Chinese food: Never as good as you think it will be

-- So today, as I was firing up the laptop in the kitchen, getting ready for my weekly fix of American Top 40: the 80s on 101.5 The River from Toledo (it airs tomorrow at noonish on kruzFM from Peterborough), they were playing that song by Dido before the countdown began. I don't know the name of it - the one that goes "I won't go down with this ship...." - and they had a picture of the album cover. I realized then that I had never seen Dido before. It was odd, because she didn't look like i thought she'd look. You know how you can hear a song and immediately picture the person singing it? I mean, you don't have to have ever laid eyes on Meatloaf to know what he looks like. Same with Stevie Nicks. Or Aretha. However, Dido was a young girl, pretty, nothing especially distinguishing. And this isn't what I pictured. No, the second I heard her for the first time, I KNEW she would look British. Not with bad teeth, or too many teeth, or with greasy hair, but with white blond hair, not fat, or even exactly chubby, but just a little big boned and hippy (not flower-power, but big hipped). I actually thought of Alison Moyet but skinnier, but this isn't exactly right. Dido was a little full-figured, blonde, a little awkward, overly kind, dressed in Levis and jean jackets, smelled of Pears soap, wore hoop earrings, straight, thin, but long hair, shy smile, excessively kind, had more than one cat, a space between her teeth, maybe a delicate version of Christine McVie, but not exactly. Accentuates herself with a scarf, likes patchouli, works as a nursery school teacher or a nurse in an old folks home, or perhaps a man's job like mechanic, but not a lesbian, although she's a little oafish and rough around the edges enough to be thought of as a sister by sisters who want to sleep with her. She sometimes would indulge in too much beer or wine and likes fish and chips and may even smoke Silk Cut once in a while, and chews spearmint gum, and always falls for the wrong guys, the ones who use her and sleep with her and then go home to their girlfriends, and she cries in her tea, but she doesn't get hard-hearted. A real salt of the earth gem of a person.
And Dido wasn' that at all. So I just don't know what to make of it.
It's sort of like how, back in the day, in late 1983/early 1984, when Madonna first came on the scene with her first single "Holiday" and Shannon came out with "Let the Music Play" - these two songs came out at the same time, and I effing LOVED the everloving shit of their entire being. I know I get all drama-queen about all this music shit all the time, but seriously, in defining musical influence moments, those two songs were in the top five, maybe even top 3, of musical influences/epiphanies/etc. This is what cemented my love for 80s dance/disco/funk music. Anyway, I somehow pictured this Madonna to be a black woman with those Bo Derek braids - a lady Stevie Wonder - and Shannon to be a blonde chain-smoking woman. And neither was true - SHannon was black with the braids, and Madonna was chubby and white and sort of sleazy. I remember seeing the video for "Burning Up" on "New York Hot Tracks" and going "she's white!?!" I didn't even see that one coming. What does any of this have to do with anything? Nothing. But whatever.
So anyway, back to the countdown. This week they are airing the broadcast from this week in 1983. And freakishly, I fucking remember hearing the countdown on the radio 26 years ago - just like last week's. I shit you not. How do I know this, you ask? Well, they had the listener-write-in trivia question, which was "what act has had the most top 40 sings and never had a #1 hit"? and i yelled out "ELO!" because I remember learning this, well, 26 years ago. I have even told Rachel this trivial fact before, when ELO was on the radio, and she looked at me like "holy shit Batman, how did I get myself into this one?" LOL, I remember we were travelling back from my dearly departed aunt's place, which was 4 hours away, and listening to this broadcast in the back of our looooong Buick LeSabre. Anyway, if you are interested, check it all out on the KRUZ tomorrow. It airs at 1:00 PM Ontario time, so that's like 12:00 SK time, etc.
Today it snowed like CRAZY. We slept late, and then got up, and baby boy is still sick, so he was sucky and we didn't get much done at first, and then we started cleaning our upstairs and then I finally threw some clothes on and went out and shoveled our driveway and our neighbors, and then ran to Walmart and Sobeys and then came home and Rachel ran to the hospital and I cleaned like a motherfucking Alice on 'roids, and put away 5 heaping baskets of clothes, and then Rachel said she'd stay at the hospital for supper, so I convinced the kids to let me order Chinese, which they hate, and I ordered a shitload of food, and it wasn't even good, so now I feel gypped of 40 bucks, and I have oodles of leftovers nobody will eat. Anyway, it must have snowed a good 10 cms since I shoveled and it's still coming down, and now the wind is gusting like a mofo, and I admit I love winter storms when I have nowhere to go. Call me weird. But whatever.
Oh man, I've gained so much weight. All the weight I lost I put back on right after my aunt died. Emotional eating. I've got bitch tits now. I think I've reached the disgust point now though, so I think I am ready to diet next week - I refuse to be 40 and fat. This 4o thing is really sobering to me. It's like the fun and games are over - it's time to be serious.
Golden Girls reruns are on right now. I can't believe Bea is gone. She sure got slim for Golden Girls - Maude had some meat on her bones.
I guess I should get to bed - the Advil will be wearing off soon on my son, and we'll have to drug him again to get through the night. I hate kid fevers - scary as all fucking hell.
LOL, by the way, last night, at 3:00 am, Rachel wakes me and goes "Feel baby's head - is he really hot?" (he was in bed with us), and then she goes "go get an advil for him" and I go "oh, a pouch" and she goes "no, a PILL" and I go, "yes, I know, a POUCH" and I just wasn't waking up right, and it was a funny Gong-Show.
Oh, and I am doing my yearly Augusten Burroughs re-read. He's sort of full of himself, hey?

Anyway, that's all I got to say. If all y'all want some Chinese food, please feel free to stop by tomorrow for lunch.
Holy moly, the wind is blowing and I can feel the breeze rush across my feet from my backdoor. Either the dogs have scratched off the weather-stripping again, or the rapture in imminent.
Peace out, dudes.