D.C. al Coda

In the words of Edna St. Vincent Millay, "It's not one damn thing after another; it's one damn thing over and over." Not relevant to my delightful, eclectic, ever-fresh radio show, you say? Hooray! Here are my playlists, Sarcasmo...



Log for first half of September 28th, 2006 show

Log for second half of September 28th, 2006 show


Lately, I'm tired of repeating things. I'd like to skip to the Coda in some ways. September is always a little rough because of some anniversaries. Eleven years ago today, for example, is the day that my father died. It's also the day that, three years ago, a long-term relationship of mine ended.

This week seems to be about change again. The summer is over and it's time to ready myself for some colder weather. I wish I still had my dog. She was excellent at comforting me when I was going through something rough AND when it was just plain chilly at night.

Regarding other endings, I've reached the end of my patience with a piece of equipment at the station. The CD recorder on which I record my show each week wasn't receiving a signal today, so I didn't get to listen to any of the new radio stuff I played as I was driving to work after the show. No matter. I have the playlists and can probably remember which new songs I dug. So, see? It's not so bad.


P.S. I agree with this guy. My dad was pretty remarkable. His work contributed to the 2005 Nobel Prize in Chemistry.

P.P.S. This is me with my lovely old dog, Tosh, in 1997. HECK of a dog. She passed away in July of 2000, at the ripe age of 13. She was an Old English Sheepdog (for the most part), but is pictured here with her summer haircut growing out. She also never had her tail cropped, thankfully. She was free to wipe clean every low table she walked by, and we liked it that way. We being me. And my cheerfully broken belongings.

Another Day, Another Fat Pile of Cash, He Said

Faster than you can generate a fake church sign, here are today's playlists.

Log for first half of September 21st, 2006 show

Log for second half of September 21st, 2006 show



P.S. Who DOESN'T want to play songs from a band called Bikini Test Failure? You'd have to be crazy to ignore a band name like that. The album name is pretty good, too.

Welcome to Tonight's Episode of *Ridiculous List of Crap I Have To Do* Starring GetOff YourAss

I have a list of things to do that could choke a horse. One of the many items will occur to me, I'll enter it into my Palm Pilot, and, invariably, never get around to doing it.

Sometimes, I toy with the idea of making one enormous, master list of everything I have to do. It is so overwhelming, even in idea form, that I can never do it. UNTIL TODAY.

Behold,in no particular order, The Ridiculous List of Crap I Have To Do, starring everyone's favorite underdog, GetOff YourAss.

* Edit the damned Crystal Skulls interview I did SEVERAL MONTHS ago. What is WRONG with me?

* Write a letter to my old gynecologist/endocrinologist guy to tell him that I'm all healthy and whatnots and to ask him if he still thinks it's cool that I was on that weird lady-problem drug for so long in the nineties.

* Kill my old Magpage email accounts. This involves saving the eight trillion emails I have saved on there from my fabulous mother and from other folks, too. I'm paying $24/month just to store old email messages. Get Off Your Ass.

* Get my new glasses before my stupid prescription is obsolete.

* Get that wacky eye exam where the eye doctor dilates my pupils. He said I need that done and okay, whatever, I'll do it. Let's just get it over with.

* Get my neighborhood parking permit. I've lived there for FIVE MONTHS now. It's time.

* Fill out my credit card affidavit, get it notarized, and send it in. Thanks, filthy criminal! I need MORE crap to do!

* Send letters to the credit unions (even though I already put alerts on my accounts) as a back up tactic to make SURE that I don't end up with identity theft crap going on. Again, I'd like to thank the criminal for helping to make this item necessary.

* Send out my resume. It's time! Go go go!

* Get a new general practitioner because mine is being interviewed by the police a lot lately for allegedly giving lots of oxycontin prescriptions to patients who then sold the drugs and split the profits with my doc. Classy.

* Schedule that dentist appointment I was supposed to schedule.

* Write letters / make phone calls to Olga, Jen, Gary, etc.

* Be more awesomer.

* Check my car's oil every few weeks, as it's been burning a lot of oil. Hooray for new cars.


That's pretty much it, for now. I'll keep adding to it more quickly than I check things off of it, no doubt. Oh, and please note: I am not a hypochondriac. I had some health stuff in my twenties that makes it necessary for me to follow up with an endocrinologist now and then, though, and it's hard to get a referral for that without a general practitioner. Hence, the doctor appointments. I'm not saying that a strict regimen of meditation is a bad thing for me or anything, I'm just saying that I'm not afraid I'm dying from hormones or non-dilated pupils or some such nonsense. Your Uncle Sarah is just fine.

Hang in There.

Hang in there, Kid. I have your music logs right here:

Log for first half of September 14th, 2006 show

Log for second half of September 14th, 2006 show

Snakes on a Panda

My friend John sent me this postcard during his Cape Cod vacation.
Oh, John.



Pandas of the Sea. (Click on the image to see a slightly larger and very much more clear version.)

I Got a Rock

Startled? You oughta be. Here are yesterday's playlists.


Log for first half of September 7th, 2006 show

Log for second half of September 7th, 2006 show

Live in Thy Shame

I was soooooooo ashamed I couldn't even post last Thursday. I missed my show. I mean I really missed it. Normally, I wake up at 3:45am on Thursday mornings and leave my home at around 5am to make it to the station on time. I woke up at 8:15am this past Thursday, and only when my downstairs neighbor called me on my cellphone. I'd slept for TEN STRAIGHT HOURS.

I have no excuse, except for this one (hush now, I feel bad enough as it is): on Wednesday night, I smelled gas in my apartment. I opened the windows and, briefly, the smell seemed stronger. I thought maybe it was coming from outside, but I do have gas heat and a gas stove. I opened all of my windows as a just-in-case measure and got ready for bed.

I'm not used to gas, so I was alarmed to think I smelled it. I called my downstairs neighbor and left him a message, wondering if maybe his heat had kicked on for the first time or something. He wasn't home and I finally went to bed, closing the sliding glass door in my bedroom (the only window in there) and shutting the door.
I had quite a headache.

I woke up TEN HOURS LATER, having slept through all three of my impressively loud alarms. This hasn't happened since maybe 4 years ago when I had a terrible cold/flu type thingy and slept maybe a half hour past my alarms. How startling to wake up to sunshine. Sunshine doesn't happen at 3:45am. I knew right away something was wrong. I answered my ringing cellphone, which was the only thing that could wake me, apparently, and immediately blurted expletives at my downstairs neighbor, asking him if was REALLY after 8am on Thursday morning. Oooooooops.

So, you decide. Did I smell gas and it put me into a coma that allowed me to sleep through a very loud radio alarm, a very loud beeping alarm that goes off ten minutes after the radio alarm, AND an enormous wind-up ringing alarm that goes off ten minutes after the beeping alarm? Or am I just someone who, roughly every four years, sleeps through a veritable battery of alarm clocks, for no reason at all?

I'm sorry, listeners. For what it's worth, though, WVUD's Steve Klinge wrote me an affectionately sarcastic email to let me know that last Thursday's edition of Radio Africa was riveting...

My apologies.