Magic Jewball

So who are the catchiest group of all time? Is it Crowded House? The Beatles? The Beach Boys? No, it is Squeeze. Every song Difford & Tillbrook wrote is sticky like taffy and has the capability to stay in your head forever. Now that would probably be enough, but no, Squeeze songs often have genius narratives and evocative phrases that put you right in the room with the song’s protagonist as the hummable melody spins the story that carries throughout the song.

It’s hard to pick just one Squeeze song to put on your iPod, so I’d recommend all of them, or at least any of their greatest hits. You probably know Black Coffee In Bed, but that’s not even in my group of favorites. Instead, my top choice would be this one. It’s the same old story, you meet the girl and then wake to find her gone. But does the usual story have details like these, “She took me to her hotel, a room on the second floor, a kettle and two coffees, a number on the door.” And is there sunlight on the lino? I think not.

There are various recordings of this song, with different details and different cities. But the story is always the same and just like all perfect Squeeze songs, each line and melody flows into another like they’re holding hands.

Squeeze – Goodbye Girl

Sometimes when I see these shows like Trading Spaces or any of those “Pimp My McMansion” things on the decorating networks, this thought pops into my brain: mmmm, closets…. mmmm, spare bedrooms. It’s just that when you live in a closet yourself, that is a Manhattan 1-bedroom, you envy these types of places. I mean, not the lawns or the ridiculous atrium-like entranceways, just the fact that when people come over, you have somewhere to stuff the piles of things you have around. I have plenty of closets, I’m lucky that way, but they are full of things that actually belong there like clothes and towels. But what about the junk? Baby, baby, where does our junk go? Let me just admit here that I have occasionally resorted to tossing things in the bathtub just to hide the clutter when someone comes over.

This is why I am fantastically delighted that after a long wait I have been granted storage space in my building’s basement at the bargain price of $25 a month. There’s a waiting list but I’m the most senior person on it and finally, finally they granted me the magical key to the dirty, prison-like storage room. I get a cage of an area that’s about 5 feet wide and 8 feet long and man, do I have some stuff to cram in there.

I took a look around at everyone else’s and they all seemed to be the kind of things that you could put in long term storage like an easy chair or neatly piled boxes. Come ON. Where are the bags of old letters and the piles of Cooking Light magazines that you’re sure you’ll use one day but are just an eyesore today? And how about all the gifts people give you that you have no earthly use for but feel guilty enough to keep? Who are these neighbors of mine?

But mine will be different and since the ceiling is high, I can just keep throwing things on top until I open the door one day and get killed by a pile of my own crap. But at least when you visit me you’ll admire how tidy things are and how simply I live. It’s a trade-off I’m willing to make.

Martha Reeves & The Vandellas – Nowhere To Run

I have a bit of an allergy thing going on today so instead of actually posting, I thought I’d show you some other fine things I have going on here this week, namely the pages.

On the minor side, Where in the world is David Nalbandian? and iPod song of the week have been updated. But the most important thing is the new one you’ll see, Alfa’s Mets Page. Yes, I sold out. I auctioned off a page on my blog to the highest bidder with the proceeds to go to the Komen Race for the Cure. And Alfa, my good friend and sometime cowgirl won! Yes, I knew this would happen to me someday and a Mets fan would have her revenge. But it’s OK, I know it could have been worse. I could have sold my page for charity to a Red Sox fan.

Despite the fact that I allowed Alfa to say whatever she liked with no editorial interference (although she did have the stipulation to keep it clean), I must just say that I am wounded, deeply wounded, by her comparison of Georgie Posada to Beaker. Oh, the humanity.

Alfa’s page, per our legal and contractually binding agreement, will remain up for a month from today. Sadly, she’s in the City of Cracked Bells on a business trip and can’t actually see it just yet.

 

Bob Seger – Turn the Page (not available on Napster)

I can’t believe that this month’s ROTM is a surprise to anyone, except maybe Kay, but it’s OK, she finagled her way into someone else’s blog. But it was such an obvious choice this time that I actually alerted our honoree 5 weeks in advance. Normally, as my previous ROTM’s will tell you, my request shows up in your inbox 2-3 days before I write the post, beseeching you for pictures.

Yes, the ROTM for September is Sarpon! Sarpon, you may have noticed, is the commenter who always disagrees with me. But that’s OK! Because the ROTM title knows no opinions, it knows no team, it just knows “read JBall” and “comment on JBall.” I admit, I didn’t know much about Sarpon before, just the essentials, really, that she’s a chick and Jewish and a Mets fan and originally from NY where she currently does not reside. Is there more than that to anyone? But luckily for all of you, I interviewed Sarpon by e-mail and found out a few more key facts.

First off, I found that Sarpon (she’s the attractive female in the photo) is a lawyer. Then all that disagreeing with me made more sense. This is about as wacky as lawyers get. Party on, wacky lawyers!

Secondly, I found out that Sarpon is a Mom to three lovely kids, one of whom she gave birth to. I include this photo, not out of any favoritism for kids that have Sarpon’s genes, but because this kid is named Shea. You heard me. Or read me. Sarpon named her daughter after Shea Stadium. Maybe it was the orange hair and blue eyes. Let’s hope this Shea doesn’t get knocked down in favor of a newer, shinier kid with more luxury boxes. But, as Sarpon told me, “under other circumstances, she could have been named Yankee.” Ha! I cut Sarpon’s sister-in-law’s head out of the photo since she doesn’t read JBall as far as I know. I’m ruthless!

I couldn’t squeeze any more photos out of Sarpon, whose wackiness is more confined to writing long, erudite, gem-filled comments on my blog. But she did send me a few shots of her kids, so here’s one. Nothing against Kid #3, but I love this one’s lollipop plus, I have no doubt that any of my sibs would have proudly worn this t-shirt when we were kids. Or maybe even now. (Click to enlarge)

So what else did I learn that I can tell you? Sarpon makes her home in lovely Gainesville, Florida (no, I’ve never been there, shut up), has a husband named Kevin, and two cats besides the aforementioned youngsters. In her spare time…oh, who am I kidding? Between lawyering, mothering, and commenting, what possible free time could she have? I think the most important thing I could say about Sarpon is that she’s smart and funny and she was so anxious to post on my old Blogger blog that she accidentally started her own blog in the sign-up process. That, my friends, is the kind of dedication that I reward. So congrats to you, Sarpon, and feel free to claim your meal (you’ll pay of course) which will assuredly not be eaten in Flushing, unless it’s at the Kosher hot dog stand at the National Tennis Center.

Song choice is by the ROTM, which you’ll know because I’ve never seen Pippin. According to Sarpon it “contains the phrase I used in my personal ad to try to get the attention of a straight man who liked musicals (my ad read ‘Average, ordinary wonderful woman with a passion for passion seeks man…’) but alas I got 76 replies and not one picked up on it. But it is how I met Kevin.” Well, when you’re casting a wide net like that, come on. But anyhoo, here it is.

Jill Clayburgh – Kind Of Woman

Hm, in recreating the iPod songs of the week, this one seems to have disappeared. Oh well. It’s a fine song anyway!

~Bec, on 4/1

The Rapture – Get Myself Into It