Making Flippy Floppy

I think one of the coolest things on the bleak landscape of TV right now is Logo's New Now Next music video show. They play the most fanastic videos, right in prime time, never ceasing to blow my mind. Tonight I watched videos by excellent artists MTV wouldn't dare put on it's regular line-up, even at 5:30AM (isn't that the only time they show videos these days?). Antony and the Johnsons, Bloc Party, VHS or Beta, Erasure, Depeche Mode. My favorite video at the moment is Sleater-Kinney's "jumpers" in which a bored office worker spends days cutting the little clear plastic window parts out of paper business envelopes, tapes hundreds of them together and makes a huge pair of wings, jumps off the top of a tall building, and soars all over the city. Oh, and I love the new Alanis dyke-out video. Like, we couldn't figure out what the hell was up with her hair until the very end of the video, and it's like...A-ha! She's supposed to be a lesbian... Between this show, the classic films they show, and the comedians that are actually funny, having Logo makes it worth the extra money per month for digital cable. Oh, and thank God for SoapNet. Since I started the new job, I've been missing One Life to Live everyday, so I can catch up with the Niki/Viki and Jessica/Tess crisis on Sunday when they have the weekly OLTL marathon (which has totally different backgound music than the ABC version - I never understood that). No spoilers, please!

Oh, come on, Madge. Girlfriend should NOT be tucking away songs this good on the web as fan-club-only downloads. Especially when said fan club - ICON , fabulous though it may be, costs more per year to join than the local Country Club.This is the frothiest, most fun, silliest, and most bananas Madonna song in recent memory and it should be a single, not an obscurity. How does one such as my humble self so swiftly procure such a digital disco dolly without expensive fan club memberships? Oh Betty, sometimes you can be so naive... Madonna - Super Pop MP3 5.09MB, 192kbps, 44kHz

New feature alert. I will be trying approximately one new cheese a week and blogging the cold hard facts about each bacterian goodie. All cheeses are at least tried plain and with a crusty French Bread, occasionally served atop an unfussy pasta. Keep it simple. Represent. The Cheese: Dubliner Where Purchased: Gov't Way Safeway, Coeur d'Alene Manufacturer: Kerrygold Origin: Ireland Appearance: Rock-solid, buttery color, not sweaty Smell: Vaguely pungent but not strong at all Taste: Suprisingly sharp and quite flavorful, like a less intense Parmesan, Would be really great as an accent cheese in a grilled cheese sanny along with a nice sharp Cheddar. Couldn't eat a lot in one sitting: too rich! Overall: Delicious, would purchase again. More Info: Dubliner Cheese Homepage

Hard to believe its true, but our own local mini-Tower Records is celebrating 20 years in business in Coeur d'Alene. There's a neat article in today's CDA Press mentioning the anniversary celebrations planned at the store for tomorrow and the weekend. I remember when the Long Ear opened in that tiny little Government Way strip-mall cubby hole with a few hand-built record bins, a little display case full of tapes, and an encyclopedic knowledge of music. This store blew my 13 year old mind by actually carrying some of the impossible-to-find-in-Idaho albums by bands that I was watching on MTV's 120 Minutes every Sunday at midnight. They could order import records from other countries, another first for CDA back then, and I ordered all the gorgeous but overpriced 4AD records (Cocteau Twins, Dead Can Dance, The Wolfgang Press) - they seemed so exotic, like works of art from another planet. I bought my first 2 CD's there, the day after Christmas in 1987. Santa brought me my very first CD player (quite spendy at the time) and I bought Kick by INXS and Savage by Eurythmics to play on it. Back in those days, I think owners Terry and Deon (to quote my father: "why don't they call it The Long Hair...Ha ha ha.") used to slice open a fresh vinyl copy of nearly every title they carried to play on their cooler-than-shit stereo system and they knew exactly what music to recommend to whom. I can remember their son Victor behind the counter when he couldn't have been much over ten years old and wasn't much taller than the counter , handling the register and talking about music like an old pro. It seems like every person they've had working in the store over the years has been a music geek extrordinaire, but without the snottiness that usually accompanies that role at record shops in larger cities. I honestly believe that the key reason this business has survived 20 years in the rough CDA business scene is due to their super customer service and overwhelming friendliness. Here is a place where they still remember your name when you haven't even popped in the store in five years, and when you do it's like visiting old friends. Also, in the doom and gloom of a music industry faced with lagging CD sales due to the MP3 and digital music revolution, the Long Ear have made lemonade by diversifying into the world of candles, gifts, kids books, purses and other hippy delights along with their always impressive and huge selection of CDs and DVDs. Also, nothing beats the little Long Ear 25-cents-off ticket game. I used to get whole CDs free with those tickets, and one time I actually won the jackpot (it was only about $60 if I recall, but it still rocked.) I confess I haven't haunted the place as much as I used to in the last few years, since I've become an E-bay and Amazon addict (not to mention a little thing called Soulseek...shhhh!). However, when there's a new release I can't wait for, or when I just have extra cash to blow, this is the place I head, happy in the knowledge I am supporting a local business rather than lining the pockets of a corporate big wig... Everyone stop by The Long Ear (2405 N 4th, CDA) and congratulate them on 20 Long Years and tell them thanks for providing our town with a fantastic independent alternative.

