Of Old Dan Tucker, Froggies and Shakespare

A couple of weeks ago I was surfing on the iTunes website because my Christmas gift cards were burning an almighty hole in my pocket. I was trying to decide between about a bazillion different things, and I kept going back to Bruce Springsteen's new album We Shall Overcome : The Bob Seeger Sessions. I had noticed the album was a part of the "best of" editor selections as well as a "best seller" among the iTunes paying public. I went back and forth on this album for a long time. Springsteen was a plus, but did I really want (or need) an album with Bruce singing stuff like:

Old Dan Tucker was a fine old man
washed his face with a frying pan
combed his hair with a wagon wheel
and died with a toothache in his heel.

Songs like this might be considered genius amongst the elementary school crowd, but I just wasn't sure. This album is full of stuff like this, including Froggie Went A-Courtin', and Buffalo Gals. There's no On Top of Old Smokey, but it wouldn't have surprised me if there was. All of these songs are a far cry from Shakespeare, and it sure didn't strike me as being very Springsteen. But I figured what the heck. I hoped it wouldn't suck, and I downloaded the album.

Later, while looking for a specific song (that I never did find) I found the album Tread on my Dreams by Melinda Stanford. Who? Yeah, that's what I said too. The entire album was based on poems by famous poets. Shakespeare, Auden, Dylan Thomas, e e cummings, Emily Dickinson, Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Frost were all represented, among others. So I looked at this album by a singer I'd never heard (or heard of), singing some amazing texts. I figured what the heck. I hoped it wouldn't suck, and I downloaded the album.

Songs are a funny thing. You have this combination of text, music and performer. For a song to really work, all three have to be right. The music has to complement and enhance the text, and then the performer has to understand everything about both elements and then buy into the premise -- whatever it may be -- present it in a way that is believable. This is usually where things break down. Singers tend to have one style, and it's difficult to jump into a different genre and still sound credible. I have plenty of CDs of opera singers attempting to sing broadway and jazz, and there is always that indescribable performance of Aretha Franklin singing Puccini. *cough*

I'm so happy to say that both purchases have proven to be pure gold. The Springsteen album is one of the most infectiously fun things I have ever listened to. It doesn't have to be about the gritty streets of Philadelphia or a head-banging rock version of Born to Run. It can be John Henry who was a steel drivin' man. It totally works. As for the other album, all I can say is that since I've downloaded it, I've had a very hard time prying my poor iPod out of TinyTuna's greedy music-loving ears. It's good. It's that good. And while some of the poems were familiar to me, others were not. And I'm so happy to have stumbled across some unbelievably profound words set to music that matches it perfectly.

Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
by W.B. Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

It's stuff like this that makes me glad I'm a singer.

Of Old Dan Tucker, Froggies and Shakespare

A couple of weeks ago I was surfing on the iTunes website because my Christmas gift cards were burning an almighty hole in my pocket. I was trying to decide between about a bazillion different things, and I kept going back to Bruce Springsteen's new album We Shall Overcome : The Bob Seeger Sessions. I had noticed the album was a part of the "best of" editor selections as well as a "best seller" among the iTunes paying public. I went back and forth on this album for a long time. Springsteen was a plus, but did I really want (or need) an album with Bruce singing stuff like:

Old Dan Tucker was a fine old man
washed his face with a frying pan
combed his hair with a wagon wheel
and died with a toothache in his heel.

Songs like this might be considered genius amongst the elementary school crowd, but I just wasn't sure. This album is full of stuff like this, including Froggie Went A-Courtin', and Buffalo Gals. There's no On Top of Old Smokey, but it wouldn't have surprised me if there was. All of these songs are a far cry from Shakespeare, and it sure didn't strike me as being very Springsteen. But I figured what the heck. I hoped it wouldn't suck, and I downloaded the album.

Later, while looking for a specific song (that I never did find) I found the album Tread on my Dreams by Melinda Stanford. Who? Yeah, that's what I said too. The entire album was based on poems by famous poets. Shakespeare, Auden, Dylan Thomas, e e cummings, Emily Dickinson, Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Frost were all represented, among others. So I looked at this album by a singer I'd never heard (or heard of), singing some amazing texts. I figured what the heck. I hoped it wouldn't suck, and I downloaded the album.

