November 2005

My sister Christie bought Milhouse a laser pointer at Target to help with her lectures at J Sarge, but turns out CATS LOVE TO PLAY WITH LASER POINTERS. Hooray Target. It’s the least amount of effort I need to make to bring Milhouse happiness.

I’m watching “That’s Entertainment Part 2,” the MGM greatest hits movie. I walk into furniture a lot. Thanks, Cyd Charisse, for reminding me.

One of my favorite things to do (after cleaning my gun and listening to Rod Stewart LPs) is running a google search on my name. I’m lucky, having been a freelance journalist (I do get to call myself that) gives me lots of postings. My earliest KG link is from 1997, a review for Ash’s “1977” for InSync, the high school weekly published by the Richmond Times-Dispatch. I remember the first time I searched myself, also in 1997, and found another InSync review for a crap band called Ruth Ruth. There are at least five links to that review (all broken by now). How did something like that, that wasn’t even online at the time, get reproduced? It wasn’t even a favorable review! That sort of creeps me out that people harvest information like that. Or maybe it’s flattering. An indie rock cover story I wrote for the RTD three years ago also had repeated postings (one guy wrote a criticism about it, I can’t figure out the others). A mention of a Chop Suey reading made it onto a Gerow genealogy site.

So what I’m saying is, I ate a lot of pizza tonight and am too much to carry to bed.

The CD was hard to create. After I burned the first version, I remembered Radiohead, Spiritualized, and Super Furry Animals. Crap. I get nervous that someone won’t fall in love with the band like I have. Like, the Doves. They are beautiful. Super Furry Animals are so interesting and consistently good. I added the usual suspects: Oasis, Pulp, Blur, Supergrass, Ash. I was going to add the Verve, but anything not on “Urban Hymns” is boring, and his solo stuff isn’t that exciting, either. It’s hard to pick one song that would best introduce any of these artists, and I could make volumes of these CDs, although they might have the same 20 bands.

British rock was my first lesson in pop music, thanks to my parents. We listened to a cassette called “British Invasion” during road trips to West Virginia, and not knowing what a compilation was, I thought of that tape as one good band. The Hollies, Kinks, Chad & Jeremy, and the Beatles were the foundation for my interest in modern Brit Pop, which snapped to attention again in 1994 when I first heard Ash. Oasis followed Ash, and other groups popped up during high school. I got a job at a record store and could afford the obsession. I read Q, Select, Mojo, anything with a cover price in pounds, and always wanted to know who was happening next. It was an exciting time and my interest in it led to friendships and relationships (I have no photos of my first boyfriend, but knowing that he sort of looked like Mick from Supergrass is enough).

I don’t think it’s worth writing about how much I loved Oasis. It was more productive than, but similar to, my New Kids fanaticism. Sometimes I apologize for them and I didn’t get the last album, but fuck it, I think they’re awesome and I still swerve the car or drop the cat when I hear them unplanned.

As a huge Anglophile, I feel I own stock in anything British that becomes popular. You have to go through me first if you want to like “Spaced,” tea, or Mini Coopers. Just so I can say “yay, me first, after the British.”

Last night I was asked to do the one thing I’ve been waiting almost 10 years to hear: Alicia wants me to make her a “best of Britpop” mix CD. I am very excited. She doesn’t want anything current. I don’t appear to have as many Britpop albums as I used to, so I’m going to have to sneak in a couple of Granddad rockers. I don’t listen to much Britpop anymore (I tend to only rock out to Wilco or “Veronica Mars” these days). Supergrass’s “I Should Coco” still is the best BP album. Oasis is the most memorable act to come from the scene. I forget the Dandy Warhols are American.

In other exciting news, today is the 25th birthday of my constant chum Susan. Hip Hip Hooray.

Yesterday my parents made me see “Harry Potter and Whatever It’s Called, I Can’t Remember.” I didn’t want to go (not that I have anything against HP) but they bought me a ticket anyway. I sat between my brother Charlie and cousin Johnathan, and my grandparents, an aunt, my parents, and two other cousins were there. We had to arrive about an hour early to make sure we could sit together. My grandpa brought plastic bags we all had popcorn to eat from the free refills we got with the large tub. Everyone brought candy. My mom carved a roast. I liked the movie, but it follows the same formula as the others. It could have been a half hour shorter if they didn’t have those “ooh, look, it’s magic — let’s get every student to react” scenes. Like they’ve never seen the headmaster turn out the lights with his hands before. Come on, they’ve been there for four years.

There’s some ravioli, and I put olive oil and butter on it. It’s good. $3, four meals. Welcome to my blog.