A far more trivial complaint...

Bearing in mind that I've only tried maybe five or six of the existing Sing Star titles, and prior to this evening owned only three, I'm pretty sure that Sing Star: Queen is the worst Sing Star game ever made. I had such high hopes for an evening in my living room, belting out "Bohemian Rhapsody" and "Somebody To Love" with my sister, but it was nothing short of an epic disappointment.

The microphones (which we already owned, and which still work perfectly fine with our other games) are so sensitive (and LOUD) at some points in any given song that you can't have them near each other or a controller without causing feedback, and you practically have to whisper in order to not to be picked up on your opponent's mic. At other points, you must nearly eat the mic to even register on the screen, let alone hear yourself. Sometimes, even that fails to work, or stops registering your voiceabruptly. For example, randomly, in the middle of a sustained note.

The track list is great, and the game itself is pretty enough to look at (unless you're put off by Freddie's chest hair) but playing it was considerably less enjoyable than going to the dentist. At least the dentist gives you Novocaine.

Every review I can find says that the game is identical to Sing Star: ABBA in every way except track list, but I was playing ABBA last night and it was just as fun as it's ever been. Did I manage to get a bum copy? Is there a reason Target had their entire stock of Sing Star: Queen on clearance? It's possible, I suppose. I'm just really glad I didn't pay full price.

My Mistake

I thought I lived in a country that was based on the notion of separation of church and state, not one where religious doctrine could influence and even dictate civil law. I thought I lived in a liberal state which was accepting of its residents and their many walks of life, both chosen and innate. I thought I lived in a time where fear and hate would no longer triumph over love and basic human decency.

I thought that my civil rights and those of the people I love were safe.

My mistake. Guess I won't make that one again.

Question One passed yesterday, stripping Maine's homosexual residents of the right to marry that they have fought so long for and stripping me of what little faith I had left in this ridiculous backwoods excuse for a state. I am bitter. I am angry. I am embarrassed to be a Mainer. I am just barely fighting off hatred for those who let their own bigotry, ignorance and fear go into the voting booth with them yesterday, and especially for the religious organizations whose tax-free donations funded this campaign of hate.

This entire battle has reminded me very strongly of the following poem by Martin Niemöller, which I think we all probably read or heard in school, when learning about the Holocaust:

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak out for me.

Being heterosexual or even not believing in the institution of marriage doesn't mean this decision doesn't affect you. Ask yourself, who will speak out for you when your rights are threatened in the same way that those of Maine's gay and lesbian community have been?

I have never been so thoroughly ashamed to be from Maine, but it's not me who ought to be ashamed. It's the 53% of the state who voted in favor of robbing their fellow human beings of their civil rights. To each and every one of them, I would like to say, "Fuck you."

Fia and the Quest for the Perfect Pumpkin Muffin

It began, as so many quests do, with an obsession. My unhealthy fixation on the pricy pumpkin muffins from Panera, whose taste and texture are unsurpassed but whose availability is unpredictable at best, had started years ago when I was a Panera employee and was occasionally able to score a freebie at the end of the night on the rare occasion that there were leftovers. It was this fixation that sparked a desire within me to find find the perfect pumpkin muffin recipe: something I could make at home that would be -- if not the ideal replacement for Panera's muffin, which I'm fairly certain contains just enough of both crack and magic to make it ever more addictive -- a decent substitute.

My search terms were fairly obvious, I'm sure. 'Panera pumpkin muffin recipe.' I didn't expect to hit the jackpot and find that some disenfranchised soul had stolen and shared the recipe, but I also knew I couldn't be the first to embark on just this kind of mission from their home kitchen, and I was right. I narrowed it down to four recipes, gathered the ingredients (mostly; this did involve several last-minute trips to the new local Hannaford, and then a frantic search for a substitute for buttermilk after that had closed) and settled in for an evening of baking.

The first recipe came from a blog called Muffin Top, and it was... disappointing. Bland and rather dry, I will admit that perhaps the muffin's lack of flavor is partially my fault -- it called for cinnamon sugar on the top, which I omitted accidentally in the insanity that can be caused by preparing and baking four different muffin recipes in one night. I may try it again, using a whole can of pumpkin as the blogger from Muffin Top accidentally did, and remembering to sprinkle the batter with cinnamon sugar before baking.

The second recipe was far and away the best, and I'll go into more detail on that further down. Saving the best for last, so to speak.

The third recipe, which came from A Veggie Venture, wasn't bad. It wasn't great, but it really wasn't terrible. The texture was okay, the flavor was okay. Just nothing to write home to Mother about. It calls for either pecans or walnuts, and golden raisins, and if I was the kind of person who wanted those things in my pumpkin muffins, I would not have omitted them. I expect that they're much tastier to people who enjoy those things and so don't leave them out.

