Friday, December 09, 2005

Friday Night Confessional

Here I sit alone in my bed on a Friday night. My kids are all in a catatonic state that only a fever can bring to them and it’s quiet. Life is good. Sorta, you see all 3 of my boys, have strep throat and I have missed almost 3 full days of work in the last week, worst of all it has taken a real toll on my blogging today. I hate it when life interferes with fantasy and bitching.

However, since I am in my favorite teddy bear jammies and slippers and I am so cozy, I thought I would bring on the confessional. I think you may all see me in a new light after this one and I really hope you still want to read what I write after I confess this one, but here it goes.

I like music; I like some music that could be considered guilty pleasures. I still draw the line at Paula Abdul and Britney Spears – a girl’s gotta have her standards you know, but I like Yes, Black Eyed Peas, the occasional Eminem, Uncle Kracker, Kid Rock and even some Phil Collins, when the mood is right. However, the most guilty of all music pleasures for me is, well, Enya. Yes, you read that correctly, Enya - the New Age queen herself. I don’t know anyone that takes New Age seriously or the artists that fall under that category, but, I still like Enya.

I think it is my Irish roots and it is not as bad as that Irish crap my mother played when she was uh, not sober. That was some hokey shit, I tell ya. ‘Danny Boy’, puhlease! No one in Ireland has ever, or will ever, sing that song, unless they are paid by the Ireland Board of Tourism to lure the gullible, nostalgic American tourists into their shop. My brother and I finally had enough and we threw out every one of my mother’s accursed Irish tapes. No more listening to that caterwauling on Friday nights (hey, Mom, it was really Abe’s idea, not mine, I just did it because he threatened to tell you about latest fender bender with the car – really).

Back to Enya, you have to admit she does know how to sing and when she first appeared on the scene in the late 80’s, that was such a rarity, I had to listen just to hear what a real person singing sounded like. I can see your collective heads sagging in disillusionment and I am sorry, I have tried to give her up, but I keep coming back for more. It’s okay, I am sure you will still respect me in the morning.

So, if you have forgiven me for that maybe you will let these slide as well: I went backstage to a Nielson concert and I have their autographs. I also have Billy Idol's autograph, I have met Jesus Jones and The Indigo Girls. What can I say? I have a sordid musical past. I have Queensryche’s autographs as well, but I am actually proud of those.


One final item; what stinkin’ fix did Blogger do now? All of my friggin’ apostrophes and hyphens have become euro signs! WTF? I don’t need any help with my typos, I can do them all on my own.

Drink of the day:

Hot
Chocolate
with
Peppermint
Schnapps
posted by Ditsy Chick @ 8:27 PM |

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