One ... two ... three four five

It's often a wonderful asset having a sister in England. It makes travel (theoretically) very affordable and stress-free and generally means we get cool presents. Especially Abigail, who has a plethora of lovely English books and an alphabet board with an English accent. Most recently, Abbey has been able to cash in on the British adoration of Bob the Builder.

Now, I'm quite proud that my daughter's not too girly and loves a show about a construction worker (though her favorite game by far is pretending to be a ballerina) and she looks incredibly cute in her recently acquired hard hat and tool belt. But as a parent, you know that at some point, your child will receive a gift that might just be intended to drive you crazy more than entertain her. My lovely sister just sent us Bob the Builder The Album. A CD full of remakes of British pop tunes, complete with lyrics all about construction and cameo appearances by the various characters. Now, I listened to the first few songs with Abbey before I put her down for her nap, and by far the most hilarious was "Mambo No. 5." That song stalked me everywhere I went during my year abroad, and I found it incredibly entertaining to hear it turned on its head. The line "a little bit of you makes me your man" became "a little bit of Bob the Builder-man." Abbey was very concerned by my guffaws of laughter.

But now, hours and hours later, I have that (*&(#^(*%@$#%^ song stuck in my head!! And I know that my relationship with that CD has only just begun ... and I haven't even heard tracks 4 through 12 yet!

Gettin' jiggy wid it

One of the local stations has been playing an all-'90s weekend, which I was at first unabashedly delighted about since they dug out many songs I enjoyed in high school and college.

Than I realized that many of these same songs were at least 10 years old -- ACK!!!

But it was still quite enjoyable strolling down my musical memory lane. My reactions covered a range of memories and times in my life.

"Losing My Religion" instantly transports me back to freshman year of high school, when I would walk to school from the apartment we lived in before moving to Pittsburgh. I'm walking along a little connector road in my stylin' orange and blue, nylon band jacket, thinking I'm so much better than my contemporaries because I listened to R.E.M. before they became huge -- thanks, big sister. "What's the Frequency, Kenneth?" was also played, which zoomed me up to the night after my high school graduation, when Marie and I went to a very muddy R.E.M. concert and spent something like four hours on the highway trying to get home, which was normally an hour away. Never did find out what was up with that traffic, though it was entertaining playing cards in my car with the drunk guy who just sort of invited himself in on our game. And what's better than singing "Meet James Ensor" and dancing around your car at 1 a.m.? He's Belgium's famous painter, you know ...

A few other songs were more of the college era -- which started 10 years ago this August, I can't believe it! "You Outta Know" reminded me of the other I-hate-men female singers of the time, like Fiona Apple, which was always a good CD to play in the dark when ticked off. Side note, Alanis was inducted into the Canadian walk of fame today -- didn't know such a thing existed, much less that the stars were flanked by royal mounties when the got their stars! I hadn't heard "Sex and Candy" in years, always cranked the radio up on that one. And then, as I headed home for dinner, Will Smith came on in all his glory "Gettin' Jiggy With It." Now, never liked that song, hated it in fact, but the image of a certain 6 foot, 2 inch friend of mine dancing to that song in his dorm room almost had me in tears of laughter! This same friend was later my swing dance partner, and though we had a blast when I wasn't taking out his bum knee, I'm sure we weren't exactly the most graceful pair!

Ah, the ability of the senses to revive vivid memories -- almost Proustian, though I don't plan to lock myself in my bedroom for years.

Now if that station would just stop playing Jesus Jones' "Right Here, Right Now" on a regular basis, I'd be happy. Come on people, the song is all about how great 1990 is going to be -- move on!

All I want for Christmas

I am normally quite good at Trivial Pursuit and enjoy flaunting that fact almost as much as my prowess at Scattergories, and so I find myself ridiculously excited about Trivial Pursuit for Book Lovers! For a hysterical review -- or at least an understanding of what English geeks find funny -- go here.

Of no particular importance or relation to the above, please remember that both my anniversary and birthday are next month ...