In an attempt to prove that I spend too much with my coworkers, I decided to list off all of their favorite movies to them. I wanted them to know that I knew about them. That I cared about them.

Whatever, I was proving a point. I don’t really care about them.

After I proved to all of them that I truly did know all of their favorite movies, my boss (the one that can see my computer from his desk and is probably watching me type this right now) asked me what the Saddest Song Ever was. Since I only had about 2 seconds to think of one, I failed. “I don’t know. What is the Saddest Song Ever?”

He said he didn’t know either. He was just asking to see if I had an idea.

I think most of us have been asked about our favorite movie, or our favorite book, and ever our favorite song enough times that we know what our answer will be if we’re asked to name them. (Sixteen Candles, The Drifters, Across the Universe, respectively.) But something like what we think the saddest song is, well, that’s a little harder.

After my boss asked me this, I scanned through my iTunes to see if I could see a sad song. Of course nothing really popped out at me. Until I remembered the Old 97’s song, No Mother. Especially the part that goes:

In the middle of the meadow I’m waiting
For mother and the other ones I love
There’s no good why this came to pass
There’s only just because

No no no mother should ever have to lose a son
No no no mother especially such a handsome one

This song is pretty sad, especially since it was written about a friend of the band who had died. So while this is a sad song, I doubt it’s the Saddest Song Ever.

My boss and I continued the quest for the Saddest Song Ever again this morning. He asked google what it thought the song should be. Google said that Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton is pretty damn sad. I agree that it’s a pretty freakin’ sad song. But Eric Clapton also wrote Layla, which we all know is about him being in love with his best friend’s wife. So while Eric gets +2 for Tears in Heaven, he get -1 for Layla.

Another song that I think is sad is Fancy. You know, the song about a mom turning her daughter into a prostitute. Fancy had a rough life and a song reminding you of it is pretty sad. One of my other coworkers insisted that Look Away by Chicago was the Saddest Song Ever. Dude, Chicago gets -5 points because I got my first kiss at a Chicago concert years ago and it sucks ass. So Chicago, you lose.

When I asked Lizzy this morning over chat what she thought the Saddest Song Ever was, she responded back in like .02 seconds with Pink Moon by Nick Drake. A song I’ve never heard of, but will be downloading later today.

Lizzy went on to say “I mean, I guess it depends on how you define “sad”. like the songs that make cry? Every Time? music can evoke so many emotions in me: happiness, sadness, meloncholy… it’s just so personal and visceral, i don’t know how else to desribe it. good music oozes from my pores. when i get goosebumps, i know it’s good.”

Yes, it’s hard to define what makes a song “sad”.

I’m still not sure what I think the Saddest Song Ever is. I need more time to think about it. I need to listen to a few more songs before I decide.

So tell me, just off the top of your head, what do you think the Saddest Song Ever is?

—————

Don’t forget that even though I’ll be away on vacation next week, very exciting things will be happening here at hola, isabel.

Seriously, I’m very excited about it. Very excited. And you should be to.

You know how life is extra stressful before you leave for vacation? We leave on Saturday morning and life is very-extra stressful right now.

Because of that let’s not talk about the 1,320 unread blog posts in my reader at this very moment. The number is staggering. And also growing by the second.

Let’s also not talk about how my new boss just moved into the office that directly over looks my computer screen. Which means he can see what I’m doing at all times. I’m trying to ignore this fact. And you should too.

Let’s also ignore the fact that Babboo’s crib is currently being used as a staging area for our luggage. It’s the only location I can prevent him from gaining access to and “helping” me pack.

(Apparently I only own eight black shirts and one red one. As you can see here.)

Last night we attended a potluck dinner at our church. I don’t know how you feel about potlucks, but The King and I are a little creeped out by them. First of all, you have no idea where the food came from. And secondly, you have no idea what the preparers kitchen looks like. You’re bound to be eating a piece of dog hair. Or worse, human hair. Human hair that originated from a body part that should be covered by your underwear.

Gag.

We went last night with an open mind. I knew the two dishes I was bringing were safe. Mostly because I had bought them from the store. (Hello, I don’t have time to cook two dishes. I work full time, people!) I also knew that our friends were bringing two store bought dishes, so they would be safe also.

I knew we wouldn’t go hungry.

The food dishes I knew I would need to look out for were the dishes that had oddly shaped pieces of meat in them, or the dishes covered in frosting. You can never be sure what that frosting is hiding.

It’s also a good rule of thumb to not eat anything brought in by elderly widowers. You just can’t be certain where it came from.

