The Sad Saga of Assembling Seven Songs

The other day I was “tagged” by Roxy of Roxiticus Housewives to assemble a list of seven songs I am currently listening to on my iPod. She was, of course, assuming I already had an iPod and could easily tap into my “frequently played” list to find my most popular current choices. But for those of you who read about my unfortunate subway incident in Madrid, you will know that I no longer have an iPod. In fact, I no longer pay attention to music at all, preferring to spend my days listening to the gentle rustle of mice beneath my floorboards. (Just kidding about the last part. I still listen to music and I don’t have mice. At least I don’t think I do. I’m sure the cats would have found them by now.)

Anyway, in order to comply with Roxy’s wishes, I had to go out and buy myself a new iPod so I could truly immerse myself in the creative process. Yes it’s true, I could have easily made up a list of seven random songs and just told Roxy they were on my iPod. But that would be dishonest. And if I know one thing about certain Desperate Housewives, they do not put up with dishonesty. (Especially someone as prude and prudent as Bree.)

So out to the local Circuit City I went, credit card in hand and a calliope of famous tunes swimming in my head. Unfortunately, the local Circuit City was all sold out of iPods, or maybe they never had any iPods to begin with. I wasn’t really sure, because I couldn’t understand the salesperson that waited on me. His English was not that great, nor were his translation skills. And when I tried to ask another salesperson for help, he got very angry and started cursing me in another language. (Or at least I assume that’s what he was doing, as his vocal histrionics involved an awful lot of spitting.)

Needless to say, I left Circuit City and headed over to Best Buy, where I was sure I would find what I was looking for. Sure enough they had plenty of iPods available for sale. But because of some kind of fluke shipping mishap, the only color they currently had available was pink. Honestly. It was like they were having a Barbie convention or something.

So I left Best Buy, hoping to reach the Mac store at the Mall before it closed. With fifteen minutes to spare, I ran from my car, into the mall, past Macy’s, past Sears, past The Disney Store, until I finally reached my destination---the Mac Store. Surely they would have a wide variety of iPods to choose from. And a large selection of colors as well. I glanced at the window before entering the store, and was relieved to see a multitude of options and models. Thank God. I would finally be able to get my iPod, go home and load it with music, so I could finally figure out what I was listening to.

But as soon as I tried to enter the store, I noticed a sign taped across the entryway that read “Sorry for the inconvenience. We are currently closed for inventory.” I’m sure you can imagine the string of expletives that came bursting forth from my mouth, as the frustration of my situation overwhelmed me. After a short tirade, I left the mall, only to find my car had been ticketed for parking in front of a fire hydrant. Only I didn't know it was a fire hydrant, because it had recently been painted to look like a garden gnome by a local group of schoolchildren as part of their “Let’s Make Our Neighborhood Colorful” project. Lucky me. (I didn't know it was supposed to be a garden gnome, either. I thought it was a statue of Ross Perot.)

After such a horrendous experience, I still have not assembled the list of seven songs, though there are several four-letter words that have gotten a lot of airplay in my household lately. One of them, being the name “Roxy” for putting me through such a terrible ordeal. (Just kidding, Roxy.)

So for now, I have still not assembled my list of seven songs. But that's just me. What are the seven songs you are listening to constantly these days?

When Jet Lag Leads to Pocket Snags and Eye Bags

One of the only things I don’t like about traveling abroad is the jet lag you experience upon arrival in a foreign country. (Not to mention the 2nd round you experience upon coming back home.) And while some people seem to recover rather easily from this type of system adjustment, I find that the older I get, the longer it takes to make the time zone switch.

When I was in London a few weeks ago, I found myself walking around in a fog for the first few days, which ironically had nothing to do with your typical English weather. It was bright and clear, but I was off somewhere, two steps behind everything that was happening in front of me.

Several days later, when I again made a slight time zone adjustment when traveling to Madrid, the lack of clarity brought about a rather unfortunate snatching of my iPod, which was conveniently stashed in my front coat pocket. Conveniently for the thief, that is, who managed to get the coat unzipped during a crowded subway ride. And even though I felt something happening, it still took a few seconds to register before I realized someone was going through my pockets. At that point, the subway door opened and the huge crowd surrounding me suddenly dissipated, leaving me feeling like I’d just missed something rather important.