The final recipe, from Once Upon a Gourmet, calls for chocolate chips and includes a recipe for "streudel topping," which I mistakenly assumed was a malapropism because the photograph included on the page shows a muffin which appears to have struesel on top of it, as well as a little candy pumpkin. I omitted the chocolate chips, because I was looking for the best overall pumpkin taste, and soon discovered the error in my assumption. Once in the oven, the "streudel topping" quickly melted from a delightful mound of brown sugary, cinnamony goodness on top of the batter into a charred sugary mess on the bottom of my oven. I threw a cookie sheet under the muffin tin and ended up with floury caramel. The muffins themselves tasted quite good, but not better than the second recipe and certainly not good enough to deal with the molten mess again.

Now, let's return to our winner, #2.
This recipe and the above graphic came from the Cottage Industrialist. The recipe contains, as you can see, an entire can of pumpkin. The muffins have a delightful soft texture that isn't too sticky or too crumbly, and a rich pumpkin spice flavor. Overall, it was the closest to Panera's, and therefore the closest to what I was looking for. And, plus side, when I attempted to replicate it and double the recipe, but failed to double the flour, they still came out halfway-decent. Tasty, even; just moister, cake-y and a bit sticky. I like a recipe that I can flub up and still have the end product turn out edible and even pleasant.

Feeling the love... only, not.

This whole scene is starting to really lose its shine for me. This isn't the first thing that's left a bad taste in my mouth in the last month or two, just the latest spray of sand kicked in my face.

As this blog has surely made abundantly clear, I love Enter the Haggis. I support them as much as I possibly can, going so far as to travel to the far-flung reaches of the world -- okay, Pennsylvania and upstate New York, which for a Maine girl who grew up with a travelphobic mother, seem very far-flung -- to catch them at festivals this summer. When they're in Maine, I pimp them as hard as I can: putting up posters, talking to people and when possible, handing out the promo CDs provided by United For Opportunity, their label, for that purpose. Just today I gave a copy of Gutter Anthems to a store owner in Waterville, who was playing Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys on his laptop. Waterville is where I caught my second-ever ETH show. Whenever a Maine show is announced on their website, I email my contact, Barb, and she sends me the necessary materials. As a bonus, I get to be "on the list," although I usually buy a ticket anyway.

There are some dates that are rapidly approaching -- October 9th and 10th, in Ogunquit and Boothbay Harbor respectively -- and I was planning a trip to poster the areas around the venues when realized I hadn't received my packets for the shows yet. I was about to email Barb to check up on it when I got an email from UFO asking for volunteers for the December show (which I'm pretty sure I had mentioned in the same email in which I volunteered for the October shows.)

I asked if she had my name down. She didn't. Furthermore, the guest list is full (which again, I don't really care about, because I usually buy a ticket anyway) so... they won't send me posters(?!). They sent me high-res .jpg flyers, instead, that I'm welcome to print out/photocopy and distribute at my own expense, though. Awesome. So, instead of theoretically getting free admission in exchange for putting up free posters, I get to pay for the posters AND the tickets? Yeeeeeaaaaaah, I feel appreciated now.

I'll probably do it anyway, because I'm a doormat.

Bahstan Hahbah Cruise

So, the Rock & Blues Cruise was a blast -- for the most part. Chilling on the dock with old friends and new friends (apparently all Haggis Heads know who I am, and I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing!) and having a few drinks was a nice way to spend the few hours between our arrival at Long Wharf and the actual boarding and departure time of our cruise.

Before Enter the Haggis went on, a bluegrass band called Hot Day at the Zoo performed. I have to admit I didn't listen to much of their set, choosing to take advantage of the opportunity to relax and mingle with a few of the guys from ETH and a couple of people I hadn't really seen in a few weeks. I'll get another chance to check out Hot Day at the Zoo in December, when they play Port City Music Hall, also with Enter the Haggis.

After their set was over, I made my way downstairs to avail myself of the 'full' bar. They had only slightly more to offer than the refreshment table near the band merchandise table, and none of my standby drinks were available, so I opted for a rum and coke. After two and a half pineapple and Malibus and two -- or was it three? -- beers, this was probably not my wisest decision. However, after my first rum and coke evaporated into thin air (it must have!) and a second (and then possibly a third?) one was procured, I was joined by some friends, including Craig (ETH's piper, who was apparently unaware that the other band's set had ended.)

