I am shocked that the editorial in this week’s Crain’s New York Business is all about when NYC will get a country radio station. We haven’t had one since 1996. Seriously. NO KIDDING. NO country station.

It is rather dumbfounding - especially since Carrie Underwood’s song is on all the other stations, as well as Shania Twain, Faith Hill, and Keith Urban. Granted they’ve done the most recent crossover songs, but still. Clearly there’s a market for it, as the editorial points out. Why no one will risk investing in a country station in a market that is clearly interested in country artists is beyond me.

Maybe this is my get-rich-quick opportunity - because you know there’s so much money in radio. I just have to break into radio and actually want to deal with the FCC. 

Last night Freebird woke up whimpering, and when Hubby got up to settle him down (Hubby at this point moves MUCH faster than I do, due to the fact that (a) he wakes up at the slightest noise and (b) he isn’t gestating) I realized everything was pitch black. Usually there’s dim light from the nightlight in Freebird’s room, from the cable box on top of our tv, from our clocks, from the streetlights - but it was pitch dark black. The power was out, due to the leftovers of Tropical Whatever It Was Barry, which is currently dumping Still More Rain on us. What is it with us and the rain events?

I’m sure Freebird was upset because he woke up in total darkness as opposed to the dim light of his nightlight, which enables him to have a party in his crib at 3pm, complete with pacifier tossing, book reading, wall pounding, and loud counting while jumping up and down. But he did go right back to sleep once Hubby soothed him.

Of course, Hubby and I couldn’t really do a thing about our inability to sleep after that. The lights were out. No power? What if we don’t hear our cell phones that are now conveniently located on the bedside tables? What if there’s no hot water in the morning? What if we’re both really late? And damn, without central A/C it’s really getting warm in here! All of that yielded a mess of tossing and turning, and this morning we’re both really groggy.

But when I explain that we’re tired because the power went out in the middle of the night - which should have made it easier for us to sleep - people look at me like I’m barmy.

I’m sorry to say that Rbelle’s quintessential downhome Southern recipe… it has been William-Sonoma-ized. Like a local craftsman whose art has been co-opted and copied by Pottery Barn, Williams Sonoma not only offers a recipe for Frogmore Stew in its newest catalog, but it offers, to go with the “traditional low-country” party food:

1. monogrammed beer glasses ($56 for four)

2. D’Artagnan andouille sausage ($32 for two 18” sausages)

3. Seafood Scissors to cut shrimp ($10)

4. Olive wood salt keeper ($49) unless you need the salt too, which is $8.50

5. Double handle bowls for serving the stew ($28 for a set of four)

6. Le Creuset Oval Oven for simmering. roasting or braising - so as to cook and serve the stew ($275 for a 9.5 quart oven, your choice of colors)

7. Le Creuset fry pan ($100) I guess for frying sausage or something.

Now, last time I heard that Frogmore stew was being cooked for mass consumption at Casa Belle, it involved a turkey fryer or two ($29 at our local wholesale club) a tank of propane for said fryer (your cost may vary) and a big ass supply of basic sausage, corn, potatoes, celery, onion, garlic, and shrimp (your cost may vary).

But I will bet my Yankee ass it didn’t cost a Williams-Sonoma-price of $550.00.

I bet my next issue of the catalog that makes you feel like an amateur in your own damn kitchen will feature a Williams-Sonoma recipe for Brooklyn-style pizza with a $900 pizza oven, or a $640 copper kettle for making your own Jersey-style salt water taffy (which, if you want some, is available online, or at the boardwalk down the shore).

