Archive for October, 2008

hyland’s hallucination tablets

Wednesday, October 29th, 2008

I looked up Hyland’s Teething Tablets the other day for Miss Lydia. Her gums are beginning to irritate her, much to the dismay of her poor knuckles.

Imagine my surprise to learn one of ol’ Hyland’s active ingredients is belladonna. Belladonna — seriously?!

No wonder kids get that ‘soothing’ effect. They’re too busy watching the pink elephants duke it out with the green-and-blue striped tigers on the ceiling.*

If I’m going to slightly poison anyone to the point of intoxication, I’ll just do it to myself with some Grey Goose, thanks.

________________________
* I realize what the manufacturers of Hyland’s says here as far as the safety of their product goes is most likely true. But still — belladonna?!

bubbettisms

Saturday, October 18th, 2008

As some of y’all know, way back in my high school days I was in the band. In fact, it was through band that Steven and I became friends. Our band director, Mr. Bubbett, was quite a character. Very animated and always ready with something to say, he pushed us hard to do our best every year. As high schoolers we were all snarky and rolled our eyes a lot; I’m sure we were a blast.

But even back then my wannabe-rebellious bitchy version of myself noticed how quotable he was, so I started jotting things down as they were said. By the time I was a Senior and slightly less bitchy, I had enough to make a little book of these famous quotes. Steven still has his. Even Bubbett got one.

When I was living by my lonesome in Fort Payne with only a sweater-eating Renton for company I made a horribly-designed website that I won’t even link to (it’s THAT BAD) where I posted the Bubbettisms, mainly because I didn’t have much else in material worth putting online. There they sat to ferment for a while and the Intertubes slowly did their thing.

A bit later — and I know I’ll get the insignificant details wrong — a co-worker of my Dad’s whose daughter was in the band at that time (and long-time readers . . . Hi Thomas! Hi Sally!) mentioned something to Dad about some kids in the band finding this treasure trove of Bubbett quotes on the internet. Dad owned up to the fact his own daughter wrote those, perhaps even with a bit of, dare I say it . . . pride? (band ten hut!)

A quick search before I wrote this post revealed to me some amusing information. Not only is Bubbett’s son 18 (oh my giddy aunt) he has the Bubbettisms posted on his MySpace page — ALL OF THEM — with the preface of “I am related to this guy.”

So a new generation of THS band members got to enjoy the compilation of Bubbettisms and know that others have toiled before them. Others shall toil after. And as long as you’re not making fruit salad, you shouldn’t have to worry about detention.

So, I give you . . . Bubbettisms. 1994-1998

”A champion is a loser who never quits.”

”Gosh-darn-it!”

”On the bus, we have apples and oranges. And lately, our apples and oranges have been trying to make fruit salad.”

”We’ll have a new instrument for you next week, guys, I promise.”

“If I look at you again, you’re outta here.”

”PRIDE!!!”

“Watch your intervals!”

“Be quiet, drummers!”

“Doggone it!”

“If you can’t keep with the beat, then don’t play!”

“You guys are acting like a bunch of three-year-olds!”

“Perfect practice makes perfect.”

“Quit talking, Dance Team.”

“Pit, start pouring the water.”

”It’s in my office.” (Everything in the free world is in his office, except what you’re looking for).

”Don’t worry, guys, we’ll have a chair placement.”

”The medals will be in next week. I’m sure of it this time.”

”Don’t eat or drink in the bandroom!”

”Listen to each other!”

“Ready, and, breathe.”

“Get your fanny in gear and let’s go!”

“One, two, ready, go.”

“Da, da, do, dee, rest, and do dee da da dum.”

“I’ll l get the music to you tomorrow. Okay?”

” It’s called your head. Use it!”

“Let’s go!”

“Blueberry, blueberry, pie, pie, pie.”

“Cut off with me! Stop! Stop playing!”

“No! It’s'DO-be-Do-be-Do-be-Do,’ not ‘do-BE-do-BE-do-BE-do’ !”

“Stay with the beat, people!”

“You’re gonna get something out of this. And you’re gonna listen, and you’re gonna watch.”

“Don’t play the music, be the music!”

“Lower your stand so you can see me!”

“Y’all come on, I’m ready to start. Hurry!”

“You’re dragging!”

“B flat. One, two, ready, play.”

“Miracles are the result of ordinary people doing extraordinary things.”

“It’s my fault that the judges gave us a two.”

“Drummers, set up the chairs and stands.”

“Make it flow, guys.”

“Just one more time.”

“Lot to do, little time.”

“Band, horns up!”

