Staying In with Quiet Company

or baby's first album review

Okay, so I was invited to download and review the latest EP from an Austin-based band, Quiet Company. Okay... so it was via Twitter and literally EVERYONE was invited to review their work, but I like to think of it as a special invitation because my musical taste is so spectacular and they trust my opinion and its power to sway thousands...hundreds...tens...a couple readers.

Whatever.

Anywho, I've never reviewed music in print before, and I don't know all the buzz phrases like "...the surging two-track riffs supply a dazed patter of blistering chords snuggled between cuts that lead the listener to a hodge-podge of clashing styles pairing a full-bodied finish of cherry & spicy wood notes that tickle the palate as the tanins explode in a rich bouquet.." Oh wait. I'm mashing up Fa-Fa Wine Speak with Music Review Bullshite. My bad.

In any case, I may not know how to talk the talk, but I do know what I like. And I like this EP. A lot. For realz. It makes me happy. I just might lick its face.

Quiet Company's latest is a six song effort entitled "Songs for Staying In" and it is absolutely terrific! Pop music at its finest. No elusive meanings, no drama, no crazy veiled references that have you scratching your head wondering what the hell the point is... just straight-up, unadulterated pop songs about love, longing and loss set to irresistibly buoyant, upbeat melodies.

From the sweetness of everlasting love in the delightful Hold My Head Above the Water to the pain of yearning for the love of an unworthy Puta in Jezebel to the suggestion of an evening home alone with the playful promise of more than a night of TV viewing-- if you know what I mean, and I think you do--in If You Want, this EP delivers. Who could resist the argument to stay in when it's wrapped in such a charming pop package.

"Songs For Staying In" is a fabulous disc worthy of your hard earned cash, and a perfect follow up to their prior outstanding offering "Everyone You Love Will Be Happy Soon".

So come on. Support some fantastic local musicians on the ground level. You never know. They could turn out to be the next Spoon. They're already kind of a big-ish deal in Austin. Maybe your support can convince them to tour the rest of the country. Plus they give free hugs. Bonus.

You can pre-order/purchase both of these dynamite discs at their website www.quietcompanymusic.com. They've been putting up videos of each song for all to enjoy--one per week--prior to the official release date & swinging soiree of May 11th.

So what are you waiting for? Get off your collective asses, jump on the link above and order their EP already. You know I'm just going to sit here and badger you until you at least give them a listen. Seriously. You know I will. I have no life so I have all the time in the world to pester you. Yep.

Did you do it yet? How about now. Come on. You know you want to. *poke* *poke*

Friday Photo #39

(but who's counting.. obviously you, moron)

Oookay. Sure.

I spotted this sign in Penn Station last December when we were waiting for our train back to New Jersey. I don't even really know what this means, but it sounded kind of dirty so naturally I took a picture of it. Because as you all know, that's how I roll... or wrap as the taco goes.

Some People's Kids

or some hilarious tales of the tots

Okay, so George and I weren't able to have our own kids. As you may know, it's absolutely the only thing in my life I regret.

It sucks.

You can read all about my whining, belly aching and crying in my proverbial beer here. (P.S.: Isabel is pregnant again! Here's hoping she carries to term. And Jimmy MacParkway...you are the sweetest thing, my friend. Thank you. Same for you Jenna.)

That said, I love hearing other parent's tales of their tots and stealing ...er, BORROWING those charming chestnuts for blogger fodder. Two such anecdotes come from our morning anchor team who have eight children between them.

Yes. Eight. Children.

How lucky are they. Anywho, they've related a couple of gems surrounding their kids which I'd like to share here.

Boogie Down, BABY!!

So one day Jen, who has four boys and a lone girl ranging from 12-5 years of age, finally found a proper fitting bra and gutchies. For a girl this is HUGE. Am I right, ladies? Seriously. It's humiliating to try on bra after bra after bra in a cramped room under the sickly, greenish glow of a half-lit florescent light in front of a fun-house-fatty mirror where every bulge, blemish and Crypt-Keeper crease slaps you in the face like a cartoon iron skillet. It's a harsh world in the Devil's dressing room. So, you know, it's damned exciting when you find a perfect fit. It's like winning the lottery. A cottony soft to the touch lottery.

