Holiday music

Well, December is almost here and everything is turning red and green, unless you live in the NEPIW where everything is turning a dull gray so that when the blanket of snow finally arrives, you're thankful rather than annoyed.

In preparation for the holidays, I took a break from work earlier this week and loaded all of my holiday CDs into iTunes. Since that didn't take nearly enough time, I spent some time shopping in the iTunes store. I found some of my favorite, as yet unowned holiday music. Say what you want about Elton John's "Step Into Christmas," I love that song. Just makes me happy. And sometimes, there's nothing better than Bono's heartbreaking, "Baaaaby, please come home!"

In my searching, I came across many familiar titles and artists. I also came across some disturbing titles. Mixed in with "Silver Bells" and "White Christmas," the following songs sat quietly, as if they actually belonged in the list:

First, puzzling pairings of artists and titles:

• Please, Daddy (Don't Get Drunk) - John Denver: I don't care what you say, that's one festive-sounding song.
• Santa Claus (Got Stuck in My Chimney) - Ella Fitzgerald: Well, that's going to be tough to explain to the kids.

Next, pairings that seem to make sense:

• Yellin' at the Xmas Tree - Billy Idol: In the midnight hour, he yells, "Noel! Noel! Noel!"
• One Parent Christmas - Saffire and the Uppity Blues Women: Next line: "Half as many presents"
• I'll Be Stoned for Christmas - Bob Rivers: Hide the mistletoe, Bob's here!
• Codependent Christmas - The Therapy Sisters: The companion piece to John Denver's holiday classic. Please, Daddy, get drunk, because if you don't, none of us will know how to behave.
• Christmas is a Pain in the Arse - The Accelerators: Well, it certainly is for Ella Fitzgerald.
• Xmas in Jail - Asleep at the Wheel: Nobody knows the Christmas I've seen...

And, of course, the kings and queens of dysfunction and misery, the country singers:

• Leroy the Redneck Reindeer - Joe Diffie: Ah, the redneck jokes just never get old. Ha ha ha, a redneck reindeer. What do you suppose he hunts?
• Santa's Got a Semi - Keith Harling: Nothing says Merry Christmas like pumping your arm up and down, hoping Santa will blow his horn.
• Cold Beer - Tracy Lawrence: Let it pour, let it pour, let it pour.
• Let's Make a Baby King - Wynonna: Wonder where you're supposed to put the emphasis in this one. "Let's make a baby, King" means one thing, while "Let's make a baby king" means something totally different. Both are equally gross, though.

And, finally, my personal favorite:

• Santa's Messin' with the Kid - Lynryd Skynyrd: I don't even want to know that this song is about.

I'm sticking to Elton and Bono.

Project Dissertation

I love Project Runway. Sure, the over-the-top contestants get on my nerves (last seaon's Vincent and Angela, and this season's Christian and Elisa) for example), but the combination of ridiculous challenges and snarky judges wins me over every time. I have the same response to Top Chef. At least the Project Runway judges don't have to eat the failed designs.

As I watched last night, I realized that writing a dissertation is a lot like Project Runway. I'm at a point where time is running out and I'm just hoping that my committee (the judges) don't see unfinished hems and puckered seams. Most of all, I'm hoping they don't see that the whole thing is held together with safety pins, ready to collapse into a scrap heap in the slightest breeze. I don't think I'll use this season's Elisa's "spit marking" technique on my dissertation.

Unfortunately, I don't have a stick figure model to "work" my dissertation when it's finished. And I don't have an accessory wall where I can choose scarves, shoes, and purses to dress up my creation and hide all the flaws. Nor do I have Tim Gunn looking over his glasses at all the mounds of paper and books, giving me the stare and saying, "It looks like you have a lot of work to do. I'm concerned." OK, maybe I can do without that, but I would like to hear, "Make it work." Who knows, maybe he'd come by and say, "This is great! Really. Carry on." Let's just hope none of my committee members say, "Your dissertation is boring and uninspired. It left us sad. You're out. Auf Wiedersehen."

Perhaps I've been writing too much lately. I plan to stop in April.

Wait, wait, it's a toilet

I've discovered the joy of free "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" podcasts from iTunes. Now, even though my local NPR station doesn't broadcast WWDTM, I can listen to it any time I want to. Which is exactly what I did on my way home from the family Thanksgiving.

I listened to a broadcast from earlier this month, prior to the local university's homecoming game. In one of the show's games, Peter Sagal asked one of the panelists about a news bit from my own college town. I was very excited and sat up a little taller in the car. He referred to the drought and asked the panelist what the university was doing to curb excessive flushing at the football stadium.

I sank back down. I figured he must be making it up, since I've been following the local plumbing coverage so closely. But, no, it's true. This story passed right under my well-trained nose. The university considered posting official flushers in the stadium bathrooms to determine when and if a toilet needed to be flushed. Peter didn't say anything about specific training for this job, though I'm sure there must have been some training. After all, I had to pass a test on handling hazardous materials for my adjunct teaching job in the history department of a local college. Maybe the toilet monitors had to pass a history exam.

