Music Monday: Old feeling, new beginning

I know purists pull out their hair over the treatment that early music gets from groups like these, but as far as I’m concerned, purists can get over themselves.

Music Monday: Jane Wiedlin

The weather has improved slightly, and the sunshine, plus an 80s kick I’m on (still!) have conspired to unearth this little pixie. Paradoxically, I find her voice a bit annoying, but damn, does she pen some catchy tunes. I can even overlook the embarrassing outfits; because those were the (late) 80s, after all.

Wordless Wednesday: Cool cold remedy

Music Monday: Kasabian

What a difference a haircut makes… Live appearances on Jools Holland’s show (absolutely required viewing for music adventurers) two years apart show singer Tom Meighan going from Charlie Manson gang lookalike (not necessarily Linda Kasabian, though *snickers*) to Fringe‘s Joshua Jackson lookalike!

The music remains ace, though. I can sniff Glastonbury Pyramid Stage already.

Music Monday: Emilie Autumn

I’ve been notified that a new album is on its way. (Insert fangirly squee.) I wonder if she’s moving away from the ‘Victoriandustrial’ look and outlook of the Opheliac era, or if that’s her persona that won’t budge from album to album… Judging by the cult following of the Asylum book (which I still can’t afford *pout*), I suspect the latter. What I’m pretty sure of is she’s going to deliver some more wonderfully bitchy lyrics. Like these.

Old Feeling, New Beginning

It’s been some time.

Over the last three weeks I’ve completed the latest Chopra Center Meditation Challenge, had to deal with several issues concerning the future of myself and my family, and got burned out on decision-making. The break from blogging couldn’t have had better timing.

This blog has lasted longer than any of my older ones (though not by any fault of mine), but lately it felt like it had lost its direction. Storing and sharing material that I find inspiring is all well and good, but so is original writing, which I realised I hadn’t done in a very long time.

So, at the beginning of this school year, some things change around here as well. The Waffle is going to acquire some more structure. There will be recurrent events, like a Music Monday and a Wordless Wednesday and a variety of TGIF goodies (yoga, movies, books), but there will be free days as well, where I will be waffling on anything that takes my fancy, or posting other people’s inspirational works, or even, simply, letting them go by silently.

Welcome back, and excuse the dust and scaffolding. Waffling is a work in eternal progress.

Comeback of the Mustache? I Don’t Think So

There is an ugly rumor circulating about the return of the 1970s mustache-wearing male finding his way to the 21st century. Is this a backlash to the metrosexual era? Is this a way for the “regular guy” to reclaim his masculinity? Is this a way of making food stuck to a man’s face acceptable?

As a single woman, I strongly object to this horrific trend.

I’m not going to throw around careless accusations against facial hair. That just wouldn’t be right. Rather, my approach will be fair and balanced. You know, the reporting style made famous by Fox News.

For starters, the mustache reminds me of 1970s porn. As a kid, I wasn’t always able to recognize the vital body parts through the scrambled Playboy Channel, but I could always tell if the man was wearing a mustache. Not a sexy scene, my friends.

Sticking with the 1970s theme, my father sported a mustache back then, and I don’t want to date a man that resembles him. That’s taking the Father Complex theory way too far.

Most importantly, I have very sensitive skin. In fact, so sensitive that I once went out on a date with a man that had facial hair and after three hours of lip smacking, my skin became so irritated that I developed a rash. Sure, you can make the argument that the rash was due to the marathon-long make-out session, not the mustache per se, but this isn’t a time to be logical. Let’s keep the focus of this post where it belongs, on the ill-conceived return of the mustache.

I’m not prejudiced; I’m against all mustaches.

Pencil mustache? No way. It reminds me of John Waters.

The toothbrush? Um, no. Charlie Chaplin donned that one for a reason: it’s funny-looking.

Horseshoe-style mustache? Nice try. Hulk Hogan can get away with it is because wrestlers are cartoon-like.

Magnum, P.I. mustache? Oh, now you’re playing dirty (I like that), but chances are you don’t look like Tom Selleck. Psssssst. If you share his rugged good looks, e-mail me your digits.

Guys, take it from me. I won’t steer you wrong. There is a reason the mustache trend died a slow death. Here’s a hint: men aren’t supposed to be walking buffets, able to select from an assortment of late-night snacks trapped in their hippielips.

I’m just sayin’.

About the Author
Auria Cortes is a writer, artist, and wannabe guitar player. To read and comment on her life observations go to www.auriacortes.com.