It wasn’t until the next day that I figured out exactly what that was. My 80GB iPod, filled with music, pictures, movies and more. I was shocked, as I’d only put it in the zippered pocket several minutes before. The theft was a huge disappointment, as the iPod contained several walking tours of Madrid, which I’d planned to take over the next few days. My one consolation is knowing that whoever stole the iPod probably won’t like any of the content, as it mostly consists of horrible pop music and Disney musicals.

Nevertheless, my normally acute knowledge of my surroundings, educated during my twenty-year residency in New York City, had been severely dulled by my lack of sleep. Unfortunately it doesn’t dull the humiliation and sense of violation you feel as a result of falling victim to the pettiest of crimes—pick pocketing. Madrid is apparently notorious for gangs of “gypsies” who work in packs to infiltrate the belongings of the common tourist. (Or so my neighbor Ramona told me.) They target the weary traveler, who may be carrying several suitcases and packages, surrounding them on all sides with a tight grip. This makes it almost impossible for the traveler to move at all, and that’s when they make their move. But before anything can be checked, they are out of sight and onto the next victim.

That being said, you can just imagine for the rest of my vacation how differently I viewed things, and how overly diligent I might have been in my fight against “the gypsies.” I think I even scared a few people in Plaza Mayor when I inadvertently swung around and nearly hit them in the face, their bodies coming uncomfortably close to my zippered pockets. One girl even screamed, perhaps assuming that I might be one of the gypsies myself, my sudden outburst clearly indicative of a bad moral character.

Or perhaps she was horrified by the growing set of luggage under my eye region. Though I tried to catch up on my sleep, the typical bag under my eye had grown to enormous proportions, threatening to convert into a large steamer trunk if I didn’t do something fast. And even though I was finally beginning to feel like myself again, my face apparently hadn’t caught up with the process. It was still in London somewhere, perhaps searching for the next Andrew Lloyd Webber musical.

I wish there was an easier way to make the transition from one continent to another. I also wish there was a cheaper way to travel. These days, the dollar is so bad, you can barely get out of McDonald’s in a foreign country without paying twenty dollars. (And that’s just for the Happy Meal.) So while I thoroughly enjoyed my time in London and Madrid, I’m afraid Europe is out of the question for a while. Not until somebody keeps our dollar bill from suffering the same kind of jet lag we suffer when traveling abroad. Because if the dollar ever began suffering from chronic jet lag, it would not be beneficial for anyone.

But that’s just me. How do you react to jet lag?

My New Years Substitution

So it’s the first day of the year. The first day of the rest of your life. The day when you look forward with excitement and awe to all the possibilities the New Year might hold for you. Will you get a new job? Will you fall in love? Will the public ever get tired of hearing about Britney Spears?

In other words, this should be a very optimistic time. And yet this morning I woke up with a bit of a headache, and a day filled with dark clouds and pouring rain. Not exactly what you’d call a buoyant beginning for 2008. So instead of greeting the New Year with energy and enthusiasm, I crawled in bed and went back to sleep.

But now I’m wide awake, and sober, and my mood hasn’t gotten much better. What happened? Last night I was so upbeat and full of energy, and today I feel like I just hit BANKRUPT on “Wheel of Fortune”. Other than residual lethargy from an evening of celebrating with friends, there shouldn’t be this gloomy feeling pervading my spirit. And yet, I find myself looking toward the future with uncertainty…perhaps even doubt. Will 2008 be better than 2007? Will the War in Iraq ever end? Will someone please explain to me why Paris Hilton is important?

I find myself filled with so many questions that I can’t quite see the future as clearly as I thought I did. So instead of writing the traditional list of New Years Resolutions, I decided to deconstruct my many thoughts and fears, and try to figure out why I have so much angst about the coming year. A substitution for the typical resolutions, if you will. (It also prevents me from having to make any promises I know I won't keep. Like giving up my $4 cup of Starbucks coffee, for instance.)

So here is a partial list of my questions for 2008:

Will the Writer’s Strike ever end? Or is Winter television going to be filled with a slew of reality shows like “Family Fight Club” and “Skid Row Nation?”

Will iTunes ever give us a “Free Song of the Week” that’s actually good?

Will steroid use in sports darken the careers of more legendary athletes?

Will the Spice Girls be as popular as they were before?

Will J K Rowling have success past Harry Potter?

Will Hilary become the first female President?

Will (fill in the blank) ever come out of the closet?

Will my 1-year-old iPod continue its swift journey toward irrelevancy?

Will the real Lindsay Lohan please stand up?

These are the kinds of questions plaguing me today as I take stock of the New Year. I’m sure you have a few of your own, so feel free to add them to the list.

Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be a little more optimistic.