“One, two, scales play go!”

“Trombones, what are you doing?!”

“Chris VonHagel, are you eating?”

“Guys, stand up for the pledge.”

“When’d the vibes break?”

“Horn angles, people, horn angles!”

“Pride is a personal comittment. It is an attitude that separates excellence from mediocrity.”

“Miles, get your hand out of that!”

“My daughter has an ear infection.”

“I’m real exited about this concert!”

“If you guys sell 3,000 boxes of fruit, I’ll shave my head!”

“Hey, Joey, ya wanna play the harp part on the keyboard for this piece we’re playing in Symphonic Band?”

“You guys are out of tune!”

“All right. I’ll give y’all a big cue for that last note, and then maybe y’all can get it right.”

“The concert is just around the corner, and you keep on messing this up!”

“Y’all get your horns up!”

“Quit speeding up!”

” ‘Freeday’ is not in my vocabulary.”

“Ahhhhh! I’ve got a splinter in my finger! Get it out get it out get it out!”

“Who’s trying out for All-State?”

“We’re way behind on the fruit sale.”

“Who wrote on the floor with chalk?!”

“At the moment I give the downbeat to B flat and you are not in your seat, you’re gonna have a big chunk taken out of your grade.”

“Don’t be late.”

“I will not tolerate that kind of goofiness in my bandroom!”

“I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Why aren’t you playing?!”

“I don’t understand why you want to mess up a beautiful piece like this!”

“Tubas, don’t splat out like that!”

“Drummers, do you even have your music out?!”

“Why do you guys not even have the decency to cut off with me?!”

“Dad-gum-it!”

“We can do this!”

“Please quit fooling around with the lights!”

“I sware I changed that!”

“Does anybody have an extra stand? Anybody? Hel-l-l-l-l-l-l-o-o-o-o-o-o-o?”

“Ewww, what kind of a note was that?!”

“Has anybody seen my tuner?”

“Go answer the phone.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll find it.”

“I’ll fix it.”

“I’ll get it.”

“I’ll make it.”

“I’ll buy it.”

“I can’t find it.”

“I can’t fix it.”

“I can’t get it.”

“I can’t make it.”

“I can’t buy it.”

“Pashaw, pashaw!”

“All right, guys, bring the ladder back now. Hey guys…………. This isn’t funny!!! Hey! Hel-l-l-l-l-o-o-o-o-o?”

“If you guys don’t stop bringing drinks in the bandroom, I’m going to have a tile floor put in!”

“Who tied his bookbag to a chair?!”

“Yes, we’re playing today.”

“Y’all knock it off!”

“Hurry up boys and girls.”

“Can I trust y’all on that?” (No.)

“Y’all shut up!”

“Get your fruit sales in!”

“They were gonna put the tile floor in, but…….”

“I need some more coffee!!!!!!!!!!!”

“No, I didn’t pee in my pants, I just spilled some coffee.”

“I left it in the auditorium. Go get it.”

“Is my band practice so boring that you have to bring remote control cars to amuse yourself?!”

“Watch the drum major!”

“Read the chalkboard!”

“I need to see you, you, you, you, you, and you.”

“Get out of this classroom!”

“I’ll make a tape for you by tomorrow.”

“Put ‘em up, guys.”

“Who said that?!”

“That thing is way out of tune!”

“You’re late.”
“Somebody in the saxophone section is really sharp.”

“Guess what guys? We’re going to play the scales backwards!!!”

“Somebody wake up the drummers.”

“Who broke that stand?!”

“You guys need to sign up for chair placements.”

“Play when I tell you to play. Nothing more.”

“Watch!”

“I wanna hear a good, full sound.”

“Play it nice and crisp.”

“Sit up straight.”

“Get a gorgeous sound.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’m doing that right now.”

“That sound was so thick I felt like I could walk right through it and take a bath in it.”

“Check your pitch.”

“Don’t look at him. You gotta watch me.”

“Don’t get mad at me just because I’m telling you what to do; I know more than you do.”

“The uniforms are in!!! Yes, yes, yes!!!!!!!!!”

“When you put on that uniform, you are a part of something. You represent something. And you should feel that.”

“The sum is greater than the equal of it’s parts.”

“I am on edge today, and I would rather stop this rehearsal than to have to yell at y’all.” ( he was already yelling.)

“Where is everybody?”

“We’ve got to sell those tickets, y’all.”

“You can disrespect me, but you better not disrespect Bach.”

“I see somebody playing with their legs crossed!”

“Sit on the edge of your chairs.”

