So I’m typing this from 39,000 feet in the air. Once we reached the magical altitude where an ipod no longer can cause a plane crash, the earbuds were in. During “Another One Bites the Dust”, I convinced myself that I was going to try to remember every song that played until it was time to turn off all electronic devices in preparation for landing.... Kind of like my own version of one of those youth group games where you’re all going on a hypothetical trip, and you have to remember what each person is bringing on that trip. It was halfway through “I’m Sorry Momma” when I realized this was not only not a good idea, but also impossible. Perhaps if Coach McPherson had taught me a memory jogger for numbers 11-50, I might have been able to do it.
Instead, I decided I would share with you my musical journey from Los Angeles to Nashville. I’m sure there are a lot of bad musicians out there who could sympathize, empathize, and maybe even harmonize with a musical journey between these two cities, if that was what I was referring to. However, I am simply referring to the soundtrack of the skies. I have set the ipod to shuffle on all songs. As long as I remember, I will write each song title and artist below. In a completely non-condescending font, I highly doubt any of you will recognize all of these songs. So take this opportunity to expand your horizons. I will be inserting random comments along the way, because being on a plane isn’t all that interesting. But, I will try to keep it short since this has potential to be the longest post ever.
Not that you care, but the hardest part of this journey is going to be not hitting the next button. Buckle up, folks. In fact, go ahead and make sure your chair backs and tray tables are in the upright and locked position as well. Thank you and welcome aboard.
Whispering Truths – Red Shepherd
Another One Bites the Dust – Queen
I Miss My Friend – Daryl Worley
Daniel – Elton John
I’m Sorry Momma – Eminem
No One Loves Me Like You – Jars of Clay
Born to Be Wild – Steppenwolf
Hard Habit to Break – Chicago
Cowgirl’s Saddle – Garth Brooks
[The woman in the window seat in front of me just went to the bathroom. I promise not to update you on all trips to the lavatory, but this is the girl who, on a full flight, tried not to let anyone sit beside her because “she gets sick on planes.” ...So many problems with this scenario.]
Love Me Do – The Beatles
[This song begins a lot like the Sesame Street theme song. So much so, in fact, that I wondered when I had gotten the Sesame Street theme song]
Taxi – Harry Chapin
Before He Cheats – Carrie Underwood-Fisher
Turf’s Up – Brad Paisley
Take the Keys to My Heart – Garth Brooks
Karin Boye’s Evening Prayer – as performed by the DLHS Concert Chorus, circa 2003
[I am getting an incredible amount of odd enjoyment from this experience. This is probably a bad idea, because the anticipation for the next song is similar to Christmas Eve. Thus, each song goes by a little slower.]
Excuse Me Mr. – Ben Harper
When a Man Loves a Woman – Percy Sledge
This is the Way We Ball – Lil’ Flip
[I like a little rap as much as the next accountant, but I blame my brother for that one. Though I do like to floss, and all my diamonds do gloss.]
Owner of a Lonely Heart – Yes
[While we’re blaming family members… Dad, I hope you have googled me, stumbled upon this, and smiled.]
Roll Out – Ludacris
[I don’t think it’s fair to blame the brother more than once. I am at fault here as well. I promise I tried to clean the library up a while back. Crack slipper.]
Give – Third Day
[I can’t decide if Luda and Third Day back to back is hypocritical or well-rounded… Leaning toward hypocritical.]
Just For You – Sam Cooke
[Well, I understand pilots have bladders too, and I did make a promise earlier, but how qualified are Southwest flight attendants? One of them just replaced a peeing pilot. They’re not allowing anyone to come up to the front. The pilot is now on the phone, just hanging out. Either this puppy is going down, or the other pilot is getting some action.]
Pony – Ginuwine
[Pilots and flight attendants have returned to their respective posts. That was quick, but she was cute.]