Songs are a funny thing. You have this combination of text, music and performer. For a song to really work, all three have to be right. The music has to complement and enhance the text, and then the performer has to understand everything about both elements and then buy into the premise -- whatever it may be -- present it in a way that is believable. This is usually where things break down. Singers tend to have one style, and it's difficult to jump into a different genre and still sound credible. I have plenty of CDs of opera singers attempting to sing broadway and jazz, and there is always that indescribable performance of Aretha Franklin singing Puccini. *cough*

I'm so happy to say that both purchases have proven to be pure gold. The Springsteen album is one of the most infectiously fun things I have ever listened to. It doesn't have to be about the gritty streets of Philadelphia or a head-banging rock version of Born to Run. It can be John Henry who was a steel drivin' man. It totally works. As for the other album, all I can say is that since I've downloaded it, I've had a very hard time prying my poor iPod out of TinyTuna's greedy music-loving ears. It's good. It's that good. And while some of the poems were familiar to me, others were not. And I'm so happy to have stumbled across some unbelievably profound words set to music that matches it perfectly.

Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
by W.B. Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

It's stuff like this that makes me glad I'm a singer.

Oh, Pioneers!

After coming home last night and spending a half-hour chipping ice off my car windows and finally managing to bust open the doors, I went inside to find that we had no cable TV and no Internet. It was very Little House on the Prairie-ish.

TinyTuna was practically beside herself, until I explained that even though the cable didn't work, the television was perfectly capable of playing a DVD. Calm breathing returned and we had a lovely, Disney Channel-free evening.

Not a bad trade-off, I think.

Oh, Pioneers!

After coming home last night and spending a half-hour chipping ice off my car windows and finally managing to bust open the doors, I went inside to find that we had no cable TV and no Internet. It was very Little House on the Prairie-ish.

TinyTuna was practically beside herself, until I explained that even though the cable didn't work, the television was perfectly capable of playing a DVD. Calm breathing returned and we had a lovely, Disney Channel-free evening.

Not a bad trade-off, I think.

Friday Feast

Tinytuna is in the House!

Appetizer : What comes to mind when you see the color orange?
An orange!

Soup : Did you ever get into trouble while you were at school? If so what for?
Depends on what school you're referring to.

Salad : Which toppings make your perfect pizza?
Cheese

Main Course : Do you believe in UFO's/Aliens/etc. Why or why not?
No. I don't believe in people other than us in the universe. It's really hard to explain cause there's no way to prove I'm right.

Dessert : What color is your bed spread/comforter/quilt?
My bedspread is pink, checkered with blue and green stripes.

Friday Feast

Tinytuna is in the House!

Appetizer : What comes to mind when you see the color orange?
An orange!

Soup : Did you ever get into trouble while you were at school? If so what for?
Depends on what school you're referring to.

Salad : Which toppings make your perfect pizza?
Cheese

Main Course : Do you believe in UFO's/Aliens/etc. Why or why not?
No. I don't believe in people other than us in the universe. It's really hard to explain cause there's no way to prove I'm right.

Dessert : What color is your bed spread/comforter/quilt?
My bedspread is pink, checkered with blue and green stripes.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think::

1. Episode :: TV show

2. Source :: Code

3. Jerk :: Idiot

4. Introduce :: Say Hello!

5. Ralph :: Kramden

6. Stare :: Glare

7. Cast :: Of Thousands

8. Scenario :: Situational Setting

9. Flu :: I don't have it

10. Mad :: Cow


This must be the throw-the-dictionary in the air version of Unconscious Mutterings. It's not that words are required to relate to each other, but sometimes it makes it easier. I could have said "Flu-Shot" but I don't get flu shots. Then again, I don't have "Mad-Cows" either, so that blows that whole explanation (heck, I don't even have mildly irate cows). "Cast-Of Thousands" reminds me of Ten Commandments which reminds me that Mrs. Munster (who was formerly Mrs. Moses) died. If she had cows, I bet they'd be sad.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think::

1. Episode :: TV show

2. Source :: Code

3. Jerk :: Idiot

4. Introduce :: Say Hello!

5. Ralph :: Kramden

6. Stare :: Glare

7. Cast :: Of Thousands

8. Scenario :: Situational Setting

9. Flu :: I don't have it

10. Mad :: Cow


This must be the throw-the-dictionary in the air version of Unconscious Mutterings. It's not that words are required to relate to each other, but sometimes it makes it easier. I could have said "Flu-Shot" but I don't get flu shots. Then again, I don't have "Mad-Cows" either, so that blows that whole explanation (heck, I don't even have mildly irate cows). "Cast-Of Thousands" reminds me of Ten Commandments which reminds me that Mrs. Munster (who was formerly Mrs. Moses) died. If she had cows, I bet they'd be sad.