“Wether or not I like it I’m conducting this class, and wether or not you like it you’re gonna play.”

“Again!”

“Okay guys, I think we got it now.”

“I know this repitition stuff gets a little tedious on ya, but it’s necessary.”

“I hear somebody playing, but not everybody.”

“I remember when. . .”

“Miles did the cutest thing. . .”

“We did not get where we are now by ‘playing it safe’.”

“Guys, be quiet!”

“How many times do I have to tell you. . .”

“You’re too loud!”

“You’re too soft!”

“More support!”

“I would rather play hard music and not get a best in class than to play easy music and get everything.”

“You guys have got to watch Natalie!!!”

“I want the sound to be so rich and warm that the audience wants to crawl up in your horn and take a nap in it.”

“I have no idea what we’re doing for halftime.”

“I am not a superstitious person, but I will say this: when we go to State Contest, we will wear white pants, we will not perform at UAB, we will pray, and I will use my lucky baton.”

“Be more than a high school band.”

“I preached and preached to you about A flat concert for weeks, and what’s the first note you play? A natural!!!”

(Mallory Quote)”Daddy, I hafta go potty.”

“We’re never gonna get anywhere unless we get our butts out of Alabaster, Alabama.”

hey you, get off my lawn

Saturday, October 11th, 2008

Right around the time Lydia was born I happened to notice something moving around in the natural area beyond the lawn in our back yard through the windows. I looked up in time to see a bright yellow go cart backing up out of the natural area into the trees. I also noticed a trail had been made. This was not the go cart’s first venture.

I was not amused by the go cart thing leaving trails within ten feet of our sod and we made plans to talk to the known culprits but it kept getting pushed off to the side. Property infringement becomes a low priority when you have a newborn.

The trail crept closer and closer to our sod and was well within our property. My blood pressure rose every time I saw that flash of yellow but we still put it off. One side effect of large property lots is you don’t get a chance to meet your neighbors very often and, except for our next door neighbors, we have not met a soul in the two and a half years we’ve lived here. It would just suck for our introduction to be, “Yeah, hey, I’m Carrie and I live over there. Y’all are on my property. Git!”

Then last month, the dirtbikes started. Kids on dirtbikes all over the neighborhood, up and down the road, all on that trail in our yard, even after dark. Blood pressure rising.

Last Sunday, I saw the dirtbikes had connected the trail in our backyard up by the left side of our house and up to the street, skimming the sodline by inches. That was the last straw for me. It just had to end or they’d be all over the place. Maybe I sound like a grumpy old lady but I just don’t want dirtbikes making trails around my house.

I throw on some clothes over my unshowered, un-makeuped self while Steven keeps the Kiddo. The whole time I’m walking down the street toward the Go Cart house I was feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience; I couldn’t believe I was about to do what I was totally determined to accomplish. I slipped into my work personality and rang the doorbell.

A young girl answered the door, took a look at me, and said, “I’ll go get my mom.” The mom came up with another younger child and she was very nice. We talked for a few minutes. I introduced myself and in so many words I think my spiel did come out just like I was afraid it would, but c’est la vie, non? She was nice about it and it turns out that there are quite a few families in the neighborhood that have dirtbikes and similar equipment that we see riding around the neighborhood.

Much innocence was feigned — I would’ve done the same — and I just asked if they could spread the word w/ the others if they saw them. The little girl assured her mom: “Oh, I don’t ride on that trail.”

Ahh, so it’s a known trail. I wonder if it has a name like The Bunny Slope or Slalom.

On the way back I didn’t feel quite accomplished as I could still hear the dirtbikes barreling through our back yard. Well, if I can talk to a mom, I can definitely talk to a kid. I get our mail out the mailbox and wait for the next kid to come up by the house — only a 30 second wait. I noted that his Alabama shirt would make this slightly easier.

I would guess he was 13 and he was quite polite, though he first politely suggested that it was Mr. John’s property (“Uhh, no.”) then politely asked if they could use the trail since it’s already there (“No.”).

I am very pleased with myself for finally speaking to the people going through our yard. So far, not a single motorized piece of equipment has been spotted and hopefully the trail will grow back over soon.

However, I do feel bad that that was our first — and so far, only — introduction to those neighbors. We are those weird, creepy neighbors that never come outside. The ones Cathy and I told stories about with the other neighborhood kids while growing up.

That night, after finally getting my well-deserved shower, I lamented that to Steven.

“I think that’s great,” he said. “I want to be that family. That way they won’t bother us. They probably think we’re vampires.”

So. We’re the Vampire Family of Lime Creek. Beware.