My Old Friend – Tim McGraw
The Way You Do the Things You Do – The Temptations
With You – Jessica Simpson
[Brutal honesty, but, with you, I can say anything crazy.]
Against All Odds – Phil Collins
Thank You – Sly and the Family Stone
[Five minutes of my life I will never get back.]
Stay Gone – Jimmy Wayne
You Got Me – LoCash Cowboys
[When did not wearing pants in public become socially acceptable? IF I wore tights out of the house, I like to think people would frown on that.]
Love Me Good – Michael W. Smith
Let It Be – Performed by Joe Cocker
99.9% Sure – Brian McComas
Dead and Alive – Loren Sanders
[Out of 1,610 songs, it only took 35 to get to one that I wasn’t quite ready to share with the blog world. If you’re not affiliated with Taylor Christian Camp, sorry, but this explanation is not coming.]
Oh What a Night – The Four Seasons
[If you are affiliated with TCC, you can imagine my disbelief when I heard the music come on for this song right after the last. And yes, this is the actual song.]
Can’t Tell Me Nothin’ – Tim McGraw
Little Maggie – Ricky Skaggs
[Remember that no next button commitment? Wavering.]
What Would Jesus Do? – Big Tent Revival
What is Wrong – Red Shepherd
[I would pause for a moment of silence, but that would require a hitch in the playlist giddyup.]
Don’t Worry ‘Bout a Thing – SheDaisy
Wrapped Around – Brad Paisley
She Thinks She Needs Me – Andy Griggs
[The two gentlemen beside me have become fast friends. 4 hours of talking. Sure, there’s a chance they could be reading this now. But I dimmed the screen and shrunk the font whenever I was writing about the flight attendant rendezvous during drink service.]
It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye – Boyz II Men
[On Fridays, BNA is one of my favorite places on earth. I enjoyed California. Work went well. We had a little time to go to the beach. But Dorothy was right.]
Groovin’ – The Rascals
Dust in the Wind – Kansas
[I love how effectively this artist tied in with my most recent reference.]
It Did – Brad Paisley
[Captain just came on… Looks like this party may be on its last leg. It’s been fun. Sure beats a second run through Sky Mall.]
That was indeed the last song of the flight... I know a majority of society could not care less about this post. However, if you ever wondered, "What is that guy listening to," maybe this will help you realize you probably don't really want to know.
For the 8 people who have clicked on my blog from Denmark, I hope you guys get to experience such culture.
#40000feet50songs2newbestfriends1poorexcuseforablogpost
10.30.2010
10.28.2010
I Smiled and Said, "I'll Have Some of That"
Once you reach adulthood [Note: Adulthood is different than Manhood, as I have been reminded oh so many times by practicing married men.], you quickly reach a point where you identify the good things in life. They’re not always big things. In fact, for the most part, they’re quite the opposite. For instance, the inspiration for writing this? Today I went to the bathroom at work, and the water was blue.
Not much is better in the work/school/gas station environment than seeing blue water when you enter a bathroom stall frequented by several people each day. Could it be a false sense of cleanliness? Absolutely. But at least there’s a chance that stall won’t give you hepatitis. Not all deuces can be taken in 7th grade hall at David Lipscomb Campus School. [Note: For the uninformed, this was the location of choice for the duration of my high school career. This hall was no longer used after my class finished 7th grade, and, as such, solidarity was easier to find here than anywhere else in Harding Hall. If you walked in and saw feet, you were beat, and it was time to let the victor have his soil. In retrospect, the fact that so many males saw this as their personal bowel haven, probably means it was the most disgusting location available.] So, if you must go in a public-ish bathroom, the blue water makes cleaning up with Georgia Pacific sandpaper all the more bearable.
