I spent the evening flirting with Pandora.
I think I like Pandora.
But I’m already going out with Last.FM, aren’t I? Yes, I am. And it’s a committed relationship – I’ve coughed up cash and everything.
Still, we never said we were an exclusive item, did we? I still listen to the radio, still listen to my iTunes library.
But why do I feel like I’m cheating ’cause I spent the night with Pandora?
The Mogul scraped together his pennies and gathered up his trade-ins and wheedled a ride from me to GameCrazy this afternoon. Why? Guitar Hero 2 had been out for two weeks now, he’d been deprived long enough.
Both kids (not to mention The Father) are avid Guitar Hero fans. And even though they take over my television (depriving me of TiVo access), I don’t much mind. See, they’re getting an education in the classics.
Classic rock, that is.
Guitar Hero has other benefits, of course – TM has moved away from his ‘nothing but hip-hop has value’ position, for example. Drama Mama moved out of her all pink, all the time phase, thanks to Guitar Hero.
And they’re starting to pick up the various musical influences – TM just noted that the Stones’ Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’ had a definite blues undertone, for example.
But my favorite part (for a variety of reasons) is watching TM try to best DM in a ‘Name That Tune’ contest. No dice – the girl knows her stuff. To the question “name two Green Day songs”, she comes back with ‘Brain Stew and American Idiot!” She knows David Bowie sings Ziggy Stardust, rattles off AC-DC songs, and even successfully throws two Ramones tunes back in her brother’s face without missing a beat.
Sure, she’s got a killer memory. But she’s setting me up to deliver the killing blow. See, when he tries to make an eight year old feel inferior because she didn’t remember that Ozzy Osbourne fronted Black Sabbath, or can’t name two of the Beatles – well, I take over the game.
“So, TM – let’s talk about your favorite band when you were her age. The band you made me listen to non-stop until I was nearly nauseous.”
He tries to wave me off – but I show no mercy.
“See, at least she has better taste than to listen to the Backstreet Boys…”
Game, set and match – to DM and mom. That’ll repay him for making fun of my iTunes collection in years past…
Drama Mama’s on a ‘if this is the last week in June, I’m attending this camp’ schedule this summer. Last week was soccer camp, of course (the one that played the most havoc with my work schedule – all hail my very understanding company, who let me flex hours with abandon.)
This week was the easy week – camp at the place she attended aftercare at during the school year. The place five blocks from the house. The place where camp hours cover 6:45 – 6 pm. Yet she still had quite the array of field trips – from water fountain play to museums to parks to community service trips (today’s trip: visiting a senior citizen’s center to read to a buddy. Bad news, though – according to DM, “all the senior citizens were sleeping when we were there…”)
I’m most excited about tomorrow’s trip, tough – a visit to Portland’s justly-famous four-day Waterfront Blues Festival. I’m a huge fan, and have often practically camped out there when it’s fallen on kid-free weekends in the past. And while DM has been there before, she doesn’t really remember it, and doesn’t think it’ll be nearly as much fun as the water fountain was.
I’m hoping that it proves to be the highlight of the week for her. Sure, it seems like a slam-dunk for my musically-inclined kid. But part of my motivation here is purely selfish: since I’ll be dragging her to at least two days’ worth of festival attendance over the next few days, I’m kinda hoping she’ll catch the blues festival fever.
And if not? It’ll be ‘pack the Gameboy, darlin’ – you’re coming along, whether you like it or not!’
Mama’s got to get her groove on, you see…
Waltzingmathilda sent me a most excellent and truly evil mix – go check it out for yourself.
Thank you, thank you!
…the playlist below – created specifically for 6-6-6 – proves so, doesn’t it?
The instructions? To pick out songs that describe, among other things, “the pimpled, hairy side of your soul.” So I created a stellar playlist (if I do say so myself), burned it, and shipped it off last month to my special Evil Mixmania recipient. (Want to know how Mixmania works? Read this.
And in turn, I received an equally EVIL music mix myself (thank you, thank you.) Now, I just have to travel around the web looking for my equally evil counterpart…!
(Here’s how Mixmania works, according to Head Mixmania Honcho Patriside: “you mix, you mail, you get a disk, everyone surfs around to figure out who sent them the disk.”)