Shaken Not Stirred

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Musical Regrets

When I think about growing up, I remember my father a quiet pensive man. He played the piano daily--for as long as I could remember. Songs like "Moon River"--from Breakfast at Tiffany's and old Sinatra favorites fill our living room. He still plays the piano on a daily basis.

The piano use to intimidate me. My father, naturally talented, played by ear. You could hum a tune and in a few minutes, he could plink it out on it's keyboards. He hired a teacher to come to our home and teach my brother, sister and I how to create our own music. We were too busy. We had our friends, we had other activities. There were fireflies to be caught, rather than practice scales. There were make-believe dragons for me to catch and slam-dunks for my atheletically inclined brother. My sister was scared stiff of our strict maestro, who could hear the slightest difference in the timing of a staccato.

After about eight years of lessons for us, our maestro went on to record some gospel music and dedicated her life to singing in a church choir. The only reason the piano didn't gather dust was because my father continued to play with the keys.

Now his grandchildren surround the piano bench. They climb eagerly into his lap to help him find the right keys. Each grandchild, five in all, have pictures with him on the piano. He smiles eagerly at each one, hoping that one of them will learn to appreciate it's fine art.

P.S. My siblings and I talk everyday about the lessons we didn't take advantage of. And everyday, my father reminds us that it's never too late.
P.S.S. We also had violin lessons which we also neglected.
P.S.S.S. My father can play the piano, violin, and saxaphone all by ear. Every party he attends, someone always enourages him to show off his talent.

Friday, June 23, 2006

What About The Others

My aunt came over the other night because my uncle wanted to watch the basketball game in a crowded room (Miami vs Dallas). She really isn't intrested in basketball, so in a different room of the house, she watched Anderson Cooper's interview with Angelina Jolie. She kept exclaiming how great Jolie was for braving the dessert, living out there, sharing her fortune with those in need. She said that she had read articles of how Jolie didn't wear make-up or dressed up, that she became one of the people--she got her hands dirty and even carried some of the malnourished infants and shook hands with the "people". I think the title of the interview was "The World's Greatest Mother".

I'm not trying to discredit Jolie's works, her humanitarian efforts to make this world a better place. But why does she get the title "World's Greatest Mom" just because she is one of the most recognized cinematic figures. What about the "people" who have dedicated their lives to helping those "people" in need. Why don't they get a shot at the title or an interview with Anderson Cooper? How about the people who have spent their whole careers serving organizations like Doctors Without Borders or the many other charitable organizations. Why aren't they considered great? Why is it a sacrifice for Jolie, but a career/volunteer work for the other people.

It almost diminishes the work done by the other less known workers of charity. I'm sure there are countless other philathropist who remained nameless because to them it was an honest to goodness charitable deed. I'm not saying that Jolie is not doing this for charity's sake, but why do superstars get more recognition for their work. This is the reason that I scrutinize the charities that use celebrities as their poster face, rather than real people or real cases.

I don't know why it irked me, but it did.

P.S. I really do think that what Jolie is doing is honorable. But there are others who are just as dedicated too. And I do respect her efforts to end hunger and poverty.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Falling Off The Wagon

It seems like we're losing blogger buddies by the minute. The first of my favorites to go was Mr. Shifely. I was definitely shocked to my very core, didn't see it coming, didn't expect it and certainly still check his blog daily to see if he may have just one more thing to say, to add to my every changing views of the world. He certainly changed my views of David Hasslehoff. I once viewed "the Hoff" (as Mr. Shife so eloquently calls him) as some hairy beast running, running, and swimming on a B rated television show. But now I see him as a superstar--the one that Mr. Shife adores.

Today when I checked in on Jazz Coffee, the author said that she has nothing to write about. So another one falls off the blogger bandwagon. For many it's a short ride, for me it's been quite an adventure. And I have no intentions of getting off this journey. It's not that I have so many important things to say, it's just that I like having an audience to say it to. And I love checking in on the other's blogs.

Dirk the feeble
also announced his retirement. Although he has given us ample time to ready ourselves for his impending absence. So I can prepare myself for his departure. I have to say that I won't like it, but at least I can steady my mental ship for his tidal wave of a goodbye. I've already battoned down my hatches for it.

Anyway, I'm here for the duration. I'm not leaving until they shut me down!!