Moving on...

Jen was so excited about her purchase, she wanted to share her excitement with her seven year old daughter, Grace. Dressed in only her lovely lingerie, she ran to model for her baby girl, to which Grace in not-so-mock revolt exclaimed, "Oh, Mom! Stop it. You're making me sick!!"

Not to be deterred, Jen decided to gauge the other kiddoes reactions. Why, you may ask. Why parade around in your panties before the males of the household? ...Why not?

Next, #3 son gagged in horror, #2 son gasped-then paused and gave her a big thumbs up "Hey, you're looking good, Mom." (#2 son is totally destined to be the lady-killer of the family) #1 son demanded an air gun as restitution for being permanently scarred by her scantily clad presence.

Finally, she reached the living room where her husband and youngest son (a five year old) were sorting laundry. She burst into the room, dancing in her brand-spanking-new unmentionables. Her husband groaned and shook his head. The little nipper looked up, blinked, jumped to his feet, whipped off his pants revealing his uber stylin' Sponge Bob BVDs and started to dance right alongside her!!

Woooo Hooo! Underoo Dance Par-tay!

HaHaHAHAHA!!

I LOVE this kid!! He is so going to be the toga wearing, table dancing, life of the party in college. Just sayin'.

Pants On The Ground

This one comes from our Morning Male Man, Rick. He and his family--he has three boys--were eating dinner out when the youngest, who was two at the time, needed to use the restroom. His six year old brother offered to do the honors.

So off they go to the men's room. A little while later the six year old returns to the table...sans two year old. Before they could question the youngster, the toddler emerges doing the penguin walk with his pants on the ground, Mr. Happy waving to the waitstaff, arms outstretched, declaring "HEY! A little help here!?!"

HAHA! You gotta love two-year-olds. They are completely unfiltered... and adorable.

Stories like these just warm my cold, crusty heart and make me snort. Some people's kids are hilarious!

Friday Video #...whatever (who gives a flying ef)

or Another reason why I LOVE playoff hockey

Okay, so I was at the gym today... yeah. me. at the gym. I know, right? Don't laugh. Sometimes I actually make good on my promises. Anywho...

So I'm at the gym and I see this video on SportsCenter. You gotta love hockey fans. A couple of Canucks fans dress in green spandex and taunt the losers in the penalty box. (P.S.: click on the video to watch it in its full HD glory on YouTube)

Oh.Mi.GOD...

First of all--green spandex...in pubic, er... I mean public... that's hardcore, Dude not to mention Hi-Larious! This is just so wrong, that it is completely right. The Cat doing the Mary Lou Retton handstand just KILLS ME!!

And people think Penguins fans are intense.

Long live the green men! Oh and Let's Go Pens!!

This Segment is Brought To You By The Letters W-T-F

or whattup with Sesame Street, Dawg?

Okay, so I don't watch Jimmy Kimmel, but thank goodness some of my friends do...or at least they search for him on YouTube. One of the standard features on Jimmy Kimmel Live is a segment called "Unnecessary Censorship".

This week's clip centers around that beloved children's educational institution, Sesame Street. Who knew that seemingly benign byway was filled with nothing but filthy whores and skanks? Yeah. They be schoolin' yo' kid, Sucka. Uh-huh.

Ha Ha! Once again, thanks to that *BLEEP*-er, Jimmy McParkway for the 411.

In Which It's All Fun And Games...

Until The Dog's Ashes Spill On The Table

Okay, so following in my Mom, Big Mar's footsteps, my sister and I belong to a so-called "Card Club". Seven of us ladies get together every month to bond through the consumption of copious amounts of chocolates and cocktails. There is no room for cards or games on our table. There are too many liquor bottles, er... I mean plates of food.

This is not your Mother's Card Club, bee-yatch.

No. This is how we modern middle-agers blow off steam and safely realign our perspectives so as not to, you know, stab somebody (aka husbands, bosses, children) in the eye. Generally, much like Vegas, what happens in Card Club stays in Card Club, but...

Last night we chickies were hanging out, doing what we do, having a great time yakking when the conversation turned to, of all things, cremation.

I know. Weird, right? I was there and even I don't know how we got there.