A brief interruption for me in the news fast. Woo! In case you hadn’t heard, random putzass mofo douchebag (that’s his legal name) found out he had a strain of TB (Tuberculosis for $100, Mr. Trebek) that wasn’t treatable with the normal set of medications. Random putzass mofo douchebag, or “Mr. Douchebag” flies to Italy! On his honeymoon! Doesn’t tell his bride! Is asked by the CDC to stay the hell put so they can quarantine his exceptionally contagious self! Does not do so! Gets on a series of flights back to the US despite being asked not to! Circumvents Immigration and gets into the country despite his passport being flagged (three cheers for Homeland security!) that he is a health risk! Puts the lives of every other passenger and the crew on all those flights in terrible, terrible danger!

And what does Mr. Douchebag have to say for himself?

“I’m a very well-educated, successful, intelligent person,” he told the newspaper. “This is insane to me that I have an armed guard outside my door when I’ve cooperated with everything other than the whole solitary-confinement-in-Italy thing.”

Because this guy, who by the way is a plaintiff’s attorney (three cheers for improving the reputation of plaintiff’s attorneys!), is being held up as an example of the elitist, self-absorbed attitude that unfortunately afflicts many a privileged American, let me offer a translation that will clarify what he meant to say:

“I am a very very special person. Much more special than any of you, or any of the people on the planes I flew on as I dodged agencies who were trying to look after my health while simultaneously protecting the citizens of at least two or three countries. Did you get that? I am more special.

Therefore, as I bask in my specialness, I do not understand why I am being treated as a criminal, even though I put the lives of literally hundreds of people in danger with my excellent specialness.”

Seriously, the mind, it boggles. The security breach? The flaws in our immigration procedure? The rather large gaping hole in security that let Mr. Germy Douchebage endanger so many?

How come this bozo isn’t being brought up on charges of terrorism? Germ warfare? Being a douchebag?

lolrus bukkit: There is nothing better than the lolrus bukkit. Even Clitorious likes the lolrus bukkit saga.

In fact, the whole phenomenon of LOLCat is so pervasive, linguistic scholars have been writing about it. This cracks me up even MORE because I LOVE it when serious academia types take a look at pop culture phenomena in attempts to locate them in a larger scholarly context. Usually I get all giddy when this happens to a romance novel, but I’m all about the Lolrus getting his academia-speak on, too.

For the record, Freebird still prefers a buckle, but whatever.

cyclobenzaprine: I haven’t the foggiest why someone would be searching my site for a muscle relaxant. I can’t take it, either way. So enjoy your prescription.

But rememberz:

Back when the internet was brand new, and I could only access it while I was visiting Hubby at his university in Chicago, I was surfing Yahoo, which I had NEVER seen before, and was black text on a gray background. I found Archive X, which was a collection of user submitted ghost stories. Some of them are awful and poorly written. Some of them creep the crap out of me. I can’t believe it’s still around. And still somewhat creepy. 

1. What do you think someone might put in a ziploc bag decorated with marijuana leaves? I can’t imagine anything appropriate to put in there, can you?

2. With a continued woot-off, will I get anything done? NOOOOOO.

3. Why is it that Freebird is suddenly obsessed with clasps and buckles? I called Rbelle last night and said, “Do you ever have to wait to get your kids out of the car?” She was like, “Uh, NO.” Me? I’d been standing in the driveway for 15 minutes while Freebird tried to figure out the top buckle on his carseat straps. Normally I’d be all “I’m the Mom and it’s Mom’s Law round here!” but he was so happy and so fascinated (and I was kind of amused by his complete fixation on the buckle) that I hung out with him and wondered if I could set up carside service for his dinner so I didn’t have to go anywhere once I pulled in the driveway.

3.a Why is it that Hubby thinks of good things to do that I totally blank on. Freebird’s obsession with buckles vs. his intense dislike of laying down on the changing table? Aha! Give him the strap - conveniently equipped with a BUCKLE at the end - to play with. Very happy Bird who gets clean pants and fresh clothes with no fuss. Man, Hubby is a genius.

4. How long until I Photoshop a picture of Freebird with a buckle and the caption, “I HAS A BUKKLE! NOOOO THEY BE STEALIN’ MAH BUKKLE!”