Little Talks. Lil’ bitty ones.

Full disclosure – when I give you a song, I don’t watch more than about 30 seconds of the music video. Mostly I just let it play in the background while I write about it.

That is all.

Unless it’s OK Go, because those have the tendency to be RI-DONK.

This one is weird as hell. Like, Bjork weird. In fact, I think she’s in there. Or her doppleganger…But good song.

I came upon this song when it was on the radio randomly last week. And I didn’t get the name, because I was on my way somewhere and had to get out of the car before that robot girl on 102.3 told me what it was. She’s so reliable…

I also didn’t Shazam it, because, hello, DRIVING. Also, there are stupid amounts of orange barrels in the roads these days I have to pay special attention to avoid and I feel that Shazam wouldn’t be conducive to such activities.

So anyways, to find out the song – I listened to just about every song in the iTunes Top 10, not counting the ones I already knew, owned, or knew who it wasn’t. I did that until I found it. I knew it’d be on there too, because the radio is dumb these days and only plays songs once they know everyone likes it, they don’t really promote the whole “Get into some new music” thing. It sucks.

So yeah. Of Monsters and Men is the group, and Little Talks is the song. It has trumpets. And sounds somewhat Mumfordish. Plus a girl singer.

And I already did the detective work of finding out the who and what and the video for you!

You’re welcome.


Yogi Bear

You guys, I went to yoga. Yes, you read that correctly.

I’m as bewildered and confused as you are right now. Also, my wrists hurt.

And my abs. But I think that one’s from all the coughing, which could only mean one thing, IT’S SPRING!

I digress.

I did yoga. It was weird. But the Groupon I bought was for 10 so I will go back because I don’t like to waste money (you’re laughing to yourself right now because you’ve seen my DVD collection. I totally need all of those movies/shows. Especially that SNL: Best of Amy Poehler).

I was forced into getting the Groupon – that offered 10 yoga sessions worth $100 for only $29. BARGAIN – by my friend/co-worker Stephanie. And when I say forced, I mean, she said “You should get it” and I did.

Round 1 was Tuesday.

I will share my story with you in words and drawings – drawn by crayon because I had a new box of ’em lying around and I am five years old. And I suck at drawing.

OK. So we show up at the place and get to take off our shoes. Plus 1 point for yoga. Barefoot fo’ lyfe! (Living up to the Kentucky stereotype, what?)

We enter the room and find out we are the youngest participants…by at least 32 years. Minus 1 point for yoga.

There are mats and blocks and blankets and peaceful music and it smells nice, so hopefully it’ll be alright. The instructor lady tells us to get into corpse pose.

Yeah, it’s just lying on your back with your eyes closed. If this is yoga, count me in forever.

Unfortunately, I did not pay $29 to lie on the floor in a peaceful room for an hour and a half. I can do that at home. It’s called Sunday afternoon. And it’s free.

So it got tougher.

We had to make ourselves into tables and then try to balance on one knee and one hand. Like Twister, only you’re not drunk.

And then the painful stuff begins. Like when she tells you to flip your hands backwards and put all your weight on them. Because that’s relaxing and helpful.

Oh and then there’s the animal poses..

In case you can’t tell by my DaVinci-esque drawing skills, cat means you arch your back up and cow means you stick your butt up.

And all this time she’s saying words I don’t know about what we’re cleansing and opening and looking for and all I know is there was a lot of mention of pelvic stretches and at one point she told us what we were doing was good for our uterus (uteri? uteruses? uterus?).

I’m pretty sure she also told us we were focusing on our Scherbotzky, which I know is nothing yoga-related, it’s Robin’s last name on How I Met Your Mother. Or maybe she said something else. I may have blacked out in fear that my wrists were going to break.

After a few more complicated things I do not remember the name of and that were supposed to strengthen our core, we did the child’s pose for a little while (sit on your knees with your legs bent back and lean forward so your forehead’s on the ground) and tried to see if we could turn our entire top half of our body around without moving the bottom half. No? That’s not what it was? Felt like it..

We did some standing up stuff too, like that thing you do where you make a number 4 with your legs which I can totally do upside down in the pool, but here it was hit-or-miss.

Then it was back to the floor, where we grabbed a block and found the least comfortable place on our body to put it under and laid there for a while. What that does for you, I don’t know. But I think I now have scoliosis.

After that, we were pretty much done, all that was left was more of the corpse pose, which I am so good at.

All was well and good and relaxing and my chakras were aligned and my mind was blank and the 71-year-old dude next to me fell asleep. Know how I know? Because he was snoring. That or he was a Walker.

You cannot focus on relaxation when someone is making noises that sound like that. So I didn’t. But the first few minutes were nice.

And I’m going back next week, because, well, I paid for it already, and maybe it’ll get better/easier. I hope.

Also, I didn’t fart. So that was good. ‘Cause I was worried.

Until next time….

Bring in da noise

I used to sleep in a cave.

Well, not really. Just felt like one. It had to be completely dark and cold and quiet. I don’t really know when it stopped working for me. Maybe college?

