we were on and off, on and off, on and off again

Things that are true:

Kim should come back like right away.

I have "Baby Doll" from "Tapeheads" stuck in my head.

Wreckless Eric is a great show to see.

Cold turkey is the only way to quit longhaired musicians with glasses. Now I only like dentists with perfect eyesight.

I am way too tired to make paragraphs.

Me and Mandy Moore will probably become best friends this week.

Crab cakes need to be more readily available.

The New York Islanders (ughh) do not deserve Thomas Pock.

"Kim fun" sometimes sounds like Kam Fung.

My deep dark tan still seems to have gotten deeper and darker over the weekend.

The greatest bracelet ever is now mine.

The FreeCreditReport.com commercials are the worst. ever.

I forgot to make Kim watch the reggaeton IO commercial. (Watch it!)

I forgot to take Kim to Pio Pio.

Pio pio is really fun to say.

Probably a great song for me to sing is "Surrender" by Trixter, mostly because "Give It to Me Good" sounds too dirty.

Dollie never thought of making me an intervention.

on and off again

This was a good weekend for shows, two of my all-time favorites in two days.

Friday there was Mike Viola, the second of his four Joe's Pub shows, third of six shows of his I will see this fall. (Yes, we're going to Boston for the Candy Butchers bonanza). And then Saturday was James. Ohhh James. It had been too long, and an abbreviated (and pricey) set at Radio City wasn't going to be enough for me so we hit the road and headed to The Stone Pony — P.S. why hasn't anyone told me how insanely like this would be going to a show on my very own Shore Front Parkway? — for the real thing.

Mike Viola was great. James brought the house down. I am a lucky girl.

And I am left with a question: Which of these new lyrics is the greatest?

There was a snake in a shrub/ She had a rub on tan (Mike Viola's "Chemical Night" - co-written by daughter Isabel)

Too old for Hamlet, too young for Lear (James' "Whiteboy").

Tough call, right?

chock full of expectations

So sometime last week — Monday, I think — I finally got around to visiting Mike Viola's web site, which I don't do daily. Turns out he posted on 2/14 that this Joe's Pub party was a send-off ("I'm waving goodbye, you think I'm waving hello"). He's moving his family to Los Angeles.

While we wish them happiness, fun and amazing success in L.A., it's a huge downer to lose them, especially after getting to see him play all these weeks in a row. It's been 11 years that we've been following Mike Viola's career, and back in the beginning, he played out all the time with the Candy Butchers. We'd see them once a week at a minimum. What a delight.

Anyway, here's a Mike Viola song about everything ever. It's not a great example of his similarities to Marshall Crenshaw (see last week's post), but it's a great example of his greatness, in that it's totally live, very simple and completely devastating. He isn't even showing off what a great singer and guitar player he is on this one. There are probably 10 MV songs on my 100 Greatest Songs of All Time list, but this is way up there.

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Also, if you are keeping track, I got a crazy bad crush on someone at the show (not Mike Viola, obviously). If you want to know more, find me and ask about it. Poor Dollie and Kim would certainly like a break from hearing about him. He is dreamy, though.

I represent Queens

I've decided that I want to move to Kew Gardens, and take the LIRR to work every day. Wouldn't that be a delight? Do you have a Kew Gardens apartment for me? Do tell.

I want to be haunted

I admit it: I totally thought it was Luis Guzman, not Rick Aviles in "Ghost." And I've hated him ever since.

Also, if you like the New York Rangers, or even just hockey — or, in all honesty, even just men — you really really REALLY might want to watch this week's "Inside the Rangers". It will change your life.

just can't wait to get on the road again

Dear Vroom Vroom Guy,

Seriously, vroom vroom-ing while going 25MPH behind a Greyhound in the Lincoln Tunnel?

And the Baltimore Orioles? Really? If you could hear what I was saying in my car, you'd know that New Jersey plates surrounded by an Orioles plate-pretty makes you the saddest man ever. Also, a plate-pretty? Stop it.

In other news, we thought you might be a woman. Just so you know.

Your friend,
Jane

***

Dear Cabdriver,

You know who you are, the guy who doesn't know the rules of the road who almost killed us with a moronic cut off on East Houston and Avenue A last night. Remember me, the girl in the passenger seat of the Charger with Jersey plates (rental) screaming at you to "JUST F-ING GO ALREADY" — while wildly pointing in the direction that you needed to go — when you decided you wanted block traffic in order to stop and stare at us (what?) and then flip me off.

Flip me off? Oh, sir. You are so lucky. You are lucky that I so effectively suppress my crazy. For if I had chosen that moment to have my inaugural lapse, I'd have jumped out of the car, opened your door, thrown you on the street and stepped on your neck before setting your beard on fire. Because that is what I did in my mind.

YOU DON'T WANT IT WITH ME!

I know you thought you could intimidate us with your voodoo stare because we were two girls in the front seat. Don't let appearances fool you. Next time, you could pull that trick on two girls with a shotgun between them. I'm just saying.

Also, you may want to consider trimming the beard a bit. Between your eyebrows, hat(I think?) and the beard that starts a centimeter below your eyes (and not in an adorable Matt Cullen way), no wonder you can't drive — you can't see!

Hope that helps,
Jane

good things are fantastic

In the interest of improving your life with my inane thoughts, I've decided to post far too frequently for as long as I can keep it up. Because why not?

In that vein, I don't believe that I have introduced my star system of grading. It's quite simple, like all great things. Things that are great (a la — and including — Alec Baldwin's Tony Bennett) get five stars. All other things get zero stars.

Two examples from this morning:

• My Black Ice Chai (it's a chai latte, with shots of espresso, from this lovely local cafe) gets five stars.
• Dollie also gets five stars for trekking there to get it, and waking me up at 9:40 to drink it (oh, I will miss this luxury!)
• On the other hand, El Fano's news that he can't go shopping with us on Saturday because he has to help his office move (seriously, how CHEAP ARE THESE MOTHERF-ERS!) gets zero stars.

Get it? Got it? Good.

I never had a good time

How's my vacation? Well, I just yelled "The clavicle is a bone, fucking idiot" at a dude on "Jeopardy." So pretty good, I'd say.

I've had well enough of this heat, though, so let's call that off, shall we?

I just took a nap and dreamed about a Sloan show. Korn opened. Seriously? I'd been getting so little sleep and remembering so few dreams that I forgot how stupid they are.

Dan Abrams has been filling in on "Scarborough Country," and I've really been enjoying that. I've missed Dan dearly since he stopped hosting "The Abrams Report." But Scarborough has apparently still been on his morning show. Is Dan taking over Joe's PM spot? I demand answers. And way more Dan Abrams.

you're going up you're going down you're going nowhere

I don't usually take the subway home at 6:30PM, but I had a meeting a little late today, and it turns out the subway at 6:30PM is not so bad. Firstly, the trains weren't as frantically crowded as I thought. Secondly, I spotted John Turturro, who is incredibly handsome. I, for one, was quite surprised. He's pretty gray and very tan, but in a "I've been working outside" way, not "I've been fake tanning" way. Then I saw the singer from Nada Surf, who I used to see in Williamsburg all the time. He looked nice too. But John Turturro, totally hot.

Ooh, I got this awesome thing. It is ruling my world right now. And yes, I am using it right now!

she's aware it's all been done before

What have I been doing?

• Seeing Mike Viola at the Living Room
• Also catching part of Chris Thile's set (and spotting not-dead Jesse Camp!) at that same Living Room show
• Doing little dances of joy at news that Sloan is playing Summerstage's Canada Day
• Staying at work until almost 6PM (just Monday. Today I left five minutes early to get some pre-"Idol" napping in)
• Eating jalapeno poppers at Nice Guy Eddie's (my last hurrah)
• Keeping up with my daily song posts at the ol' MOG
• Probably other stuff, too, but I don't remember.

I'm after whatever the other life brings

Today we sat on the B61 for an hour each way to visit Red Hook and get key lime pies. Because when you think key limes, you think industrial waterfront NYC, right? Anyway, we ate these glorious swingles — mini pies dipped in chocolate, frozen on stick. Dreamy. We also bought a whole pie to bring home. Then we walked through Williamsburg (jeepers, so many annoying people) and I bought a new bag (Lucille Whales). There was walking and fresh air and sun. I loved it.

