Achoo.

I've been knock-knock-knocking at death's door for the past few days with a nasty cold-flu hybrid. Blech.

Jody and I are headed home today for Christmas, so this here internet space will probably be fairly quiet for the next few days. But before I go, I thought I'd share a couple of gifts I received this past weekend from some totally awesome friends of mine:

Vintage decanters with tags for bourbon and scotch from Ashley

Reindeer shotglass from Jess and Tyler

But It's FLUFFING Disneyland!

Story time, children. Gather 'round and be sure to have those flasks handy because this one's a doozy. It takes place at the Happiest Place on Earth, which was temporarily and unseasonably transported to Dive Bar, Twilight Zone, USA for a few short minutes last Thursday evening. And because it was Disneyland, and I'm most certainly a classy gem of a gal, I'm just going to insert the word "Fluff" whenever a saltier adjective was deployed.

I was enjoying a glass of wine* in the Napa Rose Restaurant lounge at Disneyland's Grand Californian Hotel with Brett (single malt) and Brady (a Hef, I think). If you've never been to Napa Rose, I'd recommend it with a whole heap of exaltations because it is one of my favorite restaurants. The seasonal menu is always chockablock full of delicious combinations and the wine list is about nine pages long and includes a $3000 bottle of Screaming Eagle. In other words, this ain't Goofy's Kitchen. It might be more casual due to its proximity to Disneyland, but it certainly still qualifies as Adults-only-preferred fine dining.

While we were enjoying our drinks, a duo of preschool-age children were tearing a swath of destruction across the lounge. Team Tornado was, apparently, unsupervised by their parents, so every thirty seconds they'd stumble around the corner and chase each other past our table. Though I wasn't about to say anything, that sort of behavior is generally considered rude no matter where you're dining, and I and my fellow dining companions were no less annoyed by the game of Duck-Duck-Goose that was circling our table.

Finally, an older gentleman who was dining in the corner stood up and approached the eye of the storm. Though it was muffled, I could make out that he was respectfully requesting the parents ever-so-kindly put a leash and muzzle on their brood (but like I said, his appeal was delivered far less bluntly).

"This is DISNEYLAND!" Came The Father's indignant reply.

"No," The Gentleman countered, "This is the finest dining establishment in Orange County."

(True. One point for the silver fox.)

The aggravated Father muttered something else in an air of defiance and The Gentleman explained that he likes children, but that this was no place to bring your young ones if you can't control them. He returned to his seat and we returned to our conversation.

A few minutes later, The Father stormed over to The Gentleman's table, stopping just short of his shoulder. "I can't believe you just FLUFFING said that to me, fluffer!" He huffed.

"You can't FLUFFING speak to me like that!" He puffed.

The Gentleman was caught off guard. "I sincerely apologize," he stammered.

"LIKE FLUFF YOU WILL!" Bellowed The Father. "You don't FLUFFING speak to me like that! FLUFF! Don't you EVER fluffing speak to me like that! I'll do whatever I FLUFFING want to!"

You get the idea.

Eventually an older woman dining with the family pulled The Father aside with a firm, "ENOUGH OF THIS." (I can only assume she was his mother, in a deft and perhaps 30-years-too-late demonstration of what parental discipline should look like.)

The Father hurled a few more fluffs in The Gentleman's direction and proceeded to pitch a prissy snit fit in the corner for the duration of his meal.

As they filtered out of the lounge, other diners chose teams by offering their thanks to The Gentleman or his "It's Us Helpless Parents Against The Evil Childless World!" nemesis. I briefly considered making a t-shirt until I remembered I left my screen printer at home.

But you can bet I'd have been on Team Find Dining with a bottle of that Screaming Eagle for refreshment.

*It was an old vine Zin, if you must know. The Zen of Zin was a bit better, I think, so choose wisely next time you find yourself in the Napa Rose lounge ordering one of the two zinfandels on the menu.

For You, Blue (And Santa Two)

I'm pretty sure we can all agree that it wouldn't be Christmas without another installment of Laurel's Annual Totally Awesome Christmas Music Blowout Spectacular Extravaganza, right?

