Music Monday - "A Little Respect" by Erasure

True story.

I was a freshman in high school, only 14 years old, and had a crush on our marching band's 2nd Drum Major*, Kurt Aufderheide. He was blonde, blue-eyed, tall and Mormon. (Now that I think about it, I had a thing for blondes in high school.)  I do not think that I ever had a real conversation with Kurt; he was a senior like my brother and ate lunch on the upper quad, whereas I was with all the other freshmen by our lockers, too scared to leave the safety of a mass group.

One afternoon, I called our local pop radio station, Star 100.7, and requested that they play a song.  The conversation went something like this:

DJ: Star 100.7! Who is this?
Me: Ummm. Glynis?
DJ: Hey Gwyneth, what's going on?
Me: Uhhh, can you play a song for me? A Little Respect by Erasure?
DJ: Sure thing, who do you want to dedicate this too?
Me: (not expecting this) Oh, um? Kurt Aufderhide? *stunned that this came out of my mouth*
DJ: Ooo! Is this your boyfriend?
Me: NO!!!
DJ: Well does he have your number?
Me: I'm sure he can figure out where to get it.
DJ: Alright then! Here's Erasure with "A Little Respect" going out to Kurt Aufderheide from Gwyneth!



Even though the DJ called me Gwyneth, everyone knew it was me. Didn't matter though because I taped it onto a cassette (did you know they record those conversations during the commercials, not live?) and planed to give that tape to Kurt.

The next day at school, I got up the nerve to take the tape to Kurt (I think my phone number was written on the outside.) He was surrounded by a bunch of girls and somehow I got the nerve to break in and give him the tape, say a squeeky "Hi!" and run away.

He never called.

And I think he got a Mormon girlfriend a few weeks later. She was blonde, blue-eyed and played the trumpet. AND A FRESHMAN!

Where's Kurt today?

In Baghdad. Being awesome. Getting awards. And political stuff. Working on labor issues and probably solving world hunger.

Me?
Jets for the 0.01%.
Living the dream!

We won Tournament of Champions that year. 1992 Field Show. And if you don't believe how awesome marching band can be, you gotta check out this video... of us... THE EMERALD BRIGADE!



*The 2nd Drum Major is at the back of the field, so that when you march facing away from the front, you can still keep in time. 

BOOOM! There went a chunk of the ceiling...

I ditched my Amazon Amy workout this morning. 

Instead, Hubster and I met up with my cousin Ringo at the gun range this morning. (Ringo is not his real name. I mean, could you imagine my Aunt naming her son Ringo? Well, first you would have to know my Aunt Nan, but still... who names their kid Ringo? Mrs. Starr did, but I think after 1965, you can't do that to a child. He got the name "Ringo" because he used to wear circular blue-tinted glasses like John Lennon. A friend got confused and started calling him after the wrong Beatle. It stuck. Hubs calls him Ringo. I call him Brad. His first name is actually William. It's a long story...)

Hubster is on left, Ringo on the right. He's a tall dude, I want to say 6'7 or something; today he was shooting a 40 caliber and 9 mm semi-automatic. Hubs had his 44 and brought along two 12 gauge shotguns. 

This is one of the shotguns that he MacGyver'd himself. Removed the stock and put in a pistol grip pump, then for funsies he painted it camo. Made for CQB (close quarter battles). 

I got in a little bit o shooting myself with my .38, then Hubs wanted me to shoot a couple rounds with the shotgun.

I'd like to say the center shot was mine, but it's not. I think I hit the upper left on this target. Then the second one I hit the ceiling of the range. Whoopsie daisy!

Tackett, the cat and the Jehovah's Witnesses

2001, 5th Avenue apartment in the gayborhood. Hillcrest, San Diego. 7am. Saturday morning.

We're hungover. Navy guys passed out all over the living room.

Knock knock knock at the door.

Hubster walks to answer the door; as he passes through the front room, he sees Tackett (a real piece of work, BTW) swallow the worm from a left over bottle of tequila, holding a conversation with our cat.

Hubster answers the door.

It's the Jevovah's Wintesses.

Witnesses: "Do you have a moment to talk about God?"

Hubster: "I've got a guy for you to talk to."

Hubs closes the door and walks back into the room and tells Tackett, "It's for you."

Tackett gets up from the floor, unsteadily, and weaves his way towards the front door.

Hubster wanders back to the bedroom and passes out, face first, into the mattress.

I'm reading a book, glance up to see what's going on, and listen in to the conversation at the door.

Witnesses to Tackett: "Do you have a moment to talk about God?"

Tackett: "I was just talking to the cat about that very same thing! Do you have a moment to come in?"

Witnesses, slowly backing away down the stairs: "Umm, no, that's okay. We can come back some other time."

Tackett follows them down the stairs: "Wait a minute! This cat knows SOMETHING!"

Witnesses literally start running away with fear.

Tackett walks back into the living room and tells the cat "Can you believe that? They never will breach our walls again!" And then falls on his face, passing out. Going into a loud snore.

We never did see those Jehovah's Witnesses again.