Dee-lite vs. Space Channel 5

Remember the 1990 hit "Groove is in the Heart" by Deee-lite? Me too — their album World Clique was one of my first BMG purchases (and one of the first CDs I sold off several years later).

Remember the Sega Dreamcast? Groovy system, died an early death, never truly maxxed out its capabilities (except for the launch game Soul Caliber, which looked smooooth, played quick, and kicked ass).

Remember the game Space Channel 5? It graces the Dreamcast, GameBoy Advance, and PS2 with its funktified presence. Ulala, the main character (yes, it’s pronounced ooh-la-la), has to mimic dance moves PaRappa-style (minus the helpful rhythmic graphics) to shoot invading aliens. Fun, but moderately difficult.

Finally, after about four years, Lady Miss Kier of Deee-lite is suing Sega for unlicensed usage of her likeness.

Aaron and I called this way back in ’99 or 2000, when the game was released (can’t remember if he bought the domestic or the import). You be the judge:

pic courtesy of deee-lite.orgpic courtest of sega.co.jp

pic courtesy of deee-lite.orgpic courtesy of sega.co.jp

SSDD (Same Shit, Different Day)

So, I’m starting to get used to this regularly-updating thing. Since mid-month, I’ve updated at least every three days. Considering that March only had six updates total, I think I’m doing better. ^_^

That said, there’s not much to report today. Finally put all my mp3 CDs in my old CD wallet and brought it to work, after ousting the old homeless CD-ROMs that had been living in it. Got out of work waaay early: before 4:00. Hung out with Aaron, packed up a long-overdue eBay package to Japan. Bounced on my new trampoline while watching the news. I’ve got stuff still to take care of, like messing with the logo for Sheryl’s aunt’s webpage and maybe repotting some plants or playing Civ III.

Slated for the remainder of the week:

  • Wednesday: Meet with Reverend Dr. Diane during my lunch break to discuss wedding vows and ceremony.
  • Thursday: Go to Sky Insurance in Maumee during my (extended) lunch break to interview for the position of Marketing Coordinator.
  • Friday: (tentative) Meet with Dining Services to sign reception contract.
  • Saturday: Waterville Community Garage Sale. Leave BG at 11am.

Bachelorette Fun

Saturday was the Bridal Extravaganza, just to inform those of you who (a) were there but don’t remember, (b) couldn’t make it due to other commitments, or (c) have a penis and so weren’t invited.

Aaron and I were awakened by the phone at about 10:30am (which I tried to answer but picked up just in time for the answering machine to pick up, too, and start this righteous feedback). Good thing we were awake after that, though, ’cause Mom showed up at 11:15am, almost a full hour early.

The original plan was: Mom would show up at noon, and we’d go have lunch. Chris Walmsley, the Best Man, would show up around 1 or 1:30, and he and Aaron would go to lunch while Mom and I were chillin’. Amy would show up around 2:00, and us three girls would go do the BG Artwalk. All of us would reconvene at the house around 3:00, and the rest of the guys would show up. Us girls would head to Sheryl’s apartment around 3:30ish for the party to start at 4:00, and the boys would head up to Windsor for their party. That’s pretty much how it happened, too, except Mom showed up almost an hour early and Amy got caught in the insano Meijer while getting the cake, and had to miss the Artwalk and go directly to Sheryl’s. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

So, that’s how it happened. Mom and I left the boys around 3:30 and headed to Sheryl’s by way of Kroger (to get ice cream and bags of ice). When we got there, Eric was just leaving, Amy was already there, and Sheryl had the place totally decked out with flowers and general prettiness and cleanliness. Hung out, had some munchies, marvelled at all the shit Sheryl had put together for my day. *tee-hee* Amanda showed up shortly thereafter, and we almost got worried about Andrea, who didn’t show up until around 5:00 — just about in time for food.

After the gift-opening, of course.

Amy manned the digital camera and took pics of me opening up all my schwag, including a food processor, kitchen utensils, thongs, bras, a teddy, peppermint pecker candies, makeup, body butter, hemp lotion, and a partridge in a pear tree. So to speak. Then we had food.

Andrea is a veggie, so she got fettucini alfredo. The rest of us got one kickass pot roast. There was also salad, and corn-on-the-cob, and fresh green beans, and it was all sooooo good. Simple, yet quite yummy. Then we had some cake, and Mom bailed so she could get home to Cleveland before dark.

Mom’s gone! Bust out the alcohol! 🙂

Sheryl made some mudslides (just add ice), and we hung out in her computer room checking out the Webtender. And we played with DP (Sheryl’s chinchilla). And I tried on one of my new bras with see-thru straps (and it made my boobs enormously threatening). And I read everyone a story about Anpanman (translated from Japanese by Sheryl’s friend Mariko). And we went outside and tried to fly kites, but there was no wind. (Seriously. No wind in BG. It happened. I was there.) And we drank some mudslides. And I made myself an Amaretto Sour with the booze my Mom bought me. And, eventually, we all headed over to my place before walking downtown for some drinking and debauchery.