Ahem.

I've been known to make Christmas mixes to hand out to friends in December bearing titles like "Christavaganza!" and "For You, Blue (And Santa, Too)," and this year is no exception. Though not to toot my own Christmas bugle or drum my own tiny toy drum, but this year's mix is my favorite so far. I've scoured the Interwebs and my own cavernous iTunes library to bring you the best of the best in Christmas music. Because of that, I've decided to share the cheer and the joy and the heartwarming magical heart-snowflakes with all of you. Squeeee!

Without further ado, I present you:

For You, Blue (And Santa Two): 2009 Edition, The Sequel.

Grab it while it's hot here.

Also, to wit, I had a mini-crisis while working on the mix in the form of Crippling Indecision (in caps, natch). Beardy Norseman Lindstrøm recorded a blippy, triumphant take on "Little Drummer Boy," and fellow Scandos Slaraffenland offered their own jangly, loose interpretation. I love both songs and said Crippling Indecision prevented me from determining which song was a better fit. So! You'll note that the packaged mix contains the Lindstrøm version, but in case you'd like to determine whose drummer boy fits best within the mix, then you can grab the Slaraffenland version here.

It goes without saying that these are available for a very limited time, so get clicking, children.

Oh, and? YOU'RE WELCOME.

≠

My good friend Jen directed me to Does Not Equal's website. They do jewelry, they do double-finger rings, and they do engraving - for a modest $62 USD, which ain't half bad. I'm coveting from afar as a double-finger ring is something I've been sighing over for quite some time now. Maybe I'd get one engraved with "Le Sigh."

Or maybe, "Broke and Destitute."

Ring Finger

Unbeknownst to me, I've got people really working hard to get me married off. Like I have to do any persuading because I'm such a catch, but take a gander at the glamour shot Mike Posey put up on his blog yesterday. As IF you needed convincing.

I'll be taking suitors, fellas, so line up. Can't cook a darned thing, but I make a mean Gimlet.

P.S. I might add that Mr. Posey is absolutely single as well. And searching. Desperately. Please, someone, just put him out of his misery.

H&M, Let's Get With The Times, Okay?

I'm not referring to your COMPLETELY AMAZING Holiday 2009-2010 boots, of course, but rather the fact that you have yet to take the glorious leap into the warm, inviting waters of e-commerce.

Winter Song

Faithful readers of this here Internet Space With The Picket Fence Around It (and even those who have only deigned a cursory glance in its direction) are likely aware that I'm not one to talk about God, capital G and All His Holiness And In Florid King James Hysterics on this platform very often. The reasons are myriad and have little to do with my relative closeness or distance to said Almighty. More to the point: when it comes to effusing on any number of the many loves of my honeycomb heart, what occupies the most space is often the most difficult to explain with any semblance of undisputed authenticity. (G'head. Explain Love to me in a way that doesn't cause me to roll my eyes. Not so easy, is it?) So while I can wax poetic about the City of Angels or my deep and unending love for Andrew Bird all day long, when it comes to unaffected candidness about my faith, I've been fairly mum.

For reasons that should be fairly evident, the difficulty lies in the act of sharing the parts of myself that are sacred in their closeness to my core. While this might be copacetic for certain areas of my life, what I believe in - and would stake my very life upon - and the concept of privacy and members-only secrecy are at odds with one another. The incongruence between the belief and the outward proclamation of said credence haunts me like a specter, a howling banshee that would seek to flout my faith in God as a series of worn-out clichés and supremely tired, spiritualized bon mots.

Meh.

As with anything in an overcrowded culture rife with derivative rhetoric and a status quo base enough to make grown men weep, I try to avoid contributing to the din as much as I can. It's enough to eke out a portion of this life devoted to truth and beauty in their purest sense (though even those words fail miserably to convey their own inherent meaning). But to also explain what moves my heart, what causes it to beat - the impetus for cranking those gears in this head of mine? Surely you don't expect me to have perfected that so early in the game?

