“Dinkin’ Flicka.”

evanescence
Evanescence – The Bitter Truth

I’m having a good week. I’m still floating pretty high from Sheryl Crow being on Armchair Expert recently. She’s funny! She randomly slipped into a few accents while talking to Dax, and Monica, which cracked me up. I knew she was playful from when she once told Oprah that Stevie Nicks said kids would ruin her career (while sitting next to Stevie Nicks.)

Stevie Nicks looked so betrayed and proclaimed, Sheryl Crow! I did not say that! (It was so cute.) Then Sheryl Crow dropped the deadpan, started giggling, and I lost it. Sheryl Crow’s rap name is Low Key Loki. Tell a friend. That alone was plenty for me to smile about all week, but then another event took place. Evanescence dropped a new single, titled, Wasted On You.

Naturally, I listened several times (so far) with different cans so I can hear every detail. I loved it immediately, and the video perfectly communicates how I feel right now with the pandemic. Amy Lee has been helping me express complex emotions since I first heard The Open Door.Β I listened to previous albums and everything since, solo or with her band. Um. Obsessively?

I have two copies all her CD’s. Shup, I’m 50 and CD’s grow legs. My zombie bugout bag has a hacked iPod with all my music on it and Koss Porta Pro’s. Guess whose entire catalog is a playlist to help me face the apocolypse if I’m still around? Depression Management 101, yo.

I freaking love Amy Lee so much. Her music speaks for me when I can’t find the words or identify how I feel. It held me when Heather passed, and I was sure I was dying from the loss. When I was finally ready to explore the rage I didn’t know what to do with, Amy Lee sang my anger, and I was able to recognize it, name it, experience it, and let it go. I didn’t know people could connect without ever even meeting until Amy Lee.

I’m getting choked up just thinking about what she means to me, so lets pivot. πŸ™ƒ Jerry Seinfeld has a new special coming to Netflix on May 5th. πŸ˜†

Also, Georgia Hardstark (!!!) was on the new Bananas podcast today. It’s hilarious, and the first episode had Kristen Schaal (Louise from Bob’s Burgers.) Thank you, dear universe. The Force felt out of balance, but things have a way of evening out. (Seinfeld reference. If you didn’t need me to reveal that, you’re fabulous.)

I installed a bidet seat on my toilet yesterday. It went well aside from a quick run to a hardware store. I practiced safe distance, wore a mask, and only talked to the cashier who was masked, gloved, and behind a plexiglass partition. I wore it until I was safely back in my apartment and deposited it directly into the washing machine with a load of towels.

I felt a little bit like I was on a mission for the Army, which helped. I was present the whole time, exercising my new skill. It’s the first time I went into a brick and mortar store that wasn’t a gas station in a very long time. (Hi. My name is Alison, and I’m addicted to Amazon.) I scrubbed up like M taught me, then installed, and test drove my new favorite gadget.

It was easier than putting together a Lego set intended for toddlers. My apartments just had a brass pipe to the water line that wouldn’t bend when I used The Force, so I had to replace it with a bendier one. As a new bidet user, I feel like I just leveled up in personal hygiene.

If you have the means, I highly recommend it. -Ferris Bueller

Jeff Bezos is behaving like a superhero again. Thank you, Jeff Bezos, for the gifts and the example. I’m off to listen to Evanescence in my car so that I can crank the volume. πŸ’œβœŒπŸ½

“Break me off a piece of that Fancy Feast!”

It’s okay if you cry while you watch. I did. (Free To Be You And Me, generation.) There are over 40 minutes of love. When you’re ready, the next video should not be viewed while eating or drinking anything. The actress/writer/comedian’s name is Stephnie Weir (@StephnieWeir), and she’s fabulous.

I hope you’re hanging in there as we all grieve and maintain together from a distance. I’m proud of us. πŸ’œ ✌🏽

 

 

“We heard about the punch.”

gloved hands and mask
“Two by two, hands of blue.” – Firefly

I’ve lost my ability to speak again, but I can still sing. Weird, right? Whatever, embracing it. My band leader yelled (jokingly) at me to practice a duet on Skype, and it triggered my inner soldier who hears a firm order and obeys it without question, (then immediately questions thinks about it.) 🀭 I suppose I can’t whine about being easily programmable after volunteering for the military. (I’ll take Things You Don’t Consider Before Joining, for $1000, Alex. πŸ’œ)

I’ve been creating music ever since. I made a song, but it’s incomplete. It’s a sandwich with nothing in the middle because it’s not my song. I just heard the bread and created it because I’m a hopeful romantic. Sigh. I think it’s Karen Kilgariff’s song. I don’t know her personally, but I adore her. I’ve been listening to her comedy albums on repeat just to keep from having the panic attack that keeps promising to be a doozy. πŸ™„

I’m a little floored by how well it works. Usually, when I find a comedy show I immediately love, I savor it and only rewatch or listen when I’m stapled to the floor by the Depression Monster. However, both Live at the Bootleg, andΒ  I Don’t Care, I Like It (with Drennon Davis) are hilarious over and over again. Bonus. I decided to make a video for the empty sandwich because it felt a bit more complete (and I have mild OCD muted by Prozac.) πŸ™ƒ

(Below is just the audio in Creative Commons so other artists can play with it.) πŸ’œ

The Irish singers are loops with which I’m in love. πŸ₯° I don’t have words beyond Nah. Also, Guitar Hero said, “It doesn’t suck.” (Compliment in Babyboomerbonics ((say it three times fast.))) πŸ˜† Okay, I have to get back to pseudo-socializing (going to try the Zoom with M) because we all know I can’t slack off, or I’ll get too weird at the speed of light. πŸ’œβœŒπŸ½