But Dolly is waiting!

You would think in a household of two IT professionals you would have very little downtime when a computer starts acting up.

You would think, but you would be wrong.

Because when you work with technology all day long, the last thing you want to do is to have to work on it when you get home. Home is supposed to be where you play with new gadgets and enjoy the wonderful randomness of the internet without worrying about being interrupted by your boss.

So, after a couple of months of living with a slow machine, the Winged Monkey and I tried to fix my aging laptop, Pavarotti. We scanned, we defragged, we root-kitted...and we finally gave up. In a hail Mary attempt to extend poor Pavarotti's life, we finally decided for a complete makeover.

We ditched Windows.

Pavarotti is now a Linux machine, Ubuntu to be specific, and I have to say that the transition has been a bit bumpy. Especially where Dolly Parton is concerned.

You see, last week, a couple of the Mimes and myself went to see opening night of Dolly Parton's Better Day Tour. Why, you ask, did we go to a Dolly Parton concert? Because it's Dolly. And growing up with a mother from east Texas, Willie Nelson and Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton and Barbara Mandrel made up a significant portion of the soundtrack of my childhood.

You can only imagine how excited I was at the thought of sharing the post-concert euphoria with the world in general (or at least the 6 people who still check this thing). You can also only imagine my frustration when I got home and my machine was being backed up and not available. Or the next two days when it was being rebuilt. Or the next 3 days when I was looking or the Linux equivalent of Paint so I could edit some images to put in the post. Or the 2 days after that when the Winged Monkey was trying to get iTunes to run so I could sync my phone and my iPod.

While the iPod issue is still unresolved (my most recent lame excuse for not running in the mornings), I did finally manage to find the program necessary to bring you this image, courtesy of Mime 4's facebook, which perfectly sums up our entire Dolly Parton Better Day Tour experience:


I have decided that Dolly, in all of her rhinestoned-dulcimer glory, is indeed a heavenly being.
*Inhuman physical characteristics? Big boobs. Check. Gravity-defying hair. Check.

*Abnormal aging process? Dolly is aging backwards. She looks ten years younger than she did twenty years ago. It's uncanny.

*Ability to morph appearance? Um, Dolly has a brand new face. And yet she's still Dolly. That's not human.

*Supernatural powers? Dolly's rendition of Sparrow left the audience frozen with their mouths gaping open. That woman's voice is a bit like Piper's power to freeze on Charmed. Time. Stands. Still.

*Unusual results when photographed? Giant, blinding halo in every image we took of Dolly. Just like every photo of a fairy/ghost/angel I ever saw when Unsolved Mysteries was in its heyday.

*Power to unite diverse peoples? Dolly flirted with all the boys from ages 5 to 85 (regardless of sexual orientation), made the rednecks feel at home with her Tennessee Mountain Home stories, befriended all the ladies with Sparrow and her jokes about her hair, reached out out to the stoners with her rendition of Stairway to Heaven (I kid you not), brought in the Christian right with a couple of gospel numbers, and befriended the African-American contingency by laughing at her lack of dancing skills while plugging the new film she co-stars in with her mammographic identical twin cousin Queen Latifah. ALL IN 2 HOURS!
Conclusion: Dolly Parton is, in reality, a heavenly being come to earth to either offer us hope for the future or to herald the end of days. Or possibly to warn us of an impending zombie apocalypse.

Whatever the case, I am happy that I was there to hear her message last week, and that I have a Dolly Parton mudflap concert t-shirt to prove it.


If the end is near, I'm going out in style, and, if the Winged Monkey can ever get my iTunes working so I can sync my iPod, to a soundtrack that includes Jolene and My Tennessee Mountain Home.






Posted at 12:31 AM
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Roller Derby Karaoke

Last weekend the Winged Monkey scored free tickets to Assassination City Roller Derby.

Yep. You read that right: Roller. Derby.

Only my boyfriend would be friends with someone who referees amateur female flat-track roller derby. So, this is how I found myself spending last Saturday night in Fair Park Coliseum (a venue reserved for livestock shows the majority of the year) watching a myriad of overly-tattooed women skating in circles around a duct-tape-delineated track. Watching with five men in their 40's.

Now I could spend the rest of the week sharing the inappropriate comments that will spout from the beer-laden minds of men watching women on roller skates, but none of those are really all that original or surprising to any woman who has had any contact with any male over the age of 12.

What was surprising was the following:

After watching my companions spend the first hour of the evening drooling over the fishnet-clad members of the Bombshell Brigade manning the souvenir booth and the concession stand, we moved inside the arena and found some seats just in time to watch the introductions of the first two teams. Introductions set to music, of course. I can't remember what the first team skated in to, and I'm sure that may be a disappointment to those looking for details. But how could I be expected to remember anything after the second team skated in to Bonnie Tyler's Total Eclipse of the Heart...and one of the guys I'm with...reaches in his wallet...and proudly pulls out...a crib sheet style printout of the lyrics?

Yep. Smart, good looking single guy. Mid-40's. Good job. Bonnie Tyler lyrics in his wallet.

There followed a good 10 seconds of silence among the group. Because what is the proper response when a man shows you his Bonnie Tyler?

Because, according to D, some days you really need a little Bonnie Tyler.

Apparently the proper response is an all-purpose "What the f%*#, Dude?" followed by uncontrollable laughter.

It seems that about 4 years ago, our friend D had been at a happy hour, and Bonnie Tyler's classic Total Eclipse of the Heart had been playing, and no one knew all of the lyrics. D, boy scout to the extreme, went home that night and printed them out and put them in his wallet so as to be prepared...in case he ever needed them again. Because there is nothing worse than being caught without your Bonnie Tyler.

Of course, being Daisy and all, and having watched way too many episodes of Law and Order Criminal Intent, I had to point out that it was a good thing we all knew about the lyrics now. Because what if something happened to him one night in the roller derby parking lot? And the police had to explain to his mother: "We found these Bonnie Tyler lyrics in his wallet, ma'am." The unknown meaning might have haunted his family and friends for the rest of their lives.


Posted at 8:15 AM
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I've Got Nothin'

O.K., maybe I don't have nothing. I did, after all, drive through a hail storm in Colorado on the way to a cat-themed winery, spend a Saturday night watching women's flat track roller derby in a livestock arena, waste a day of my vacation riding courthouse escalators for jury duty, and I am currently dog sitting a Labrador who snores. All within the last 2 weeks!

So I should be writing about me and my occasionally entertaining existence. And I will, if for no other reason than to get the Winged Monkey off my case for not writing. But not right this minute.

Right now? Right now I want to share a link to this little tidbit on chickens and towels from The Bloggess because it made me laugh out loud.

And it made me want to go buy rusty metal poultry art.


Posted at 9:57 AM
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Daisy's Tweets

My Momma Taught Me To Share

Tag, you're it!