Your Cuddle Bunny's Waiting for his Jam.

Record Cozy. It has been a while. (Please feel free to read that in an Eric Northman circa "Plaisir d'Amour," True Blood Season 1. I know I did.)

Because I could look at him all day. Let's do that now.

So. Here we are again. I'd like to say it's something flashy, something exciting or humorous, but really it's completely normal. Or at least I hope it is for you.

I'm not talking about something in the TMI zone, no, I'm talking about music. I don't just mean music as back ground noise or something you can move to. But music as your life's blood. As part of your life, your memories, your happiness. Hardcore. I said that, but I'm not a hipster, I swear.

It's why music people look down on non-music people. Or at least choose not to associate with them. Can you imagine going a day without listening to music at least once? Even elevator music or the bass of a car stereo as some teenager blasts their rebellious noise? I can't.

When you hear a good song, there's something about it that just makes sense. You close your eyes, you dissect the layers or you listen for that one note. You know that song forever. When you hear that one unforgettable line, it's the most lovely feeling in the world. It's just right. Warm fuzzies.

Then the songs are everywhere. You hear a certain phrase and it's never the same again. As Spike once asked Buffy on an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, "Who you gonna call?" and after a deliberate pause he said, "That phrase is never going to be usable again, is it?" And it won't.

Music's way sneaky. I know that I can't stop giggling when I try to enjoy a hot beverage, because as soon as I think, "Tea or coffee?", I'm compelled to finish with, "Chocolate Cake or Biscuit?" from a Patrik Fitzgerald song I was listening to (obsessively) a few weeks ago.

You'll hear that song again, and you'll remember the first time you heard it, what the weather was like that day, what you did, how you felt. And that's a mixed bag. Rule #1: Never listen to an excellent song if you believe your boyfriend will break up with you.

That's not really a rule. You can listen to country music. "The music of pain," according to Xander Harris. (I'm feeling the Buffy references tonight for some reason.) Xander Harris: Music person. You don't spend your youth at a music club if you don't get it. The Bronze had some nice 90's stuff. Alt-rock at its best. That poppy goodness means fun times with your buds. Country means pain.

If you've ever had a song stuck in your head, there's probably a reason for your music needs. Today, that song is "The Killing Moon" by Echo & The Bunnymen. For me, that is. Why? It's a bit snowy, but there's slush on the ground. It's the first week of classes. It's drab. The streets feel still when it's cold. Those faint notes just sound so desolate, yet the lyrics are strangely romantic.

There's something about the lyrics that can't quite fit anywhere comfortably. There's an edge. "Fate /Up against your will/Through the thick and thin" with its almost cathartic melody alongside it, just melts the drab day away. It's like seeing snowflakes fall in front of a streetlamp. Pretty, but it's going in your rain boots. Your socks are wet, but you're too happy to care. It's a night where your breath curls from your lips ("a magic world"), and you feel like you're just about in Narnia. Not exactly what it means. But that's OK.

When the music moves you, it does more than move you, physically. You're a poet, you're an artist. And your a character in your own movie. You can be giddy or angry at the world, or a hopeless romantic. You just need the right song. And the will to move that sentimental cuddle bunny in your heart. He's waiting to hear his jam. Don't make him cry.

If he's not burning up your tummy waving a bunny-sized lighter of joy and warmth that makes you smile, you're not doing it right. Embrace the bunny. He is your friend. And music, she's like a superspy, but she's got your back. Check back for concept art: Cuddle Bunny and Music Spy. (Not really, but just picture it. And get listening.)

Kele of Bloc Party just became your Cuddle Bunny.

Or if you prefer the literal images...

Skarsgard Fix -- Best Thing To Say Ever.

I think I pretty much have the best friends ever. It's not huge gestures or even insane amount of time spent together that makes them great. I'd have to say it's the times when they say just the right thing to make me laugh spontaneously at one random word or phrase or image. Or to understand the obscure references I sometimes like to use. That's good enough for me.

I'll tell you how this little tech conversation went earlier today on Facebook:

(Status Update)
Rachel is *not* listening to the avett brothers on repeat and looking at pictures of ireland. she's clearly doing something to enrich her mind. or her GPA. yeahhh.

