Faith without deeds is dead

-- Albertine, by Brooke Fraser

Firstly, apologies to Sam and Kami for making them wait so long for an update. ;)

So way back in the beginning of September, Sam and Mush and I went to see this little-known (in the US) singer by the name of Brooke Fraser. She’s from New Zealand, and she’s pretty popular in her home country. Over here, not so much. Yet.

I prefaced the concert with fair warning to both of my fellow concert-goers: Brooke Fraser is a religious songstress. She writes lyrics that, if you’re listening closely enough, can seem to be about such religious Hot Topics as abstinence, following in the path of the Righteous Light, etc. I bought the tickets because she could have been singing about garbage cans and I still would have listened. She has an AMAZING voice, and YouTube led me to believe that it would be just as awesome live. So as we fought the throngs of Jesus Is My Homeboy teens, I secretly hoped that Sam and Mush wouldn’t regret coming along for the wave-your-hands-in-the-air (No, not like you just don’t care. Like you’re at church on a particularly holy Sunday) ride.

After being trampled by people who thought my shoes looked like a comfy place to rest their asses before the opening act, the curtains went up to much applause … and You Are My Sunshine. Now, this song holds a special place in my heart, and it always will. But putting your whiny falsetto boy voice and an acoustic guitar behind it doesn’t really make it audience-worthy. It was cute, but the poor nameless boy-man who sang it is going to have to give me a little leeway. I didn’t pay to see him sing Itsy Bitsy Spider, I paid to hear Brooke Fraser sing about “waiting ‘til we’re ready,” dammit. So I waited patiently through his set, and clapped like the crazy NOTW adolescents when Brooke Fraser took the stage.



Holy Scheisse, that woman can sing. I have to honestly say, she sounds amazing on the record but she’s damn near flawless live. I always judge by how closely the singer sticks to the harder notes they hit on their records versus when they’re live. Take Meiko, for instance. She cut most of her longer notes in half, and was considerably lower on some of the high notes. She wasn’t bad, but she also wasn’t the same. Not so with this one. Ms. Fraser held the long notes longer, and added some nice vocal freestyling that showcased the fact that those pipes are the real deal.

After her first song or two, she had a nice conversation with the audience wherein she asked someone to let her in on the secret to opening her bottle of Arrowhead water. She couldn’t get the bloody Sport Top to flip open, so she ended up just twisting the whole damn thing off (per audience instruction). The whole thing was terribly endearing, and was marked as such when Sam turns to Mush and me and states with a little bit of awe, “she seems so nice, I wanna be her friend!” Coming from Sam, that is one solid Stamp of Approval!

The rest of the night proceeded with more adorable stories, including the ever-important story of the title track off her newest album, Albertine. Turns out she went to Rwanda in 2005 and, like anybody would be, was struck by the war and poverty and all-around anguish she saw there. Flash forward three years, and she’s made it her life’s mission to help these children and give them the opportunity to enjoy simplicities that people who haven’t had to live through that kind of home-grown horror tend to take for granted. After making everyone in the audience feel like graduates of the A is for Asshole! University (in the most non-threatening and adorable way), she gave us the chance to redeem ourselves and sponsor some children or buy merchandise to donate proceeds. People raised their hands to sponsor the kids, and the night was back off on its merry little way. A few songs and a wacky but enjoyable attempt at a sing-a-long to Kings of Leon’s Day Old Blues later, and it was go-home time.

While waiting for the valet to bring my Shirley back to me, some lovely young chanteuses decided to cap the night off with a warbly rendition of Ingrid Michaelson’s The Way I Am. Word to the wise: love the song, let’s let the professional handle it, shall we? Kthxbai.

When will it stop?

-- Masochist, by Ingrid Michaelson

The crazy, that is. When will it stop? Let's discuss the numerous instances of crazy over the last week.

