Dreaming in color, living in black and white

To say I'm not doing much these days would be a gross understatement. Or should it be overstatement? Whichever, it's definitely gross. The Januarys are in full force around here. I do feel inspired sometimes. But if I wait an hour, it usually passes.

Meanwhile, I've been having wildly vivid dreams lately. One of my very recurring dreams is that I'm golfing but I can never quite get the ball teed up just right. It's too close to me, then too far away, then it falls off the tee, and on and on. It's extremely frustrating.

So then I try and think what am I frustrated about. Life? Love? Writing? That Matchbox Twenty won't put out a new album? Probably the last one.

I have been thinking a bit about turning thirty-eight next month. And I have decided I'm going to go ahead and do it. I mean, when I considered the other options, the choice was pretty clear.

Seriously though, at first glance, thirty-eight seems so benign. Then I think about the whole thirty-nine-and-holding thing, and suddenly thirty-eight feels like the last year of... something. But I am fairly certain no one wants me to get into any sort of deep self-analysis on these feelings, least of all me.

Meanwhile, the wildly vivid dreams continue -- about golf, ex-girlfriends, even Family Feud, though not all in the same dream. In the Family Feud dream, the entire facade of the house across the street was one gigantic Family Feud board. And the guy who lives there was asking me survey questions. Unfortunately, Richard Dawson wasn't in the dream, so that was a little disappointing as you might expect.

A couple of nights ago I had a bit of a different golf dream. The Darryls and I were three holes from the end of our round when one of the course workers rode up on a golf cart and said all the carts had to be in immediately because they were going home for the evening. After much discussion, I finally convinced him to take my cart and my bag and just let me keep 3 or 4 clubs out so I could finish the round, and I would pick up my bag at his house later.

However, the Darryls had continued playing and were now a couple of holes ahead of me. And when I started trying to play again, I was back to the recurring dream situation and couldn't get my ball to stay on the tee.

OK, so they weren't very wild, but they were vivid, darn it! I'm open to interpretation. And interpretations. Other than I suck at golf and play way too much Family Feud online. I already know this.

I have surmised that my subconscious self is living the life my January conscious self can't. Well, note to subconscious Bone: Enjoy it while you can, buddy boy. February's coming, and conscious me will be back to normal, whatever that is.

I may even attempt to socialize with the other humans.

"Don't tell me how to be, 'cause I like some suffering. Don't ask me what I need. I'm just fine here finding me..."

Have you Scene It?

It was your typical weekday afternoon. I was fighting to stay awake for another hour or so of work, trying to get over the shock of seeing Sonny Corinthos stabbed and dropped in the river with cement blocks chained to his feet. (Fortunately, Carly happened by the waterfront, dove to the bottom of the river, somehow picked the locks on Sonny's chains, unchained him, and swam him back to the surface, all while holding her breath.) A commercial break came on, and that's when I heard it.

"General Hospital, brought to you in part by Scene It Seinfeld."

Wait. Did I hear that right? It couldn't be, could it? Two of the very cornerstones of my life coming together? Apparently, the answer to those questions is yes. Yes I did. Yes it could. And yes they have.

My initial reaction was probably not unlike many of yours--after all this time, my Nuvaring post was finally paying off! At last, they've begun marketing to the 25-39 year old straight male soap viewing crowd. And why not? There must be dozens of us out here.

Next, a Vagisil commercial came on and my thoughts turned to this new product: Scene It? Seinfeld. They've done it! It's been done.

The problem here is the same problem I always face with Seinfeld-related releases, especially around the holidays. Either everyone will get me one and I'll wind up with like four, or no one will get me one because they think everyone else will be getting me one. It can be quite the conundrum.

It didn't take long for people to start contacting me. I must say, there is something quite comforting about friends--even those I've not heard from in awhile--knowing me so well that I'm the first person they think of when there's news regarding Seinfeld, Matchbox Twenty, or Lindsay Lohan.

The female half of Kywana IM'd me one morning to see if I'd heard about it. We discussed what a great addition this will be to this year's Festivus celebration. Then Friday, a girl I've spoken to maybe once in the past year called to tell me about it. She also raised an issue I had yet to think about, saying, "No one will want to play with you because you'll know every single answer."

Drat! She had a point. I would dominate. It'd be like Kramer fighting children in karate. After careful consideration, meditation, and asking myself what would Jason & Jerry do (WWJJD), I came to a decision.

I've decided that I'm perfectly fine with always winning.

"Master of the house, doling out the charm. Ready with a handshake and an open palm..."

Un-format-ted

This post is brought to you by the iTunes Store. Now with 145 selections from Howard Jones. The iTunes Store, because after all, it's just money.

Today is Post Your Top Ten Most Played iTunes Day. OK, not really, but it could be. We could make it that. It's one of our inherent rights: life, liberty, and the permission to create obscure seemingly pointless holidays. You think the person who created International Talk Like A Pirate Day cared what people thought or that no one seemed to be observing or wearing a patch over their eye? Arrrgh! I think not, ye mateys.

There was a bit of sad news musically in the world of Bone recently. The Format broke up. I know what you're saying, "Bone, who is The Format?" Well, they were a band.

So in honor of The Format, and also to mark this newly created holiday, I present Bone's Ten Most Played iTunes.