I'm continuing my quest to post and write about a song daily over at my MOG. Today's is Patti Smith's "Frederick." I won't post the song here because you probably already know it. The end.

I got the green light, I got a little fight

I think what's going to happen is that the Killers are going to win me over on the disappointing Sam's Town by putting out every song as a single. I'm three for three with "Oh yeah, I guess I do like that song." Now "Read My Mind" has a video (which I have not seen yet) and it's my new favorite song. Good work changing my mind, Killers.

Last night I went out (to the whitest place I've been since that place on the West Side Highway — and last night I was in Greenpoint. What?!??!)

OK, it's aside time. And yes, I know I am white, very white, in fact. All Northern European ancestry — we kind of have white on lock, in most senses of the word. But not mine. The white that makes me want to leave nightlife establishments, the white that gives me that fright, is a very specific "I'm not from around these parts but I'm certainly not from another country"/ "I always have a trust fund or a job at the family company to fall back on"/ "I'm totally buying a big house back home as soon as I get NYC out of my system"/ "I even use toilet seat covers at home." These things aren't bad, they just aren't me. I prefer slightly grittier company.

Anyway, it was fine but mostly boring. Which was really just as well, as I had to be up and at 'em c. 8AM today. (Thanks again, Grammys!).

Earlier, the Rangers won again (oh thank you thank you, lovelies) thanks in no small part, I'm certain, to my rediscovery of the power of a well-placed "You're ugly!" scream at the other team during the game. It got us the Cup in 1994, I assure you, and calling Pavel Bure ugly wasn't easy. "LeCavalier, you're an ugly bastard and you stink" stuck in my throat on Friday night as well, but it turned into a 5-0 win. Good thing 90 percent of the most beautiful players are on our team.

Last night I had a dream that I was at a fancy party with theater journalist Patrick Pacheco and Seymour Butts. They were both pretty fun.

you care, I know, I forgot for a while

It borders on ludicrous that I am unable to write more than once a week. I mean, really. But this weekend I was tired. So so tired. Friday I went to see "Les Miserables" with my mom and Dollo. Third time for me, fourth for my mom, first for Dollo. Sadly, Fantine was terrible. Other than that (although that's big — killed a big crying scene for me) it was very good.

Saturday I went for a walk to get milk at the farmers' market. Then, um, I think that was it. Oh yes, plus the "am I getting thrown out or a lease?" apartment drama ended (I'm getting a new lease Monday). And there was also the hockey game (just on TV, but exhausting all the same) and "Invincible." Let's see, Mark Wahlberg starring in an inspirational sports film about poor people? Of course I loved it!

Speaking of that, yes yes yes to his Oscar nomination. And yes yes yes for Ryan Gosling's. Finally, something to root for. Also, it's been about 18 years now that Mark Wahlberg first showed up in a New Kids on the Block fan magazine and I said, "Ooh, now that's what I'm talking about." So when he wins that Oscar, I can say I knew him when.

Today, I took a shower and spent the day switching between the couch and the computer. This is sad. I am sad. In nearly all senses of the word. But! I did manage to squeeze in three or four hours of Korean TV (No subtitles. And none of us speak Korean), including a show featuring practical science experiments. And the popular favorite, Xman. I never have any idea what's happening, but everyone is having so much fun that it hardly matters. Enjoy!

the alarm is set for noon

We won! We won we won we won. I loved it. Matt Cullen played 98 shifts (the scorecard doesn't show this, but I know what I saw) and also took off his helmet and shook out his hair at one point. It looked like a new 'do. I liked it. This also didn't show up on the scorecard. I warn you now, the yearbook comes out Saturday. If it's as good as last year's I may have to take Monday off to take it all in. And you'll hear about it. Get ready.

So yes, fun Rangers times yesterday. Then we went and had pho (yay and yum) and met a great friend's new friend (very handsome, very fun), walked from Chinatown to Union Square and then through Williamsburg, and then we came home. Soon there was sleeping. Over nine hours of it.

This is what a weekend is supposed to be, my loves. Fun, sleeping, wins, boys.

Oh, and I dyed my hair some more. Medium ash brown? Not quite. It is totally black in the back and underneath. That better wear off quick.

And my Christmas tree is down, and out on the curb. Progress!

Tomorrow, Target and laundry. And gearing up for a hell of a week.