I would hope that my faith (and its paramount worth) is evident in the way that I live my life, though I realize that's not always the case. For that, and for the continual striving that misses its mark more often than not, I will spend my life apologizing. In some ways, we all will, won't we? But it should be said, if at least to remind us to strive ever onward. Even still, sometimes it feels that for every two steps forward, I fall four steps behind and whether or not you can relate doesn't change the fact that I must keep moving. Ever onward.

I'm not sure what's brought about this clarifying moment of divulgence, but I suspect that Advent has something to do with it. Whatever your belief (or lack of) in God, Jesus, or Any Of His Other Pals, I think the one thing we can all agree upon (aside from the incontestable awesomeness of The Arcade Fire) is that this world is not as it should be. It longs, it aches, it groans for reconciliation, for wrongs to be righted. For justice. And for peace, though the semantics that word possesses are a mere shadow of its weighty meaning.

Because of this, at Christmas, I'm prone more than ever to long, to ache, for reconciliation. To grieve what is in disrepair. And to wish I could find some way to explain this, to elucidate what my heart longs for. To somehow provide words to realize an idea. In so many ways I've already fallen short (or long, depending on your position on gleefully liberal adjective use). But there's a Christmas hymn that I love, that I've always loved, that I've probably played a hundred times on our piano in the past 6 weeks, and I think it does a better job of snatching those ideas from the ether and providing words to usher them into understanding. Thanks for bearing with me while I figure out how to find those words for myself.

O Come, O Come Emmanuel

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, O come, Thou Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai's height,
In ancient times did'st give the Law,
In cloud, and majesty and awe.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

The Year in Review: 2009

Here's a (schmaltzy) slideshow I put together of 2009 in photos. Enjoy!

Maybe because the year is almost over and Christmas music is designed to make your heart bleed with nostalgia, or maybe I'm just a sentimental schmuck. Whatever the case...here's a look back on 2009 and the people who made it one helluva year.

Squeeeeeee

It just keeps getting BETTER. (And by "it" I mean The Year 2010 In Music. And by "music" I mean FLEET FOXES.)

The Cute

Jody posted this on her blog this morning and I just...couldn't...help...myself....

GAH!

The Only Top Ten Post I'll Do This Year...

...Because the rest of my lists will be top one hundreds!

Laurel's Top One Hundred Lean Cuisines She Ate For Dinner in 2009

Laurel's Top One Hundred Complaints About This Season's Project Runway

The Top One Hundred Things Laurel Likes About Andrew Bird (2009 Edition)

Laurel's Top One Hundred Adjectives To Use Frivolously And Without Restraint

The Top One Hundred Times Laurel Was Utterly Bamboozled By Season 5 of Lost

So get ready, is all I'm saying, because we are in for quite a December, folks.

Of course I'm joking, but it's only to butter you up for what's to come next. At the risk of inviting inordinate amounts of H8 in the commentz section (and no, that wasn't actually a prop 8 reference; the texting parlance simply seemed apropos), the latter half of Neko Case's stellar Middle Cyclone features 20-or-so minutes of crickets chirping. The track, titled simply "Marais la nuit" seems like a fitting soundtrack for the year 2009 in music.

Let the fireballs fly.

But first, hear me out (that means you, Tyler Kemp).

(And also Brett McCracken. You'll see my list and raise me at least two snide comments, I'm sure.)

Perhaps my unease lies in the fact that, looking back, 2009 has been a year in music completely unlike 2008. Maybe the diametric opposition between the Fleet Foxes juggernaut and the chillwave-meets-noize explosion of 2009 was too great a chasm for me to leap across.

It's a losers game at this point, because how can I even begin to criticize a year that gave us this before the dust of 2008 even had time to shake off? I've ruminated and agonized (not really) for weeks about why I'm so ambivalent toward 2009's musical offerings, but no clear answer has revealed itself. Perhaps my hopes were too high for favored bands (Andrew Bird, Wilco), or perhaps the micro-trends in music this year simply didn't find footing with me (Neon Indian, Bibio, Japandroids) or maybe there were quite a few good albums that won't reach their full impact until months or even years later (just a guess, but Dirty Projectors and Grizzly Bear come to mind). Whatever the case, I find myself at the end of a year I was most certainly dreading for a variety of reasons and have now realized that the only thing subpar about it was the music. (Tyler, I threw that last dagger in there just for you. Hugs and kizzes, friend.)

