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stuff i think of ...
02/28/2009 = 07:57 AM

... when the computer is broken.

* The library let me watch the video Juma sent me about Gas-Right Strips, but it reported me for trying to open my email drafts folder.

* If you send my dad a postcard about beef jerky, you might have to define beef jerky for him. He's never had it. Even before dentures, or lack thereof.

* Without saying anything about my callers in particular, I do need to point out how hard it was for me not to laugh at the guy who said, whilst spelling, "'X' as in 'Excalibur.'"

But all of that is in the past.

One of my favorite future ex-husbands (edging out Nicky Vegas, who was so not into me he didn't just divorce me before he could be an ex-husband, he disappeared for parts unknown — unless someone "made him disappear"), Scott-Too-Hott, just sent me a laptop for which he had no earthly use.

That Man of Mine was a bit put out when I referred to Scott as my future ex-husband, but since he is being permitted (temporarily, till we can get my main computer repaired or replaced) to use the new-to-me laptop to check his email, instead of having to go to the library, he's sort of thinking of Scott as his future ex-wife right about now.

Note to Scott: He snores.

Anyway, now that I have time to blog and a new-to-me laptop on which to compose, I can't think of a darned thing to write, except that I got samosas at India's Grill last night and they were the most satisfying food I've eaten in ages.

Samosas always remind me of Marn, and the smell of them always reminds me of the song I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) by the Proclaimers, because that's the song that runs through my head when I read Marn's blog, caused by her references to "500 Miles to Nowhere."

All of this, of course, makes me think of how other food smells bring up song memories for me, pizza in particular.

For instance, if I walk into a pizza place and my brain suddenly conjures up Hurts So Good by Johnny Cougar (later John Cougar Mellencamp, later John Mellencamp), I know they're going to have Brooklyn-style with a little oregano in the sauce, like Tom and Pat's, because Hurts So Good was the best song on their jukebox at that time of my life.

If my earbird (my term for a song that nests in one's mind, nicer than earworm, which, eww) is the Bee Gee's How Deep Is Your Love, we're back to first grade, Kimberly Pizza, so the pizza is going to be New Haven-style. Kimberly Pizza, incidentally, didn't have a jukebox, just an AM radio tuned to WELI.

If I hear Rock Me, Amadeus by Falco in my head, I've probably just walked into a Chicago pizza place, which smells meatier, yeastier, and oregano-ier (my word, just made it up now; do you like it?). This is not because that song was ever on in any place I've had Chicago pizza, only because the first time I had Chicago pizza was with a bunch of friends including a girl who had a crush on a guy named Amadeo, so we were singing "Fuck me, Amadeo" at her to bust her chops. We were good friends like that.

Ah, the brain confetti: it is back in action. Thank you, Scott.

Tags: stuff

drinking: coffee, home brewed, even though we have Starbucks right outside our apartment complex
listening to: Stray Cats, Sexy and Seventeen
this song: doesn't remind me of pizza, it reminds me of Burger King onion rings, because that's where we all would go after school if we had to work that afternoon, and that song was on their music system a lot then