Personally, I enjoy indoor plumbing. But that's just me.

Yesterday, Husband was on our balcony smoking, enjoying the sunshine, watching Sean crash his cars all over the sidewalk. Sean is our downstairs neighbor. He is five. He will tell you all about it, too. One is not even required to inquire. "HI, I'M FIVE!" (Interestingly enough, if you ask him how long he's been five, his brain will screech to a grinding halt, and for a time, he will stare at you as if you've asked him how to perform a heart bypass with a melon-baller. Blink. But then, the lightbulb! "FOREVER!")

In short, Sean's a hoot.

But back to yesterday. Husband came inside laughing and reported that apparently, Sean had been far too intent upon playing to be bothered with running inside when nature called. Instead, he'd jumped up, yanked up his shirt/down his pants, stomped over to the pine tree outside our bedroom window, and whizzed all over the trunk.

And that begs a question.

Why do males insist upon peeing at vertical surfaces? When you see a guy peeing outside, it's always at a wall. Or tree. Or tire. Or some non-horizontal thing. With the exception of that utterly charming writing-in-the-snow thing, you never see a man just, you know, pee. On the ground. Can someone please explain?

Jingle jangle jingle jangle

Last night's House rerun ended with Big Star's I'm in Love with a Girl. I was already dozing, but that very first chord woke me spark up--you just don't hear Big Star coming out of your teevee every day.

I'm a massive Big Star fan. As far as I'm concerned, they were responsible for the most perfect pop song ever recorded: September Gurls.

There are a few other pop songs on my near-perfect short list--REM's Me In Honey*; There She Goes, by The La's; The Producers' She Sheila; XTC's Mayor of Simpleton; Into Your Arms, by the Lemonheads; Sam Phillips'** Out of Time; Amsterdam, by Guster; New Slang, by The Shins; and of course, A-ha's Take On Me. I even consider Nick Drake's Pink Moon, Dream Academy's Life In a Northern Town, and Dean & Britta's Nightnurse***, which are admittedly dreampop, but pop none the less, eligible for the list.

Salem al Fakir's It's Only You, Pt. II belongs on it, too, but I have to admit it's lost a bit of its appeal since it was featured in that Volvo ad. Still, what a beautifully crafted song. Infectious.

Would you like to add to it?

* I've never been much of an REM fan, but I do like Out of Time an awful lot.

** She was married to T. Bone Burnett, and her CDs clearly reflect it. They're excellent.

*** I loved Galaxie 500 and Luna, too; I've always been a fan of Dean and Britta's music. I linked to the Nightnurse video for you, but I can't actually watch it--Dean Wareham looks so much like my ex when he was young that it weirds me out. Beautiful pop song, though.

We can use the fireplace tonight!

Dood! It's raining!

We've lived here three months, and these are the first raindrops I've seen.

They sure are beautiful. :-)

The Unhappiest Place On Earth

I've lived all over, and without a doubt, San Diego is the happiest, most friendly city I've ever called home. Seriously. Everywhere you look are smiles. Strangers wave, grin, say hi. When you sneeze in the supermarket, other shoppers say, "Gesundheit." Even obvious introverts wear friendly faces. The people here ROCK, and I am not exaggerating.

Everywhere but one place.

Walmart.

San Diego Walmarts are full of rude, horrid, angry, selfish, nasty, miserable people. Just like Walmarts everywhere.

My two year old step-granddaughter needs winter clothes--basics, like tights, socks, warm tees, sweatsuits, etc.--so yesterday, in order to save some money, I made a Walmart run. And I have decided that's it. Never again. I would probably have spent $20 more on the same items had I shopped at JC Penney, but I wouldn't have left exhausted and wanting to kill something (everything). I also wouldn't have felt like I needed a freaking shower.

You can call me a snob if you want to; I don't care.

There's a reason they beat you to death with that ridiculous cartoon smiley. I mean, other stores don't feel the need, you know? Only at Walmart is shopping such a massive fucking downer.

While we're on the subject, why don't we debate whether it was murder or murder-murder

I've been pondering something.

Let's say that after being convicted for the stabbing death of Roman Polanski's wife, Sharon Tate, Susan Atkins had run off to Europe to avoid serving her time. Let's say that for the past 30 years, she's been living in Spain, traveling, partying, living large, enjoying a successful and lucrative career as a musician. Let's say that while attending the MTV Europe Awards in Berlin, she is finally arrested and taken into custody as a fugitive from justice.

Do you think Mr. Polanski--and all his pathetic supporters in Hollywood--would give Ms. Atkins a pass and demand her release, saying, "Come on, it's been 30 years. Don't you think she's suffered enough? She's never even been able to attend the Grammys, for Pete's sake! And besides, she's so talented--I have all her CDs. Leave her alone--let it go."

What do you think?