cooltunes

It’s been a downer of a week. But big oil companies keep making record profits!

Separate Ways - Teddy Thompson
Speed of Sound - Coldplay
Prairie Wedding - Mark Knopfler
Don’t Explain - Herbie Hancock, Damien Rice, Lisa Hannigan
Like a Lover - Dianne Reeves
Tempest (from The Insider soundtrack) - Lisa Gerrard and Pieter Bourke
Tearing Us Apart - Tina Turner and Eric Clapton
Whenever I Say Your Name - Sting and Mary J. Blige
Hey Girl - Ray Charles and Michael McDonald

Now that I’ve finally seen the movie, the Lullaby is even more haunting, reminding me a bit of the lullaby in Rosemary’s Baby (vocals by Mia Farrow).

After the plumber left yesterday afternoon, I went to my long-awaited shower. A couple of minutes later, I thought, why that feels like water is pooling at my feet.

To avert disaster, I cut short my long-awaited shower. Then I made a quick call. Unfortunately, I had to leave, thus missing another chance to hear his happy tones (see previous post). But another family member reported that there was no charge this time. In his zeal to leave the premises, the plumber had not ascertained that the blockages had been removed completely but simply shifted.

But I am fairly sure that his days are more like a musical than anything else, and for his clients, life often tends toward the noirish.

He showed up a day late. When he saw the stopped up sink, he mumbled, ‘Ah, standing water.’ Then he went to get his gear, singing merrily.

Twenty minutes and $138 later, he was done. Obviously, I’m in the wrong profession, or I would be singing too. He wasn’t quite as dramatic as the lady at the store last night, but perhaps by the end of the day (only 2:30 p.m. now), he gets positively operatic.

From The Observer. Includes Psycho, a Bond film and a hardcore porn flick.

Last night as my neighbors, both front and back, methodically went through a seemingly bottomless cache of illegal fireworks, I decided to listen to Sonata Arctica.

This surprised the metal guy here at Cooltunes, Chris.

The sounds of shelling, mortars and other percussive devices went on for hours.

From Rolling Stone, a report on the how and why, with grim statistics.

Having endured the ever-popular habit of hovering in almost every public toilet situation, I can only applaud the appearance of products to encourage alternate hygiene solutions among the female population. Whether this be at live shows, clubs, restaurants, or your average shopping mall, the Whiz and the Go Bag (which made their appearance at Glastonbury) can only mean that a hoverer-contaminated seat is a thing of the icky past. And if we should be so lucky, maybe word will get out to the guilty parties.

Which brings to mind a joke I heard in college a long, long time ago:

Student A (all students being women):
My mama taught me to always wash my hands after peeing.
Student B: My mama taught me to always wash my hands after having a number 2 (this college being in the South and polite)
Student C: My mama taught me to never pee and have a number 2 on my hands.

Student C must be the one peeing and having the number 2 all over public toilet seats, although logically, we can’t rule out Students A or B.