All of the WWDTM panelists were aghast and disgusted - which are normal responses. I, on the other hand, thought, "It's finally come to this. We finally make it on Wait, Wait and they're talking about our toilets."

Lotion commotion

Today's blotter carries the most creative response to the drought: Door-to-door lotion sales. I'll let you absorb that before I go on.

As the pioneering lotioneer was negotiating a sale, some other fellow "beat him up and stole his lotion." The salesman flagged down a police officer, who went to find additional witnesses to the great lotion commotion. When the officer returned, the victim had slipped away.

The lotion thief, "Hamp," is homeless and has a scraped knee and cheek. The blotter writer wants us all to know, "The lotion was valued at $5 and 'smells good,' according to police." As opposed to the "hot" lotion that's more expensive and stinks. Police have issued an all-points bulletin for "Homeless man with really soft fragrant skin trying to move a large supply of lotion."

Word has it that the lotion salesman is really chapped about the whole thing, though his friends are telling him that he needs to have a thick skin.

Toilet gift idea

You know how you don't really notice something for a while, then after you do notice it, you see it everywhere? Well, apparently, it's happened with me and toilets. Ever since my original post referring to "if it's yellow, let it mellow...," I see toilet references everywhere. This would be fitting, even ironic, for my friend who enjoys the potty humor. As for me, I find it terribly troubling.

Putting those concerns aside, here's the latest installment in "Heg's Toilet Fact of the Day:"

For the last week or so, the local paper has been running a series of articles recommending gift ideas centered around a particular theme. Today's theme: Mind & Body Gifts. There's the Affirmagy Wrap - a blanket with the same annoying (oh, I mean, affirming) sayings that you see on posters. The paper decided to feature the "Motherhood" blanket, where you can wrap yourself in affirmations like, "I am blessed to be a mother. Motherhood uplifts my world with light. I am grateful for my creative feminine energy." Wonder what the single, childless woman's wrap says. "Thank God I have this blanket since I don't have anything else to keep me warm, except this bottle of Jack Daniels and some wool socks. Woohoo, go me!" Surprisingly, no one at Affirmagy has contacted me to write for them.

Next, Sharper Image has come out with Noise Cancellation Headphones. Put the headphones on and with the push of a button, you can create "a quiet place" - because our world has become so damn loud that you have to wear headphones to experience any peace and quiet.

So, moving on, the article suggests a hula hoop for exercise while on the road. It folds up for easy storage during travel. Apparently, the designers haven't been in a hotel room lately. Not sure where I'd find space to unfold my hula hoop and swivel without damaging something (on me or in the room). How embarrassing to admit that no, you're not a rock star who trashed the room while gyrating with a lovesick fan. Instead, you're a middle-aged business traveler, gyrating to get rid of your love handles.

OK, on to the toilet suggestion. The Kohler C3 toilet seat. Retails for $750-$1300. That's right. You can either pay your mortgage, or buy one of these toilet seats for the "luxury minded person who desires cleanliness, comfort and convenience." Luckily, I don't have anyone like that on my Christmas list this year.

The description starts: "Promising better performance for the big job..." I'm tempted to just stop there, but it gets better. Among the features of the C3-100 and C3-200 (weren't they in Star Wars?), there's a "seat ring that warms, hydro-cleansing wand, and warm air fan for 'partial' drying." I'm going to stop there. Why "partial" drying? Does it only dry part of you? Which part? And, let's consider the hydro-cleansing wand for a moment. I don't know about you, but I can't get "bippity-boppity-boo" out of my head.

OK, moving on. In addition to these fabulous, totally unneccesary features, the seats also come with a blue light so you can find the toilet in the dark, a lid that softly closes by touch, and a deodorizer. And, finally, it has a memory chip, allowing it to remember specialized settings for two users. Not a memory chip that remembers you, specifically. Can you imagine - you walk into the bathroom and the toilet moans, "Oh God, not you again." Or, "Hope you didn't have chili last night." Or simply snaps the lid shut and refuses to open.

So, hope these gift ideas have been helpful. Happy shopping!

Dangers of Working From Home

These days, I'm working from home full time. This means that I live in pajamas for the first half of the day, spend a lot of time in front of my computer, and have limited contact with other people. I don't realize how squirrely I've become until I'm out and about in the general population.

Case in point: Last week, I ventured from the safety of my apartment to attend a meeting. For three days, I had limited time to myself, spending most of my day traveling or in a big conference room with approximately 100 other people. Big difference from my typical day. My brain struggled to keep up with the constant visual and auditory stimulation, finally surrendering and leaving me helpless to engage in appropriate conversation.

When one woman asked how I was doing after I moved, I said that the South was great, but I couldn't flush my toilet as much as I wanted to because we're in a drought. She looked aghast, which was my cue that perhaps planting the mental image of me on the toilet was not entirely appropriate.

But, I wasn't finished. Later, when a male colleague commented about our dinner, I told him that I'd joined a gym, go 4 times a week, and I've gained 15 pounds. Again, aghast response. After all, it's not everyday that a near stranger confides such personal information.

But, nope, still not done. Completely unprovoked, I told yet another male colleague this same story, and added that my mother says it's "middle age." The colleague said, "You're not middle aged," to which I replied, "Well, unless I'm going to live to be 100..."

