Review of Bat III

I’ve been waiting for Bat III to come out since I heard about it for the first time two years ago. Today, the suspense is over. I got up early, got ready for work, and went straight to Target (I couldn’t wait the extra hour for B&N to open) to buy the cd. I listened to it all the way to work and brought it inside with me lest I get a chance to listen between appointments.

Bat III was supposed to be the reteaming of Meat Loaf and Jim Steinman, but because these two musical geniuses can’t get along for extended periods of time, they got in a fight and Meat ended up using mostly old Steinman stuff in addition to songs by Desmond Child on the album. Steinman ultimately had nothing to do with the album even though it is dedicated to him.

Because of this, the magic isn’t there. It’s a good album but doesn’t hold a candle to Bat I and II.

For one thing, the wonderful song “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now” is made into a beautiful duet. However, Meat opts for a “younger” voice and features some swede or welsh singer (Marion Raven). For those of you who know, Meat’s female leads always have a distinct, somewhat Bonnie Tylerish, sound; Marion does not. She sounds contemporary and breathy. This is disappointment number one.

Disappointment number two comes with Meat’s voice. To be honest, he’s losing it. In addition to that, the passion that he sang with on the Bat I and II albums just isn’t there.

It’s not all bad though. It’s better than the two album’s Meat put out between now and Bat II. Of course, the Steinman songs are the best, but another highlight to the album is Brian May (guitarist from Queen). In “Bad for Good,” May has a solo and he’s fab.

Meat can still sing and he’s still my favorite of all time, but without Steinman, some of the magic has disappeared. I can only hope that they’ll reteam for a real Bat III and make all my dreams come true.

The Monster Is Loose

Tomorrow is a big day for me. Not because it’s Halloween but because MeatLoaf’s new cd, Bat Out of Hell III, is being released. I’ve already planned my morning. Luckily, I don’t have to be at work until 10:00, so that will give me enough time to run by Barnes and Noble, which opens at 9:00, pick up the cd, and be at work on time. I’m so excited.

On a side note, I’m considering picking up the new Stephen King novel as well. He’s trying his hand a romance; it should be interesting.

What Color Are Your Pupil Hairs?

After church on Sunday, I went to my sister’s house. Me, Stevie, and Jared were in the living room. Teri had taken her shirt off and walked to her bedroom with her tanktop on, Stevie had taken his shirt off and put another on, and Jared was parading around without a shirt on. I said, “Well, everyone else has taken their shirts off. Maybe me and Bell [Teri’s dog] should take our shirts off, too.” I know this doesn’t make sense, but that is what I said.

Jared said that Bell hardly had any hair on her belly to begin with. Then he said “except her pupil hair around her nipples.”

Stevie, who is 15, and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. We told Jared that “pupil” didn’t think what he thought it did. I told him that it either meant a part of your eye or a student. He told me that there must be 3 definitions since it obviously meant hair around your nipples.

I tried to reason with him without telling him the real word since I knew if I did he would use it all day. Last week I told him he was resourceful and all through lunch everything was “resourceful.”

I hope this has brought a smile to everyone's face. Good Day.

Heather Mills Is A Liar

Sir Paul McCartney’s soon to be ex-wife is alleging that he beat her. I do not believe that. In fact, that’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard.

I’ve come up with an unbeatable defense lest Sir Paul hire me as his attorney. Listed below are my reasons why idiot Heather Mills is lying:

1) Sir Paul smokes weed; people who do this are relaxed, not hyped up. Relaxed people don’t beat their wives

2) Sir Paul is a vegan. It is a proven fact that only meat eaters beat their wives.

3) Heather Mills only has one leg. People do not beat people with only one leg.

4) Sir Paul nursed his true love, Linda, through her fatal cancer. It is another proven fact that people who nurse their wives through cancer do not abuse their wives.

All in all, I think I’ve developed a air tight case for Sir Paul’s innocence. I would just like to give him a shout out: Sir Paul, we know Heather is lying! Stand tall.

Dirty Things

I really love to see dirty things. Not dirty-naughty things like porn but dirty-dirty things like actual dirt.

I love when Jon replaces the air filter in our house. He knows my love of dirt and though he thinks it strange, he shows me the filthy filter before throwing it away. The dirtier it is the more gleeful I am.

I also love that my new vacuum cleaner is bag less and has a clear area where the dirt is collected. My goal is to vacuum so frequently and keep my house so tidy that I will one day vacuum and there will be no dirt or cat hair present. However, seeing as how I haven’t vacuumed in a few days, that day is a long time coming.