Amy and Sheryl drove, and we hung out at my place for only a few minutes — long enough for everyone to go pee and for us to decide we were going to Brewster’s. It’s not a hoochie-bar: no dance floor, just tables and booths and a bar and live music (for a while). We walked the few blocks to Brewster’s, skirting the Rocky Horror crowd on the way, and found out there was only a $2 cover. Sheryl paid for me. Yay! We got a booth near the back, and listened to the mildly inoffensive live band. All four girls each bought me a drink, and I requested something different each time. After the three mudslides and the Amaretto Sour I had at Sheryl’s, I then had another Amaretto Sour, a Screwdriver, a Whiskey Sour, and a White Russian (well, Andrea spilled most of the first White Russian all over the table and floor, so I guess I had one-and-a-third White Russians). This was over the course of a couple few hours, during which we really had a kickass time talking and laughing and carrying-on. Of the people there, I think only Amy had seen me completely drunk before (since I so rarely drink, and very rarely get blitzed), so it was a new and fun experience for all, I’m sure. 🙂

Somewhere around 11:30pm (Rocky Horror hadn’t started yet), we left the bar and attempted to find somewhere new to drink up. The next un-hoochie-fied place we could think of was Howard’s — but it turned out that the cover was $5, since they had “a bunch of DJ’s” there, according to the doorguy. We opted to just go back to my place. Sheryl and Amy went back to Sheryl’s apartment to fetch the booze, while I showed Amanda and Andrea the apartment, particularly the computer/media room. Aaron’s 8-tracks were a hit, as were all of our books and DVDs.

At some point, I announced that I was really fucked up. Which I was. Either that, or someone installed a moving floor in the computer room. At any rate, Andrea announced in turn that she was preparing to add to that, and proceeded to dig out of her pockets a baggie with a couple joints’ worth of weed, plus rolling papers. She said she brought them for the “special occasion.” As she was in the midst of rolling, Amy and Sheryl came back with the cooler of pop and booze, so Amanda and I left Andrea to finish rolling and headed back out to the living room. I put some music in the CD changer (Soledad Brothers, Flaming Lips, Matthew Sweet, Catherine Wheel, and the Afghan Whigs), and we all hung out and talked for a while.

Once 1am rolled around, Sheryl was falling asleep in her bowl of munchies and Andrea was ready to spark up. Sheryl took this opportunity to leave before the pot made her fall asleep where she sat. We were all worried that it had made her uncomfortable, but it turned out she really was just tired.

(Now, folks, I know that a publicly-accessible blog isn’t generally the wisest place to discuss illegal activities, like “doing drugs” — oooooooh *collective gasp* — but it was how the evening ended, and it was a new experience for me. So I’m going to trust that no future employers are going to Google “Diana Cook marijuana” anytime in the future, and continue with my story.)

Understand, I’ve never even smoked a cigarette in my life. So, here we all were, crowding about Andrea in my living room. Amy was Designated Driver, so she wasn’t even drinking, and she’s not a big pot fan, anyway. Her brother’s a bit of a pot fiend, and his memory suffers because of it, apparently. So, Amy was out, which left me, Andrea, and Amanda to pass around the Bachelorette Party Joint. Andrea explained to both of us the mechanics of smoking a joint, I lit up some incense, and the joint was lit and passed to me.

My first impressions: drawing fiery-hot smoke into your lungs makes your throat burn. Seeing smoke exhale from your own non-smoker’s mouth is unsettling. Not coughing on the very first drag, however, feels like some sort of accomplishment.

After the third hit, I finally started coughing, and I had to pass on the rest of the joint. My throat was on fire, and the taste of burnt paper and weed was far back in my mouth. I was no more messed up than I had been, though, so I sat down and waited for something to happen.

Which it did.

At the risk of sounding like a total retard, I’ll describe kind of what it was like. I felt like I was in a sea of chinchilla fur, in low gravity or molasses or something. I’d turn my head from one side of the room to the other, to look from Andrea to Amanda, and my chinchilla fur aura would drag behind me as I turned my head, pulling around to the other side and rebounding slowly like a cartoon from the opposite side once I focused on my target. (Sure it makes no sense. It’s not supposed to.)

At any rate, I sat there enjoying the sensation of being drunk and high, feeling rather naughty on some level, noticing that Amy looked awfully uncomfortable with the whole thing, but just chilling out and having a good time on another level.