More little good things? Let’s see… I’m on an audit this week, so I meet 3 co-workers in the hotel lobby to head to work. We all climb in the Impala, and start the car up. Three of us in the car each have 2-3 years experience in our department. The fourth, we’ll call well-experienced. Today’s little good thing: cranking up the car and hearing Tone Loc’s “Wild Thing”. Per a little Wikipedia research, “Wild Thing” was the first single released from the 1989 album Loc-ed After Dark. The second was like unto it, “Funky Cold Medina.” If you have heard one but not the other, rest assured, you have heard them both. For those who completely missed the boat, these songs are as different as Pat Green’s “Wave on Wave” and “Feels Just Like It Should”. Regardless, listening to Tone Loc before 8 a.m. with a Department Director is a good thing.
Free food in the break room at work – another good thing. Unless… Last week in the office, I overhear some discussion about pizza. I have my ipod on, so I don’t hear all of it. Then I get an IM from a coworker who sits near me, asking if I’ve heard anything about pizza because someone from the 1st floor is asking about rumored 2nd floor pizza. Well, yes, I have. I suddenly remember more of the conversation overheard than I think I ever heard in the first place. I share my knowledge, and we set off to explore. We go to the far break room and spot 6 pizza boxes. I duck my head in the nearest cube and ask, “what’s the deal with the pizza?” “Is that that smell?” – actual response. “Yeah, it’s on the table in here. Anything on the table in our kitchen is fair game – same here?” “Yeah…” Now there are three of us in the kitchen. One guy starts opening boxes... he identifies the first pizza as artichoke, and it’s a good thing he did because I couldn’t identify artichoke if my life depended on it. Second pizza: artichoke. Third: some unidentifiable vegetable. Fourth: artichoke. Fifth: Pineapple. Not chunks, mind you, but full slices. Sixth and final pizza appeared to be cheese. However, there were only 2 pieces left and the first 5 boxes had sufficiently scared me to a point where I was sure I could make it the last 2 hours of the workday without a piece of pizza. However, normally, free food in the break room is a good thing.
I could go on, but by this point, you have already come up with your own good things. You have also convinced yourself that your good things are better than mine. They probably are, but a conceited approach to little good things in life: not a little good thing.
Not much is better in the work/school/gas station environment than seeing blue water when you enter a bathroom stall frequented by several people each day. Could it be a false sense of cleanliness? Absolutely. But at least there’s a chance that stall won’t give you hepatitis. Not all deuces can be taken in 7th grade hall at David Lipscomb Campus School. [Note: For the uninformed, this was the location of choice for the duration of my high school career. This hall was no longer used after my class finished 7th grade, and, as such, solidarity was easier to find here than anywhere else in Harding Hall. If you walked in and saw feet, you were beat, and it was time to let the victor have his soil. In retrospect, the fact that so many males saw this as their personal bowel haven, probably means it was the most disgusting location available.] So, if you must go in a public-ish bathroom, the blue water makes cleaning up with Georgia Pacific sandpaper all the more bearable.
More little good things? Let’s see… I’m on an audit this week, so I meet 3 co-workers in the hotel lobby to head to work. We all climb in the Impala, and start the car up. Three of us in the car each have 2-3 years experience in our department. The fourth, we’ll call well-experienced. Today’s little good thing: cranking up the car and hearing Tone Loc’s “Wild Thing”. Per a little Wikipedia research, “Wild Thing” was the first single released from the 1989 album Loc-ed After Dark. The second was like unto it, “Funky Cold Medina.” If you have heard one but not the other, rest assured, you have heard them both. For those who completely missed the boat, these songs are as different as Pat Green’s “Wave on Wave” and “Feels Just Like It Should”. Regardless, listening to Tone Loc before 8 a.m. with a Department Director is a good thing.