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Sunglasses Dammit

I went to the mall and while waiting for someone to finish using the bathroom, I was people watching. Nope, not watching in the bathroom--that would be too eerie weird and if I wanted to watch other penises using the bathroom, I would just watch my own. Not into other people's penises, not even into my own. Anyway, the balcony that leads to the bathroom overlooks a couryard with various escalators which take people to separate floors. On one particular escalator there was a really, really cute girl wearing butt hugging shorts (the kind that hugs the gluts so nicely you can bounce a quarter on them) and a tank top. She was also tone, not scary muscular butch tone, but ripple tone--if you oiled her, the muscles boundaries would be defined. She had the Angela Jolie Lara Croft tone.
As this being ascended the escalator, I watched as she used her toned thighs carry her up the stairs and as my eyes made their way up the rest of her body, I turned beet red because when I got to her face, I realized she was watching me watch her. She had a look that said, "use your phone cam to take a picture FREAK!!!". I tried to do one of those, I was scanning the whole area look, but it was too late. My five minute scan of her legs was already noticed. My buddy came out of the bathroom--I was like WTF took you so long?
We went to look for the "Scrubs" third season DVD collection. Yes, I'm a "Scrubs" freak--I've been watching it so often, I've almost memorized the lines as well as I have the entire 10 seasons of "Friends". And who is looking at "Arrested Developement" DVD's? The girl in the BCBG short shorts. She shot me a look, brought her DVDs to the cashier, paid and left.
My buddy said, "Do you know her?"
I shook my head and thought, only the way Judge Reinhold knew Phoebe Cates in that famous Fast Times at Ridgemont High scene. And I wasn't even doing what he did. Well maybe later....

Sunday, June 11, 2006

Beautiful Smile

I should have been a dentist. I have a fascination with smiles, especially toothy white smiles. Paula Abdul has an amazingly bright smile--all toothy and her teeth are crisp, cotton, cloud white!!

I am continually obsessed with whitening my teeth. I use Crest Whitening Strips monthly--Premium--whiter teeth in just three days. I refuse to drink coffee or tea, cola an absolute No-No. I brush with Crest Vivid White and rinse with Listerine Whitening Mouthwash. I know this sounds like an advertisement and it's another reason why my roommate to this day calls me a product whore. But it's true, I'm really obsessed with keeping my pearly whites, just that pearly white.

So in continuing with my obsession, I bought an Oral B electric toothbrush. This way I would get the exact amount of brush time recommended by 4 out of 5 dentist. The brush is suppose to get your teeth CLEAN and also massage the gums.

Yikes, was I in for a treat. The brush, I guess still stiff from being new, kinda battered my gums. When I spit out the first round of toothpaste, I noticed the pink in the mix. Freaked me out a little, but what the hey, my gums were feeling good. I continued until the automatic timer on the brush slowed to a stop.

My teeth seemed to gleam. They were shiny. I may not have to get the veneers after all. I'll just beat my gums up three times a day with my new brush.

Monday, June 05, 2006

That Fresh, Tingly, Clean Feeling

I hope that I'm not the only idiot that has ever done this. And if I am, then it's on record here in Shaken Not Stirred.

The other day, I washed my face and then put astrigent on it. Yes, I'm one of those people who is obsessed with keeping acne, blemishes and grime off my face. My medical school roommate called me a product whore because of some of the astrigents, shaving cream, and cooling toners that took up space in the bathroom. So anyway, I washed my face and then applied astringent. The running water must have triggered a psychological need to pee because no sooner had I tossed the cotton ball into the toilet that I had to urinate.

There must have been a little bit of the ALCOHOL based astringent left on my fingers cause as I tucked myself away, I felt a little bit of tingling. Not anything strong or painful, but the same kind of tingling your lips feel when you pop an Altoid in your mouth. Only this tingling didn't disspate over time. It just got more annoying and TINGLY.

I knew immediately what had happend. Memory had served me well. You see it wasn't the first time I had exposed myself to that tingly feeling. When I was going thru puberty and had gotten my first cologne set (Polo--Ralph Lauren), I for some unknown reason sprayed myself down there before a school dance. Why I had the notion to spray myself there, I don't know. I didn't have my license, so whoever I danced with would have to ride home with me and my parents. I think if I remember correctly no one had a date to this dance, my class just went together as one big group. And why would a twelve year old girl be anywhere near my tighty whities (I hadn't discovered boxer shorts yet).

So yes, it was the second time I experienced the tingly feeling. And hopefully it will be the last, if my clumsy self can help it.