When we first walked into the church I noticed a bucket of KFC sitting on the table. Phew. As much as I dislike KFC, I was pretty sure it would be safe for human consumption.

The dish I knew I would not be getting anywhere near was the plate of sushi.

Sushi, at a church potluck?

That’s just crazy talk.

While I think sushi is delicious, it is a food item that is best enjoyed when you have just witnessed it being prepared. That way you are pretty certain that it’s safe. The rules of sushi eating are simple; never eat “day old” sushi or sushi with questionable origins.

Since this was a potluck, I had no idea where the sushi came from. I only knew where it wasn’t going. And it wasn’t going in my belly.

Another reason I stayed away from the sushi is that, while we do have people of Asian descent in our church congregation, none of them are from a sushi originating country. So yeah, who in the crap brought this sushi?

It was never verified who the bearer of the sushi was.

Thankfully I found out who had brought in the homemade blackberry cobbler. I knew I could trust her.

Good thing, because that stuff was delicious.

Screw sushi, I’m eating the blackberry cobbler for dinner.

—————-

Are you curious what will be going on here at hola, isabel next week while I’m away on vacation?

Have no fear, my loyal readers, I will not disappoint you. Make sure you come over for a visit every.single.day next week (M-F, of course). You will be thrilled and amazed by what I have in store for you all.

Really, you will be.

And honestly, do I ever disappoint?! *

*don’t answer that.

The King and I like to check out music from the library. We’ve been doing it for years. It’s a really good way to listen to things that you might not usually try out. Because we aren’t the only ones that do this, we usually have to wait on a waiting list for the CD’s. Sometimes for a pretty long time. I think I waited over a year for the new Ben Lee CD last year.

When it’s time to pick up a CD from the library either The King or I will swing by and get it on our way home from work. We just run in and check them out and are back on our way in less then 2 minutes.

The other day The King called me on his lunch break. He had just been to the library to pick up a CD that he’d been waiting for for a very long time. A very, very long time. He didn’t want to run the risk of not checking it out in time. He ran right to the library as soon as he got the e-mail telling him he was at the top of the list.

The King was calling to tell me that he had dropped the CD off at Babboo’s school. He didn’t want me to go and pick Babboo up later that afternoon and not know what the CD was doing in the stroller. He was merely giving me a heads up.

“Why couldn’t you just take the CD to work and bring it home with you later tonight?”

“I didn’t want anyone to see me walking around with it. I was embarrassed.”

“What is there to be embarrassed about? What’s the CD?”

I agree. The King is probably a little too white and geeky to be walking around with a copy of Dr. Dre’s The Chronic for the world to see.

And I’m a little too white and geeky to be dancing and singing along with it at home. Because surprisingly, I seem to know every word of every song on the entire album.

Good times.

Right after seeing The Bourne Identity I decided I wanted to be a super-secret-spy.

I wanted to be Jason Bourne.

You know the part where Jason’s all “who has a safety deposit box full of money and six passports and a gun? Who has a bank account number in their hip? I come in here, and the first thing I’m doing is I’m catching the sightlines and looking for an exit.”

I wanted to sit in a cafe and know where the closet exit was. Or where the gun might be hidden. I wanted to be able to scale buildings and kill people with my bare hands.

Plus I wanted to jump off the subway in Berlin without getting hurt.

A few days after seeing The Bourne Identity The King decided that we needed a safe deposit box. Just like Jason Bourne had.

Of course we weren’t going to be able to get a fancy numbered Swiss bank account and have the number put in a chip that is then inserted in your hip, to be removed at a later date. Yeah, we weren’t going to do that.

The only thing we could do was get a safe deposit box at our local bank. Which we did. Seriously weeks after seeing the movie and deciding to become more Jason Bourneish we were the proud owners of a safe deposit box. We just needed to decide what to actually put in the thing.

The King thought about what we had in our possession and what we could put in our new safe deposit box. He decided that we needed to put our passports (naturally) and all of our foreign currency in it. We don’t own a gun, so unfortunately we couldn’t put a gun in our safe deposit box. And we each only have the one passport each, so that wasn’t as cool as Jason’s passports for every country. But still, it’s cool-ish.

The King scoured our house and found all of our random foreign currency. You know when you come back from Canada and you’ve got a pocket full of loonies that won’t do you any good in the USofA and you never know what to do with them? Well, now we just throw them in our safe deposit box. We probably have like $5 Canadian and maybe €15. Maybe.