I kid. Sort of. But without further ado or explanation, here are my top ten albums and top ten songs of 2009, for your enjoyment or admonishment. All's I can say is: I'm really, really, really looking forward to 2010.

Top Ten Songs of 2009

10. Kiss With A Fist - Florence And The Machine

A raucous, rambunctious love song in the loosest sense. It's an gleefully irreverent take on the volatile Sid and Nancy types of this world.

9. Lisztomania - Phoenix

As ubiquitous as it was catchy in 2009, Phoenix has finally solidified their status as Dance Band of The Year (titular members include, most prominently, LCD Soundsystem in 2007, and Girl Talk [non-band status notwithstanding] in 2008.) Forget the fact that no one seems to know what Thomas Mars is saying, we'll gladly sing along.

8. Bicycle - Memory Tapes

A song that changes shape more than once, no more brilliantly than at minute 3: "3:23 is where it all opens up, a buoyant, exultant lift straight into the stratosphere of "Oooah"s and a New Ordered guitar riff that would find its eventual counterpart in the thumping disco-infused bassline." [from this post]

7. Free the City - Surf City

In a city where surf rock was supposedly born, I'd be hard-pressed to find a surfer inhabiting the Southern California coastal region who could tear themselves away from Jack Johnson long enough to convince me that the world needed another album about chasing waves. Luckily, New Zealand's Surf City aren't from Huntington Beach, and their Surf City EP might be all the convincing I need. Rollicking and nostalgic without being another cloying Beach Boys rip-off, "Free The City" embodies all that is good about sun, sand, and surf.

6. Two Weeks - Grizzly Bear

Soaring harmonies, a chorus lifted straight out of the "Kids Will Just LOVE This" Hit Book, GB's signature meandering musicality woven throughout; it would be hard to argue that "Two Weeks" isn't a pitch-perfect pop song for disenfranchised Recession-era cynics like me. It's full of wistful longing yet still manages to be sonically hopeful. But then again, when those staccato chords start dancing around Ed Droste's doleful vocals, who would want to argue about anything at all?

5. Quiet Dog - Mos Def

I can't even write about this track with the knowledge that you, reader, might not be simultaneously listening to it while reading this entry. What's wrong with you? I know that might seem aggressive, but c'mon - get yourself over to iTunes or Hypem or wherever you procure your em-pee-threes and find this song, already. I'm a sucker for a handclaps, a good beat can undo me in 2 minutes flat, and there's no denying that I have a soft spot in my heart for catchy lyrics. And "Quiet Dog," my friends, absolutely kills me.

4. River - Akron/Family

The second track on Akron/Family's Set 'Em Wild, Set 'Em Free, "River" manages to mimic its titular subject matter rather faithfully: strong currents of guitar, a pulsing beat, serene vocals. Each on their own might compose an average folksy song about nature, but then again, Akron/Family isn't your average folksy band. There is something so beguiling about this song that even months after its release, I still haven't put it into words.

3. Nightingale / December Song - Sunset Rubdown

Well, it wouldn't be a Sunset Rubdown song if there wasn't talk of sacrificial virgins, but then again, no one ever accused Spencer Krug of playing against type, either. Baroque and far less lyrically cryptic than some of his other musical offerings, "Nightingale / December Song" gallops toward its conclusion with fervor, determination, and conviction. It's a lushly orchestrated, stunningly executed proclamation of scorned love.

2. This Tornado Loves You - Neko Case

The lyrical imagery coupled with Case's rafter-rattling vocals make this one of the best songs of 2009 (a close, CLOSE second to my number one), and one of the best unconventional love songs EVER. In it Case imagines herself as a literal force of nature tearing a path of destruction across the Midwest. "But it's never enough / I want you," She sings, mustering all the mysterious provocations of a woman in love. What's most impressive isn't the idea of cyclonic love, but of the aching vulnerability Case manages to evince in the midst of her climactic and powerful wail: "What will make you believe me?" It's what makes this song not only work but leave an imprint of emotional resonance long after it ends.

