My memorial day weekend had quite a few highlights. My mom came in to visit from Jacksonville. I went to the Bear family pool party, which was a blast. I never actually went into the water because I was busy catching up with friends that I haven’t seen for too long. It was great to watch all of the parents bop around with their kids in the pool. Some of the kids were too young to get in, but most were able to have a good splash if attended. I often sat with the group of childless whom seemed to much more liberal with the beer, cigarettes, and the diving board. The weekend also involved BBQ dinners on my back porch and a visit with G’s parents and some of their old friends. The weekend was capped of with a “roll your own” sushi party that I completely stuffed myself on. The room filled with purple haze.

Over at Howards blog (who is a very funny, relatively-recently-discovered-by-me, Denver blogger that you should bookmark as a favorite right now) we were discussing cheesy song lyrics. In the comments the discussion started to veer in the direction of: naughty lyrics = terrible lyrics = best lyrics ever! We were not talking about blantantly obscene lyrics. I mean more subtle but equally disturbing songs like Olivia Newtron Bomb’s “Physical“. Indeed, those are some of the naughtiest/horrible/most wonderful lyrics ever. And for some reason, I’m sure it had nothing to do with our age, we stuck mainly to songs of the 70’s and 80’s.

I racked my brain trying to think of the worlds most risqué/distressing/greatest lyrics ever. Then it hit me. It was 1984. I was only 11. My father, a friend of his, and myself were sitting on the couch watching TV after a long day of skiing. Music videos had been relatively new to my world at that point, so I probably forced them to watch MTV while they sipped their après ski gin & tonics and relaxed. Judging by the way they’re jaws dropped to the floor, they couldn’t have been happier with my decision. See, an incredibly sexy vixen named Sheena Easton popped up on the screen. She provocatively pranced around the stage singing her hit (#3 on the R&B singles charts in 1984) song “Sugar Walls”. I remember somehow, even at the tender young age of 11, I knew what this song was really about. The reactions of my father and his friend only reinforced what I had vaguely grasped.

These must be the hottest/most horrifying/impressivly fabulous lyrics ever!

My sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Where I come from there’s a place called heaven

That’s the place where all the good children go.
The houses are of silver
the streets of gold.
But there’s more where you come from - my sugar walls.

My sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Blood races to your private spots

let’s me know there’s a fire.
You can’t fight passion when passion is hot

Temperatures rise inside my sugar walls.

Let me take you somewhere you’ve never been

I could show you things you’ve never seen.
I could make you never wanna fall in love again

Come spend the night inside my sugar walls.

Take advantage
it’s alright

I feel so alive when I’m with you!
Come and feel my presence
it’s reigning tonight.
Heaven on earth inside my sugar walls.
Let me take you somewhere you’ve never been

I can tell you want me - my sugar walls -
it’s impossible to hide.
Your body’s on fire
admit it! Come inside.
My sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Come inside my sugar walls
my sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Come spend the night inside my sugar walls.

My sugar walls
my sugar walls.

And if those lyrics weren’t enough to make you tingle/puke/smile then you have to check out the videos below the fold.

Coming home from NYC last week I was greeted by a bloomin’ bonanza in my front yard. It was a great greeting. I’m not sure what kind of shrub it is but when the season is right it explodes. Unfortunatly it only lasts a couple of weeks and the petals soon dry up and fall to the ground below. As of right now, the the blooms are looking pretty pathetic. The heat expected over the next couple of days should do a good job of finishing them off mortal combat style. Enjoy the pics. Speaking of yard stuff, the lawn mower was stolen last weekend - how the fuck did that happen?

I had another fun weekend up in Breckenridge. This time it was for my brothers bachelor party. As the best man (and a willing participant), I am under a strict confidentiality clause as to what exactly happened during said gathering. I can tell you, however, we were fortunate enough to get to stay at this place. It slept 21, included a pool table, hot tub, enormous deck, fooseball table, large screen TV, grill, backyard zip-line, Nintendo game cube, high-speed internet, and boobs.

I’m back and back to normal. NYC was turbo-incredible. I’m not really sure how to describe the city in a single blog entry so I won’t even attempt it. So much happened that I’m not really interested in trying to rehash it all for you. On top of that, I left my camera at my brothers the other night so you’ll have to wait a while for pictures as well.

I’ve given NYC a hard time in the past. And I still think it deserves a hard time. There isn’t enough glass, brick, and steel in the entire city to contain it’s ego. But I’d be damned if a New York city doesn’t change you a little bit. Of all the things offered to me in NYC, I think a different perspective was the one I enjoyed the most. I have a new lust for NYC and a greater appreciation for all that home has to offer as well. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to get there and it’s good to be back.

• Diseases of the Presidents of the United States
  From George Washington’s toothlessness (he has no teeth left by middle age), to Grover Cleveland’s gout, to Franklin D. Roosevelt’s polio, to Ronald Reagan’s Alzheimer disease, and finally to George W. Bush’s colon polyps, presidents throughout history suffer from the same diseases and ailments like the rest of us.
  (tags: politics health history)
• The RU Sirius Show
  A cool talk-show program that spans all kinds of interesting topics. I’m in the midst of downloadong all of these.
  (tags: mp3 culture news radio)
• Feed The Cats - Gourmet Cat Recipes
  All of these recipes, unless otherwise noted, serve one adult cat.
• Recordings Of Air Raid Sirens
  A little fun, a lot of annoying.
  (tags: history fun mp3)

We have a large wreath on the wall of our front porch. Over the last couple of summers birds have built nests in the wreath. About three weeks ago I noticed three or four little blue speckled eggs in the nest. Last week they hatched.

I’ve never been afraid to talk about my favoritism toward the “reality” style of television. My interest in them has spanned all genres and styles. So it may come as no surprise that I would actually try out for one. Well, I never thought I would, but it might not surprise you.

Yesterday, G and I went down to the Teatro Hotel to try out for the travel channels new “1000 Places To Visit Before You Die” show. Both G & I are well traveled and have few serious responsibilities, so this looked like a great opportunity for us. You know, quit work and travel the world for four months on somebody elses bill. This was right up our alley.

Now I am well experienced with casting calls - I went through two very arduous tryouts for the Littleton Children’s Theatre at the tender young age of six or seven, where I proved my talent in order to win demanding roles as a goober pea in Brer Rabbit, and a punk-robot-type-thingy in some play I have nearly no recollection of (Thank God). Despite my expansive experience in “the industry” we bombed yesterdays casting call.

I don’t consider myself ugly really, but I didn’t know that the casting call went out to all the modeling agencies in Denver. Yikes. Everyone waiting around in the lobby was so perfect it made me want to puke. These were all actual TV type of people with headshots and “representatives”. But the best part is when we went in for the interview.

“Sit closer, take off your coats, we want to see what you look like” I was just hoping they wouldn’t make me spin around.

They asked us a series of questions that were relatively easy to answer and then they stumped us with this one, “What do you guys have to offer the show? You know, you would be the hosts, why would people want to watch you?”

G and I just turned and stared at each other blankly. Finally I blurted out something about being smart, and quick witted, and able to think on our toes. It was one of my worst displays of “thinking on my toes” ever. I continued to blab for what seemed like forever. It was more like my toes were doing the thinking. After jammering-on for about two minutes too long, G said something that finally shut me up. I can’t remember what she said because I was so dumbfounded I have blacked it out from my memory.

Then they got us with this one, “Where would you guys like to travel?” G said Africa and then started talking about some sort of Angelina Jolie type of stuff about culture and saving the world type of crap. Then I said, “Well my answer would be something of the opposite.” Here, they seemed to light up, thinking there might be some sort of good dynamic or drama that our relationship could add to their show. I quickly deflated their hopes by following up with, “I would like to go to Malaysia or Indonesia cause I just want to lay on the beach the whole time.”

I could just imagine what kind of ratings they would get by broadcasting my skinny, pasty body laying awkwardly in an uncomfortable beach chair occasionally dipping into the ocean to get the sand off my ass. 30 minutes of that. That’s what I told them I wanted.

For the rest of the interview I babbled incessantly while G tried to recover from how horribly everything was going. Not surprisingly, it was a short interview. Expect to see us in the very first episode where they show all of the idiots who tried out but are laughably under-qualified.