Anywho, the discussion was motoring along when Kathy-the hostess for this sorority soiree-dashes out of the room returning with what looks like an elongated foam Big Mac carton containing the remains of her dearly-departed dog, Elsa.

I admit it. Curiosity got the best of us.

She lifted the ash-filled Ziploc baggie from the packaging, rolled it over and over in her hands. We all leaned in closer to examine the dusty bits.

And that's when it happened...

Our screams echoed through the housing plan, startling bats into flight.

You know it's time to put the wine back in the fridge when the doggie dust get dumped on the table. Just sayin'.

Clearly, we need adult supervision.

Easter Weekend Rhett Fest 2010 (Part Deux)

in which I am a complete girlie gushing a-hole

Okay, so after witnessing a spectacular 33 song concert by one of the best entertainers ever, we packed up our crap and headed south to Annapolis, MD for part two of our festival of all things Rhett Miller.

We've never been to the Cadet Capital, and were really impressed by its beauty. I love harbor towns. They're so charming and quaint. Besides I'm an Aquarian--I'm drawn to water. We stayed at a B & B in State Circle which ended up being literally two blocks away from the club. Perfect. We always prefer being walking distance from bars. It allows us to over imbibe if we so choose with no risk of, you know, mowing someone over with the car.

Anywho, after walking about, drinking in the ambiance and such of the marina--OMG! there were so many great dogs and babies... lots and lots of adorable babies. I'm in some kinda weird I-heart-all-babies-and-dogs phase...could be my age...could just be the alcohol--we headed over to the restaurant for a pre-dinner cocktail.

And it was powerfully potent!! The barkeep was deliciously heavy-handed on the hootch. By the time we went inside for our meal, I was slurring a bit.

One drink and I'm slurring?!? What the? I think I'm slipping. Clearly, I need to practice more.

Moving on...

So Geo and I are sitting around waiting for our food when my loving hubby looks up and says "Oh, hi Rhett."

*blink* *blink* Wha...?

Lo and behold, there's the lovely blue-eyed one and Mike standing in front of us. Apparently I walked right past them on my way back from the ladies. I didn't even see them, which is probably a good thing because I'm sure I would have made a complete monosylabic, moronic arse of meself, what with the whole I'm-tipsy-and-can't-feel-my-face thing that was going on with me at the time.

So after hugs all around (as you know by now, I hug..I like to hug...I'm a hugger), Mr. Wonderful sweetly asks us if we'd like to request a song for the set list.

Um.... Hellz to the YEAH!!

How cool is that? We both throw out titles and Sr. Miller graciously notes them. We yakked a bit more, then off they went to whatever mysterious holding pen performers retire to prior to taking the stage.

It was really kind of him to ask for a request. I remember the first time we saw him in Hoboken, he was just standing around at the bar talking to a fan when I mustered up the courage to go over and speak to him. After a brief conversation, he asked if I wanted to suggest a song, which I did--the lovely Sweet Thing, Pine Bluff...

I remember being so excited when he played my song that night. I felt so special. He even shared an entertaining story to go along with it. Just another one of the reasons I find him so dear. It's such a small gesture-asking for a request, but it goes a long way towards cultivating adoration in one's fan base.

*SIGH*

Oh Lord. I'm making myself gag with the gushing. But I can't help it. He is kinda perfect, especially when he's being darlingly awkward. Sorry. I can't stop. It's a sickness.

OHMIGOD! You would not believe the flurry of chatter their little visit caused after they left. The two tables around us were just all a twitter. The conversation with our surrounding dinner mates went on for quite a while. I totally understand. If that interaction with Rhett and Mike happened around us, I would have totally jumped into a conversation with those lucky folks, too.

Anywho...

We took our seats against the wall behind where he would be standing. The Ram's Head On Stage (which oddly had no ram's head on the stage) is the polar opposite of John & Peter's. It holds around 300 people. The ceiling is high, the room is big and airy and Dude, there was no smoking. YeeHaw! Plus no crazy-ass screaming man in glass.

The opening act was a young band from Brooklyn called Eyton and the Embassy. They're a pop band with a sound at times similar to Ben Lee. Good compliment to Rhett's music.

After the break, Rhett quietly took the stage and hit the ground running with a raucous rendition of "The Fool". I'm always surprised that no one introduces the headliner at these little clubs. It seems odd to me that the musician(s) just sort of amble up on stage unannounced and have to get the audience's attention by strumming a chord or two.

The crowd was terrific, completely into the show. Again the mood was light and playful, lending to a fabulous rapport with the audience and a bounty of brilliant banter. At one point a fella in the back screamed that sitting sucks. Our quick-witted crooner tossed back an hilarious rift of ribbing. He's getting really good at that. Perhaps stand-up is in his future.

Interspersed in the evening's 22 song set, four song encore were the three songs we requested... "Point Shirley" and "Murder or a Heart Attack" for Geo; and perhaps the sweetest tune Rhett has ever penned, "Lashes" for me. Plus he dishes some more with the anti-sitting man.

Somehow he spotted us in the audience and gave us a little nod of recognition after each one.

*Major SWOON*

(Sorry. Doing it again. I really can't help it.)

Did you see that at the end there? That glance...that was for Geo.

One young woman in the audience tweeted hearing Rhett Miller sing "Question" in French changed her life. Yeah. I can understand that. I got bit bad after our first concert. Now any day I get to stand in front of him (or to the side of him) and watch him sing is a pretty damned terrific day.

That's us standing behind her while she's having her moment with the man of the hour.

Oh and hey.. check out this photo Geo snapped while we were waiting around after the show. See. I'm not the only one who can't control the urge to kiss on him.

You go, Girl! Ha Ha!

He is such a great sport, and so nice about it all. He gets the equation, you know. Kindness + graciousness + accessibility = unwavering loyalty from fan base. That little extra effort and the love comes back to him tenfold.

Alright..enough the icky talk...back to the videos. Here are some other fun moments from the Ram's Head show.

Cadet talk and "Too Far To Care"

A great bit about Good Friday before "No Baby I"

Hover

One of these days I would love to plant our asses on a bar stool next to him, crack open a bottle of Jameson for him--Stoli for us and spend an evening just shooting the shit about anything and everything. Would that not totally rock, or what?

Seriously.

Today On A Very Special Friday Video

or a tearful goodbye to an old and loyal friend...

Okay, so last night was the last regulation season Pens game in our arena lovingly known as the Igloo. A knew, more swanky yet less distinctive ice arena is being built right next door. It will have all the newest bells and whistles, up-to-date technology and the coveted money-making luxury boxes that all teams crave these days.

But it won't have the heart of our shiny-domed Igloo.

The arena was the first structure in the country with a retractable roof. I was lucky to be there many evenings when the ceiling quietly split opened, revealing the sparkling gem that is downtown Pittsburgh. I was hoping they'd open it one last time before dismantling this unique structure and tossing it on the scrap heap. Playoff season isn't over yet, so maybe...

Yes, the home of our Boys of Winter is old by today's standards (40+ years) and perhaps it has outlived its money-making usefulness, but it is one-of-a-kind, unique and just plain cool. That's gotta be worth something, right?

Wrong.

Sometimes society doesn't treasure the simple beauty in front its face.

I know it's stupid to get all teary-eyed over a building, but I'm one of those people who humanizes inanimate objects. I get attached... for whatever stupid reason. And it breaks my heart to see this structure go. I mean, come on! It's shaped like a freaking igloo, for Pete's sake... in what more perfect building could Penguins play? But alas, "progress" gets the last word. And so next year we will christen the new sparkling diamond, Consul Energy Arena.

Yeah. That has a catchy ring to it, huh?

That metal structure was home to a lot of proud hockey memories...

So thanks for everything, dear Igloo. For Mario, for Sid, for three Stanley Cup Championships, for the breathtaking view of our city... for feeling like home. You will always occupy a soft spot in my heart.

We shall miss you Old Gal.

Easter Weekend Rhett Fest 2010 (Part One)

or I am so f*cking lucky

Okay, so I have the best husband in the entire World, nay Universe!

I just wanted to throw that out there because it's true. I am so frelling lucky. I am married to this amazing man who puts up with all my shit AND drives a thousand miles through three states in two days to placate my desire to watch my fantasy husband perform back-to-back gigs. Like my boy sings, "If it's not love/what is this/Aaah what is this?"

Good thing my ever-lovin Geo enjoys him as well. Plus, the weather was picture-perfect, we got to have sushi with our long lost Bud who we miss every single day AND Geo didn't have to use a vacation day because Friday was a company holiday. Who knew? So this trip was meant to happen, right?

That's my story anyway.

So anywho, I'm sure you all are sick of my obsession with Mr. Miller, but really I keep going back for more because he never puts on the same show twice, he sings his ass off--no one gives more to his fans than he and when he's feeling confident and playful on stage, the banter is just the best! He's smart, witty, charming. Even when he's taking artistic license with some of his tales, he never fails to entertain. I never ever leave unhappy or unfulfilled. Not the spiritual uplift of a Francis concert, but a happy hum coursing through my veins to accompany the unending smile from ear to ear. Besides, he's just, you know ADORABLE!

Alright. Enough of that ya-ya shit.

So, the first stop of our excursion was a little place in lovely New Hope, PA called John & Peter's. And by little I mean tiny, minuscule, down-right Lilliputian. It was the Mini-Me of night clubs. No lie. This place was like a cave... the ceiling was barely above six feet, cramped perimeter, dark. It only held 80 people. Seriously. It was so low, those of us on the side couldn't stand fully upright resulting in a crouching ovation. Even he clocked himself pretty good on the "padded" rafters.

And Dude... it had the WORST mixers. Like Romulan rot. The juices were hard core rank. Take the absolute worst generic OJ that exists and add pond scum water with a hint of cyanide and you just might duplicate the swill these gals were serving up. I could only force down one cocktail.

I know, right?!? That's like, unheard of for me. I actually spent the concert sober. What?

That said... I did find this sign in the ladies room to be amusing, being that it was Good Friday and all.


I got to speak with Rhett's road manager, Mike beforehand. I met him last summer when the Old 97's played at Hartwood Acres. We had a great conversation. Mike's got a great sense of humor. I bought a new tee then took my place on the Group W bench in the corner to wait for the show to start.

Rhett bounded down the stairs with his large glass of Jameson, and launched into the first of his 30 song playlist. Yeah. He played 30 songs AND a three-song encore. Do you see why I love him?

"Super human, he is."

You are correct, Yoda.

He was in a very playful mood that night, working off the good vibe in the room. He went off on all sorts of topics--several of which I recorded, but one of of the funniest rants, which I foolishly didn't tape, centered around this peculiar... okay horrendous stained glass window on stage.

Seriously. WTF?!? Who the Hell thought that bellowing bloke should be committed to glass? Is he passing a kidney stone? having his innards chomped out by a parasite? being impaled on the fence post? It was, as Mr. Miller said "fucking horrifying", but he was absolutely hilarious about it.

Then after the show he kindly agreed to pose for this...

I will heart him forever and ever for it. Again I say, do you see why I love him. He's such a good sport.

The concert was unbelievable. The energy through the roof. You know, the usual from Rhett. We're so lucky he lives on the East coast. I know he misses his home, but I selfishly hope he doesn't move to Dallas any time soon. I would so miss our little jaunts to see him. But seriously, he should come to Pittsburgh. Club Cafe is perfect for him.

That said, here are some video highlights from New Hope:

The gals in the front row lured him into singing the missing hydra line of Singular Girl. Nice job, Ladies.

A special birthday request I like to call a 4X4: Four-Eyed Girl for her, and a kicking, scream-at-the-top-of-your-lungs version of Four Leaf Clover for all of us. How does he not bruise his brain?

Rhett's going to be a guest voice on Squid Billies. Being an Adult Swim fan, he's gotta be stoked. You can hear us cracking up in the background.

This one is just Rhett ripping on the black fly. Here's a perfect example of the kind of fun you have when he gets all wound up. Again you can hear me and Geo laughing heartily. Proof Geo doesn't completely hate our little excursions. I believe he gives me shit about my obssession just to keep me grounded.

There are more videos posted on my YouTube page.

