Keeping it real, Kristin.
Isaac loves rockets so I call him my Rocket Boy. Somewhere along the line this led, inevitably, to me singing "Rocket Boy" to him. Which of course led to him singing it.
'The Killer In Me'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Keeping it real, Kristin.
Isaac loves rockets so I call him my Rocket Boy. Somewhere along the line this led, inevitably, to me singing "Rocket Boy" to him. Which of course led to him singing it.
First, because I know you love Wicked, watch that Firefly vid linked to in, umm, Minearverse, I think. (If you can. Do you have headphones if you share an office?)
My computer speakers don't work. I do have headphones, but I've not watched that vid yet because I fear I am in the sort of hormonal cranky mood that tips easily into crying, especially during songs like "Defying Gravity".
... I think I've forgotten how to edit developer content. Fuck. This does not Bode Well for Job Productivity.
My first concert was probably Fishbone. Might've been Violent Femmes.
I think I've forgotten how to edit developer content.
I take it the croquet mallet won't cut it?
Oh Teppy, I'm sorry.
Vibing hard for Steph's dad.
My first concert was Talking Heads. Same tour that STOP MAKING SENSE was filmed from (their last). It was Awsome.
I had an assistant manager at Waldenbooks who had the best Talking Heads concert story. It was about a year or so before they hit it big nationwide, so they were still playing at assorted small venues in Chicago when they came to town. Connie saw them, loved them, and then was invited to come along when they decided to go bar-hopping, mostly because Tina Weymouth desperately wanted another woman to party with. She said they were (mostly) really cool, but David Byrne was a bit of a dick.
Damn, Tep, another?
Well, he hasn't been feeling well since heart attack #5, in November. He feels like there was a blockage -- or something -- from back then that was never dealt with. And, frankly, by this point in his life, he knows his cardiac symptoms well enough that I'm inclined to believe him.
He said he feels worse than he has in about 5 years, and given that he's Mr. Massively Stoic, the fact that he's remarking on how bad he feels is kind of worrisome.
I'm sure he'll be fine, but all week I haven't been able to shake thoughts of gloom, doom, and death. I can't get my rational brain to make my jittery nerves shut up.
And then I feel like a bad daughter for resenting the fact that I have to go to the hospital after work to see how he's doing. But I do. I just want to go home, crawl under the covers, and not come out until April.
Heart-ma for Teppy's dad and stress-ma for her.
first concert - Billy Joel
I take it the croquet mallet won't cut it?
Noooo. It's silly formatting nonsense and other stuff. Grr.
Oooh, Queensryche! I think they're playing a show in Seattle in March. I should check, and then find someone to go with me.