(Alison Comments)
Yet again, sub Sufjan Stevens and Miniature Tigers and Alexander Skarsgard... I mean... look at this essay I'm writing!

(Rachel Comments)
i love that i know exactly which blanks those go in. ha. someone is going to come by and find you staring motionless at your walls, only to realize you aren't in fact dead, just in a skars trance.

That's the end of the exchange. Just that little bit of dialogue. And it made my night.

Oh and seriously, can you blame me for Skars trances when you put all of this in front of my face? Sigh. (Yeah, I chose that one. I like the way he scrunches his nose up. Cute. Bloody eyes. Less cute.)

Finer Details:

1. Rachel knows that I recently put the TV Guide Scene Stealer article with The Skarsgard on my wall.

2. This is the first time that she's called him Skars. It's obviously not the first time she's heard it. Not from me. Psh. Yes from me.

3. She's not a True Blood girl. Although I immediately offered my DVDs (spread the wealth, right?), she declined because, and I quote, "I don't need to get addicted to another show."

Probably true. I spend a lot of time thinking about Viking vampires. I'm not going to tell you what I'm thinking about. Let's leave that a really transparent mystery.

There might be something to this staring at the wall thing. Or at my laptop. Or at the television.

Maybe I should wear a sign around my neck that says, "Not dead, just looking at Alexander Skarsgard."

Rachel and Nyssa: Thank you for understanding me enough to make me laugh at one-sentence typed responses. You always find the best things to say. Ever. I spend a lot of time giggling. It's your fault.

Well, you and Alexander Skarsgard.

UPDATE (9/11/09 at 11:23 a.m.):

I just had a thought about The Skars. Shocker. I can recall a conversation with Nyssa which she started with, "I was thinking about Eric in the shower this morning." (A reflection on the Eric-Sookie relationship in the books, completely logistical.) to which I replied, "You were thinking about Eric in the shower? You slut!"

But really, that was the tea cozy calling the amigurumi cute and superfluous. I was thinking about this post, and indirectly, Alexander Skarsgard, earlier. And I realize that I can't get through the day without calling myself a "Skars Perv." Because really, who wouldn't be?

I think we need another Skars Fix, because I can't be the only one pining in the morning. That's me. Cute and Superfluous. Just don't tell anyone.

A & Me -- Alison, This is Your Life.

You ever just have a sudden weird reflective moment? Well, I just did. Let me tell you a little about my evening.

I'm in college, so there's bound to be assignments piling up. That, and laundry. I took care of both, reading several chapters about grammar while feeling delighted that I didn't have to sucker punch anyone for a dryer.

Then I came back to my room, had a little dinner, and worked on some reviews I have for this week for The Pitt News. I make a lot of connections to cartoon characters when I really think about things. One Colin Hay song sounded like something Chef would sing on South Park. I don't think I'll be printing that.

Break time and what do I do? Watch some Ghost Hunters and work on my Bella's Mittens!

The combination of activities in itself isn't exactly regular, but I think my own enjoyment in the activity is what scares me the most. What's interesting about these mittens is they're knit by the Magic Loop method, at least in part.

Magic Loop is something I've never tried before, and I am kicking myself for it. Double-pointed needles can be annoying and even if I'm extra careful, I still get slight laddering in stockinette stitch. Magic Loop makes it so much easier to knit in the round! It's a little tricky, but definitely not as cumbersome as 5 needles at once. I always have a problem with dropping the one loose needle in the couch cushions or the cat stealing one. Here, no muss, no fuss.


It's not much yet, but it's looking good.

So, how do I spend my evenings? Tucked in my room with my paranormal investigators, new and exciting knitting techniques and drowning out my neighbors with headphones and a loud and lovely dose of Good Shoes.

Simple? Yes. Boring? To anyone else, yes. But for me, it's the perfect time to reflect on the weirdness that is my taste in culture. And my life.

A & Me -- Cut Off My Arm, College.

It's 11:31 and I'm feeling shyt. I'm sitting home alone tonight. And I can't even watch True Blood online. (To the tune of "Backfire at the Disco" by The Wombats, if you please.) Note: This video is brilliant. People are jerks. I love Frosty's.

