Okay, for both of you blog followers out there – YES! I did receive the guitar! As promised, Green River Ordinance sent it to me after they made it home to Texas.
What I hadn’t counted on was their need to autograph the darn thing! I googled. Apparently this is about a $30 guitar…. guess I’ll have to hold onto it until these guys hit the big time!
So, guitar in hand…. wish I knew what to do with it! Guess I need to add “guitar lessons” to my New Year’s Resolution list!
|Really? Was there any doubt??
Honestly, the things people will do to win stuff! There I was, minding my own business, enjoying the music of Green River Ordinance (the warm-up band for the warm-up band for the Goo Goo Dolls) at the Greek Theatre last night, when one of the band members said something about “we’re giving away this guitar” and “send us a tweet and you could win.” So I figured, there’s not that many people here yet, how many could possibly be tweeting? Turned on my phone, looked up @GRO on twitter and found mucho tweets on the page, all saying something lame like “guitar, please” or “will bake brownies for guitar” or “entry for Greek contest” yada yada — you get the idea. In between songs, one band member mentioned that they’d been together for 10 years and started playing in high school. Then he said something about all of them being bad at sports so their parents bought them guitars. So, I promptly tweeted to @GRO “You guys rock! My kid is bad at sports & needs a guitar!”
Switchfoot was up next, and as they rocked the Greek Theatre, I periodically looked at my phone to see if a response had come in. Nothing. Huh. Guess I wasn’t more clever than all these people after all. Intermission, then the Goo Goo Dolls are on – the reason we are here in the first place. Nikki and I conspired to buy the tickets for her daddy’s Father’s Day gift, then she managed to land a job this summer serving at weddings for the same caterer that services the Greek, so she got us on a VIP list for the hospitality suite. The Goo Goo Dolls did a great show – and thankfully performed “Better Days” …which they somehow forgot to do two years ago when they were here…
Meanwhile, no incoming tweets for @tamiromani saying she had won a guitar for her bad-at-sports kid! The next time I checked, my battery had died a final death for the night and the phone had completely given up the ghost. At 10:30 we were heading for the car and on our way home shortly after that.
Thinking I should probably charge the phone before heading upstairs to bed, I plugged it in and let it power up. Little noises, little twitter icons – what’s this?
“@GRO > @tamiromani: you win! Come to merch after the goos”
So I start replying things like “phone died….. missed your tweet….any way to redeem?”
Those of you who know me well, are probably guessing (correctly) that if I don’t hear back in the next two minutes I am getting in the car and driving 23 miles one way back to the Greek Theatre to get my guitar!
So, I grabbed one of my bad-at-sports kids, hopped in his Scion, and hightailed it back up the 210 to the 134 to the 5 to Los Feliz Blvd. to the right-turn-at-the-big-fountain (hey, I’m a landmark girl, not a street names girl) until I was stopped by the LAPD officer saddled with the job of keeping people out of Griffith Park after its 10pm closing time.
“But officer, I won a guitar by tweeting the band during the concert and I just want to see if they are still there and I can get it and…..” With a roll of his eyes (I guess he decided that I wasn’t heading up the hill to vandalize the observatory) he let me through. Now, I’m a woman on a mission.
Can I just say that those Roadies are super-efficient? Concert over at 10:30, we arrive at 11:54 and the buses are idling and ready to pull out, the last of the equipment is being loaded in the semi-trucks and they are almost ready to ROLL! Of course, I go to the gate anyway, and the Security Gal (I use the term very loosely, as she was sitting on a bench, winding hair strands around her finger to stay awake), suggested I go in the office to find out about the guitar. Which, of course, I did.
