Thoughts On Gettin Slizzard

The other day while driving and listening to top40 radio (because, obviously) my passenger remarked that he'd never met anyone who knew the words to every song that came on. Verse and Chorus. To the End. In a Row. For the Entire Ride.

It's just something I've always been able to do. Kinda like Gina and her ability to tell Rex Manning he was wearing blue briefs.

So anyway, this song came on and while I could in fact sing all the words, instead I found myself speaking in a slavic accent for the rest of the day. Because, my friendlies, the following song is a perfect example of why Americans are sometimes just a little too ridiculous.



Now I'll be the first to admit that I love all things pop culture. In fact, some might argue I take the fascination a little too far. But even I'm embarassed for these people. It's like they knew they might only get one shot at making an awesome video, so they sent their production assistants out in a mad rush to include as many current trends as possible. iPad in the first 15 seconds? Check. Skinny ties and American Apparel? Check. Hipster sunglasses in primary colors, worn indoors? Check. And then they take it further still, insisting on lyrics that are basically a string of absurdities. When we drink we do it right gettin slizzard...now I'm feelin so fly like a G6?? There is only one line in the whole song that's even sort of passable as a sentence.

Oh America, I think you need a time out.

And the reason for my slavic accent? This is a fictitious but accurate depiction of the direct result of what happens when videos like this make their ways overseas.



I mean seriously, can't we create things just a little more inspired?

Some of my best memories are attached to music. I loved driving in the car listening to oldies, staring out the window at the scenery and knowing, even at a young age, what music could do to my emotions. Whenever I hear Don McLean or Frank Sinatra or Motown, a rush of comfort floods over me. It's those songs that will forever remind me of my Dad, dancing with me in my homemade poodle skirt at the Girl Scouts Daddy-Daughter dance.

And now, driving around listening to what's on the radio, I can't help but wonder what it will be like when my kids are in the backseat. Will they really feel the same flood of emotion if I turn on Lady Gaga or Jason DeRulo?

I don't know, maybe I should just go back to listening to "Dad Music".

Of course now I've played the song three times while writing this post. Let's face it, I'll probably buy it on iTunes.

Sarcastically yours,
h.

Blind Texting - It's The Newest Craze

Much to @allisonsh's dismay, I'm going to repeat this weekend's news. SISTY GOT A DRESS!!!


(Photo Caption: Quick! Look the best you've ever looked! Must be in the genes.)

Other highlights? I went to dinner with friends and the Attitude Friday night. The food was gross but....at least we looked good?

Also. Thursday night after having drinks with some of Nashville's most beautiful, a friend and I realized we had never exchanged numbers. He gave me his, I told him I'd text back so he could have mine. Below is a transcription of what went down post digit-swap.

Me: Hey [redacted]! It's Heidi. So great seeing you tonight, and let's have dinner soon.

Him, the next afternoon: Hellow

Me: Hi friend! Hope you're having a great day

Him: Tanks you to

Him, later that evening: Hello heidi wat are you doing

Me: Out with my sister. What's up?

Him: Where do you live

Me: Near Lipscomb

Him: Can i call you now

Me: Sure

*This is where I turn to sisty and recite the texts I've been getting. I note that I think it's lame he's such a bad speller, regardless of his messages being delivered via cell phone.

**Five minutes pass...

Him: Are you merried

Me: No, why?

**The phone rings, I answer.

Him, in a heavy Spanish accent: Hey baby how are you?

Me: Umm..I'm fine thanks.

Him, still in a heavy accent: This is Alexander is this Heidi?

Me, realizing the mistake: Oh my gosh! I think I have the wrong number for my friend.

Him, even heavier accent: Hey baby thats ok, if you still want to talk we can.

Me: No thanks. Have a great night.

I think the funniest part about this entire story is the fact that this dude, who presumably DID NOT meet me on Thursday night considering I wrote A DIFFERENT NAME in my first text, still tried to have a conversation with me. So skeezy.

Anyway, I got the correct number for my friend and texted him appropriately. I'm happy to report we're going to dinner later this week. No rando dudes will be in attendance.

Just another story to add to the arsenal of things that happen to you when you're not merried. Maybe I should change my blog name.

#dayplanner4life

Look who's got a hot date with (the better half of) the Two household!



So glad she indulges me in my nerdiness.

Untitled

Found this picture on an old flash drive. Makes me happy.



Also, last night I went to the Habitat for Humanity home store. And then to The Home Depot. For a total of $33...you'll never guess what I came up with. No, really. You probably won't. Pictures forthcoming.

Game Night

Sunday night I went with the fam (minus brother) to have dinner with some old friends from Ft. Lauderdale. It's a happy coincidence that they live just 30 minutes away. The Looch first met them when their daughter was still a baby and watched as their family grew to include their son a few years later. Now she's in the fourth grade and he just started kindergarten!

After dinner and dessert, sisty and I broke away to play games with the kids. We breezed through the usual suspects of CandyLand and Memory and UNO while our parents chatted away in the kitchen. Then, out of nowhere, they busted this game out of the game drawer:

This belonged to us when WE were kids! I love that it was recycled to this sweet family and their kids are enjoying it as much as we did. Also, props to the Germans for making a game that held up over 15 years and six moves across the country.

The four of us had fun stacking the little "staplemannchen" higher and higher until they collapsed and tumbled down. Then we got distracted by sillybandz and trash talking the Biebster.

Pretty standard Sunday night around these parts.