Hard Sell

In the old days you drove (or walked) to a certain store in order to buy a certain something. You entered the store, found your certain something, paid for it and left.

In time, numerous certain stores found themselves under the same roof. This, of course, was the mall. In the just slightly less old days you would drive (not walk) to the mall. You would park your car at the entrance that was nearest to the certain store you needed to visit to buy that certain something. You would walk in the mall and pass several other stores that (for this particular trip) didn't happen to be that certain store containing that certain something. But eventually, you would find that certain store, pay for that certain something, walk back through the mall again, passing several other stores that (for this particular trip) didn't happen to be that certain store, return to your car and leave.

Today, that is impossible.

Today there is no such thing as a store that is NOT that certain store. Today it is not possible to pass other stores on the way to that one certain store you wanted to visit all along. Honestly, I never got the memo letting me know that it was now acceptable behavior to work in a store and harass hard sell people as they walk by.

I was on my way to the land of things beyond (as opposed to the neighboring kingdom of 'n things) and as I passed yet another hallway storefront hawking cellphones and wireless plans, KioskBoy (KB) gave me a look and rather loudly started his sales spiel from the middle of hall, accompanied by a head-flip c'mere don't I have a deal for YOU! kind of thing, like he was going to try to sell me the letter "O". My inky black heart (IBH) rolled its evil eyes and I ambled to the center of the hallway.

KB: Hey! Can I ask you a question?
(IBH: Dunno. Can you?)
Me: What's that?

KB: Do you have a cellphone?
(IBH: Beeswax, None of Yours, Inc.)
Me: Uh, yes.

KB: Who is your carrier?
(IBH: The company I manage to hate the least. But it's a tough decision because I hate every single one of you, so very, very much.)
Me: Cingular, but I....

Then Kiosk-Boy actually made a MINCE PIE FACE at me and my Inky Black Heart took over so my calm, peace-loving personality could go to its happy place. Look. If I wanted a T-Mobile phone, if I needed a T-Mobile phone, if I was curious and just wanted to browse in the world of T-Mobile phones, I would have done so. And if I wanted to have a conversation with some teen-aged mall employee wearing an electronic headset like they were auditioning to be the next Lt. Uhuru in Star-Trek, I would have walked back to Bath and Body Works, where the young girl wearing an ENORMOUS head-set (why this was needed when you sell soap and pumice stones, I have NO idea) had the good sense to wait until I walked into the store before accosting me.

But fair warning -- if any company thinks they are going to win customers by having ear-piece wearing minimum wage grunts yelling at them as they walk down the hall, my inky black heart will have something to say about that. And then they'd better have some friends nearby to pick up the pieces.

Can you hear me now?
Good.
Shut up.

Hard Sell

In the old days you drove (or walked) to a certain store in order to buy a certain something. You entered the store, found your certain something, paid for it and left.

In time, numerous certain stores found themselves under the same roof. This, of course, was the mall. In the just slightly less old days you would drive (not walk) to the mall. You would park your car at the entrance that was nearest to the certain store you needed to visit to buy that certain something. You would walk in the mall and pass several other stores that (for this particular trip) didn't happen to be that certain store containing that certain something. But eventually, you would find that certain store, pay for that certain something, walk back through the mall again, passing several other stores that (for this particular trip) didn't happen to be that certain store, return to your car and leave.

Today, that is impossible.

Today there is no such thing as a store that is NOT that certain store. Today it is not possible to pass other stores on the way to that one certain store you wanted to visit all along. Honestly, I never got the memo letting me know that it was now acceptable behavior to work in a store and harass hard sell people as they walk by.

I was on my way to the land of things beyond (as opposed to the neighboring kingdom of 'n things) and as I passed yet another hallway storefront hawking cellphones and wireless plans, KioskBoy (KB) gave me a look and rather loudly started his sales spiel from the middle of hall, accompanied by a head-flip c'mere don't I have a deal for YOU! kind of thing, like he was going to try to sell me the letter "O". My inky black heart (IBH) rolled its evil eyes and I ambled to the center of the hallway.