Free food in the break room at work – another good thing. Unless… Last week in the office, I overhear some discussion about pizza. I have my ipod on, so I don’t hear all of it. Then I get an IM from a coworker who sits near me, asking if I’ve heard anything about pizza because someone from the 1st floor is asking about rumored 2nd floor pizza. Well, yes, I have. I suddenly remember more of the conversation overheard than I think I ever heard in the first place. I share my knowledge, and we set off to explore. We go to the far break room and spot 6 pizza boxes. I duck my head in the nearest cube and ask, “what’s the deal with the pizza?” “Is that that smell?” – actual response. “Yeah, it’s on the table in here. Anything on the table in our kitchen is fair game – same here?” “Yeah…” Now there are three of us in the kitchen. One guy starts opening boxes... he identifies the first pizza as artichoke, and it’s a good thing he did because I couldn’t identify artichoke if my life depended on it. Second pizza: artichoke. Third: some unidentifiable vegetable. Fourth: artichoke. Fifth: Pineapple. Not chunks, mind you, but full slices. Sixth and final pizza appeared to be cheese. However, there were only 2 pieces left and the first 5 boxes had sufficiently scared me to a point where I was sure I could make it the last 2 hours of the workday without a piece of pizza. However, normally, free food in the break room is a good thing.
I could go on, but by this point, you have already come up with your own good things. You have also convinced yourself that your good things are better than mine. They probably are, but a conceited approach to little good things in life: not a little good thing.
10.14.2010
Just to Turn It Around
Hey, Daniel Powter, you suck. Yeah, maybe I did have a bad day. The day is almost done (Editor's Note: Since I still am sans internet, the day was done last night), so now I can take a look back at it. By my standards, it was a bad day. No one that I know got hypothermia after falling off a crab boat in the Bering Sea. No, my identity wasn’t stolen while swiping my credit card, trying to become a Maxx-inista. Turns out, my gas pedal came back up after I pressed it down in the Altima. So maybe, by standards other than my own, the day wasn’t all that bad.
My idea of a bad day? Getting stood up by AT&T, for starters. I can’t remember if I have shared this on here before, and I can’t check for reasons that have been and will continue to be mentioned, but my 50 year old house doesn’t have a phone jack. No, not one. No, not one. As such, AT&T has to come out and install one so that I can get internet service. My sweet mother was kind enough to come hang out at the house from 8-12 [Note: While pointing subtlety out removes all subtlety, please note the subtlety that my wife didn’t stay at the house – that roster spot is waiting for just the right free agent]. Alas, the phone company didn’t come, and the only numbers I had rang endlessly for 20 minutes. You’d think the phone company could answer their leading product occasionally.
Throw on a few hours of monotony, some traffic, a dash of attitude, a cellulite email I wish I had never seen, and (apparently) a few too many stripes for one day’s apparel, and that’s as bad as it gets in my book. While spitting into the wind at karma, my days don’t get much worse than that. Funny how it takes until the 15th hour for me to realize, “Hey, moron, suck it up.” Miss Tracy, I hope you take a break from noticing all the sentence fragments to enjoy the commas I just used to set off the noun of direct address. On my bad day, I still got to spend the day with people I like. I ate 2 square meals and a triangle… I’m not really a breakfast guy… I sang along to a good 22 or so songs. I hung out at Riverwood with a few cool youth group kids, and a few cooler old people. On top of that, I’ve got 20 people lighting me up with motivational scripture on facebook updates.
So, thanks, God, for my bad day. Thank You for the kindness, laughter, and joy that filled my bad day. Thanks for letting me spend my bad day, constantly coming in contact with friends and family. And Thank You for not letting me freeze to death on an Alaskan crab boat... Maybe tomorrow will be better.
You know the worst part of my bad day? Not being able to come up with an appropriate synonym for “bad day”.
My idea of a bad day? Getting stood up by AT&T, for starters. I can’t remember if I have shared this on here before, and I can’t check for reasons that have been and will continue to be mentioned, but my 50 year old house doesn’t have a phone jack. No, not one. No, not one. As such, AT&T has to come out and install one so that I can get internet service. My sweet mother was kind enough to come hang out at the house from 8-12 [Note: While pointing subtlety out removes all subtlety, please note the subtlety that my wife didn’t stay at the house – that roster spot is waiting for just the right free agent]. Alas, the phone company didn’t come, and the only numbers I had rang endlessly for 20 minutes. You’d think the phone company could answer their leading product occasionally.