The 6 people or so getting ready to leave the office at midnight after a VERY long day and trying to decide where to eat on the way home, listened to my story and stared blankly at me. “Well, I hope you didn’t come too far…” When I told them my city, faces blank, they said “where?” It’s clear to me that most people who live in L.A. do not EVER travel east of Pasadena. If they can help it. Ditto for me going west of Pasadena, but at least I know what order the cities fly by me on the freeway. Anyway, the lady with the biggest desk offered to go backstage to “merch” to see if they left the guitar for me. They didn’t. So, she then offered to contact them next week to see what could be done about getting it to me. Over and above the call, I say.
I’ll let you know what happens….
Truth be told, I can really get annoyed at blonde jokes (or blond jokes – you’ll find that I use these spellings interchangeably, just like on dictonary.com.) Anyway, most of the time I cringe when my inbox spews out a particularly inflammatory idiom against women with my hair color of choice. I mean, I’m NOT DUMB!! and believe me, I know plenty of brunettes who fit the profile a lot better than I. BUT, I sure do have my moments… in fact, I chose the “Blondemonium” title for my blog to take a swipe at laughing at myself and learning to go with the flow that so often accompanies the craziness of life in general.
Tonight, I became the blonde joke. Whilst fixing a lovely dinner of bacon-wrapped filet for my mister, I found a bag of old lettuce in the frig that needed to be disposed of. So, instead of just dropping it in the trash like I usually do, I decided to do the environmentally friendly thing and re-use the bag. So, guess where the lettuce went? Yup – right down that old sink with the garbage disposal running full speed ahead. Apparently, in my haste to dispose of the offending lettuce, I smooshed it down the drain too quickly and things got ugly from there. Now, picture this: I have a very large kitchen sink set-up with two large sinks on each side and a smaller, higher one in the middle where the disposal is located. To my horror, water filled with green chunks started backing up in ALL THREE SINKS!! Yikes! Knowing that my mister was due home any minute and expecting at least a decent dinner, if not a nice one, I tried everything. I kept the disposal running in hopes that somehow the green mess would miraculously dissipate on its own. I got the toilet plunger from the garage and plunged each sink drain like I was drilling for enough oil to keep the kids in college. I even bailed water from the sinks and into a bucket — all to no avail. So, with my head down and feeling blonder than usual, I met my mister in the garage and exclaimed, “I screwed up again!” His initial reaction, “I screwed up? How?” made me smile and calm down a bit — “no – not you, ME. I clogged up the sink… I’m so sorry.” With a grumble, he came in to survey the damage. Knowing what was coming (yes, I have done this before) (sigh), I had removed everything from under the sink and fetched the towels we would need to clean up the mess. Wouldn’t you know? Just when I was all down on myself and feeling insecure about how stupid I can be sometimes, my mister came through for me, assuring me that “it’s ok,” and calmly reminding me to just put the stuff in S-L-O-W-E-R next time…. How sweet is that? I mean, for the life of me I can’t figure out why something that causes him a fair amount of work to fix gets him all cute and patient-like, when other times he can get all pinchy-faced if I leave a few pieces of mail in the wrong place. And they say women are impossible to understand! (I’m thinkin’ it’s a tie)…
Of course, in all the confusion, I slightly overcooked the filet mignon and promised, promised, promised myself and my man that I would not do this EVER again.
Just like I did the last time.
I would love to take credit for writing this, but it was in our local paper, the Pasadena Star News, a couple of weeks ago under the heading “Slice of Wry.”
Preparing for a Ski Trip:
- Stretch a small, but wide, rubber band around the top half of your head before you go to bed.
- If you wear glasses, begin wearing them with glue smeared on the lenses.
- Place a small, but angular, pebble in your shoes. Line them with crushed ice and tighten a c-clamp around your toes.
- Find the nearest ice rink and walk across the ice 20 times in your ski boots, carrying two pairs of skis, accessory bag and poles. Sporadically drop things.
- Secure one of your ankles to a bed post and ask a friend to run into you at a high speed.
- Slam your thumb in a car door. Don’t go see a doctor.
- Clip a lift ticket to the zipper of your jacket and ride a motorcycle fast enough to make the ticket lacerate your face.