KB: Hey! Can I ask you a question?
(IBH: Dunno. Can you?)
Me: What's that?

KB: Do you have a cellphone?
(IBH: Beeswax, None of Yours, Inc.)
Me: Uh, yes.

KB: Who is your carrier?
(IBH: The company I manage to hate the least. But it's a tough decision because I hate every single one of you, so very, very much.)
Me: Cingular, but I....

Then Kiosk-Boy actually made a MINCE PIE FACE at me and my Inky Black Heart took over so my calm, peace-loving personality could go to its happy place. Look. If I wanted a T-Mobile phone, if I needed a T-Mobile phone, if I was curious and just wanted to browse in the world of T-Mobile phones, I would have done so. And if I wanted to have a conversation with some teen-aged mall employee wearing an electronic headset like they were auditioning to be the next Lt. Uhuru in Star-Trek, I would have walked back to Bath and Body Works, where the young girl wearing an ENORMOUS head-set (why this was needed when you sell soap and pumice stones, I have NO idea) had the good sense to wait until I walked into the store before accosting me.

But fair warning -- if any company thinks they are going to win customers by having ear-piece wearing minimum wage grunts yelling at them as they walk down the hall, my inky black heart will have something to say about that. And then they'd better have some friends nearby to pick up the pieces.

Can you hear me now?
Good.
Shut up.

Why I Go To Church Choir Practice After a LONG Week

Because on Sunday, I'm playing COWBELL, baby.

It seems the Holy Spirit has a fever, and the only cure is MORE COWBELL and really, who better to answer the call?

The boy fell over laughing.
Scout turned a thousand shades of red.
Mensch wanted a picture.
The choir director looked at me and said, "I really don't want to know, do I?"

I looked at him and said, "I'm just partial to cowbell."

Why I Go To Church Choir Practice After a LONG Week

Because on Sunday, I'm playing COWBELL, baby.

It seems the Holy Spirit has a fever, and the only cure is MORE COWBELL and really, who better to answer the call?

The boy fell over laughing.
Scout turned a thousand shades of red.
Mensch wanted a picture.
The choir director looked at me and said, "I really don't want to know, do I?"

I looked at him and said, "I'm just partial to cowbell."

Friday's Feast

It's the "I-have-24-more-minutes-at-work" version of Friday's Feast.

Appetizer: What comes to mind when you see the color orange?
An orange.
Orange juice.
A not-ready-for-prime-time persimmon.
A spectacular oceanside sunset.
My sweater.

Soup: Did you ever get into trouble while you were at school? If so, what was it for?
My recollections of school are based on Mary Poppinsology. I was practically perfect in every way. That being said, at school is an awfully long stretch if you consider college and really, somebody needs to define get into trouble before I'll even begin to formulate a non -- I do not recall, Senator -- answer to this question.

Salad: Which topping(s) make up your perfect pizza.
Anything that does not include fish or olives. I am, however, particularly partial to ham and double pineapple.

Main Course: Do you believe in UFOs/Aliens/etc.? Why or why not
Heavens yes! Etc.'s are everywhere and are living among us. As for aliens, well, I have two cats that frantically chase nothing at top speed, so I'm pretty sure they see something I don't. As for UFOs, well, I'm sure there are lots of things flying around that I'd never be able to identify. After "plane" "big plane" or "copter" I'm pretty much tapped out.

Dessert: What color is your bedspread/comforter/quilt?
Funny you should ask. I just got a new one and it is a lovely reversible comforter in khaki and desert, which I believe is a fancy way of saying tan and brown. But what Land's End neglected to tell me is that this comforter is filled with catnip-laced down. Ever since I put it on my bed, the two of them have gone absolutely insane. Or more insane than usual -- which isn't necessarily a particularly long journey.

Friday's Feast

It's the "I-have-24-more-minutes-at-work" version of Friday's Feast.

Appetizer: What comes to mind when you see the color orange?
An orange.
Orange juice.
A not-ready-for-prime-time persimmon.
A spectacular oceanside sunset.
My sweater.

