2000-07-03

Day off

So nice to have today off. I got up nice and early, and discovered that the laundromat, oddly enough, is closed today yet open on the Fourth. I asked no questions, just dutifully trudged up the hill back to the house carrying my big ol' grimy bag of laundry.

I sat around, idly flipping through the newspaper, when I decided, "I wanna go to Harvard Square!"

I do realize that Harvard Square has almost been completely taken by Abercrombie & Fitch and such, but I didn't want a $35 t-shirt, I wanted comic books, so off I went to Million Year Picnic and picked up a couple of things I'd been wanting for a while: the Ellen Forney I Was Seven in '75 collection, and some stuff by Ariel Schrag. Can't say enough good about Ariel Schrag.

Now I'm sitting here having a little bit of rum with lime, listening to Suckdog's Drugs Are Nice album. I may have to shut it off shortly, though; it's starting to freak me out just a little, lit-tle bit. Tape recorders, when given to the right people, are incredibly gratifying.

I always thought it would be a great idea to put together a compilation of old tape recordings from little kids. I think that the Ben Is Dead folks were working on something like that, but I don't know if it ever came to be.

Somewhere in my parents' house exists a frightening series of cheapie 60-minute cassettes (three to a bag, no cases) produced by my sister and I over a three-year period ('79-'81), containing a number of original commerical jingles for both imaginary and actual products. The two that always surface during tipsy conversations are the "Sweet-n-Low" and "Bubbly Bath" jingles.

The former was penned by my sister specifically to annoy me during long car trips. We'd sit in the back of the Impala, careful not to stray over the imaginary line delineating MY side from HER'S, when I'd hear her start to burble, "Would you LIKE...some Sweet-n-Low? Sweetnlowsweetnlow..."

I'd clench my fists, white-knuckled, knowing what would come next. The problem was my sister's astonishing sense of timing. She'd wait just long enough to start on the next line, just long enough for me to relax, unfurl, secure in the belief that she had grown bored with her game and wouldn't sing the next line. But then: "Yes I'd LIKE...some Sweet-n-Low. Sweetnlowsweetnlow..." And on it would go until I finally broke down and lunged across the sticky blue naugahyde, shrieking "CudditOUUT!!!"

Of course, now it's hysterically funny to us, and proof positive of our evil genius.

At any rate, the tapes must be around somewhere.

lisamcc at 19:14:03

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