I Am a Heartless Bitch

It's September 12th. And I'm quite thankful that it is, because that means the 11th is over.
What happened 6 years ago was tragic, horrific and many more adjectives I'm not inclined to think of. But it was 6 years ago. The media is treating it as tho it really happened yesterday. I even heard tale of a radio station somewhere out west that replayed the entire broadcast from that fateful morning. Holy War of the Worlds, Batman! How many people, I wondered, tuned in during the middle of it, and thought we were being attacked again?

So irresponsible.

No. People will not forget. Certainly not in our lifetime. Not that we're even given the option, considering how it's shoved down our throats every year. Yes. It was tragic. But does anyone think that the people who did lose people involved are going to get -any- kind of closure because of this? It's like a wound that's barely healed, and then someone comes along and rips out the stitches... just to remind you that you have a wound. Uhm... thanks, the pain -was- actually a reminder, I didn't -need- you to come along and make things worse.

I swear people can be such asshats.

What gets me is the places that are honoring those lost that really have no business in doing so. Tonight, our local, minor league baseball team read off a list of all the Long Islanders that lost their lives that day. I can only imagine, small stadium, filled about halfway with kids, having this solemn affair, most of the poor kids (some of whom might not even have been born yet at the time) wondering what the hell is going on. A moment of silence after the list is read... aaaaaand play ball!

Let me repeat it once more: this was a horrific thing that happened. I hope that such a thing never happens again. I feel for the people who lost someone that day. I myself, still can't go by the site and not feel absolutely sick to my stomach. But seriously, enough of the media bites.

Recovering from the Weekend

Ups and downs. That pretty much describes from, really, Thursday onwards.

Thursday: go to my appointment to get my truck inspected. I don't expect any problems, but I do expect them to keep it overnight, if only because I'm not about to get up -that- early to go get it when I can pick it up after work the next day.
Phone call #1: Okay, so there is a problem. One that causes me to not pass inspection. Something about ball joints on both of my front tires. Major safety concern. And a reason as to why my front tires are wearing on the outer rims, as opposed to the center treads. Oh, and yeah, it's gonna cost me about $600 to get it fixed. Not counting replacing the tires and getting an alignment, which "isn't necessary now, but will be shortly." Joy.
Phone call #2: Aparantly, the place where my mechanic gets his parts from screwed up. One number difference, and instead of delivering the front ball joins, they deliver the read ball joints. And it's too late at this point for them to do anything about it. They're going to have to sort out the mess in the mourning... which means, I'm not picking up my truck in the mourning, but rather sometime between noon and 1pm.

Have I mentioned that at this point, I'm supposed to be swapping vehichles with Michele, because she's in need of the bed to transport many MANY chests of ice to a wedding she's working Saturday? AND that I was planning on getting up early on Friday to have dinner with her and Bill before karaoke. Sleep? Feh. Who needs it?

Friday rolls around. Let's not even discuss work. The past two weeks have been... rough. Summer is definately over. I sleep for a couple hours on getting home, get the phone call to come pick up my truck (no more problems. Yay!), and put a strangle-hold on my wallet, as I cough up six bills. I get back home, manage to not sleep so much more, and get up early and go have dinner.

Dinner consisted of mostly Bill and I discussing business: first, me and my band using his studio for recording (more on that later)... and then his wanting business cards. Oh, and Michele soliciting for a "thank you" when the album comes out. It was funny. Ya had to be there.

Karaoke night. It's the last night to qualify for finals in the contest. Now, let me explain something... I had pretty much written the entire thing off as of a few weeks prior (not going to discuss here), and even though I was still singing my all, I had, at this point, stopped expecting anything. The contest didn't even start until something like 1:30am. There were 4 of us this week... and truth told, when they announced me as winner for the week, my jaw just about hit the floor. Not that I thought I was bad (on the contrary, I've had several weeks where I thought I was a serious contender, if not outright winner, and then managed to not win after all), but I had thought that another girl had it. In the end, she wound up as a "wild card" pick, so really, I wasn't far off. I'm still convinced that if the contest had happened earlier in the evening, she had a much better chance of taking it. And I would have wound up judging (which I still take as a compliment)... which in and of itself might have been very interesting.