So to recap:

Interesting venue, John & Peter's. Certainly intimate enough. We were practically on stage with him, but I have three major complaints

a) Cocktails majorly sucked--Good God man! Invest in some top shelf mixers next time.

b) It was waaaay too smoky. Seriously. Enough with the smoking.

c) People would just not SHUT THE HELL UP!?! He was less than ten feet away, people. Um...hello? He can hear you. As Geo always says, "don't you just hate it when the singer who you paid money to see is so loud he interrupts your conversation?"

This post has turned into a beast all its own, therefore I'll write part two tomorrow or the next day. Besides Geo's just got home and it's Thursday which means Community and The Office and 30 Rock... But trust me, you're gonna want to watch the videos from the next night. He was Big.Time.Fun!!

"Soaking Up The City From A Top Step Perch"
or songs to scream along to on a gorgeous day

Okay, so you know those perfect days you sometimes have in the Summer... 80+ degrees, low humidity, gentle breeze, full-on sunshine... you know, a total gift from the Gods. The kinda day when you slap on your shades, open all the windows in the car, crank your favorite CD up to eleven, sing at the top of your lungs and let your spirit soar as you fly through the streets at break-neck speed-- making sure to take the long way home just so you can hit that repeat button one more time.

Today is that day. Absolutely GLORIOUS!!

There are some songs that invoke that sense of elan even if it's the dead of winter, but when the sun is shining and the windows are down, wind blowing through your hair... Aaaaaaaaaa. It's a slice of heaven on earth. There's no better way to wash away the ills of the day. It's absolutely freeing.

Recently our kick-ass public radio station, WYEP asked listeners to submit their 20 essential songs of the decade. That is no easy feat, my friend. Trust me. Hell, I could have filled all 20 slots with my fantasy husband's work alone! Sha!

But it got me thinking. What criteria do you put on a song to term it "essential"? For me the determining factor is whether or not I feel the urge, nay the NEED to crank the volume and sing... LOUDLY. Sadly for those around me I'm not always in tune, but if I keep hitting repeat button over and over, that song is IT.

So here are some of my favorite cruising-with-the-lid-down tunes:

The Golden State by John Doe

The Golden State - John Doe

Let Me Go by Cake

Let Me Go - Cake

Short Skirt, Long Jacket by Cake

Short Skirt/Long Jacket (Album...

See a Little Light by Bob Mould

See A Little Light - Bob Mould

Cruel To Be Kind by Nick Lowe

Cruel To Be Kind - Nick Lowe

And of course, Born To Run by Bruuuuuuuce!! (one, two, three, four...the highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive!!)

Born To Run - Bruce Springstee...

And then of course, there's my fantasy hubby and his band:

Won't Be Home

Won't Be Home - Old 97's

Motorcycle Club

If It's Not Love

If It's Not Love - Rhett Mille...

If My Heart Was a Car

The Fool

The Fool - Old 97's

Roller Skate Skinny

Rollerskate Skinny - Old 97's

Four-Eyed Girl

Four-Eyed Girl - Rhett Miller

Time Bomb

Timebomb - Old 97's

I could go on and on and on...

Clearly, music (and speeding, but I'm working on that. seriously. don't laugh. I really am trying to slow down. really.) is my lifeline, my soul soother. The thing that forever fills me with joy-besides Geo, of course. I'd love to hear some of your must-have driving tunes. There's always room for more on my list.

So if it's a picture-perfect, sunny, summer-like day and you hear a raspy voice bellowing "Won't Be Home" from the inside of a red blur screaming past you on the highway... thaaaaat would be me.

Of Birthdays And Blow Torches

or how my family rocks yet again

Okay, so Geo and I took a "Rhett X 2" road trip this weekend, unaware at the planning stage that it was in fact Easter weekend. Easter weekend is big-time fun in my family. Everyone is in town, there's no pressure of presents, we gorge on copious amounts of chow, we celebrate three birthdays and the fun-not to mention the vino-flows as swiftly as a swollen river in the Spring time. You may recall last year's "pulled pork" frivolity here. Big.Time.Fun!!

Anywho, I'm happy to say we made it home in time to help stir up the works at Big Mar's house. It was an absolutely gorgeous day here in Western PA. We sat outside in the sun and cracked open a primo bottle of wine or three.

Okay, six...it was six bottles of wine. Or maybe seven. I don't really recall. My cheeks were numb and I was slurring a bit.