Soup: Did you ever get into trouble while you were at school? If so, what was it for?
My recollections of school are based on Mary Poppinsology. I was practically perfect in every way. That being said, at school is an awfully long stretch if you consider college and really, somebody needs to define get into trouble before I'll even begin to formulate a non -- I do not recall, Senator -- answer to this question.

Salad: Which topping(s) make up your perfect pizza.
Anything that does not include fish or olives. I am, however, particularly partial to ham and double pineapple.

Main Course: Do you believe in UFOs/Aliens/etc.? Why or why not
Heavens yes! Etc.'s are everywhere and are living among us. As for aliens, well, I have two cats that frantically chase nothing at top speed, so I'm pretty sure they see something I don't. As for UFOs, well, I'm sure there are lots of things flying around that I'd never be able to identify. After "plane" "big plane" or "copter" I'm pretty much tapped out.

Dessert: What color is your bedspread/comforter/quilt?
Funny you should ask. I just got a new one and it is a lovely reversible comforter in khaki and desert, which I believe is a fancy way of saying tan and brown. But what Land's End neglected to tell me is that this comforter is filled with catnip-laced down. Ever since I put it on my bed, the two of them have gone absolutely insane. Or more insane than usual -- which isn't necessarily a particularly long journey.

More Later. I Have To Go To Tap Class

Which I totally skipped. I got caught up in 7th grade math, but truth be told, I didn't work all that hard to make sure we finished in time. Between work and work and home and TinyTuna, I just have too much to do these days. Love the class but I need an extra day in my week.

I know. Excuses all. It's the best I can do. But, to totally change the subject my brothers and sisters, let us discuss: spam and junkmail.

My Spam has gotten interesting of late. Not whatever is in the actual email, because Lord knows, I never look. But the subject lines have taken a turn towards the interesting and amusing.

God is my co-spammer
Some spam has taken a definate holy tone. Maybe they figure if you use lots of thees and thous and invoke the name of an Old-Testament Prophet, it won't end up in Spam Quarentine. This morning:

Thee Moab by day, (he hath commanded him)

Opening the email, it appears Moab hath commanded him to buy Viagra.

So odd, I had to keep it in my inbox
I couldn't help it. Even though it wound up in the land of quarentine, it made me laugh, so I let it live in my inbox for a couple days:

Department of Agriculture who stated the department views a sandwich
as a separate and distinct food product
from a burrito or taco.

Opening the email, it makes as little sense as the subject line, but I can tell you
it seems to have nothing to do with burritos, tacos or sandwiches.
Bummer.

You know how to enchant me
It's almost too easy, and I don't really care what the email is about, but thanks spammers for making my morning:

On television, Miss Coulter also stands out among her counterparts
because of an uncanny ability to suck out the intelligence
out of any topic.

Bravo. Whatever it's about, Bravo.

Last night when I got home, I opened a curious piece of mail that I was certain was of the junk-variety. Monday tends to be junk mail day, and everything else had already gone in the circular file. As I opened this last envelope, it contained a letter and a booklet that was probably about 30 pages long. The letter was telling me that all payments to Company X should now be sent to Company Y. Frankly, I had never heard of Company X or Company Y, so I opened the booklet. Inside was a single-spaced, double-columned listing of funeral homes. I started puzzling about payments and funerals homes and how this had nothing to do with me, TinyTuna looked at me and said a little too pointedly, "Maybe they are looking for reservations."

*Ahem*

I think I'll stick to Moab and sandwiches, thank you very much.

More Later. I Have To Go To Tap Class

Which I totally skipped. I got caught up in 7th grade math, but truth be told, I didn't work all that hard to make sure we finished in time. Between work and work and home and TinyTuna, I just have too much to do these days. Love the class but I need an extra day in my week.

I know. Excuses all. It's the best I can do. But, to totally change the subject my brothers and sisters, let us discuss: spam and junkmail.

My Spam has gotten interesting of late. Not whatever is in the actual email, because Lord knows, I never look. But the subject lines have taken a turn towards the interesting and amusing.

God is my co-spammer
Some spam has taken a definate holy tone. Maybe they figure if you use lots of thees and thous and invoke the name of an Old-Testament Prophet, it won't end up in Spam Quarentine. This morning:

Thee Moab by day, (he hath commanded him)

Opening the email, it appears Moab hath commanded him to buy Viagra.