But seriously. Quirky song lyrics aside, I have something to say: I hate college. Why do I hate college? Well, for 3 weeks (2, but I'm blaming it for them not broadcasting on Labor Day as well) I hate it for keeping me away from my HBO. And my True Blood.

There are several things I've learned while REALLY waiting for True Blood. That's past Sunday, past 9 p.m. and past the point of my sanity. And I took the time to write them out in 10 colorful steps. You can actually pinpoint the moment I lost my mind.

Here I am, in my room in the semi-darkness in front of the computer, pacing back and forth stuffing my face with green grapes and Pepperidge Farm Goldfish (Original Style, fyi). And I feel like a mental patient. I'm compelled to eat these grapes, which are just sitting in my fridge, and I'm reminded of a story about my brother.

When he was little, after returning from the grocery store with my mother, he sat in front of the television with a bag of green grapes. He proceeded to eat the entire bag in one sitting and then threw up the same grapes all over himself.

Now, why am I reminded of this story? Because I'm getting pretty crazy. That is, I've eaten an entire bag of Goldfish and the grapes are just sitting there looking at me. I know that road leads to green vomit, but lack of True Blood has addled my brain.

But there are still lessons learned from this experience:

1. I thought waiting a week to watch True Blood was bad. Watching the hour between 9 and 10 o'clock tick by while you stare at the wall because you have no HBO is like watching someone cut off your arm and repeatedly beat you with it.

2. No HBO is the equivalent of being exiled to a Leper colony. At the time when you most want to vent, you're banned from all online outlets. That means Facebook, your favorite blogs and ESPECIALLY Twitter. (That includes BlogTalk. Frowny face.)

3. When you're waiting for an upload, sitting in the dark in front of your laptop, refreshing web pages every 40 seconds seems like a good idea. (For 3 hours.)

4. This waiting period feels somewhat like I'd imagine labor feels. There's shaking, sweating, mood swings, cursing and a sudden need for drugs. (Drugs = True Blood in this case.)

5. No True Blood Sunday at 9 p.m. makes me want to eat chocolate and ice cream more than any failed relationship ever could. If it ever gets cancelled, I'm padlocking my fridge or gaining 45 pounds.

6. Never knit while you wait. True Blood anxiety = Many dropped stitches and unhappy feelings.

7. People talk about masturbation in chat rooms more freely than they should. They're also stupid, mean and have terrible spelling and grammar.

8. I'd feel better about humanity if they didn't talk so much about boobs.

9. I get angry at people who just like Eric for his hotness or jumped on the bandwagon late in the game (after the dream sequence, much?). Chat names are usually something along the lines of Ericslover, Eric4Me and EricsBoyfriend. I feel like the best girl friend seeing her boy date another girl (or guy) when she wants him for herself.

10. I hate college. But only when it comes between me and my True Blood. Like sisters. I think those girls would be ripping off each other's heads if their man was Eric Northman.

There will be a recap when frickin' Niall Brigant sends a miracle my way. I've been working on the Newlin angle, and I think all that'll save me now is a little Fairy magic.

Sayonara from getting beaten by my own arm by my stupid education. More people would go to college if there was HBO. Hey, it goes along with my theory that taping Skars to my homework will improve my GPA. Melancholy thy name is Alison.

UPDATE: The end of this story? It's 1:04 a.m. I watched a jumpy grainy video with (thank God) good audio after several anxious hours. I also missed the last 15 minutes. Which I'm pretty sure was mostly Eric. And I'm also pretty sure that this time, that last bit of lovely True Blood actually exists. Unlike last week.

The end. Still armless. Like frickin' Jane Bodehouse when she's finished with that machete.

UPDATE: 11:15 a.m. Monday. Saw it all now. Recap will be up later tonight. Wtf, True Blood? Wtf. Giant egg?

Think Helicopters = Hot Swedish Pilots.

It's now twenty minutes of one and all I can hear out of my new dorm window is helicopters. And what do I choose to think about? What I always choose to think about. Pop culture references. There, I was feeling a little Pinky and The Brain action. In this case with the helicopterus interuptus, a little of this:

"The Drinking Song" by Moxy Fruvous:
I can't explain this except for my mom took me to a lot of folk fests as a kid. I still heart the Fruvous. Live Noise especially.