So, I'm fat, old, and disgusting. Oh yeah, these folks will definitely want to keep me around. Well, they'll probably want to keep me around to see what I'll say next, not because of my professional qualifications. Just what every working woman aspires to. I'm going to crawl back into my apartment now.

Flotation devices

Last week, I traveled to Charm City for work. As the plane prepared for take-off, the safety video informed us that some of the seat cushions on the plane could be used as flotation devices. I wondered which ones. Would mine keep me afloat in case of a water landing, or would mine drag me to the bottom of the sea? Then I wondered if I couldn't use my seat cushion as a flotation device, what could I use it for? A hat? Lap desk? Very low step stool? Big heavy frisbee? Abstract art?

I remembered a comedian's comment that airplane passengers would be better served by seat cushions that turn into something that bounces, rather than something that floats. I thought about that, and decided that a seat cushion that turns into an inflatable pod would be great. Of course, you'd have to inflate the pod outside the plane, because if everyone inflated their pods inside the plane, you'd suffocate, which wouldn't be helpful. Something to think about.

Toilet News

The other night, I settled in front of the TV with my big plate of homemade spaghetti and meatballs. I caught the tail-end of a report about the Atlanta mayor's press conference, where she called on all citizens to conserve more water. I didn't see the entire report, but apparently her remarks focused on the evils of flushing. More specifically, she encouraged everyone to rush home, rip out their water-guzzling high flow toilets and replace them with the low flow variety. She ended her remarks with an enthusiastic, "So we're all going to save water, right?" There was a slight murmuring from the gathered, not the rousing "Damn straight!' that she was hoping for.

I'm guessing she went back to her office, held her head in her hands, and moaned, "Why me? Andy Young and Maynard Jackson never had to talk about toilets. Young got a major thoroughfare named after him, and Jackson got the airport. My name is going in the crapper." As far as I could tell, she avoided saying, "If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down," thus preserving some of her dignity.

As if that wasn't absurd enough, the reporter covering the press conference wrapped up her report while standing in a bathroom in front of a toilet. I guess she wanted to make sure that we all understood what the mayor was referring to, in case any of us were confused by the mayor's references to toilets. I thought, "So, it's finally come to this."

But, that's not all. Apparently toilets were big news on this day and the crack team of reporters provided full coverage (puns absolutely intended). The next reporter went forth and found a contractor to talk about the ins and outs of removing high flow toilets, the new scourge of our existence. The contractor described a two-flow toilet - where you could decide to use an entire flush or only half of a flush. As he started to explain when and why you might need a full flush, I decided that I'd heard enough. I'd worked too hard on my dinner to have it ruined by this fellow's feeble attempts to delicately talk about an indelicate subject.

Water...Need Water...

Still dry as a powderkeg here. No rain in the forecast, now that Tropical Storm Noel took one look toward north Georgia and said, "Hell no, I won't go." Autumn is dismal, as all the leaves go straight from green to shriveled brown. From recent news reports, we're becoming a bit nutty.

In the latest "drought-mania" stories:

• A local dentist installed port-a-pots in his office parking lot and is encouraging his staff (most of whom are related to the dentist) to use the port-a-pots instead of the indoor facilities. The article in the paper assured the general public that the dentist's patients could still use the indoor facilities. Let's hope this dentist's extreme conservation doesn't extend to hand-washing. I'm happy to report that this is not my dentist.
• Meanwhile, at the Georgia Aquarium, they're installing no-water urinals, hoping to save 1 million gallons of water each year. Wonder if they figured in how much water it will take to clean the no-water urinals. I'm guessing they didn't discuss their plans with the custodial staff. That's not all the Aquarium is doing for the cause. They've also drained a few exhibits. Lest we think the aquarium staff have lost their minds, they assured everyone that no fish were harmed in the draining of the tanks. So, no fish fry at the aquarium.
• In a recent letter to the editor, some fellow who is clearly vying for the "Lou Dobbs Award" argued that illegal immigrants were making the drought worse. In a masterful, albeit racist and outlandish, adaptation of anti-immigrant logic, he makes the following argument: Because these folks are here "illegally," they're sucking up valuable resources (in this case, water) and leaving none for the rest of us. And, because they don't pay taxes, they enjoy all of these services for free. Because apparently, they've located the only "all utilities free" housing in town. Wish I was smart enough to have running water in my house without having to pay for it. Seems we could all learn a lot from illegal immigrants. In his final point, the fellow really stretches the argument, and finally goes completely off the rails. According to this genius, illegal immigrants send all of our valuable resources back to their country of origin, so we can't have them. I wondered where all those tanker trucks were headed.
• And, finally, some good folks in a neighboring county organized a prayer service to ask the Almighty for rain. During the service, one of the ministers assured the faithful that the drought was a natural process, not God's punishment. I have to admit that I found this reassuring. I was glad to know that God wasn't spending his time figuring out ways to screw over north Georgia, that perhaps He had better things to do with his time.

So, the drought continues. We have officially reached Step F of the county's drought management plan. I think we can all guess what the "F" stands for.