’s Day? (Something I’m not a fan of as it is). Don’t waste your money on chocolate (or flowers). Big family dinner? Please stop asking me if I’m sure I don’t want a slice of pie. Unless I’m suffering from a random and super rare, intense bout of PMS, I’d rather have another glass of wine.

But I’ll take the ice cream.

Come to mama

I rarely let myself have any in my apartment because I’ll eat it within minutes. And when I’m home doing errands with my mom, she knows I can’t say ‘no’ to a Dairy Queen run. I try to resist and it’s just no use. New York television constantly airs ads for Dairy Queen but the nearest one is in Jersey City. What is up with that? It kills me every time, my mom knows my weakness. But it’s quickly becoming ice cream weather and I’m having a hard time keeping those soft-serve-thoughts out of my non-frozen brain. It’s just so comforting, smooth and refreshing on my tongue, I never want it to end.

Yesterday I got a coupon for Tasti-D-Lite in the mail, and I knew exactly what I was going to do. Today, in between babysitting jobs, I was going to hit up a Tasti-D-Lite and enjoy the hell out of it. Now, I know it’s not really ice cream. It’s frozen yogurt, but it tastes just like ice cream so it satisfies that creamy craving. Good old half vanilla, half cookies and cream, in a dish, because cones just get in the way (I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s how I feel). I walked home liking the spoon until it was as clean as possible, each bite. So good, so cool, so much better than sex. ….Sometimes.

So, there you go. A word to the wise. 99% of the time I don’t want your candy, cake (unless it’s ice cream cake) or pie so please don’t keep offering them to me. And please don’t say, ‘ooooooh, that’s why you’re so skinny!’ I walked fifty blocks before I let myself walk into the store.

Now I want more ice cream.


Please Fill This Out and Leave it at the Door as You Exit. Thank You.

I’m the spinster of the family. My brother and sister are both married with a child, and I haven’t had a successful relationship in a number of years. Don’t confuse this with complaining. I’m not looking to settle down and pop out a bunch of kids. I enjoy being single, probably more than I should, but at some point one has to wonder what’s wrong. I happen to think I’m an OK catch. I’m fun, relatively intelligent, creative, and attractive to at least some people (guys working behind deli counters seem have no problem telling me that). But the guys I’m interested in and I never really seem to jive. I’ve decided that from here on out, I’m going to conduct an exit interview with all of my potential suitors once I realize our first (and maybe last) encounter is coming to an end. This way there are no guessing games, agonizing staring contests with the phone or shoulda, woulda, couldas over the course of the next weeks. I look at it as a learning experience for both him and me. Here it is:

Lisa’s Date Exit Interview

If you are receiving this, it means I have enjoyed our time together. Please answer all questions thoughtfully and honestly.

    1. On a scale of 1 – 10 (1 being bad, 10 being spectacular) how would you rate your time spent this evening?
    2. On a scale of 1 – 10 (1 being dead, 10 being institutional) how would you rate my crazy level?
    3. Did I say anything to offend or terrify you? Please specify. (If you need more room, use other side).

    4. What was your favorite event of the evening?

    5. What was your least favorite event of the evening?

    6. Would you recommend me to your friends?
    7. If we had any physical intimacy, did you enjoy it enough to want to do it again?
    8. If you’d like to continue seeing me please leave your phone number here. (If you chose not to, you can kindly fuck off now).
    9. If you left your number, would you prefer to be a booty call or go on dates?
    10. If you answered booty call, please state days and times that you would prefer to be contacted.

    11. Please add any additional information here that hasn’t already been addressed.

Thank you for your time, both this evening and during the exit interview. I look forward to future meetings with you.
Keep the pen (it has my phone number on it), but please leave this form in the tray by the door.


Totally reasonable, right? I think so.


Home, Neighbors and Police Tape

I finally got my ass back to New York, if only for a couple days, to get some stuff done. While directing my now empty cart to the lobby, I passed the door of the wailing, drunk lady I had previously mentioned here. I saw this sticker.


While waiting for the elevator, my mind started to race. What happened? Where’s the dog? Did she go crazy? How gross is it in there that the door has to be sealed shut? What was the scene like in the hallway when the cops were here? Was she raptured? Why did I have to miss it???

I’m super nosy.

I finally make it to the lobby and approached one of the doormen.

She died. No one knows exactly when.

My doorman said the barking dog tipped people off that something was wrong, but that dog barked allllllllll the time. So I can’t imagine how long it took for the dog to invite some actual attention.

I hope the dog is OK, hanging out at the ASPCA actually getting some care (though I’d prefer he’s at a no-kill shelter). He wasn’t really living much of a life while he was with her. And then having to be trapped inside with his owner’s dead body, while trying to let others know there was something wrong was probably terrifying. It makes me really sad thinking about him.

BUT! I’m also disturbingly curious about the scene inside the apartment. I’ve never seen that specific unit before. It’s got to be bigger than my apartment. It’s also probably super stinky in there though, between the smell of death and the dog waste. The mess must be epic, I wonder how long it will take to disinfect. When can I get in there? I can’t pass up an opportunity to snoop.

Soon after I first moved in, the old man I lived next to died so I occasionally used his apartment as my extra space. I’ll never forget him because he was the perfect neighbor. He was quiet, couldn’t hear, and only opened the door to receive an order of wine from a young hispanic boy once a week. The day I moved in he invited my step mother over for a tour of his apartment to show off its red shag carpeting and grand piano which sat in the corner near the bay window. After he died, claimed it as my own. I had some friends over there for drinks, took some of his records (only after it was apparent that his family had left certain things for trash), and kept an eye on the renovations. It was sort of like an increasingly less scary haunted house the more I went. I liked the initial rush, then it just became sad when I realized it was no longer mine. I was pissed when it got sold, and even resented the first owners for a bit (they were obnoxious).

As far as I know, this if the third person who has died on my floor since I’ve lived here in just over nine years. Am I the kiss of death? Do the math, there’s an average and it’s correct.

A warning to those older folks who move on to my floor.


The Morning After

Well, thank goodness the world didn’t end yesterday. I had plans that I hadn’t intended on breaking just because a few people were being sucked into the sky. I’m pretty sure the people I had the plans with would still be around, but then what else would we talk about? The rapture is a pretty heavy topic, where do you find time to talk about the weather?

But I have a few questions now that we’re still here:

  • Where is this Harold Camping guy now that it was all a bust?
  • Why are so many people eager for the world to end?
  • What are all the dumbasses who quit their jobs going to do now?
  • Do people really believe they are going to be randomly picked up off the ground like they are a part of some life-sized crane game?

Oh no!

  • Are people actually disappointed it didn’t happen?
  • How will some crazy dude play with math so we can await the next proposed judgement day?
  • Why did it have to be at 6pm EST? There are other time zones to consider.
  • Is Kirk Cameron pissed that he was left behind?

How can the rapture be so cruel after all the PR work he's done for it?


A Letter to a Dog Owner

Dear dude whose dog was running loose in the middle of a busy intersection this afternoon,

I didn’t have to stop to chase after him in the rain to check his collar, but I was afraid he would get hurt. So a tinge of gratitude would have been nice when you ran up yelling at me that, ‘he’s mine!’ ‘He does this all the time!’ I tried to explain that I was worried for his safety but you just looked right through me.

Maybe you should invest in a leash since ‘he does this all the time.’ It would greatly reduce your need to talk to well-meaning people. I hope you get hit by a car before your dog does.


An obvious idiot who still tries to do nice things.