"Helicopter" by Bloc Party:
In my head it's this version by RAC. -- Free download for the album at Stereogum, btw and it's brilliant.

Hjartslag:
Short Film with Alexander Skarsgard -- Because I'll use any excuse... Did I mention it's a musical? And he wears a uniform and is a helicopter pilot? Interested now? I think so.

I can't sleep, but not bad. Not bad at all. I'll take a little Skars any day. Or a lot of Skars. I'll take some randomly literal pop culture references in there as well. Moxy Fruvous and Bloc Party may not make sense together, but why not? I try not to question my brain's connections. Maybe that's why I see a little True Blood in everything.

Oh, Skars. Is there anything I can't connect you to? Helicopters = Hot Swedish Pilots. I like it.

Sailor Moon -- My Grade School Sookie

After revisiting my childhood pop culture faves with last night's post and An American Tail, I looked up another one. I used to love Sailor Moon. I even had the theme birthday party with the cake, cups and the paper plates with Sailor Moon winking up at all my party guests. I can remember watching it with my friends and lusting after stuffed Luna dolls at the mall.

But what I didn't remember was the villain seen in the video below is sporting some nasty fangs, then turns into an evil-looking corpse dressed in a harem outfit. That very well may have been my first vampire, but a saw more of a connection to Sookie Stackhouse's role than to any of the True Blood vampires.

Unless you count them as objects of my affection and fictitious character crushes. Oh, Tuxedo Mask, why don't they wear the capes anymore? Oh, yes. Maybe this is why. Racerback tanks are more badass.

Sailor Moon was my grade school Sookie Stackhouse. It's not just because they're both tough, spunky blondes, it's all they represent: A strong female role model. Of course, True Blood doesn't always paint Sookie as she was written. There's a lot more "Save me, Bill!" than I can remember reading, but the principle's the same. Like Serena, all Sookie needs is a little motivation and she saves the whole world. Even if she sometimes gets distracted by the cute guys. (Note the fact that Tuxedo Mask is the gentlemanly tall, dark and handsome, Sailor Moon's the fair-haired heroine and the evil guy's a blond with similar new Eric hair?)

Lessons Learned from This Rediscovery:

1. Eric Northman still trumps every fictional character (and real-life?) crush I've ever had.

2. Sailor Moon was probably the reason for my elementary school obsession with Feminism.

3. Luna was responsible for my Crazy Cat Lady tendencies. (I thought I might be a Sailor Scout.)

4. Cartoon hair is ridiculous. And awesome. (And sometimes talks to you?)

5. It's okay for heroines to cry and wear skirts and short shorts if they get results.

6. Whether it's a tiara or a chain, my girly role models can turn bitches to dust, save their worlds and their loves.

There's someone to teach you about life through pop culture at every stage of your life. Sailor Moon set a standard for me at a young age. She's all about justice and love and cute outfits. Without that, I can't imagine that I'd feel the same about Sookie.

UPDATE: I can't stop watching this Sailor Moon clip. Old habits die hard?

A & Me -- True Blood Swag!

This section is basically an excuse for me to say something relating directly to myself and indirectly to one of my blog topics. I call it, "A & Me" because it's quite exciting to me and may be to those A & E lovers out there, but probably not. It's at least as exciting as one can express these things via blocks of text. Maybe this would be more appropriate, :D Emoticons, what would we do without you?

Guess what I got in the mail yesterday?

True Blood Swag Bag!

That's right, my prize from the Songs for Sookie Contest! (See Part 1, Part 2 there, Parts 3 and 4 coming soon.)

True Blood Season 2 Notebook (left)
Back of True Blood Tee (right)
Front of True Blood Tee (bottom)

But wait! There's more!

A new tie-in copy of Living Dead in Dallas

And a Tru Blood Postcard

And because Sookie Stackhouse is awesome...

... she signed my copy of Living Dead in Dallas!

"Real vampires don't sparkle. Ever."

That's right, no Cullens over Northmans here!

It seems my permanent attachment to my iPod and obsessive True Blood watching and Sookie Stackhouse Novel-reading has finally paid off. In a way that feeds the addiction...

Thank you, @SookieBonTemps! Great contest!