- Fill a blender with ice, leave the lid off, put your face over the opening and hit the pulse button and let the spray blast your face. Leave the ice on your face until it melts.
- Put on as many clothes as you can and then proceed to take them off because you have to go to the bathroom. Repeat often.
- Drive slowly for five hours – anywhere – as long as it’s in a snowstorm and you’re following an 18-wheeler.
- Go to a fast-food establishment and “insist” on paying $8.50 for a hamburger. Be sure you are in the longest line!
- Buy a new pair of gloves. Immediately throw one away.
- Throw away a hundred dollar bill.
Repeat all of the above daily until it’s time for the real thing!
Remember my “note to self?” Well, I didn’t last an hour and my inquiring mind had to know. First of all, it’s not a “toe” it’s “TOW” — isn’t that helpful?According to Yahoo Answers – here’s the story:
In colonial times, families grew their own flax to make into fabric for clothing. Transforming the flax into thread was a complicated, involved process with many time-consuming steps. After the flax was harvested, it was soaked in water for several days to soften it so the inner fibers could be removed from the stalk. To separate the long, thin fibers from the shorter, coarser ones, the flax was pulled through a bed of nails or combed in a process called “towing.” The shorter fibers that were extricated were of a lesser quality and were called “tow.” This led to the term “towheads” to describe people, particularly children, whose hair resembled these strands.
Our favorite online dictionary, MerriamWebster.com, provided further support and evidence for this explanation. The definition for towhead reads:
Main Entry: tow�head
a head of hair resembling tow especially in being flaxen or tousled; also: a person having such a head of hair
The dictionary dates “tow” to the 14th century and states that its origin is “Middle English, from Old English tow-spinning.”
So, now we know….
Okay, so maybe it could be argued that I’m taking this blogging thing a little too seriously… I mean, starting two blogs at one time (when I can’t even manage to create a facebook page) is probably showing a bit more confidence in my writing prowess than necessary. Even without posting more than once on each blog, I have found the process intriguing. So many decisions to make – choosing a template, a background, choosing a name, a general topic, etc. is all mind-numbing in its detail. Speaking of names, the Blondemonium thing came to me as I was searching the brain for something other than “Tami Romani’s Blog” or “Tami Talks” …snore… Not that Blondemonium is all that clever, but I felt it gave me lots of leeway in the direction I might go — which, if I base this blog on the random narratives I produce in my brain everyday, is going to be necessary. So, since I receive blonde jokes by the byteload in my inbox, I thought, why fight it? I thought about “Blondelicious”, but since I don’t consider myself to be “‘licious” in anything, and really don’t want the family jokes and snickering that would arise from being so, um, “‘licious” I dropped that one. Then there was “Blonde Ambition” which could play on my whole new ambition of needing to find a job and/or increase my voice over business in order to keep my son in college – until I found out that’s a movie title from 2007 starring none other than Jessica Simpson! Um, NO. So, thinking I had made up a new word, I googled “Blondemonium” and found a copy of Billboard from December 17, 1949 where the writer of an article about the Broadway opening of “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” used it to describe Carol Channing’s performance. Really! Take a look here. Is the internet great, or what? Anyway, seriously, no one has used that made up word since then? Hard to believe ~ maybe it was just meant to be…. Now, as for the blonde thing, yes, I am – have always been, and will always be, thank you very much — but no, it’s not quite natural (any more). As a kid, I was so blonde, I was called a “toe head” (note to self: google “toe head” sometime to find the origins of that crazy term). Now, my roots indicate something along the lines of dirty blonde or ash blonde, with a bit o’ gray sprinkled about. Come on, who wants to have a hair color with “dirty” or “ash” in the name? Not me.
Fear not, those of you who have threatened to create a facebook page for me if I don’t do it soon (and you know who you are), I think that could be my next big adventure!
I love this little illustration – me thinks this lovely blonde is a bit intimidated by her glowing computer screen…. I don’t seem to have that problem….