1. My Girls - Animal Collective

Sometimes a song can't be described or dissected or diluted into a couple of glib bon mots because to do so would completely negate the emotional pull that the music possesses. Such is the case with "My Girls," likely to be nearly everyone's favorite song of 2009 - and not only because it's been our constant companion since January. Loyalty doesn't always equal excellence, unless of course it happens to be in the form of this song. It might be personal and entirely subjective, but that's exactly why "My Girls" is my number one: My best memories of the last year of the decade were formed with this song as a soundtrack. So when I look back on the past twelve months and think about dancing in a mash of euphoric hipsters at the Fonda or walking down the aisle as the Maid of Honor in my best friend's wedding, or swimming and drinking a Newcastle at the Fourth of July, "My Girls" was swirling amongst those moments as the aural backbone of the year 2009.

Honorable Mention: Dan Deacon "Snookered," Real Estate "Beach Comber," Foreign Born "Blood Oranges," The xx "Crystalised," and The Antlers "Kettering."

Top Ten Albums Which Lack Explanation, But Are Linked To Their Pitchfork Review Because, Yeah, I'm Just That Ornery:

10. Memory Tapes - Seek Magic [link]

9. Various Artists - Dark Was The Night [link]

8. Dan Deacon - Bromst [link]

7. YACHT - See Mystery Lights [link]

6. The Very Best - Warm Heart of Africa [link]

5. Girls - Album [link]

4. Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion [link]

3. Sunset Rubdown - Dragonslayer [link]

2. Surf City - Surf City EP [link]

1. Neko Case - Middle Cyclone [link]

Honorable Mention: JJ - JJ no.2, Phoenix - Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, The Intelligence - Fake Surfers, and Akron/Family - Set 'Em Wild, Set 'Em Free.

Quotables

"What people often fail to realize is that Los Angeles isn’t in your face like tighter cities so everything is an effort. If you don’t like the Beverly Center, skip it... forever. Don’t make the effort. You won’t miss it and it definitely won’t miss you. The same applies to everything, like a real life choose your own adventure book. If you don’t like where the story is going, flip back to the last choice and make the other one."

- The Huffington Post's Steven Nereo loves him some Los Angeles

Silver Bells

We're experiencing a deluge of badly-needed rain here in LA today. But I noticed that these little palm berry things look a bit like mid-century Palm Springs Christmas decorations. Yeah?

Septuagenarians Know How To Bust a [hip]

"Taylor Swift? Who is Taylor Swift? I'll tell you what's swift - my IBS!"

I realize the true hilarity in this post lies in the incongruity between the subject at hand (old folks) and the fact that this is a blog, on a computer, and that in order to recap my weekend I have to break character to admit that, yes, I know how to surf the Internets. I'd write this post in painfully florid longhand that only grandchildren know how to read, but...it would take too long. Plus, my arthritis is acting up in this cold weather. Bah! Where's my G&T when I need it...

If you couldn't gather from the title, this weekend was filled with prunes, Milk of Magnesia, Fox News, sensible pumps, and too, too, too much rouge. The dearest and estimable B.W. McCracken turned 27 last week and rather than the usual cloistered-hipsters-swilling-PBR birthday party, he opted to invert those numbers and throw a 72-year-old's party. There were game and puzzle stations, as well as a Complain Station wherein folks could gripe about Obama and Kids These Days. Jessica Kemp [chef!] was in charge of food (think manchego-and-pecan-stuffed prunes, covered in chocolate and sprinkled with bacon, meatloaf sliders, and a very special chicken fried steak dish), and I was in charge of beverages (I'll write separately about this). The whole thing was a riotous good time (as rambunctious as a bunch of old coots can be, of course), and a perfect way to celebrate Mr. McCracken's 27th.

Quotables: Tweet Edition

B.W.

Thievery

Interesting. Agree? Disagree?