1. She Doesn't Get It - The Format (57 plays)

Looking back now, the odds were enormously long that our paths would ever cross. I was flipping channels one night and for some reason, or more likely no reason at all, stopped on Carson Daly, which I never watch. And there they were.

To say the song they sang was catchy would be like saying Steve Jobs has done OK for himself. I dare you to listen to it and not have it stuck in your head. If you've not heard of The Format, don't worry. Not a single person I ever mentioned them to had heard of them previously.

Their relative anonymity combined with their recent breakup left me feeling a bit like a line in the song: "It never caught on. I was the only one who got burned."

2. A Long December - Counting Crows (42 plays)

I was a little late to the Counting Crows party, as Mister Jones came out while I was still in my skin-tight-Wrangler-wearing-heavy-country-music phase of the early nineties. (No, there will not be pictures.) But I'm here now. I've always been lyrically inclined, and these are amazing. One of my all-time favorite songs.

And some good news: They have a new album coming out March 25th.

3. Just Like Heaven - The Cure (41 plays)

The Cure always had great melodies. Here, the lyrics rise like a mountain to meet the friendly musical clouds, resulting in a wondrous skyscape of sonic perfection. A little aside: I had the cassette single for "Love Song." And by had, I mean, have.

4. All Your Reasons - Matchbox Twenty (40 plays)

You might think that when the new album came out, I did nothing but listen to it nonstop, over and over and over. Hmm... I forgot my point.

5. Loss, Strain, and Butterflies - Tabitha's Secret (37 plays)

This song has the distinction of having the single best line I've ever heard that I have no idea the meaning of: "Did you know with the rain in your pockets you can change the weather."

I ponder it for hours sometimes. So far, I've come up with 36 possible meanings. I think it may have its origins in one of the five houses of Zen.

6. Hey Jealousy - Gin Blossoms (36 plays)

So for like ten years I thought they were saying "Hate Jealousy." So what?

7. How Far We've Come - Matchbox Twenty (36 plays)

This would be much higher if you combined the number of plays with the number of times I watched the video online when it came out. Or no higher if you multiplied the number of plays by the number of people my age at their concert, which I roughly estimate to have been one.

8. Valerie - Steve Winwood (36 plays)

"Valerie, call on me. Call on me, Valerie." Brilliant.

9. American Girls - Counting Crows (35 plays)

I once sang this song at karaoke.

No, wait. That wasn't me. Come to think of it, it wasn't even this song.

10. You Could Be Happy - Snow Patrol (34 plays)

Here's a little known fact: They are #1 on my list of Favorite Bands or Artists with "snow" in their name. Just ahead of the guy who sang "Informer."

"I am reminded why I don't do this. I fall in love far too quickly. I never want her to forget me. When you're gone, will you call? Will you write?"

Who's bad?

Today is the day!

Occasionally I wonder if people get tired of reading the same old things here on ye olde blog. Especially when every weekend lately is the same old thing: football, girls, and golf. I mean, seriously, anymore golf and I'd have to change the name of my blog to Greenside Chats With Bone.

Besides, there's more to life than that, right? There's video games and Seinfeld and... well anyway. In an attempt to change things up and show another side of this bachelor you know as Bone (but mostly because I was craving something sweet), I added another element to my weekend.

Friday, I attempted to make some cookies. Unfortunately, I was on the phone while making them. Bad idea. Let's see, how shall I describe the end result? Have you ever bitten into a stick? Well, they were dryer than that.

By the way, on a completely unrelated note, did you know peanut butter can go bad? Sure, it might take a few years, but trust me, it can happen. Who knew!

I also went to the driving range Friday, then spent the rest of my evening watching the South Florida/West Virginia game and image googling Hope Solo. Hey, I gotta fit girls in there somewhere.

One might think that would have been the highlight of my weekend. Think again. Little Joe and I went to play golf Sunday afternoon. I was standing behind my car when he pulled up and opened his door. His radio was blaring "Bad" by Michael Jackson.

My first instinct was to say, "Turn that down before someone hears!" You know, because that's what I do anytime I'm jamming to George Michael or Bobby Brown and I think someone might be able to hear. But I kept my mouth shut. I mean, you take away a man's music, you take away his spirit, his will to live.

As we were walking towards the clubhouse, LJ informed me that he had come across an old Casey Kasem countdown on the radio and that's what he was listening to. Friends, at that moment, I wanted to suggest that we skip golf entirely and just sit in the car together listening to AT40 with Casey. But I felt that would be socially unacceptable, so we golfed.

Sunday night, not to be defeated by my earlier misadventure, I tried making cookies again. Except I didn't have enough of the required ingredients remaining, so I decided to halve the recipe.

Well, I'm not sure if I got confused with the fractions or if some recipes just aren't meant to be halved. I mean, do you halve the cooking time, too? Suffice it to say I was 0-for-2 on baking this weekend. I guess lessons learned during my one semester in 8th grade home ec have been forgotten.

I feel much more at home on the patio. So last night, I grilled, trading in my wooden spoon for tongs and an oven mitt. Apparently, the King of Pop isn't the only one who performs better with one glove.

"And the whole world has to answer right now just to tell you once again, who's bad.."