When he finally realized he was probably being missed, we all made our way back upstairs and while he found his place on the stage, I found my sister and one of our friends at the side of the stage. Some really charming person, who I assume to be a Zoo fan rather than a Haggis Head (only because I don't know Haggis Heads to be so rude or mean-spirited) called out, "I hope you fall!" Whether that was intended to be directed at me or at Craig, I'm not sure, (probably me!) but either way, bad form, dude.

The show was, as usual, amazing. They played "Noseworthy & Piercy," and we were not blown out to sea. They played "Down with the Ship," and we were not tossed in the gale. I recorded both, but the cabin of the ship was so dark that I'm not sure it's worth posting either to YouTube. I had wanted to record "Ghosts of Calico" for the sheer novelty and teasing value of Trevor singing about ghosts while on a boat in the ocean, but I was having some issues with my camera and had enough to drink that fixing it was a challenge -- not impossible, but probably hilarious to watch.

I listened to the encore, "Long Way Home," while standing at the bow of the ship, my hair blowing in the breeze. It was really nice, but it meant I missed seeing Trevor join the crowd of people swaying their arms to the music. And then the set was over, and we pulled into port, and the boat was docked. And we were unceremoniously herded off the boat by the Rock & Blues Cruise staff, who not only chased us off the boat, but up the freaking dock, before I could even say "great show tonight," let alone say goodbye to the guys.

There's nothing that makes you feel that you've just spent three hours giving your money to people who can't wait to see the back of you quite like being chased down the gangplank by several very haughty men in yellow polo shirts like so much livestock. I didn't even get to say goodbye to most of my friends who were there, because I hesitated briefly when being shooed (because my designated driver and holder of my car keys was trying to talk to Craig about the email list.)

This is only an observation, not a fact, but it seems to me that the brief period after a show, when the band does their customary meet-and-greet, is probably when the most merchandise is sold. New fans want to buy an album or a t-shirt, old fans want to make sure they've got all the most recent stuff, and everybody wants a piece of the guys -- an autograph, a hug, a moment of conversation. Being shuffled off the boat like that seems like it might have hurt their sales. The only thing I know for sure is that the manner in which we were ushered off was insulting and rude, and left many of us with a bad taste in our mouths.

I was really impressed with the cruise experience, right up until the point where the cruise staff made it clear that they liked our money, but now that they had it, we could all just go screw ourselves.

And for the record, I did not fall. I was born with sea legs.

Sometimes I wonder how I survived infancy.

I am a horrible, horrible mother. It's a very good thing that I've never had actual children, because clearly I suck at taking care of living beings.

This is, of course, an exaggeration. I've always been a pretty good mom to my cats, though there have been failings which have affected me deeply -- I feel entirely responsible for the flea problem that contributed to my cat Prudence's compromised health, which led to her death while being treated for a UTI. But this time, it wasn't really my failing so much as my parents' utter lack of common sense.

I went on a cruise in Boston Harbor last night (more on that later.) Left my dooryard shortly after noon yesterday, and returned at about 1 this afternoon. I left my parents strict instructions for my cats: make sure to put the dog to bed and let the cats out, and please feed Tiberius this bowl of food from the fridge. Make sure he eats all of it, and don't let the other cats steal it. Well. I forgot to mention that Tiberius likes to graze. A few bites here, and then after some horseplay and general rambunctious kittenness, a few more. He will eat the whole thing, just not all in one go.

So here's how it goes down: I get home, and Ti is in the window, watching anxiously for me. Aw, I think. He missed his mommy. I walk in the door, and I'm informed that my cats were never let out. Tiberius was fed "until he was full" and the rest of the food was put in the fridge. I get in my room, and Ti goes NUTS. We are talking full-on bugshit, people. The poor little dude was STARVING. I guess I should have told them that he grazes, but I kind of assumed they'd have the sense to realize that a few bites was not going to be sufficient to fuel his high-energy antics.

Remind me, when I do have children, not to leave them with my parents...

After this week, TGIF is an understatement.

Good news: Tiberius seems to be much better, even without being wormed. I picked up some worming stuff for him anyway, and he's got an appointment for his first check-up in two weeks. (Bad news: he really loves that expensive Hill's Science Diet canned kitten food. However, he likes it even with pumpkin stirred in, which is awesome because he turned his nose up at the plain pumpkin.)

More good news: I've located a replacement for my cell phone, and I may have a buyer for the Blackberry that refuses to cooperate. (Bad news: the replacement is pink, so I'll probably get it mixed up with my sister's phone a million times.)

Still more good news: Tonight I'm off to Boston, for an evening of nautical debauchery with Enter the Haggis and a bunch of fun Haggis Heads. Good music, good friends, and good booze (we hope.) Who could ask for more?