Around 2:15am, the guys came home. Aaron, Chris, Kris H., Mark, and Aaron’s brother Matt all funneled into the room (Jesse and Kris Fries had already gone home), and realized there was nowhere to sit. 🙂 Aaron took the couch with Amanda, Matt left, and Kris and Mark hung out for awhile before they too left. Amy rounded up Amanda and Andrea, and they all headed back to their respective places: Andrea to her car at Sheryl’s, to drive back to Medina; Amanda to her apartment, two blocks from Sheryl’s place; and Amy to her hotel room in town. Chris had dibs on our couch.

So, that was the bridal shower / bachelorette party. In case you were wondering, no, I didn’t precisely have a hangover on Sunday… more of an all-day exhaustion thing. No surprize, considering. 🙂

(By the way, you can read Sheryl’s version of the night, too.)

Memories

Do you ever get the feeling that High School wasn’t just a part of your past, but more of a different life? Hell, sometimes I feel like that about the first year of my college career.

I had just been thinking of the music that put me through high school. For all you young whipper-snappers who read my blog, my high school years were 1990 through 1994. Alternative music came into its own whilst my appreciation of "popular music" was in full blossom. Though I must admit, I discovered the Cure in about 1989, seeing the "Lovesong" video on VH1. But I digress. Here’s a blast from the past (I know some of you still listen to these artists regularly — don’t take it as a rip on you, ’cause so do I):

Oasis * Collective Soul * James * Pearl Jam * Toad the Wet Sprocket * Bad Religion * Radiohead * Bush * The Lemonheads * Nirvana * Smashing Pumpkins * REM * Matthew Sweet * The Cure * The Sundays

Sometimes I think high school was the worst experience of my life overall (except for 6th grade). Sometimes I think it was much, much better than I give it credit for. And generally, I assume I didn’t get enough out of my teen years. Or, at least, as much as I could. Not that I would particularly want to experience those years firsthand again, but I find that, depending on my mood, I can see a great deal of either spectacularly priceless moments or of amazingly pathetic and depressing happenings.

Sometimes I wonder if and/or when I’ll look back on my college years or my newlywed years (yipes) like I look back on high school: Something I enjoyed, something I should have taken more advantage of, something nostalgic. I wonder if the music I listen to today will set off memories of sitting at my computer, blogging, the day before my bachelorette party.

(I know it’s a disjointed entry… it’s 1:20am, and it’s technically not even the 25th anymore. Cut me some slack.)

P.S. – There is talent in Bowling Green. Who knew? Check out Mac Hall.

Blah Blah Blog

Despite all the depresso ranting and raving I’ve done in my recent entries, I’m really not all that depressed. I promise. It’s just that the vaguely happy things that happen never make it to the blog.

Got home at 4:50pm after making a pit stop on the way from work to gas up Aaron’s car. And he’d already left for work. Poopstain. At least he left me some stuffed crust frozen pizza in the fridge, though. Yum.

Just called Andrea’s cell and left a message. Apparently her voicemail is set on one minute, because I timed it out. 🙂 Asked her if she’d be able to make it to the bachelorette party and bridal shower this weekend, told her it would be cool if she could make it since I haven’t seen her in so long, asked her if she’d gotten her dress yet, and finally got the guts to tell her that if she’s not into the whole bridesmaid thing, because she’s too busy or it’s a weird time in her life or something like that, she can back out and won’t hurt my feelings. The voicemail cut me off just as I was reiterating that she needed to get back to me. Hopefully that’ll inspire her to give me a call sometime soon. If not… I’m not sure what to do.

Bounced my first check the other day. Twelve-dollar check, and got charged a $30 NSF fee. That blows. When I balanced my checkbook today, I realized I was in danger of doing it again, so I transferred some money from my savings to my checking. Now I’m covered. Whew.

Today was Mary’s last day in the Lockbox Department at work. Our supervisors bought an assload of cookies and cupcakes, so I munched on them all day and didn’t eat my nutritious lunch. At any rate, Mary’s husband works in the department she’s moving to: Loan Servicing. I don’t think he’s her supervisor, but they’re closer on the org chart now. Mary has informed me that her husband would take me into his department anytime I wanted, so that’ll be a good ‘out’ if I don’t find another job by the middle of June or so.

I figured out my demands, in case the Lockbox Department wants to beg me to stay (which is unlikely, but I can dream). Since they won’t be able to guarantee stable hours, which would be ideal, I will instead ask for a 6% pay increase, effective ASAP but no later than the beginning of third quarter (October). I wanted to say second quarter (July), but they probably already have the budget laid out for second quarter. Again, I don’t think it’ll happen, but I wanted to have my demands ready, just in case anyone were to ask what would keep me in Lockbox.

Well, I think that was a good, sufficiently undepressed update. Hmm, no, wait. I complained about shit the whole entry. Hang on… Oh, I know.

I’m getting married exactly one month from today! Tee-hee-hee! *girlie giggles*

There. Happiness. I am now going to post stuff on eBay and work on graphics for Sheryl’s Aunt’s online store.

P.S. – Hey, Donna? Here’s Karma Police, just for you.