While chances are nobody is ever going to see inside our safety deposit box, it makes The King and I smile just knowing that if someone ever did get a peek inside all they would see is a couple of passports and a pile of foreign bills and change.

Maybe our next step to becoming Jason Bourne is to buy an old mini cooper and have car chases through the back alley by our apartment.

So tell me, has a movie ever inspired you to do something? And if so, what movie and what were you inspired to do?*

*I hope Pretty Woman never inspired anyone to become a prostitute. That would suck.

It’s the last Monday before we head off on our Summer Vacation to DC/NYC. Which means this week is going to be crazy. The King and I both sort of didn’t realize we were leaving this Saturday.

So um yeah, we aren’t as prepared as we should be for this trip.

Which means today’s post is all about The Bullets. Enjoy.

• The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is pee. I have to pee. Babboo is the same way. The King on the other hand didn’t pee on Sunday morning until 2 hours after he’d got out of bed. Two hours! That is insane.
• I talked to my little sister this weekend about the iron-on’s I made for my brother’s new baby. She admitted that she didn’t get the Little House one. And then she said, “I think I told you wrong. Our sister-in-law is into Anne of Green Gables, not Little House.” Yeah, not the same thing. Damn it..
• So totally randomly my little sister will be in DC on business the same time we’ll be there. This is so random. I mean, really, it’s crazy how random this is. I keep trying to come up with a time that we can get together with her. Even if just for lunch, or something. But she’s all “I’m too busy”. Whatever, jerk.
• I haven’t been able to bring myself to read the final installment of Frema’s online teenage soap opera Tragic Love Friday. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you should check it out. Seriously.
• We bought a new umbrella stroller this weekend for the upcoming trip. Babboo and I took it out on Saturday for a test drive. He loves it.
• I posted my latest New Thing today. You should totally go and read all about it and then leave me a comment so I feel special.
• The past two mornings on my way to work I’ve walked past a news camera crew. They’ve looked right past me and asked the person behind me for an on camera interview. I have no idea what they are interviewing them about. But I’m still a little upset that they aren’t asking me.
• Jihan is coming over to my pad tomorrow night so I can help her move her blog over to a self-hosted site. Wish us luck. I mean it, wish us luck.
• I invited four different friends (that have kids Babboo’s age) to meet Babboo and I at the Pacific Science Center last weekend. All four of them turned me down. May would’ve gone with me if she hadn’t packed up and moved to Reno!
• Things I have to do this week include getting a hair cut, grocery shopping, eating all the groceries before we leave, finding someone to come and scoop out our cat box while we’re gone, wax, doctor appointment for Babboo, laundry, painting our new house, finding rides to and from the airport. Oh, and packing for the trip. Kill me now.

So tell me, what do you have going on this week??

My younger brother and his wife are having a baby. Y’all know what that means?

That’s right, iron-on onesies!

But then I realized that I don’t really know what my brother and his wife are into. I mean, they probably wouldn’t appreciate a Rhett Miller iron-on for their little guy. And I doubt they’d know what “Future Blogger” even meant. I quickly gmail-chatted Jihan for some suggestions, since she’s close to my brother’s age. While I agree with her that Bette Midler is ultra fabulous, I don’t think my brother would agree.

I decided to e-mail my younger sister at work and see if she could think of any bands or TV shows that my brother and his wife are into. I patiently sat at my desk, photoshop opened, waiting for her response of some clever iconic image to turn into the perfect baby shower present for my new nephew.

Thankfully she quickly wrote me right back saying; “He is into Star Track, guys that talk for dolls, Star Wars, IKEA, and don’t forget, chickens.”

I know what you’re thinking.

Star TRACK? Guys that talk for dolls? Chickens?

What in the crap?

Not only do I not know my younger brother that well, I apparently don’t know my sister either. She crazy.

I thought about it for a minute before I realized what she meant is that he’s into ventriloquists. Which, to be fair to my brother, I’m not sure he is into. Sure he got a dummy for Christmas when he was 7. But that was a long time ago.

Chickens? IKEA? Let’s not even go there. Really, it’s for the best.

I think I was at an even bigger loss after e-mailing with my sister.

Thankfully she wrote me again and said, “I just remembered that our sister-in-law really likes ‘Little House on the Prairie‘.”

Much better. Now that’s something I can work with.

I sent it to The King for his approval. First off, he said I as a nerd. Then he said he didn’t think my brother and his wife would get the joke.

Please tell me that you get it. Please.

(And if you don’t, do you have any better ideas?)