Rotator cuff tendonitis. Catchy name, isn't it? After living in pain for a month and being misdiagnosed by several expensive professionals, turns out this is my latest thrill. It feels remotely like your entire neck and shoulder ssat upon by a hippo while your arm was stuck in a freezer full of cacti. Well, okay, maybe I'm a bit of a baby when it comes to painful ailments, but this bitch has been getting worse every day. It's a little spooky waking up with a totally numb, ice-cold right arm and shooting pains in the shoulder socket and surrounding neighborhoods. Everything becomes difficult: typing, driving, drinking. Forget about masturbation. Useful doctors seem to be getting harder and harder to find these days. The first doc leered at me like the only reason I was even there was for narcotic painkillers or something (it was). He suggested it was just a wee neck spasm and told me to put ice on it, sending me off with a prescprition for Flexaril and a hit of rancid coffee breath. I'd heard some great stories about Flexaril, but sadly none of them rang true for me. They just spaced me out, not even in a fun way, and made me feel creaky like the tin man. Meanwhile my shoulder pain raged on. I decided a visit to the 'ol family Doc was in order and I managed to get in right away. Actually, I hadn't been to our 'ol' family Doc in so long that he actually died and my family had replaced him sometime back in the early '90s. Since this was technically my first visit I had to fill out an hour's worth of paperwork with a numb, barely functioning arm. The receptionist was merciless as she shoved the clipboard into my limp, blue hand. By the time I finished, my arm was so sore I would've licked a used morphine IV bag. With the solitary thought of Vicodin on my mind, I sat through an hours worth of Discovery Health Channel, the most sleep-inducing thing ever to hit the Adelphia Bronze package. Finally, after being poked and probed by an awful penguiny woman, the old doctor entered my examining room. Rather than outright beg for some good painkillers, I took the coy approach, recounting to him all the tales of pain and horror I had been experiencing, hoping he would just get the hint and write the damn prescription just to shut me up. "Just a muscle spasm" he said as he gave me the same look the first doctor had given me, a look that said "Shame on you, junkie." "I don't believe in giving out narcotics for things like this" he said as I visibly sank to the bottom of the Sea of Disappointment. He suggested 800mg of Ibuprofin three times a day and and some boring old physical therapy. Dazed, I was led back out into the lobby before I even had a chance to spit out "Gimme the god-damn drugs!" I called my mother and scolded her for picking the uptight stiff as our family doctor in the first place. Finally the other morning, I decided I could no longer take the pain, and after a mild nervous breakdown, I decided I would waltz into the Immediate Care and demand some of the good stuff. As I recounted my sad tragedy to the Doctor, I could see I might finally have an ally, as she gave me a series of looks as warm, and comforting as fresh baked-cookies-and milk. "Put out your arms and twist them like you're dumping out beer cans", she said, as I grimaced in pain. She knows me all too well, I thought. After a few similarly uncomfortable arm and shoulder routines, she lit up. "Rotator Cuff Tendonitis!" Fabulous, I thought, now gimme the pills. "I know just what you need" she said as she handed me over a crisp prescription. "This'll act as an anti-inflammatory and help with your pain." "It better had, be-otch" I thought to myself as I headed to the pharmacy. Note: I am not normally a huge pill popper or anything, but my shoulder had been hurting so rotten, I was desperate for relief. I read the label on the pill bottle with remote suspicion: "Skelaxin Metaxalone." I got on the phone. "Ever heard of Skelaxin Metaxalone?" No one had. The list of warnings was long and luscious: No alcohol ("Oh no, of course not!"), no driving, no breastfeeding, no forklift operating, no jazz dancing. So over Chinese lunch I popped one, and then another. And slowly....Finally....Sweet.....sweet.....Relief. Here was an interesting drug. It's not terribly spacey, but kills any and all pain that might linger anywhere in your tired old body in an amazing way. I had expected to float off in a narcotic haze on the couch, but I had a strange kind of energy and a tremendous sense of refreshment. It was the first time in many moons that I could clean house etc. Without saying "Ouch!" every 10 seconds. As for masturbation, well...no comment. After the initial novelty wore off, I began to crave the spaciness that comes with more Opiate-based painkillers. I mean, it is rather nice just to be able to slip away and lose an afternoon to HGTV and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Oatmeal Cookie Chunk. Well, thank heavens for old friends, one of whom stopped by yesterday armed to the gills with sweet, sweet Lortab 7.5 Hydrocodone. "Oh, those?" She was so blase about her stash of pure narcotic gold. "Here, have as many as you want, I get and endless supply, and so does my Mom, and so does my Dad." Tears practically welled up in my eyes as I realized the hassle I could have avoided by just calling her up in the first place. Pain free at last and melting into the furniture, smiling. It will have to do until I can get to Physical Therapy, which at this rate actually might have to wait until after Rehab....