Saturday. Rehearsal. There was one song that was in contention between Matt and myself. For weeks, he's been struggling with trying to hit notes without sounding like he's hurting himself (I believe the phrase I used to describe it was "it sounds like someone's trying to grab ahold of your lungs... by reaching up through your testicles." I swear I have such a way with words sometimes -smirk-) I was pulling for him. Honestly. But we're just a couple of weeks away from starting the recording sessions (ahem. GLEE!), and a decision had to be made. Of course, now the concern is that I'm going to make an angry song sound a little too... sweet... but it's far easier for me to sound angry, than it is for Matt to not screech out those notes. I have some practicing to do, tho. If nothing else, it should be an interesting contrast for me vocally... I now have two songs on the album... and they're going to be back to back. Angry to forlorn.

Saturday night. So there I was, hanging out with the Mary and the folks from Misss Guided (yes, three S'es)... they're in the windup of their first set (of three, with only 4 to go in that set)... when the cops come in. Band's not allowed to play any more. -blink blink- First some nonsense about the bar not having the licsence for live music, despite the fact they have a cabaret licsence. Next, we find out that the bar across the street has to shut down it's band too. Oh, and the mayor is outside as well, enforcing it all. -blink blink- Much later, we find out that it had to do with someone getting mugged in the train station parking lot the night before. You know, because live music causes that, and not the lowlifes that hang out in the trainstation at wierd hours. BUT... a loophole was found. The bar locked the doors, and suddenly, they were playing a private party (and people inside were told that if there were still friends/family coming, to give them a call when they got there, so they would be let in). I guess the word I'm looking for here is clusterfuck. And drama. But at least it wasn't my drama, so there's something to be thankful for there at least.

Of course, about 2:30 rolls around, the band's just about packed up and talking about getting food... and my phone let's me know I have a voicemail. It's Michele. Now remember, she has my truck...

Remember also that all 4 tires -did- pass inspection. Yes, the two front ones would have to be replaced soon... but should last me a little bit (they were also rotated to the back, so that my two "good" tires were in the front, where I needed the traction). Seems to me a "little bit" turned out to be less than 24 hours later. Michele called me from the Southern State... where she was pulled off to the side of the road, after having a blow out. Long story short, the parkways on LI are "restricted" to AAA vehichles... meaning that if I get someone to come out to fix my truck, I have to pay them, and then get reimburesed by AAA. It turned out to be another $125 or so. I finally made it home around 7am Sunday. The rest of Sunday was spent in bed. Sleeping. About 24 hours or so worth of sleep.

So I get to drop by Goodyear later and spend more money I don't have. It's a good thing my raise is kicking in this month. I've already got the next two or three paycheques spent.

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So... highlights... I managed to be Week #15's winner in the NY Karaoke & DJ contest at Finn's Pub. Kinda cool. Sarah did not let me down (I sang Sarah McLachlan's Possession... hear it on their website! It's #15 at the bottom).

Photo isn't horrible either... considering what time is was, and how little sleep I had gotten, I'm looking pretty good.

I suppose I should start thinking about what I'm going to sing this week, neh?

Holy shitte! We're going to start recording this month! Project that's something over 6 years in the making (and almost a year since I climbed on board). I'm excited. I can't even begin to imagine how Tracy and Matt must feel. I know they had both given up on it at one point... and to see it resurected... and actually going to production? Words fail me. If all goes well, a photoshoot will also happen early next month... and then I get to start on the graphic design portion of the album. I should start thumbnailing soon, to save some time. If it gets timed the way I think it might, the album might be finished and out in time for my one year anniversary with PopRANT.

Very cool, indeed.