Slow Your Roll, Pam

All right, folks. I'm having trouble getting my most recent playlists up here on the blog. I have a new computer and must load photoshop on to it, etc. I don't know if it's bumming YOU out, but it's making me impatient not to have photoshop. And playlists.

In other news, my apartment hunt continues. I decided not to take the glorious, but slightly overpriced apartment that I mentioned recently. All I know is that the next place I live in is going to have one heck of a good shower.



I'll be on the air Thursday and hope to have the playlist deal all fixed up before then. Kablam!

P.S. Chicken sandwich, you know the drill.

Que Sera, Sarah

I think I have found the perfect new apartment for myself. It's bigger than what I currently live in, it has a washer and dryer in it, it's in a quiet area, and it whispered my name when I saw it. Oh my heavens, I want this apartment. I'm waiting for the landlord to talk to me about the cost, as it's slightly more than I can afford. He might actually come down a bit in price, though, as honestly, I am a really good tenant. [Note: Pictured apartment is no where near what I live in now or will ever live in. I just like this new place so much that it might as well be a penthouse apartment in Manhattan.]

Sure, contrary to what a good tenant might do, I'll whine at you and call you several times in the mornings, using a tearful voice, if you're my *current* landlord. That happens, however, only if I'm forced to take showers in a GARBAGE CAN. Which, currently, I am. The water pressure in my apartment sometimes just disappears. It could happen every day for several days or not at all for a full week. I never know.

Here's what happens: I've noticed that, if I am in the shower at 7:15am, the water pressure abruptly drops. It gets so low that the water can no longer make it up the wall to the shower head and, instead, defaults to trickling out of the bathtub faucet. Trickle is a good word for it. Another way to describe the strength of this water pressure would be to ask you to imagine the effect of feeding a toddler nothing but talcum powder and saltines for, say, three weeks. After said three weeks, ask the toddler to urinate on you. Can he do it? Is there any liquid coming out? No? Such is my shower at 7:15am on many days.

I'm a reasonable gal, so I've changed my shower time to 6:30am. Some days, it happens then, too. When I had bronchitis last week, I took a shower at 3pm. It happened then. Sometimes, the water disappears and trickles weakly out of the tub faucet for only 5 minutes, then comes back to its usual, adequate-ish stream. Other times, the water simply stays gone for an hour.

My solution: I keep a 13-gallon Rubbermaid garbage can in my bathtub. First thing in the morning, I fill it with warm/hot water. When I take my shower, if the water disappears, I simply scoop water out of the garbage can with an empty cottage cheese container and wash/rinse myself that way. I told my mother that I've had to do this several times recently and she remarked that that was how they bathed when she and her family briefly lived in Burma. In 1950. BURMA IN 1950. Call me crazy, but when my current landlord told me he was going to raise the rent $40/month, I thought it best to begin looking.


EAT UP, KIDS.
THAT LADY'S HAIR AIN'T GONNA WASH ITSELF.




So, dear listeners, I'm now hoping hoping hoping that I get this new apartment. I'm trying to be very "whatever happens, happens" and "if it's meant to be your apartment, you'll get it" about the whole thing, but, I must admit that I am VERY excited.

Oh boy! I'll be on the air tomorrow. The bronchitis is just about over and I look forward to doing my show. Talk to you then.

P.S. My current landlords aren't bad folks. Sure, the place was filthy when I moved in, but they made solid efforts to fix that when I complained and they've even sent a plumber out a few times to check on the water situation. It seems that my shower just loses priority if anyone else in the building is using water. Who is to blame? No one. Or maybe this guy. Whatevs.

DJ Plague?

Well, I just got word that my substitute is now sick, too, the poor gal. I'm sorry, dear listeners, but that means you're hearing Radio Romania or some such thing instead of a show. This DJ plague must end.



P.S. This is how we all got sick. Communications majors. What ya gonna do?

Phlegmatic

Okay so I'm not going to be on the air AGAIN tomorrow. Stop YELLING. I know, I know, it's the third time in the last few months. I feel guilty enough as it is, people. But go easy on me. Your sweet, old Uncle Sarah has had bronchitis for about 5 days. My voice is starting to come back and today is the first day that I've been up and about. I thought it best not to push it by yammering at you folks for a few hours first thing in the morning. Besides, I'd just cough and wheeze all over the microphone, thereby sickening every DJ to use the station after me. Is that what you want?

In other news, I am sad to report that cough syrup with codeine is not the aperitif you've heard it is. Its sole purpose is to quiet down the ladylike horking that I do all day so that I can sleep at night. It does stifle the cough, but it does not make me sleepy. In fact, I'm wide awake. One teaspoonful of this stuff and I've paid my bills, done my dishes, and am now blogging, despite having NOTHING to say. It's the devil's elixir, it is. I don't want to be successful and productive. I want to nap.

Happily, I have decided that I am done with all injury and illness. The weird back thing I did at work last week is all better and my white blood cells are like tiny super heroes, fighting this bronchitis thing to the death. In other words, I plan to become a redoubtable force of strength, health, and drive-time radio. Taste my pop/rock steel, naysayers. Please stop staring at my super-hero chest. Stop it right now. I mean it.

Holding Back

This picture resembles my posture for a little while at the radio station this morning. Have you ever done something so stupid that you could barely believe you were allowed to walk the earth? Yeah, me either. Except for yesterday, when I helped my boss carry a mildly heavy bookshelf up the stairs. The first trip went swimmingly. On the second trip, however, I must've done some fancy dance move, as I managed to really strain something in my back. I remember thinking, "wow, that hurt a bit. I wonder if it's going to turn into someth----OH MY GOD." So today is a bit rough. I'm pretty good with stretching and doing the right thing when I occasionally pull muscles in my back or neck during a workout, so I think I'll be fully dandy again in a few days. Besides, Mama likes to work out frequently and I'm not about to turn squishy just to accommodate a little pain in my----OH MY GOD.

I mentioned this back thing on the air and got several calls. One was of the chiding "you're no spring chicken" variety. He encouraged rest and said I'd be back to my septuagenarian tricks in no time. Another caller recounted her story of back pain and injury and said that, since her surgery, things have been better. She encouraged a doctor visit, suggesting that it certainly couldn't hurt to get looked over. Still another caller suggested that I play a Cindi Lauper song. I believe that this had nothing to do with back aches, but rather, it gave me the impression that said listener wanted to hear a Cindi Lauper song.


And here, faster than I can turn a little heavy-lifting strain into an excuse to post glorious pictures of folks in traction, are today's playlists:

Log for first part of March 1st, 2007 show


Log for second part of March 1st, 2007 show



BEFORE:



AFTER: