'Great Debaters' podcast

I put together my first podcast today, and I'm pleased with how it turned out. It's an interview with Brad Watkins, a local actor who has a small role in the Denzel Washington movie The Great Debaters.

You can read a bit more about it in my Get On With Your Nightlife blog, or just download the podcast.

Despite her attempts to bribe him with the gift of a broken Daewoo television, Misty never did convince Brad to take her to the wrap party at Denzel's house.

Post-Thanksgiving Post-Its

While Misty was in the shower this morning, Emily and I were watching cartoons. Emily decided she wanted to write Mommy a note, so I transcribed it for her. Here's what it said:

"Welcome to your parade and welcome to your holiday. But I have a bad secret. Malificent is going to come and appear at everything, so you'd better get here real quick."

Then she dictated a second note for Aunt Wanda:

"I love you. Do you love you too? I will make a cake for you real soon. It's going to have Cinderella on it because when you're four, you'll have a Cinderella dress."

She just cracks me up.

I've joined Dumbledore's Army

This arrived at my office via "Owl Mail" (a.k.a. the super-cool folks at McWane Science Center) this afternoon.



Along with a copy of "The Daily Prophet" there was also a wand and a "Dumbledore's Army" t-shirt. Best of all, inside was a pair of tickets for a press screening of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix at IMAX three days before the movie opens.

Feeling hot, hot, hot

Over the four years that we've lived in our house, we've had numerous problems with our air conditioner. Initially, we had a homeowner's warranty, so every time something went wrong, we only had to pay $45 for a service call. Nevertheless, those charges added up. Various repair technicians have refilled leaking freon, searched for leaks that they didn't find, searched for leaks that they did find, claimed nothing was wrong with the system, blown out the line (which I've since learned how to do myself), and even replaced the entire outdoor unit.

Once again, our air condioner is not cooling. We discovered the problem on Wednesday as we returned home from work. Immediately, we cut off the air so it wouldn't burn out the unit. The next morning, we called the service place and set up an appointment. The earliest they could come was Friday. Suffering through a second night in the heat was not a prospect we were relishing, but it wasn't unbearable. We just kept in mind that at least our outdoor unit, being only three years old, was still under warranty.

When the repair guys showed up Friday evening, it only took them about five minutes to figure out the problem. The compressor was shot. No big deal, right? It's under warranty. Well, sort of.

While the part is still covered under the manufactuer's warranty, the service is only covered for one year, so we'd have to pay for installation. That's going to run around $500. We have a good friend who works for a different heating and cooling service company who would give us a much better deal. However, according to our warranty, the same company who installed the unit must be the one to service it, otherwise our warranty is void. Our friend had suspected as much, but I was still surprised to see it confirmed. So, even if he could do the work for us for free, we'd then have to sell out around $1200 for a new compressor.

So now, we're waiting until Tuesday when the service company with whom we're contracted can come back out and replace the unit again. And of course, the temperature is expected to get up to 99° today. We called the 800 number for the manufacturer to see if there was any way their warranty would cover putting us up in a hotel for a couple nights -- we do have a three-month-old baby, after all. Unfortunately, by the time the service guys left, it was 7 p.m., and the manufacturer's answering system told us that they wouldn't be open again until Monday morning. So, we're just going to tough it out through the heat, spending as much time out of the house during the middle of the day as possible.

There is one good thing to come out of this debacle, though.

Usually Kendall sleeps upstairs in our bedroom. Sometimes she spends half the night in her bassinett, but she never seems quite comfortable there and wakes easily. When she wakes up hungry in the middle of the night, Misty just lays her in bed with us to let her nurse because it's a lot easier than trying to stay awake in a rocking chair for 15 minutes while Kendall gulps down her milk.

With it so hot in the house though, we're worried about the increased risk of SIDS. Misty and I agreed that Kendall would be better off sleeping downstairs in her own bedroom where it was cooler.

When I woke up around 5:30 this morning, I realized something: I'd slept through the night having never heard Kendall on the baby monitor. I peeked in on Misty (who'd slept in another room to keep cooler) to see if maybe she'd gotten the baby in the night, but the only thing she was holding was her pillow. I tiptoed into Kendall's room, and there she was, splayed out in her crib, still sleeping. So thanks to our broken air conditioner, our baby has finally made the move toward sleeping on her own.

R.I.P., Mona

Practicing for Halloween

As I was getting ready for work this morning, Emily met me in the doorway with a little pink basket, held it up, and said, "trick or treat, Daddy!"

I must have given her a look of incredulity -- a "you've got to be kidding me if you think I'm giving you candy at 6 a.m." look -- because she paused only a moment before explaining, "I'm just pretending."

Happy to pretend, I gave her a handful of imaginary candy.

My apologies to Harry Potter

Two weeks ago, I had intended on going to the the "breakfast with Darth Vader" portion of the Star Wars sleepover at the McWane Science Center to take pictures for al.com, but that was when Emily got sick, so I had to stay home with her instead. I'd told the folks at McWane that I'd be there though, so I felt bad about not going. I e-mailed their PR director a couple days later to offer my apologies and promised that I would definitely be at their upcoming book release party for Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows.

I've been pumped about the McWane Center's next Harry Potter party since book six came out. The event they hosted was phenomenal. The entire museum was converted into Hogwart's. They had magic classes (Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Herbology, Potions...), Marauder's Maps, a Sorting Ceremony, and hundreds of people dressed up. It totally blew away any book store's midnight release party. I expect this time will herald an even bigger extravaganza, and I've been encouraging my friends from Huntsville to drive down here to join the fun.

Until...

A few days ago Misty was invited to attend a weekend veterinary conference hosted by Novartis at the Opryland Hotel. It's basically an all-expenses-paid trip, with hotel, meals, and gas mileage covered by Novartis, and she can bring me along. Misty has long wanted to visit the Opryland Hotel, but we hadn't found an excuse to visit Nashville, and we didn't want to make such a trip for the hotel, alone. This mini-vacation seems like the perfect opportunity, so she signed us up to go. The only problem is that it's the same weekend as the Harry Potter party. And even though the release of book seven is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, we still had to weigh book release party vs. free vacation.

I'm sorry, Harry, but the free vacation won out. I hope you and your friends prevail over Voldemort. Your book will be waiting for me on my front porch when I get back.

Kids make a trip to the drugstore an adventure

Funny thing about Emily's bout with stomach flu last week -- the doctor told me that the incubation period could be as long as ten days, so Misty or I could get sick more than a week later. He just had to be right, didn't he.

Friday evening, Misty came down with the same thing Emily had and was a wreck throughout Saturday. Sunday morning, I had the honor of catching the bug, and I spent the day throwing up repeatedly. For some reason, the actual vomiting never really bothers me; it's the queasiness that does me in. When there was nothing left inside of me to pour out, I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach and pushed me down a flight of stairs.

Emily's diarrhea has continued throughout the week (again, just as the doctor predicted), so yesterday I took her along to CVS to try to find some dietary supplement called Culturelle. While scanning what I thought was the appropriate aisle, Emily grabbed a box and held it up saying, "Here, Daddy, is this it?"

"No, you do not need an enema," I told her as I put the box back on the shelf.

Quick to the rescue, quick with the wit

The grass in my yard is so incredibly dry and brittle from lack of rain that I actually got a splinter while walking around barefoot yesterday evening. Well, maybe it was a tiny piece of wood or a thorn, but I'd rather blame the dry grass -- it certainly was uncomfortable to walk on.

This morning, while getting ready for work, I attempted to pull the splinter out with tweezers. It wasn't working (probably because I'd left it in overnight), so Misty opened up a drawer in the bathroom, fished around a bit, and pulled out a safety pin. "Try this," she told me.

After a few seconds, I'd worked the splinter out easily. "That was a good idea," I said. "Thanks."

"Well, my nickname isn't the 'world's greatest badass' for nothing," Misty replied.

"Really?," I asked. "Who calls you that?"

"Me," she said. "But it's important that I believe in myself."

Wii don't need to eat dinner

Gentlemen, Nintendo has crafted a device that will make your wives and girlfriends want to play video games with you, and that device is the Wii.

Yesterday evening, as is often the case in our household, Emily was wrestling for Misty's attention over Kendall by pestering her relentlessly. "Mommy, can I have a snack?" ... "Mommy, come push me on the swing." ... "Mommy, can you fix my necklace?" ... "Mommy, eat this [imaginary] cupcake I made for you. ... No! You forgot to take the wrapper off first!" "Mommy, I need you."

Just to be a pest, I told Emily, "Maybe Mommy will play Wii Tennis with you when she finishes nursing Kendall," knowing full well that this would result in a barrage of requests from Emily that Misty hurry up and play. My thinking was: If Emily asks her, she's more likely to do it than if I do.

My plan worked. Mother and daughter played as a team for three rounds of tennis doubles, and the addictive powers of the Wii drew Misty in. Immediately following their set, Misty wanted to play again. Of couse, Emily pretty much sucks at the game and is able to return the ball about one out of every fifty times her opponent hits it to her, so I took over as Misty's partner. We played a couple more three-match sets, and it was time for dinner.

But Misty didn't want to eat dinner. She wanted to keep playing. So she quickly set out something for Emily to eat, and she returned to our game. Kendall was getting tired of sitting in her swing, so Misty and I took turns holding her in one arm while we swung our Wiimotes with the other. In between serves, Misty would dash into the kitchen to encourage Emily to continue to eat. I think we played three more five-match sets, (with a round of Wii Bowling somewhere in between) and we won each of them.

By this time, Emily needed to be getting ready for bed. Grudginly, Misty relented and allowed me to shut down the game system. We got Emily off to bed and heated up some soup for ourselves for dinner. While we were eating, Misty said something about being frustrated that we couldn't play anymore since we'd keep Emily awake. If we hadn't had a new Entourage DVD from the video store though, I think she would have turned turned the Wii right back on.

Charlotte A. Cavatica: The Spectacular Spider-Girl

Emily talked almost non-stop as we watched Charolotte's Web yesterday. Most of her interruptions were questions about what was going on, and I began to think that maybe the movie was a little above her head. After all, when the town was so impressed about the words woven into the spider's web (which is pretty much the crux of the story), Emily didn't seem to have any concept of why such things were going on.

But understand the movie or not, she was apparently paying more attention than I gave her credit for.

This morning, on the way to day care, she told us that "They were going to kill that pig just because he was little. And that girl, she didn't want him to. And she put the pig in her jacket and took him to school, and she gave him a bottle. That was silly."

The really fun part, though, was when she told us about the spider. "Charlotte caught a fly, and she drank its blood," Emily reported. "I don't drink blood. I'd get time out."

"Yes, you'd get worse than a time out," I replied.

"Yeah, I'd get sick," Emily said. "I'd have to go to the doctor."

At this point, Misty and I were trying not to laugh, and I told Emily, "Probably not Dr. French, though. You'd have to go see a different kind of doctor if you started drinking blood."

"Well, what's her name gonna be?," she asked.

"Uh... probably 'Buffy'," I answered.

"No, we wouldn't send her to someone to kill her," Misty scolded me.

"Buffy didn't always kill the vampires," I said. "She kept Spike around, and she even dated Angel."

So here I was, having to rationalize with my wife about fictional characters involved with creatures that don't actually exist in order to establish that I wouldn't really put a stake through our daughter's chest in the event that she started drinking blood. Hopefully there won't be any phone calls from school today.

My mother-in-law's sex change

This story needs to begin a ways back, otherwise it won't make sense. Misty's mom recently finished her second round of chemotherapy treatments. Her doctor had been hoping the medicine would shrink the cancer that had reappeared, but last week her scan results showed that intstead the cancer was completely gone. This was, of course, great news. The point though, is that Misty's mom is currently bald for the most part, thanks to the chemo.

That's the prelude. Now for the story.

Emily and I were playing with our Wii yesterday afternoon, making Miis (avatars that can be used in certain games). She wanted me to make one for each of her grandparents, despite the fact that I doubt either my mother or Misty's mother will ever pick up the controller. Emily was sick though, so I humored her.

When I finished making a Mii for Misty's mom (whom I had given a hairstyle like she had before her chemo), I asked, "Does this look like Mimi?"

Emily said, "That's not her hair. She's a man now. I want her to be a girl like me."

So, apparently, for a 3-year-old, being bald makes you a man.

How many sips does it take to get to the bottom of a 32-ounce bottle of blue Gatorade?

For those of you following the drama, our trip to the doctor today revealed that Emily has gastroenteritis, a.k.a. the stomach flu. It's a virus, so medicine won't help, but supposedly it'll work its way out on its own. Really the only worry is avoiding dehydration.

On the way to the doctor, Emily threw up in the car (her sixth bout), but luckily I'd had the forethought to put a towel down under her car seat. However, I did forget to bring along a change of clothes for her, so she had to stay damp.

The doctor wrote us a perscription for Phenergan which helps curb vomiting, but he cautioned us not to use it unless we really needed to, since it makes people sleepy and it's been known to cause babies to stop breathing. Instead, he recommended that we simply stick to Gatorade and then the BRAT diet. Here's the fun part: Because of Emily's vomiting, she probably won't keep anything down, so he said I should give her two teaspoonfuls of Gatorade at 10-minute intervals.

I don't know if you can conceptualize the size of two teaspoonfuls of liquid, but it's pretty dang small. To avoid making it seem like I was trying to give her medicine, I poured the teaspoons into a cup for Emily. She drank the meager portion eagerly and said, "This is so good! May I have some more?" It was tough explaining to her that she had to wait 10 minutes before her next sip. It was tougher still listening to her ask "Is it 10 minutes yet?" every 2 minutes or so for the next hour. I was thrilled when we graduated to saltines.

By this evening, Emily was acting like everything was fine. She went outside to swing and help me water the plants. She hasn't had any more epsidodes of vomiting since we visited Misty at work on the way home from the doctor's office. Misty picked Emily up for a hug, and almost immediately Emily threw up on her. At least she was wearing scrubs.

Yuck

Only two days have passed since Emily returned to day care, and already she's sick. She woke up crying around 1:30 this morning, and I came downstairs to find her in a puddle of vomit. She'd thrown up in her bed so it was all over the sheets, the pillow, her pajamas, and her hair. And, of course, when I scooped her up to carry her into the bathroom, it got all over me too. Miraculously, the three stuffed animals that she likes to sleep with managed to avoid the mess.

After a bath and tooth brushing, Misty and I brought Emily upstairs to sleep in the guest room. She wanted one of us to sleep with her, so I volunteered. I knew I probably wouldn't sleep, but I also knew that since Misty only returned to work two days ago, it would be easier for me to get the day off. She'd need sleep more than me. I was right, too. For three hours Emily kicked me in the groin and smacked me in the face as she flopped around in bed. I don't know how she stays asleep while moving around that much.

At 5 a.m. I headed back to my own bedroom, figuring that something must have just disagreed with her stomach and that the worst was over. Within 10 minutes, she was throwing up again. Another set of sheets went in the washing machine. She's thrown up a couple more times since then, too.

Now I'm just waiting for the pediatrician's office to open so I can get her over there. Emily's been watching cartoons while I worked online. At one point on Little Einsteins, the kids asked the audience to sing along to help them out and Emily said, "But I don't want to sing; I don't feel good."

A good, old-fashioned book burning

You think it's hot here? It's 451 degrees in Kansas City.

Tom Wayne amassed thousands of books in a warehouse during the 10 years he has run his used book store, Prospero's Books. His collection ranges from best sellers like Tom Clancy's "The Hunt for Red October" and Tom Wolfe's "Bonfire of the Vanities," to obscure titles like a bound report from the Fourth Pan-American Conference held in Buenos Aires in 1910. But wanting to thin out his collection, he found he couldn't even give away books to libraries or thrift shops, which said they were full. So on Sunday, Wayne began burning his books [to] protest what he sees as society's diminishing support for the printed word.

Apparently, Wayne said that "not reading a book is just as good as burning it." I can't decide if the guy's a hero or a villian.

File this under "things I never expected to hear"

Sorry I haven't written anything in a while. I'd love to post more often, but I'm too busy at work and too busy at home. Nevertheless, I couldn't let this go undocumented...

While brushing my teeth this morning, I heard Misty get out of bed and say, "Kendall left a hickey on my boob!"

Grumbling

Since I didn't have 15¢ today (Misty, you really should keep change in your car), instead I have a parking ticket for $15. I even picked a meter that had 30 minutes left on it, but unfortunately, the meeting I was at lasted 45 minutes.

Thank goodness for Ellen DeGeneres

Emily and I began last night what I hope will be a long-standing for the two of us. We watched the Oscars together. Or at least, we watched the first 45 minutes or so before she conked out in my lap and I carried her to bed. But I figure each year she'll be able to stay awake for a little bit more until she's finally able to hold out until the end.

Actually, I tried to begin this tradition last year, but Jon Stewart ruined that plan. As soon as Emily saw he was the host, she got agravated saying, "No, not Daily Show!"

But the dog was here!

When I got home from work yesterday, there was a dog in our driveway. Not just any dog -- a shih tzu. I could see that its hair was well cut, so it obviously had an owner nearby. Its evil eyes gazed up at me and I succumb to its spell. I picked the dog up and carried her into the backyard so she didn't get hit by a car while I tried to find out who in the neighborhood owned a brown shih tzu.

After only a few minutes it dawned on me that the only way to figure out who owned the dog was to wait for a "lost dog" sign to appear. Unfortunately, that would mean that this shih tzu would be staying at my home for an indefinite amount of time. I didn't like the idea of that. I decided that I'd wait for Misty to get home and leave the situation up to her (since she works for a vet and is, therefore, an expert on lost dogs).

For the next hour and a half or so, the dog sat next to me on the couch while I watched a movie I'd had on the TiVo for over a year. As if her good behavior wasn't evidence enough that she was domesticated, the moment she leapt off the couch upon hearing a doorbell in the movie cemented that notion.

When Misty arrived home with Emily, the dog came to greet Emily on the stairs. Emily was beside herself with joy. "Daddy," she exclaimed, "there's a doggy here! What's her name? Is this our doggy?" I was quick to warn her that this was not our dog, but rather, she was just visiting us for a little while. Misty, in her infinite wisdom, discovered the dog's owner in about 30 seconds by stepping outside the house and spotting a "lost dog" sign taped to the mailbox of our new neighbors who just moved into the house two doors down. It wasn't there when I looked!

The three of us brought the dog back to her proper home. We learned that her name is Jenna and that the dogs' owners are also the parents of a three-year-old girl. So the good part of the story is that Emily will have a new friend to play with. The bad part of the story is that she'll likely launch her campaign for a family dog any day now.

When it rains...

Things have been hectic in our family over the past week or so. It started around Tursday the 18th when Misty seemed to pick up the cold that I'd just gotten over. For her, though, being pregnant, the symptoms all hit her a lot harder. After several days, she wasn't improving, but instead, seemed to be getting worse. By Tuesday, I began bugging her to go to the doctor. Instead she had them call in a perscription for antibiotics. That seemed reasonable enough, and we assumed she'd perk up in a couple days.

Wednesday, Misty's mom had an appointment scheduled for surgery. Her arms were a mess from the various needles of nurses and doctors, so they were going to put a tiny port in her chest where they could inject the drugs for chemotherapy. Aunt Wanda came down to stay with Misty's mom for the operation. As fate would have it, that same Wednesday, Trion (Misty's cousin) & Stacy delivered their baby. Weighing in at 6 pounds and measuring 19 inches, they named her Patricia Paige Yeager. However, we couldn't get up to Cullman to see her because Misty was still far too sick to be near an infant and Misty's mother was, of course, in the hospital.

The operation for the port went fine, and the next day Misty's mom went in for another round of chemo. Misty drove her mom to the clinic, but had to just drop her off because she knew she shouldn't be around a bunch of cancer patients as sick as she was. Aunt Wanda was still on hand to stay at the clinic, though. After about three hours of chemo, when they started on the second drug of the day, Misty's mom's hart rate fell to 80/40. They put her in an ambulance and rushed her over to UAB. Apparently (as I learned later), they were worried she might not make it through. Misty got the call at home, and a nurse told her that they thought her mom either had a blood clot or an allergic reaction to the second drug. Misty hurried out to the hospital where she and Aunt Wanda sat until late Thursday night. The episode tuned out to be an allergic reation to the medicine, so the doctor still needs to decide how to proceed with the chemo. At least, though, they determined that Misty's mom was fit enough to go home.

All this time, Misty is still sick. The antibiotics didn't seem to be helping at all. Friday morning, feeling even worse, she finally went to see her ObGyn. The doctor told her they wanted to go ahead an admit her to the hospital and that she should go home and pack some clothes and plan on staying a couple nights. Misty called me at work with the news, so I headed home to join her. Since Aunt Wanda was headed back to Cullman, Emily and Misty's mom rode up there with her to stay the weekend -- that was maybe the one lucky thing to happen in all this mess, having a convenient alternative available for someone to watch Emily.

I drove Misty back to St. Vincent's where she was hooked up to an IV for fluids and antibiotics. They also monitored the baby every few hours, but thankfully, there was never any problem with her. They checked Misty for strep, pneumonia, and all other sorts of things, but never really came to a concrete answer as to what was making her sick. Based on Misty's white blood cell counts, the doctor believes she had had a virus that later developed into a bacterial infection. She's suppsedly improving (according to her blood work) but you wouldn't know it outwardly. The doctor told Misty that she shouldn't go back to work this week, and she shouldn't do any housework or grocery shopping or the like, otherwise she'll end up back in the hospital. After just over 48 hours at the hospital, we finally got to come home yesterday afternoon.

I'm staying home with Misty today to keep an eye on her. Later on I'll go pick up Emily, who has apparently had a great time at her three-day pajama party. Trion & Stacy brought Paige by Aunt Wanda's house Friday evening and Emily got to hold her. I wish I could have seen that, but I guess I'll get another chance when her baby sister is born in March.

Two proposals in one night

Emily asked Misty to marry her tonight. Misty was flattered and accepted.

When I told Emily that she'd need to marry a boy instead, she said, "OK, I pick you."

You don't need no readin', anyway

I mentioned that earlier today Emily and I ran some errands. We had planned to go to Bruno's, the post office, the library, and Sam's. However, when I realized that the books I wanted to return were in Misty's car, I scratched the library off my list. Emily was having none of that.

As we exited Sam's and walked into the parking lot she cheered, "now library!"

"No, I was wrong," I told her. "We don't need to go to the library today."

Emily looked crestfallen. "But Daddy, you told me," she said.

Ugh. So now, since I'd just bought two gallons of milk and I know full well how long a trip there takes with her, I had to be a bad parent and deny my child her desire to go to the library.

We got over it, though. The day progressed as usual and Emily took a nap when we got home.

Later this evening, I called my parents and let Emily talk to them for a bit. When my mom asked about her day, the first thing out of her mouth was, "Daddy say we go to library, but we not go."

I guess she isn't going to let me off the hook so easily.

The precious

Emily has taken a keen interest in my wedding ring lately. She keeps asking me to take it off and let her wear it. The first couple times, I humored her, but then I started turning down her requests because I really don't like to take my ring off, and there's no telling what'll happen to it when it's in her grasp.

This afternoon, she and I were returning home from running errands, when she asked me what was in my hand. I held out my hand and showed her that nothing was there.

"No, your other hand," she said.

I held up my left hand to show that, here too, I wasn't concealing anything.

"What's that on your finger?" Emily asked. Ah ha -- now I saw where this was going.

"What? My ring?" I replied.

"Yes," Emily said. "Why you wear that?"

"This ring means that I'm married to Mommy," I told her.

Emily didn't seem to understand and gave me a quizzical look.

"It means that I love Mommy very much," I explained.

"Oh," said Emily. "Me too."

I fully expected her to next tell me that she needed a ring too, but she left it at that.

What I'll be doing during the pajama party

On the way to school this morning, Emily and I were discussing her plans for the evening. She's spending the night at Misty's mother's house for a "pajama party." Party guests include Emily, her grandmother (Mimi), and her great aunt (Nana). Emily told me that I couldn't come because I was a boy and the party was going to be only girls. I feigned my disappointment.

Emily said to me: "Don't be sad, Daddy. You stay home and play Lego Star Wars. And you can whip Darth Vader. And you can watch the movie. And Darth Vader gonna be in it. And you'll be scared. And Mommy will hold you tight."

Aquarium pictures

I've posted several new photos on Flickr from our trip to the Tennessee Aquarium this weekend.

The hair stylings of Gwen Stefani

Gwen Stefani's new CD is awful. Misty bought it the day it came out, listened to it a few times, and promptly sold it on half.com. She tried to get into it, but, as she put it, "it just sounds too much like Gwen's trying to be a teenager."

Unfortunately, Emily is infatuated with the album, so we had to rip a few of the tracks to MP3 before selling the disc. In particular, she likes the second song, "The Sweet Escape," which has a lot of "woo-oo... wee-oo" in it. She says that the song is about a hair dryer.