Happy Trails

I bought one of these to go with my iPod. It's the DLO Transpod, a combination car charger, FM transmitter and dock. The coolest thing about this versus other FM transmitters (like the iTrip) is that it provides a convenient place to put my iPod. The hinged cigarette lighter charger thing lets you adjust the position, too. That means I can listen to my iPod (whenever it f-ing gets here) in the car with ease.

iDesire an iPod

In the past few years, I've watched the iPod infection pick off my co-workers one by one. Still, the immunity my cheapness provided me held out. $299 for a glorified walkman? I think not.

Until now. I don't know why, but last week a strong desire to own an iPod suddenly overcame me. I spent hours scouring the pages and pages of iPods for sale on eBay. I researched and compared until my eyeballs threatened to burn right out of my skull.

Gradually, I figured out what I required in an iPod. My requirements:

1. Used, preferably with songs still on it. It's like the grab bags they used to sell at the Hello Kitty store. It might be full of junk, but it might be full of treasure.

2. Fourth generation. Has the reportedly better "click wheel" for scrolling through songs and stays charged longer than previous editions, plus each generation gets a little skinnier and lighter weight. I debated long and hard whether to spring for the latest video iPod but in the end decided I'd never use the video capacity so why pay $100 more?

3. Battery still holds a good charge. iPod batteries have to be replaced by Apple, so I don't want to have to deal with that any time soon.

4. 20gb. What I really need is something in between the 4 gb and the 20gb, but that doesn't exist in a fourth-generation iPod. I considered the iPod Nano or Mini for a while (the pink iPod Mini was particularly tempting), but when I realized I'd have to pay about the same price for a 4gb as a 20gb, that settled it. Also, a 4gb holds only 1,000 songs, which sounds like a lot until you consider that's only 67 CDs with 15 songs each. I want to have room to spare, and the 5,000-song 20gb should be more than plenty.

5. Some decent accessories, like a wall charger and new earbuds. I don't want to have to buy every little thing separately.

I found several iPods on eBay that met my criteria. I agonized about which one to buy and in the end sprung for one that had a Buy It Now option. I can't stand bidding on stuff anymore. I just want it bought and done with. So I chose the Buy It Now one, though I probably could've won one at auction for a few bucks cheaper. I'm all about less hassle.

Only then the seller accidentally shipped me the wrong iPod (from another auction), so now I have to deal with returning it to sender, and I'm not sure if he's sending me my iPod now or when he receives the other one back. Arggh.

Then the m-f'ing post office wouldn't leave the iPod (whichever one it is) in my mailbox on Saturday because it was insured. Naturally, the post office opens after I leave for work and closes before I get home. So I have to deal with leaving the stupid card in the box and waiting till tomorrow or maybe even the next day to get my package re-delivered. Gah!

They leave packages on my doorstep ALL THE TIME. Like this one's suddenly gonna get stolen.

I want my iPod!

Lame-a-palooza

Today is Friday, and now that it's spring, that means windows down, music blasting, half-wet hair blowing in the wind ... and showing up to work looking like I have Edward Scissorhands' stylist.

It's casual Friday, so I'm wearing my new Wonder Woman T-shirt, cuffed rockabilly capris and the gold chain-mail-looking earrings I wore to a Halloween disco party.

I feel a little bit like a rocker chick today in spite of the fact that I've been listening to lame early '90s hits all morning. Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain the self-delusion that you're an alt-rock, above-it-all, new-wave-grunge girl when you're singing along to Monica's "Don't Take it Personal"? (known in some countries as "Song that repeats the same line 9,000 times and encourages men everywhere to blame all their relationship troubles on PMS")

I've been playing some of the mixed CDs I made when I got my first computer with a CD burner in December 2002. They're compilations of songs from the CDs I hardly ever listened to anymore. I planned to save the "good" songs and then sell the CDs at a yard sale. At this point, I can't remember which ones sold and which didn't. Let's just say I haven't been missing my old Bon Jovi CD too much. (Of course, how can I miss it when my office mate just played "You Give Love a Bad Name"?)

Most of the songs on these mixed CDs are almost too embarassing to admit I own, let alone enjoy. Yet I get a strange pleasure from embarassing myself, so I'll reveal that TLC's "Diggin' on You," Better Than Ezra's "Good," and Bush's "Glycerine" are in attendance. And no '90s collection is complete without Oasis' "Wonderwall," Jill Sobule's "Supermodel," the Spin Doctors' "Little Miss Can't Be Wrong," and last but not least ... everyone's 9th grade dance favorite: "Cotton-Eye Joe" by the Rednex.