Senior year of college, I had an in-window air conditioning unit that made a lot of noise. I had to sleep with it on or I’d roast. So I got used to the sound.

In the apartment I’m in now, I did run the overhead fan on high but then it started making weird noises and shaking and I got worried it’d fall in the middle of the night and cut part of my feet off. So I brought in reinforcements.

By reinforcements I mean The Roommate had a fan he wasn’t using and I put it on the floor next to my bed, not to keep me from sweating in my sleep, but for the noise. ‘Cause I’m weird like that. But really, don’t act like you didn’t know that already.

All was fine and good until the allergies kicked in. And a fan full of dust – I clean it, I promise, but that thing collects dust like a mofo – running on high all night isn’t very good for the ol’ sinuses.

At least that’s what I’m thinking, since any night I run the fan I wake up unable to breathe out of my nose. And needing about 8 tubes of chapstick to reverse the damage that’s been done to my lips.

The most recent time it happened – Monday – I started thinking about ways to solve the problem. I need the sound but not the air.


Well, not really. ‘Cause THEY HAVE AN APP FOR THAT. No shit. What don’t they have an app for?

So yeah, last night I download this White Noise app, which has several different sound options for lulling you to sleep.

Monkeys and birds calm you down? Listen to the jungle noises.

Do you not have a bladder? Because any one of the nine water-related options will wash you away to dreamland without making you pee the bed.

And wouldn’t you know it, they have both an oscillating fan and an air conditioner as noise options. BOTH. HOWEVER WOULD I CHOOSE?

I tried the fan one first but after about 5 minutes I was convinced there was a noise in the background, something high-pitched that would keep me awake all night. Like a dog whistle.

Next option? Air conditioner. And because iPhones are all crafty and such, I could set the thing to a timer. Perfect, right? Set it for a few hours so I could safely fall asleep and the thing wouldn’t run all night and drain my battery.

I went to bed at midnight, set the thing for three hours and went to bed feeling like I’d made the best $1.99 purchase of my life. AND, I’d save money on Kleenex.

Wouldn’t you know it, I woke up as the damn thing was turning off.

Apparently, I am as conditioned as Pavlov’s dogs (two dog references in one post, WHAT IS THIS) to not being able to sleep unless there’s some sort of white noise.

Waking up when it’s going off? That seems counterproductive. I should have been all peaceful and dreaming about Bradley Cooper.

So after some middle-of-the-night reading and “SERIOUSLY, I am wide awake at 3 a.m.???” I decided to take my chances and not set a timer for the thing to stop, hoping it’d work this time and instead of waking up when there was no sound, I’d just wake up to a different sound – my alarm.

And wouldn’t you know it, this time it worked.

I say it’s that, but it very well could be the meds my at-work drug dealer gave me. Just joking, she’s not my drug dealer, but she did give me some medicine to help.

And who am I kidding, the closest I’ve come to a drug dealer is when the girl sitting next to me at the lunch table in high school sophomore year unwrapped the ecstasy pill she was keeping in aluminum foil in her lunch bag. YAY public schools!

Tonight marks Night Two of the use of my White Knight to help me sleep. So we’ll see what happens.

A third roommate?

I’m about 68-percent sure my apartment is haunted.

It all started about a month ago.

The stereo in my bedroom started turning on by itself in the middle of the night, which wouldn’t be too big of a deal except it came on at the same time every night (around 2:30), loudly. It wasn’t on a sleep timer and I have absolutely no idea where the remote is.

I wouldn’t have thought too much of it, if it had been the only thing that happened.

Our dryer has been acting up and we’re afraid something’s gonna happen to it – however we keep using it…

But one night, when The Roommate and I had both been using the laundry room, something weird happened. I went in to get my stuff out of the dryer and sticking out of the door was something that hadn’t been there 10 minutes earlier when I’d gone in to check on things. It was a little slip of yellowed paper that basically said “Stop doing laundry or this dryer is gonna catch on fire.”

Oh and the smoke detector right outside my bedroom door? It’s come loose and is hanging down. Also wouldn’t be that big of a deal if I hadn’t watched The Roommate re-affix it to the ceiling.

I don’t think I’ve done anything to piss the ghost off. And The Roommate’s feelings on the situation? Well, you can figure that out from this conversation.

In fact, the other night, I even said out loud – to the ghost, of course, “I don’t mind you being here, just be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you.”

I learned that from my extensive ghost training – a.k.a. the one ghost “hunt” I’ve gone on in my life. It was for work – yeah, journalism is awesome – and I got to wear these supersonic ear phones and stand in a dark basement asking if there was anybody hanging around.

Chief lesson our leaders wanted us to take from that night? Don’t antagonize them or they’ll follow you home. Yeah.

I’m afraid of weird things – clowns, submarines, heights, accidentally getting my fingers chopped off by the garbage disposal….

I’ll squash any bug, I’ll pet or hold a snake – as long as it’s not poisonous and mice and rats make me a little queasy.

But ghosts? Dunno. Not skeered.

Of course that’s because I plan on always being nice to them, should I ever come in contact with one – or should this one I’m pretty sure is in the apartment decides to stay awhile.