Throw on a few hours of monotony, some traffic, a dash of attitude, a cellulite email I wish I had never seen, and (apparently) a few too many stripes for one day’s apparel, and that’s as bad as it gets in my book. While spitting into the wind at karma, my days don’t get much worse than that. Funny how it takes until the 15th hour for me to realize, “Hey, moron, suck it up.” Miss Tracy, I hope you take a break from noticing all the sentence fragments to enjoy the commas I just used to set off the noun of direct address. On my bad day, I still got to spend the day with people I like. I ate 2 square meals and a triangle… I’m not really a breakfast guy… I sang along to a good 22 or so songs. I hung out at Riverwood with a few cool youth group kids, and a few cooler old people. On top of that, I’ve got 20 people lighting me up with motivational scripture on facebook updates.
So, thanks, God, for my bad day. Thank You for the kindness, laughter, and joy that filled my bad day. Thanks for letting me spend my bad day, constantly coming in contact with friends and family. And Thank You for not letting me freeze to death on an Alaskan crab boat... Maybe tomorrow will be better.
You know the worst part of my bad day? Not being able to come up with an appropriate synonym for “bad day”.
10.06.2010
"Name It Sex and Everyone Will Read It."
So, I’m driving home last night from South Nashville, when 107.5 the River [Note: I have yet to receive any advertisement revenue from local businesses. However, when this blog takes over 4th place on most frequented websites, behind the likes of Google, Facebook and Wikipedia, I will be happy to endorse almost anything.] reveals that bed-checks are over and requests have taken their place.
First off, for those of you who only listen to country because someone convinced you that if you want to claim Nashville as home, you must only listen to country, must drink sweet tea at every meal, and must have some weird obsession with John Deere products… expand your horizons. Continuing, a bed-check is where someone, typically a middle school girl, calls a radio DJ who goes by the name Butter, and name-drops their middle school friends, probably sneaks in a high schooler to be cool, then usually finishes by giving Butter a “bed-check”. You can see how that would be appealing to the average radio listener.
So the sacred bed-check has been forsaken in favor of the good ol’ reliable listener requests. Genius. To put this in perspective for those below the Mason-Dixon line, but outside the reach of the River, bed-checks are like an electric push mower, and taking requests is like a John Deere tractor.
Moving on, as I listened to the requests poor in from Music City, you know what didn’t come up? Well, yes, technically the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody” isn’t wrong, but what I was looking for “Billionaire.” You know what was requested? “Ice Ice Baby.” To call say Robert Van Winkle bridges generational gaps is selling him short.
After going on… conservative estimate… 40-plus Riverwood Youth Group trips [Note: For the uninformed, I either served as a “youth intern” or was that creepy old guy who never really left the youth group – your call], there are a few songs that are more than pop culture. The short list: Hey Ya, Bohemian Rhapsody, Don’t Stop Believing, and Ice Ice Baby.
Hey Ya: Arguably the greatest song to ever be released… from the perspective of the person responsible for setting up the Christian school basketball game playlist. Beyond shaking it like a Polaroid picture, it’s as clean as a whistle. Trust me. After all, I am your neighbor.
Bohemian Rhapsody: Not only is it a song of epic proportions by one of the greatest bands of all time, it also has the added benefit of being physically impossible to sing along with. However, that has not stopped millions of people from trying. Bismillah.
Don’t Stop Believing: In a lonely world, you know who has this song in common? Strangers. When you get right down to it, we’re all living just to find emotion, and when you take the Journey through life, why not take it with the cute small town girl or that strapping city boy?