Okay, a lot. But I wasn't alone. My delightful sisters (and a brother-in-law or two) were all partaking and getting loud and demonstrative right along with me.

We like to celebrate birthdays in our family, especially big-ass, zero-year birthdays. This year we had a major birth-of-note deserving of a par-tay. My brother-in-law, David who has been in the family since I was like nine, so really he's just pretty much my brother, turns 70 next week.

Seventy.

How can that even be? He is soooo not a 70 year old. Seriously. He's active and youthful and fun and adventurous and seemingly tireless. He's a real inspiration, setting a very high bar of how one should age. We should all be this lucky. So, role model or not, naturally we had to yank his chain.

Way back when, 20 years ago when Davey turned 50, my brother flipped on a welder's mask, cranked up the blow torch and proceeded to completely melt the candles all over the cake while attempting to light them. Even though I helped concoct that surprise attack, I had to work and was unable to witness the flame-throwing spectacle first hand.

Stupid, Stupid work.

So yesterday, in a moment of spontaneity, my brother--my wonderfully, kooky brother-- dug up a torch from Big Mar's basement and set that cake afire, Baby! We loaded that sucker up with candles and let him have at it.

And it was awesome!!

Sadly, there was no welder's mask this time around, but still... Big.Time.Fun. Watching this video, you can totally tell I was schnockered on the nectar of the Gods so it was funny as Hell to me. It's a good thing I visited the bathroom beforehand because I would have totally tinkled in my pantaloons.

Clearly, we are a shining example for the young ins. :D

Life is so much more entertaining when looking through the lens of fermented grape goggles. It's a good thing we were outside... and that table was glass.

Yeah. My family rocks.

And Now For Someone Completely Different

or what?!? It's someone other than Francis or Rhett?!?

I know, right? And no, I'm not feverish either.

Okay, so turns out we actually do go to see different people occasionally. This past Tuesday night we hopped in Sabina--our car, not some fetching Czech gal-- and high-tailed it to town to watch England's David Gray rock our socks off!

Geo and I favor the intimacy of little clubs where performers scale down their shows to a one or two-person acoustic set. We love the interaction and connection with the audience that happens in these settings. It has been a looooong time since we attended a full-on, high powered, this-goes-up-to-eleven theatrical production complete with a lighting extravaganza.

The concert started with the band playing in silhouette behind a beautiful, billowy floor-to-ceiling white curtain. It was a bit like crazy, rock shadow puppet theater. Then at the critical moment the curtain was released and gracefully drifted down revealing the band playing in full tilt mode, crushing the chorus of their latest hit, "Fugitive".

Seeminly heeding the advice of How I Met Your Mother's Barney Stinson, David and company were "suited up" much like English bands of the 80s. Luckily for all of us, the semi-formal wear did nothing to prevent them all from cranking it through hit after hit after hit. I had forgotten how many of his songs I love.

The theater was packed with willing disciples cheering after every song, movement or utterance. It was kinda ridiculous. Even Mr. Gray himself seemed a little surprised by the level of adoration bestowed upon him. There was one girl in particular in front who kept standing and dancing alone. She was totally digging him. I say good for her! Shake it, Sista like you don't need the money. You can see her silhouette in this photo.

The energy level was huge. He could not stop moving his legs or head. He shook his head to and fro so hard I kept expecting to see it fly off his neck! They stuffed the two hours with all their hits and then some, giving their all. Seriously, how could you not have fun watching someone who clearly enjoys his work. Sadly there was absolutely no play with the audience, but then again that's not what this evening was about.

The encore was pretty much him alone with his gee-tar. He has such a strong, clear voice though even those quieter songs were commanding. The finale was a classic hullabaloo of power pop. It was a great night. Different for us, but well worth the sleep deprivation and copious coffee consumption to survive a 3am wake up the next morning. Oy!

Oh well. As our friend Doug always says, "you can sleep when you're dead". Although I'm certain he totally stole that from some movie.

So there you have it. Actual proof that we patronize artists other than our Free Masons buddy, Francis and my fantasy hubby, Rhett. So suck it.

I leave you with a video of "Stella (the artist)" from his last album: