Sunday, July 26, 2009

You've Got the "MUSE"ic in You...

It's no secret I am a lover of music and writing. Most of my friends who are "average" listeners and readers think of me as somewhat of a music guru and fantastic writer. I have a lyric for everything in my life (and theirs); I even measure time by music. They stroke the ego of my inner writer, and while I enjoy the accolades, there's really NOTHING like the feeling of having a common bond with another person who is equally (or more) talented in your area of interest.

I happen to have a friend like that. We aren't what you'd call "typical" friends, or even really close friends. We don't share family anecdotes, we don't meet for lunch or coffee, and we don't have a lot in common on the surface, but I'll explain that later.

What we do have, is a kindred spirit. We came to be friends in an unlikely way, and despite my tendency to push people away, and what we call my "flaky" behavior, this special person has remained my friend, always there, even when I don't think I need anyone to be there.

Besides all of that, my friend is an avid reader, and an excellent writer. I remember the first time I sent my friend a chunk of my writing. You see, I also know the critical side of this person, and I was ready for it. The applause from my close friends was nice, but I needed criticism and feeback from a serious reader. From an enthusiastic writer. My stomach turned as I opened the first e-mail response, nervous about what would be said.

What I got, instead of harsh criticism, was praise and encouragement. I couldn't have finished any of my substantial writing without this. I went from reluctantly sending my writing, to waiting impatiently for a reply. Now every time I sit down to write, I look forward to sending my finished product for discussion.

Among some of our other commonalities, such as intelligence, loyalty, quiet awkwardness, and social retardation (sorry, we both know it's true), is a love for music. We have very similar taste, and I say that's because we both have impeccable taste :) Most of the time. I believe my Lady Ga Ga faux pas has been forgiven.

But what inspired me to write this blog was an e-mail interaction we had Friday night. I sent the following e-mail:

So I heard this song in Maurices today.
It sounded kind of Fray-ish.
It was really repetitive
It kept saying something about don't go or something?

I got a text at midnight.

"It's Never Say Never by The Fray. The song, that is. You also need to hear Absolute."

The actual line I was referring to says, "Don't let me go." I bow to the music king :)

Thanks, Landon, my sixteen-year-old, English-loving, blonde moment prone, large-vocabularied, grammar geek, math genius, music expert, amazingly talented friend, for being an always-there, encouraging friend and inspiration. I know, it sounds so cheesy. But it's true :)

***3 Baby Edits: He's 17, we're never late, and we HATE broken plans.***

Friday, July 10, 2009

Keep the Change?

Let me begin this post with a confession: I don't tip at Sonic. Call it cheap, call it frugal, call it down-right rude, but I just DON'T do it. If someone is serving me food in a sit-down setting, takes my order, asks me if my food is right, cleans up my mess, and has to refill my Coke three times, then a tip is in order. However, someone who drops a sack of food in my window, which may (or may not) be what and how I ordered, does not, in my opinion, deserve a tip.

My grandma is one who always says, "Keep that change, honey." Even if it's only three cents. I, myself, find a ten cent tip more insulting than none at all, but maybe that's just me. I usually use my debit or MySonic card, which eliminates the tip-awkwardness altogether. But, on the rare occasion I pay with cash, I'm finding a little stronger effort to get a tip out of me.

A few years back I recall a trend among car-hops in which they would (oh so politely) say, "And would you like your change back?" To which I ALWAYS replied, "Yes, thank you." I mean. Really. Didn't she just basically say, "Can I have a four cent tip?" I'm sure the girls appreciate a tip for their trip, but to ask for one seems a little crass to me.

That trend, I have found out recently, has gone by the wayside. Now when I pay with cash and my total is over 80 cents, I don't get my change. The car-hop simply says, "Thank you!" She smiles and darts for the door. I sit, dumbfounded, wondering if that girl just stole twenty cents from me.

I'm not trying to be a Scrooge. I'm not saying the girls don't DESERVE a tip. I'm a single, struggling mom who treats her daughter to Sonic on the rare occasion an extra five bucks come up. I save my loose change and actually wrap and spend it. I feel like that is my twenty cents, or two cents, and if I CHOOSE to give it to someone I will, but I don't like having my change stolen from me little by little.

I haven't had the nerve yet, but I'd like to push the button one day and say, "Your car-hop just stole seven cents from me!" The manager, however, might not get my humor.

So for now, I make sure I have a dollar's worth of change in my car if I'm headed to Sonic. Just yesterday I dug up 87 cents in change to avoid breaking a dollar and losing 13. Am I going a little over the top here? Maybe. But I do belive this is America and I should have the right NOT to tip :)


Since I have dropped my DirecTv to the lowest package to save money, I jump all over the free movie weekends and previews. A few weeks ago I had IFC for free. Usually the IFC movies are unrated and somewhat boring, but I stumbled upon a documentary at 6am one morning that had me hooked from the first scenes.

I lay on the couch, half hoping to find my way back to sleep, but this movie had me completely enthralled. It was the life-story of this 70s country singer, Guy Terrifico, who was his own worst enemy. The movie is titled: The Life and Hard Times of Guy Terrifico.

The story was intriguing. Drugs, girls, beer, famous singers, bar fights, it had everything. Toward the end of the movie you learn that Guy was shot at a show, but through a strange turn of events, his body was never found. It leaves you believing it could have been a conspiracy and Guy is still wandering around in Cuba today. Even Kris Kristofferson and other country artists from that time period give some convincing evidence.

After watching the movie I called my mom and was asking her about this guy. That's her time period, after all. I was shocked when she told me she had never heard of him! I told her the whole story and how interested I was. I was hoping I could even find a biography on him or something. I WANTED to read more about him!

When I got online later that day I decided to search him and his story.

Hold your laughter please.

It was a hoax. It was a MOCKumentary made in Canada a few years ago. The whole story is fictional, which is why Mom hadn't heard of him! I was crushed. I was so wrapped up in the mystery and whimsy of the story I didn't realize (at 6 a.m. mind you) that the movie was just that: a movie.

I could write a book on all the things I've believed over the years. You can call me gullible, I guess. Maybe I'm just a romantic, a dreamer. This little faux documentary, though, really broke my heart.

When I'd wallowed long enough and double checked every reliable (and unreliable) website, I decided to swallow my pride. Shameful, I dialed my mom and told her the "real" story of Guy Terrifico. She didn't have much to say, but by her laughter I'm guessing she thought it was, well, Terrifico.