Ice Ice Baby: You know what Americans can’t resist? [I’ve asked a lot of questions here. Turns out, there’s no one to answer but me. Feel free to answer aloud. Especially if you’re reading this on your phone in a public restroom.] Americans can’t resist an underdog. The odds were, are, and will be stacked against Rob. I’m not playing the race card. Whether he’s white, black, or Japanese, he ‘s a dull pair of Wal-Mart hedgeclippers in a world full of Stihl chainsaw rappers. But somehow, he overcame the odds and released a nonsensical, self-absorbed collection of one-liners that blazed a trail. I’m not saying he was the first. “That’s what she said” wasn’t the first witty quip, but it raised the bar.
I love M&Ms, preferably peanut butter, and Marshall Mathers, but there’s only so many times I can listen to Rihanna sing about liking pain. For one hour, top 40 [More like top 5, da dum… chh] radio got it right: Stop telling people what to like and let their ears splash in a warm pool of greatness without ever having to tilt their collective head and shake the moisture out.
First off, for those of you who only listen to country because someone convinced you that if you want to claim Nashville as home, you must only listen to country, must drink sweet tea at every meal, and must have some weird obsession with John Deere products… expand your horizons. Continuing, a bed-check is where someone, typically a middle school girl, calls a radio DJ who goes by the name Butter, and name-drops their middle school friends, probably sneaks in a high schooler to be cool, then usually finishes by giving Butter a “bed-check”. You can see how that would be appealing to the average radio listener.
So the sacred bed-check has been forsaken in favor of the good ol’ reliable listener requests. Genius. To put this in perspective for those below the Mason-Dixon line, but outside the reach of the River, bed-checks are like an electric push mower, and taking requests is like a John Deere tractor.
Moving on, as I listened to the requests poor in from Music City, you know what didn’t come up? Well, yes, technically the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody” isn’t wrong, but what I was looking for “Billionaire.” You know what was requested? “Ice Ice Baby.” To call say Robert Van Winkle bridges generational gaps is selling him short.
After going on… conservative estimate… 40-plus Riverwood Youth Group trips [Note: For the uninformed, I either served as a “youth intern” or was that creepy old guy who never really left the youth group – your call], there are a few songs that are more than pop culture. The short list: Hey Ya, Bohemian Rhapsody, Don’t Stop Believing, and Ice Ice Baby.
Hey Ya: Arguably the greatest song to ever be released… from the perspective of the person responsible for setting up the Christian school basketball game playlist. Beyond shaking it like a Polaroid picture, it’s as clean as a whistle. Trust me. After all, I am your neighbor.
Bohemian Rhapsody: Not only is it a song of epic proportions by one of the greatest bands of all time, it also has the added benefit of being physically impossible to sing along with. However, that has not stopped millions of people from trying. Bismillah.
Don’t Stop Believing: In a lonely world, you know who has this song in common? Strangers. When you get right down to it, we’re all living just to find emotion, and when you take the Journey through life, why not take it with the cute small town girl or that strapping city boy?
Ice Ice Baby: You know what Americans can’t resist? [I’ve asked a lot of questions here. Turns out, there’s no one to answer but me. Feel free to answer aloud. Especially if you’re reading this on your phone in a public restroom.] Americans can’t resist an underdog. The odds were, are, and will be stacked against Rob. I’m not playing the race card. Whether he’s white, black, or Japanese, he ‘s a dull pair of Wal-Mart hedgeclippers in a world full of Stihl chainsaw rappers. But somehow, he overcame the odds and released a nonsensical, self-absorbed collection of one-liners that blazed a trail. I’m not saying he was the first. “That’s what she said” wasn’t the first witty quip, but it raised the bar.
I love M&Ms, preferably peanut butter, and Marshall Mathers, but there’s only so many times I can listen to Rihanna sing about liking pain. For one hour, top 40 [More like top 5, da dum… chh] radio got it right: Stop telling people what to like and let their ears splash in a warm pool of greatness without ever having to tilt their collective head and shake the moisture out.
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