OK, I admit I'm a sucker for nostalgia. I was in middle school in the early '90s, and that was the time when I began to be interested in music other than what my mother played in the car, the time when I started watching MTV (you know, back when they actually played videos), the time when I bought my first newfangled "Compact Disk" (I think it was The Eagles' greatest hits compilation Hell Freezes Over.).

I could try to redeem myself now by listing all of the artists I liked in the early '90s who are still respectable today. But where's the fun in that? We all know we were lame in middle school; I say embrace the lameness ... but please oh please no more feathered bangs!

Morning Mix, Vol. 1

Writing that post about the Curious George soundtrack's miraculous morning powers made me think about what type of song is best for the morning commute. What does the ideal morning song need to do?

1. Not remind me how life sucks.
2. Keep me from dozing off and swerving into oncoming traffic.
3. Put me in a good mood (or at least take the edge off my bad mood).

So I've been scrolling through every song in my arsenal to compile an ideal mix of morning tunes.

Here's Volume 1:

Everyday by Buddy Holly
(because it's so sunshiney)

Get Rhythm by Johnny Cash
(I have the Joaquin Phoenix version from the Walk the Line soundtrack)

All I Wanna Do by Sheryl Crow
(ok, so it's an obvious one)

Supermodel by Jill Sobule
(this one gets bonus points for making me laugh)

Build Me Up, Buttercup by The Foundations
(it sounds chipper even if it's not)

Change by The Lightning Seeds
(the repeated line "put your foot down and drive" makes this one a shoe in)

Yakety Yak by The Coasters
(I loved this song when I was a kid, and it makes me feel like I'm 7 years old again, dancing around in the basement singing into a hairbrush.)

9 to 5 by the fabulous Dolly Parton
(the perfect morning commute song, peppy and full of work angst)

Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes by Paul Simon
(from his I'm-super-authentic-because-I-hang-out-with-Africans phase ... it starts out slow, but it picks up after the first verse. The lyrics are so weird that they're delightful to sing along with.)

I've Still Got My Health by Bette Midler
(because it's optimistic ... in a twisted way)

I Feel Lucky by Mary Chapin Carpenter
(fun song and worth it just for the bizarro line "Lyle Lovett's right beside me with his hand upon my thigh")

No Rain by Blind Melon
(remember the bee girl video? I listened to this song over and over and over in my middle school bedroom, singing along until my throat ached. Of course, then I didn't have the depressing knowledge that the lead singer would die of a drug overdose.)

3 x 5 by John Mayer
(a mellow little song)

Fast as You by Dwight Yoakam
(guaranteed to make you tap your fingers on the steering wheel)

Van Lear Rose by Loretta Lynn
(sentimental but fantastic and raw)

Don't Lie by the Black Eyed Peas
(By all rights, I should hate a band who has a song entitled, "Don't Phunk With my Heart" and whose singer pees on herself onstage. Yet somehow I can't stop myself from liking their music, especially this upbeat confessional song.)

Shoop by Salt n Pepa
(because it's so fun to sing along with ... how can you not smile when you're saying, "wanna thank your mother for a butt like that"?)

Of course, no matter how good the songs are, any CD will get old after a while. Listen to it too many times in a row, and you'll want to fling it Frisbee-style out the window and sever someone's jugular.

Next up: Evening Mix, Vol. 1

Miserably Fantastic

In honor of St. Patty's Day, a tribute to one of my favorite authors, the literary world's own charming old Irish person: Frank McCourt.

His Pulitzer Prize-winning memoir Angela's Ashes is my favorite book in the world. I can't review it because who can review a book this good without looking like a pompous ass? Instead, a groveling praise-fest will do.

On the first page of Angela's Ashes are my favorite lines in all of literature:

When I look back on my childhood, I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: a happy childhood is hardly worth your while.

For a writer in particular, those are the truest words ever spoken. What do you have to write about if nothing tragic and miserable ever happened to you in your life?

I've read the print version of Angela's Ashes several times, but I listened to it for the first time last week on unabridged audio CD. McCourt narrates it himself, and by damn it might be even better out loud. His accent is different from the Irish accents I've heard before ... less lilting and delightful but still uniquely wonderful. He reads in a way that's mumbly and casual and makes me wish I'd had him as a teacher. I love this guy. Love him!

I listened to his Teacher Man the week before, and it was incredible, too. I may just send a copy with a sappy note to each of my favorite high school teachers. The kind who stood out mostly because they cared deeply about their subjects and their students. (If you're out there Dr. James Southern, this means you.)

Still, Angela's Ashes is my favorite of his works by a mile. It's miserable, of course. But, unlike the movie they made of it, it's funny too. Best of all is the way he captures the child's voice - the questioning, the naivete and yet the understanding deeper than adults know.

Ach, 'tis beautiful.