December 8, 2006

I (Heart) Elton!

I went to the one-and-only New Zealand concert stop for Sir Elton John on Wednesday night with my boy and three mates. That's right, Sir Elton. How was it, you ask? It was, in a word, in-fucking-credible! It was fabulicious. It was amazing.

Songs on the set list:
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Believe, Daniel, I'm Still Standing, Philadelphia Freedom, Crocodile Rock, Tiny Dancer, I Guess That's Why They Call it the Blues, Someone Saved My Life Tonight, Sacrifice, Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word, Candle in the Wind, Rocket Man, The Bitch is Back, and Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me. Among others.

It was hit after hit after hot damn amazing hit... two plus solid hours of Sir Elton and his piano, his band, his flashy jacket, and a stadium crowd going mad. He came, he delivered, he conquered. We were all blown away! Legends get to that status for a reason, my friends.

And the brilliant capper to the evening? His encore? Your Song.

"My gift is my song and / this one's for you"

*tears*
*furious applause*

December 3, 2006

I am an internet time waster.

Any time I sit down at the computer to do something meaningful or productive, a thousand distractions coo seductively to me from within the world wide web and I succumb. You know, if it weren't for Google Images, celebrity gossip, Wikipedia, erotica, the IMDb, and sundry other brain-suckingly scandalous online delights, I'd be a freaking Nobel Prize Winner. I would be some kind of laureate.

Oh sure, I lack discipline. Such an easy finger to point. Everything is so tidy when you're assigning blame, isn't it? Of course I lack discipline! I'm a writer, for godsakes. But asking me to "just not surf the net" sounds a lot like teaching an old dog new tricks and though my youthful good looks are stunningly boundless, I am actually no longer a spring chicken. Being immortal has both perks and downsides, okay? The point is that somebody else needs to fix this problem for me.

I need an adult version of Net Nanny. I need an Online Probation Officer. Why doesn't somebody with more technological savvy than me create such a product? My personal Online Probation Officer (OPO) would allot me a set number of hours to surf the net per week. It would track how many times I actually utilize the power of Google to research tigers, international time zone conversion, or literature versus the number of times I just surf crap. Then, at the end of my allotted hours, the OPO would inform me of my various parole violations ("Cited for over-use of the words 'marton' and 'csokas' in Google Images. Three hours removed from next week's allotment.") and resolutely refuse to allow me access to the internet for any reason whatsoever until after the requisite 24 hour Web Free Period had elapsed and I was at the start of a new week with new allotted hours. This, to me, seems like the most sensible solution.

Plan B would involve me remembering the Fruits of the Spirit and then applying those hazy memories of Sunday School construction paper fruit cut-outs to my adult life in some sort of dramatic personality conversion. So basically there is no Plan B. The race of men grows weak by way of the internet. This is why the Elves sailed.