Monday: This day sucked. Well, the morning did. It was the beginning of Sans Boss Lady Week, as she was out on vacation. It sunk in on Monday that I'd be dealing with SBTL all week and that I still had no clue how to work this software that is absolutely central to my job. I was uber-frustrated with myself for being so dense about business and all its stupid procedures and financial ... stuff. Luckily, mommie talked me off the ledge, and I spent the rest of the day wading through tutorials and practice runs to learn the Damn Program.

Tuesday: SBTL is at my desk answering yet another of my questions re: the Damn Program. She explains, then turns to walk back to her desk.

*cue earthquake*

She takes off like a shot for the nearest sturdy object, which luckily was not far away. She looks back and forth between me and MA/WME* with the single most terrified look I have ever seen in person on her face. Poor thing. It probably wouldn't have been as funny as it was if she didn't insist on the Tough Broad attitude. Needless to say, the rest of the day was lost to Earthquake Freakout / Recap Time. Lunch with Sam was rushed and short because I was still shaken up. (See what I did there? Yay, puns.) Not so much from the earth moving, but from the "Oh, by the way. We have a last-minute, but SOOPER IMPORTINT project due nao. Go." I got from The Owner just before lunch. Sheesh, Tuesday was a wreck.

Wednesday: Has been nicknamed The Longest Day Known to Man Me. The crazy on this day? Nothing happened. I think I gave up and read at my desk at one point. I can't be sure because the sheer boredom of the day erased random parts of my memory. Dinner with Sam and Mush was the only thing that kept me from losing all my marbles.

Thursday: My immune system decides to take the day off. Luckily, Giggly has just gotten over her cold. Oh wait, no she hasn't.

I proceed to catch the remnants of her week-long cold and incubate them to within an inch of a full-blown cold of my own. I stave off completing the process of infection with massive amounts of Airborne (yes, I know about the lawsuit, no I don't care) and vitamin C. And some nose-swab thing that SBTL gave me. She must be warming up to me if she's willing to share her cold-fighting weapons with me, right?

Friday: The King of Crazy for the week. MA/WME asks me to call and order a brochure for her. We have the old ones, and we need new ones to show clients. I call, and find out two things:

1) The company is located somewhere in the South
2) EVERYONE is out of the office or away from their desks

So I send an e-mail to their Literature Request Department. In it I state that I need printed copies of the brochures, not the PDFs that they offer online. Only the best for our clients. I get a call back about an hour later from one of their representatives, who sounds like she's sixty and only has cats for friends. She just wants to confirm our shipping address so she can overnight the brochures.
This is how the conversation goes: (bear in mind this woman sports a ridiculously Southern accent)

Southern Salesgrandmalady: In your e-mail you mention that you want printed copies instead of-- what's this now? A pee. Dee. Ayf?
My Brain: *silence and flashbacks to "Shiny Disk" Man*
Southern Salesgrandmalady: A pee dee ayf? What's that now, honey?
My Brain: *still computing how to explain a PDF in simple terms to someone who doesn't know*
Southern Salesgrandmalady: Hello?
Me: Um, it's like a ... picture ... of a document. Does that. Make. Sense? Like the ... digital ... brochures you guys have on your website.
Southern Salesgrandmalady: Oh, sure sure. So I'll send you them brochures overnight, sugar.
Me: Thanks? *has no idea what she's going to get in the mail now*

The girls and I laughed about that ALL DAY. I understand being a bit of a luddite, but if you can turn on your computer and open an e-mail, surely you know what a PDF is. Am I wrong?

Saturday: Shirley. 'Nuff said.


Whew! So there it is, the week in review. And looking back, I think I don't want the crazy to stop. Well, except for Monday's crazy. Good riddance to that.

Sorry if this was boring and long-winded. At least you got the Reader's Digest version, I had to live it! ;)
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* = MexicAsian / Worst Mexican Ever, the office nickname for this woman, not mine. She hates tortillas, can't cook and won't eat spicy food. Her own mother branded her the Worst Mexican Ever. And apparently Giggly decided she has Asian eyes, thus MexicAsian was born. They were both too good to pick just one blog alias for her.