Oh my God. Andy Rooney is droning on and on about team names. He is killing me.

hey bus driver, keep the change

It's great to see that transit workers are all but smoking me in the wage department. Next time two (or three, my favorite!) buses show up all at once (at the time the third is scheduled for, of course), I'm going to ask "What, were you guys too busy giving each other handjobs?!" at top volume rather than under my breath like I usually do.

see I'm wise enough to know when a gift needs givin'

I cannot stop watching that SNL "_ in a box" video. Not to mention my obsession with "What's my weakness? Soup!" and Jo-Jessica. Man, Justin has created an instant classic. In my version of events, he wrote the great sketches. How else was it so funny? Also when Alec Baldwin was on, he wrote his own sketches too. And Ludacris also.

Anyway, "backstage at the CMAs" will never have the same meaning again.

Another night, another awful hockey game. I think they are trying to destroy me. Thankfully, my latest obsession (no, not Brand New. It's Matt "Don't Shave Too High You'll Regret It Later" Cullen — and yes, I know he has unfortunate hair. And a wife.) was out hurt. Thankfully? Why? Because I got to spend the whole game wondering what he was doing. PS It was always dirty.

But the Bigmouth Maple Leafs fan wasn't annoying about the Saturday night loss at all. "Come on, you have to let me gloat a little," he said. "We're on a one-game winning streak!" Fair enough.

your name is deborah, deborah -- it never suited ya

Over a quick dinner of chopstick salad at Dojo on Sunday (It's the simple things, I tell you), me, Dollo y El Fano were taking advantage of the nostalgic location to sort out what our horrible nickname for one woman was.

Didn't you call her Potato something -- not Potatoey Goodness. [Yes, who could confuse her with anyone?!]

I think you're thinking of Potato Sack. You remember her, right?

Yes, at Tower Records.

No! That's Tower Girl. Potato Sack is that woman who worked at [record label].

Wait, why was she called Potato Sack again?

Well, she was all tan and leathery. And I think she was wearing a too-tight tube/sack dress that one time.

Yes, that's it. And then there was ___'s friend, at the other label. He was Potato Face.

No, I believe that was Potato Head. Not to be confused with Puppethead.

Why yes, I am a total asshole, who probably has a stupid nickname for you (that may even involve potatoes) if we've crossed paths. Thanks for asking!

it only happens once a year

I was off from work today. I took a vacation day so that I could go out last night and see Kiki & Herb do an 11:30 p.m. show (that started mercifully on time) at Joe's Pub where they played some favorite holiday standards ("Frosty the Snowman," "Fox in the Snow/Holiday" and the nothing-says-Christmas-like "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer/ Smells Like Teen Spirit/ Suicide Is Painless" medley. Was there "Deep Inside"? Yes. Was there a Jean Grae song (Whoa. Kiki, who knew?) Yes. Did Kiki do the love theme from "The Eyes of Laura Mars" and "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance? YES! It was a hell of a show.

So yeah. And before that was an edge-of-my-hard-plastic-MSG-seat hockey game (we lost in overtime.) Plus a party on Saturday. So today I did very little. There was some post-office action, a little drugstore shopping, a nap and a later excursion to the vegetable market and the pizza place. Now bed, I think. It's time. I am so not looking forward to getting up at 4:30.

girl of an age

15 years ago today I went to my first general admission, standing-only show. It was EMF at Roseland, with Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine and Cop Shoot Cop opening. MTV News had recently done a long report on the crowd-surfing phenomenon, and my mother was horrified. But I went.

PS Dang, I'm old.

it reminds me of you

I was just re-watching Bill Clinton on "The Daily Show," and he was reminding me so much of my grandfather. Maybe it's because Bill's getting up there in years now, and he's about the age that my grandfather was when I knew him best, when I saw him every day. He's also always reminded me of Jimmy Carter, my Pop Pop. And it's really pretty weird, because he wasn't Southern at all. Maybe it's because all three have similiar coloring. And are just wonderful.

Speaking of my grandfather not being Southern, did I even tell you of the story of how I thought he was from the Midwest, but it turned out he was from Yonkers. Which is a quintessentially New York story, I think.

Why do karaoke DVDs come with backup vocals? I hate it.