So odd, I had to keep it in my inbox
I couldn't help it. Even though it wound up in the land of quarentine, it made me laugh, so I let it live in my inbox for a couple days:

Department of Agriculture who stated the department views a sandwich
as a separate and distinct food product
from a burrito or taco.

Opening the email, it makes as little sense as the subject line, but I can tell you
it seems to have nothing to do with burritos, tacos or sandwiches.
Bummer.

You know how to enchant me
It's almost too easy, and I don't really care what the email is about, but thanks spammers for making my morning:

On television, Miss Coulter also stands out among her counterparts
because of an uncanny ability to suck out the intelligence
out of any topic.

Bravo. Whatever it's about, Bravo.

Last night when I got home, I opened a curious piece of mail that I was certain was of the junk-variety. Monday tends to be junk mail day, and everything else had already gone in the circular file. As I opened this last envelope, it contained a letter and a booklet that was probably about 30 pages long. The letter was telling me that all payments to Company X should now be sent to Company Y. Frankly, I had never heard of Company X or Company Y, so I opened the booklet. Inside was a single-spaced, double-columned listing of funeral homes. I started puzzling about payments and funerals homes and how this had nothing to do with me, TinyTuna looked at me and said a little too pointedly, "Maybe they are looking for reservations."

*Ahem*

I think I'll stick to Moab and sandwiches, thank you very much.

Unconscious Mutterings - Totally Cheater Backdate Version

I said :: And you thought


1. Incomplete :: Not finished

2. Bobby :: Socks

3. Chopstick :: Chinese Food. But tough to do with only one.

4. Trauma :: Head

5. Hesitate :: Pause

6. Leap :: Jump

7. Magnify :: Glass

8. Yards :: Of material

9. Alexander :: Technique

10. Fracture :: Fairy Tales

Bobby socks. Who else is going to come up with that one? I was going to make a reference to killing ants with a magnifying glass, but thought better of it. Alexander technique is a posture thing especially good for musicians who carry all sorts of tension from twisting their bodies this way and that. And oh, how I love Fractured Fairy Tales. Those were the good old days of Rocky and Bullwinkle, Peabody and his boy Sherman, Dudley Do-Right and his horse.

More later. I have to go to tap class.

Unconscious Mutterings - Totally Cheater Backdate Version

I said :: And you thought


1. Incomplete :: Not finished

2. Bobby :: Socks

3. Chopstick :: Chinese Food. But tough to do with only one.

4. Trauma :: Head

5. Hesitate :: Pause

6. Leap :: Jump

7. Magnify :: Glass

8. Yards :: Of material

9. Alexander :: Technique

10. Fracture :: Fairy Tales

Bobby socks. Who else is going to come up with that one? I was going to make a reference to killing ants with a magnifying glass, but thought better of it. Alexander technique is a posture thing especially good for musicians who carry all sorts of tension from twisting their bodies this way and that. And oh, how I love Fractured Fairy Tales. Those were the good old days of Rocky and Bullwinkle, Peabody and his boy Sherman, Dudley Do-Right and his horse.

More later. I have to go to tap class.

New Year's Mutterings Tiny Tuna Style

I say... And you think


1. Resolution :: WAR

2. Happy :: Birthday

3. Bubbly :: Gut feeling

4. Kiss :: Your love

5. Leather :: Jacket

6. Fancy :: Dinner Party

7. Pages :: Books

8. Stupid :: Huh?

9. Apologize :: SORRY!!

10. Secrets :: Secret Garden

New Year's is a time to watch the TV until your eyes pop! A time to watch the ball drop in Times Square. A time to be with family and friends. Celebrate the New Year your way. How you want to spend it. Not how someone else wants to.

New Year's Mutterings Tiny Tuna Style

I say... And you think


1. Resolution :: WAR

2. Happy :: Birthday

3. Bubbly :: Gut feeling

4. Kiss :: Your love

5. Leather :: Jacket

6. Fancy :: Dinner Party

7. Pages :: Books

8. Stupid :: Huh?

9. Apologize :: SORRY!!

10. Secrets :: Secret Garden

New Year's is a time to watch the TV until your eyes pop! A time to watch the ball drop in Times Square. A time to be with family and friends. Celebrate the New Year your way. How you want to spend it. Not how someone else wants to.