Yesterday, one of our cats vomited on our comforter. Today Jon is taking it to the Laundromat (our washer is too small for a king size comforter) to wash in a big washer. It’s the kind that loads in the front and you can actually see your clothes washing and the dirt being lifted from your clothes. I envy Jon. He gets the pleasure of seeing our dirty comforter become clean, but even better, he gets the pleasure of seeing just how dirty it is. Ah, to sit and watch our blanket tumble around in filthy water until it’s rinsed clean. What a good time.

I know this sounds like we’re terribly dirty people, but I promise, we aren’t. I think I just like the satisfaction of knowing that something is clean. Actually, who am I kidding? I’m just fascinated by dirty things.

I Had A Tail

It gets cold a lot in my office, so I keep a shawl drapped over the back of my chair so I always have something to wrap up in.

Today, I got up and went to the bathroom, which isn't a long way from my desk, but isn't next door.

I didn't notice until I walked into the bathroom and noticed something trailing behind me in the mirror. My shawl had gotten stuck in my pants.

No one told me I had a shawl dangling off my butt as I sauntered to the bathroom.

Thanks for nothing.

A Toast to Mothers

Last night at my grandma’s house, me, my sister, mom, nephews, and grandma were sitting around talking just before it was time to leave for evening worship services. We lost track of time, and before we knew it, it was time for church to begin and we were still sitting on Grandma’s couch.

Knowing we wouldn’t make it in time, we decided to have services at Grandma’s house. My two nephews led us in songs, prayer and the reading of Bible verses. It was so precious to hear my youngest lamb read scripture and contribute to our discussion with biblical examples that had nothing to do with the topic at hand.

My oldest nephew was just as darling. He was the man of the hour. He led us in prayer and prayed for mine and my mother’s safe trip back to Savannah.

I feel such a fierce love for my nephews. I am so proud of them and their achievements. When they accomplish something or behave in an admirable way, I feel like my heart will bust with love for them. They are beautiful, sweet boys who will make wonderful men someday.

I know I say I don’t want children, but if I ever have an accident, I hope they will be as sweet and good as my nephews. It seems like I hear about or see so many spoiled and bad kids that to run across a sweet, caring, well-behaved child is refreshing. You know they come from good people and their mothers are doing an excellent job of raising them. I raise my glass to Teri, Alicia, and Jennifer and their wonderful children.

Nobody's Got No Class

Recently, Lindsey Lohan lost her purse allegedly containing millions of dollars worth of jewelry. The bag was recovered by a security guard and returned to her. It was in the news the other day that the guard is still awaiting a thank you or acknowledgement from Miss Lohan herself.

Yes, if I lost my purse that contained tons of jewelry (I think we’re forgetting to ask why the heck anyone totes around tons of expensive jewelry in her purse in the first place), I would be very thankful to have it returned. I would profusely thank the finder and would probably send him or her flowers or more if I was a millionaire. Although any classy person would thank someone in a situation like this, not everyone has class.

However, this guard’s wait for a thank you made me pause. Why should he expect an apology? After all, he was doing his job.

This made me think about things on a larger scale and how in today’s society, everyone expects something these days. Everyone is automatically deserving of something; they’re owed it. Never mind that they’re doing the right thing or, God forbid, their job. They want to be recognized.

I feel like I’m not being clear. I think workers should be valued for doing their job and I think the classy thing for Miss Lohan to do would be to thank the guard, but I don’t think it’s mandatory. It just pisses me off how people feel they’re owed something just because they’re doing the right thing.

What's Your Hitman Name?

The Black Angel People Iced: Four Car Bombs Planted: Six Favorite Weapon Sack full of doorknobs Arms Broken: Nineteen Eyes Gouged: Ten Tongues Cut Off: Thirteen Biggest Enemy: Garbage Pete Get Your HITMAN Name AWSOME-GAME

I stole this off of Alicia's son's myspace page.

As The Black Angel, I would get my name from wearing all black. I would wear super sexy high heeled boots and red lipstick. People would underestimate me because of my fabulous good looks, but I would show them.

Something Is Strange In This Picture: Can You Figure It Out?

Dead Cats Are Off Limits

Recently, Petco hosted a cat poetry contest for its employees. Jon entered one of my cat haikus. I'm not sure which one he entered, so I'll post them both.

Frisky Kitty

Bounding toward me
Batting your paw at my hand
Playtime never ends.

Pounce
Swatting at the toy
Leaping from couch to carpet
Pouncing on the mouse.

However, I've been robbed. Someone entered some stupid poem that rhymed. They also included a story about their dying cat and a picture. Ugh. If I knew we could enter sob stories along with our poems, I would have won. My cats' lives are one big sob story. Boo on people who go for the sympathy vote with dead cats. Some people obviously care more about dead cats than talent.