Reliving My Musical Year Circa 2011, Part Two Because I'm Chatty, Yo

JULY

Dear July: I will always and forever have a special place in my heart for thee. 

July was all about the Old 97's. Three incredible shows in four days with the added bonus of post show drinks with Ken and Murry (Baltimore)...



Hanging backstage before and after (Brooklyn)



and one non-stop, laugh-filled day at Brooklyn's famed Coney Island. To say they were the most memorable three days of the summer is not an overstatement, even if I embarrassed the hell out of myself by almost eating the pavement in Baltimore. Call me Grace.

AUGUST

Dude, I went to see The Monkees. Yes, THE Monkees. Okay, well 3/4 of the Monkees anyway. I had no intention of going, but GD if I didn't have a blast. Who knew all those lyrics were still living somewhere deep down in my grey matter.

A steamy August evening featured the Dynamic Duo of Ben Gibbard's Death Cab For Cutie and Scott Hutchinson's Frightened Rabbits on Stage AE's outdoor venue. (for once, two great bands for the price of one) Nestled between a signature skyblast fireworks display (we Burghers go ape shit over incendiary displays) with Train performing at the ball field and an evening shoot of Batman, The Dark Night Returns at Heinz Field, these musical Super Heroes held their own.





Sweaty, happy and hoarse, I walked away victorious clutching the lone FRabbits doodle postcard created especially for the evening.

KAPOW!

SEPTEMBER

Once again, September vacation was bookended (is that even a word?) with our two faves. Geo and I had our charts read by Francis Dunnery at our friend Kate's house in Malvern, PA. It was enlightening and huge fun. Hmmmm... seems I didn't blog about that either. Major slacker this past quarter. Blah. Anyhoo, the following evening we attended a house concert in the biggest home, nay, estate we've ever been in. Whoa! Kate and I were convinced it was haunted. For realz.

After spending a restful week at the Jersey shore, we ended our vacation with a double shot of, who else... Rhett Miller. This time at  World Cafe at the Queen in Wilmington, Deleware followed by a rare matinee show at one of my favorite out-of-town venues, Annapolis' Ram's Head On Stage. In both we were treated to a new song, Picture This from Rhett's upcoming solo CD due out in the Spring. Heather Robb from Spring Standards adds her beautiful voice to this duet.



The Ram's Head show was stupendous, with an eclectic setlist filled with deep cuts, newer gems and one terrific cover. Mr. M kindly fulfilled all of our requests. Couldn't ask for a better way to close out a holiday.

Mixing it up with the youngins.



The final outdoor WYEP freebie of the year was Alex Dezen of the Damnwells backed by Harper Blynn. JesusGoodGodAlmlighty it was ridiculously cold and damp for that time of year! But the music was warming, along with my awkward white-girl, Elaine Benis dancing in the corner.

"Help her! She's having a seizure!"

OCTOBER: You need to step it up this year, slacker.


NOVEMBER

Mary Ann (aka, Betty) and I had back-to-back evenings out starting with Louis CK and his delightfully raunchy, twisted view of life, followed by the legendary Kinks front man, Ray Davies. Don't let his age fool you, he can still kick it up for a senior citizen. Outstanding gig, even if I did get busted while recording Waterloo Sunset. Still was able to sneak this one. Ha! Take that, video recording Nazi!

I got to celebrate Thanksgiving Eve with the charming, elfish Norwegian, Sondre Lerche. He packs a lot of power in that little frame.

DECEMBER

Let the holiday festivities begin!! Raul Malo pulled into town in a big, black tour bus and offered up his Christmas Show to put us all in the spirit of things. There's no escaping that catchy Tejano beat. Don't even try. Just roll with it, baby!



 And just for fun, a half song medley followed by... a POLKA!

And finally, we ended the year as we began, with a Francis house concert to begin vacation and Francis playing his Christmas show at the Tin Angel. Our final musical night cap for 2011. The only thing missing was a Rhett holiday show chaser.

That's 2011 in a nutshell. It was a lovely year that provided a lot of opportunities to enjoy a ton of great music at great venues with great friends. I can't wait to do more of the same this year.

Dear 2012: You have some mighty big shoes to fill. Just saying.

In Which I Relive My 2011 Concert Season
(1 of 2)

Okay, so not to be a braggy SOB, but 2011 was an incredible year in live music for me. Except for dry spells in January and October, I was fortunate enough to have seen a plethora of amazing musical acts every month. Haven't had this kind of run since my twenties.

FEBRUARY

The fun began in February with a Rhett Miller concert at City Winery in NYC for my birthday. It got all Chuckie Cheese in there, when Rhett kindly dedicated a song for each of us birthday girls present that evening. Mine was "Wish the Worst", a major burn on the Steelers competing in the Super Bowl three days later.

Wise Ass. Ha Ha! Here's his unveiling of "Perfume" from the then unreleased Grand Theatre, Vol 2.



As is in our cosmic charting, our other musical love, Francis Dunnery played a house concert in NJ the next evening. Again, blessed with the one-two punch of our faves playing in the same weekend. It's uncanny how often this has happened over the last couple years.

February brought another Francis house concert a short drive north of our own city, as well as the uber talented trio, Spring Standards to Club Cafe. These three of some of the loveliest artists we've ever met. They each play multiple instruments, often at the same time. Heather literally has the voice of an angel. I know, GAG. That cliche just got caught in your throat. They're up and coming and you should seek them out.




MARCH

We went South of the Border with a Raul Malo and his unmistakable Tejano groove. You have to be deceased not to want to get up and shake your tail feathers at this party. Do not resist the power of the accordion.



In direct contrast was Canada's mild-mannered, anti-rockstar, adorably pudgy crooner, Ron Sexsmith.




APRIL

Aaaah, April. What a stellar month! First up--a double shot of my favorite foursome, Coldplay.

I'm just dicking with y'all. Of course it was Old 97's! Steph and I saw them twice in four days, in Rochester, NY and DC. We were treated with two of the most incredible shows. These guys never disappoint or call it in. They. Are. Awesome! But of course, I'm a little biased. Still, I will never understand why they aren't higher up on the musical food chain.



They get two videos because it's my blog, dammit.




The Decemberists made yet another stop through the Burgh in April. It was... peculiar. Not unpleasant, but peculiar. I may have to give them another go when they come back around. One of the highlights for me was lead singer, Colin Meloy's jaunt through the audience (video on blog post).



And then there was Guster. Hands down the happiest eco-friendly pop band on the circuit. Their shows are upbeat, comical and always feature the oddest of oddball covers. They clearly have a ball on stage. Not only will Ryan dance about ungracefully with a disco ball reflective cloth on his head, he'll catch audience-tossed ping pong balls in his mouth. You cannot have a bad time at their shows. They love playing Pittsburgh and we love having them.



What the Hell. They're worth two videos.





MAY

Mike Doughty and his buddy, Scrap stop by Club Cafe often. Geo and I jump at the chance to spend an evening listening to the deeply resonant vocals of the thick, black-rimmed bespectacled, heavily tattooed hipster, Mr. Soul Coughing Cool. Go for the soul, stay for the magnificent calling out of club talkers.




Baby's first concert under the stars at our new venue was an evening with The Avett Brothers and Nicole Atkins. We only caught part of her act thanks to the looooong security line. She sounded pretty good from where we were waiting, but The Avett Brothers... Holy Crap! They hit the stage and didn't stop until they played the mellower I and Love and You. The cellist, Joe Kwon was a crazy man jumping up and down, whipping his two foot long locks next to the big bass while the masses sang all the choruses. F.U.N.





JUNE

Crikey! June was a cornucopia of concert goodness.

First up, another annual favorite, the Irish lads of Bell X1. They alternate between a three-man acoustic and the full band tours. This time around featured the entire band. Their evenings are ethereal and hypnotic. And Dude, the lead singer totally looks like Michael Cera.



In the "Holy Shit are you kidding me?" category is the legendary Tom Tom Club who played for FREE at the Arts Festival. Them oldsters can cook. It was way more fun than I expected. I don't know why I was surprised. Beautiful sunny day + catchy 80s dance fare + the return of hoola-hoop girl = a very festive evening. For free. FREEEEEEEEE!!




Another great freebie over the summer was Josh Ritter and David Wax Museum. Josh Ritter is one of those talents whose name I readily recognized, but his music, not so much. Now I'm happily familiar with both. It was a great afternoon/evening which I seem to have neglected to share on this rambling open book of my narcissism. Weird. I was fortunate to shoot an interview with both Ritter and DWM prior to the show. They were all extremely nice and generous with their time. As is usually the case, the best conversations happened while the cameras were off.





Josh is seriously one of the nicest people I have met in the music world. He never stops smiling, on or off stage.


Homegrown fest was another freebie held at one of our county parks and featured four local bands, Meeting of Important People and LoveBettie being the top billings. Again, I had the opportunity to commando shoot the interviews, including this jovial 10 questions with the delightful LoveBettie. Her hair is the Eighth Wonder of the World. No shit.




Continuing on in the freebie of the month club, our kick-ass public station, WYEP hosted their annual summer concert in Schenly Plaza featuring Jukebox the Ghost, Fitz and the Tantrums and Eli "Paper Boy" Reed. Reed was the headliner, but Fitz blew him clean out of the water. So much so, I felt kinda bad for ole Eli when the crowd literally disappeared after just one of his songs. Fitz is da bomb. Seriously. Go see them. Here's their show stopper, Money Grabber.


Poor Eli.

You know, some days are just way better than others. June 29th was one of those days. That's the day Michael Franti strolled into our studios, sat on our humble set and performed two songs for us. He could not have been any nicer, even if he hadn't just lit spliff. Ha Ha! His shows are a non-stop party of positive energy. Everyone leaves with a bounce in their step and ear to ear grin.



Hey, Hey, Hey No matter how life is today... don't let another moment slip away.



Thus ends the first half of the year. For continued braggadocio

Friday Photo #30
Location Location Location

True in real estate... and Rhett Miller signatures. :D

Anniversary Celebration Mini Road Trip, Part One  

traveling to Teaneck, NJ...** 

(**my apologies to my sister, Weez for not stopping by... it was a quick trip and we didn't want to bother you guys)

Okay, so by now you all are aware of my undying devotion and obsession with my fantasy husband, Rhett Miller. Well, what you don't know is Geo has a deep connection to Francis Dunnery. I wouldn't call it a man-crush, but Francis is the only performer Geo will leave the house to see--no questions asked. Swear to God.

We don't get to see Francis that often because he quit playing clubs (except the Tin Angel in Philly) and only does house concerts now. Seriously. He'll come to your house and play in your living room. How cool is that? We've been to two and they are AWESOME!! 

Anywho... I've been trying for months to find someone to drive to Teaneck, NJ with me to see Rhett at a little place called Mexicali Blues. Geo didn't want to tag along since the gig was Thursday night, and I couldn't find anyone to bite. To say I was disappointed is an understatement. 

Aaaaah, but the Universe is a beautiful, mysterious thing, my friends, and sometimes things are just meant to be. As the fates would have it, I discovered Francis Dunnery was performing in a coffee house in Phoenixville, PA--a mere 90 minutes west of Teaneck... Get this.. the night AFTER Rhett's gig!! Sweet!!! 

Once Francis was in the mix, Geo was on board. So we packed up Rita (yes, we're the geeks who name their cars...get over it) and headed East. It could not have been a better travel day, all blue sky, sunshine and satellite radio. We pulled into Hackensack with a couple of hours to chill (more on the hotel in a later post). We've never been to Hackensack, but from what our journey to the club revealed, apparently there are no left turns permitted there. Perhaps some crazy-assed, anti-left Catholic by-law? Who knows. 

Anywho, we got to the club and parked right in front. No lie. Right in front of the freaking door! Double Sweet! The Mexicali is a fairly large, wide open, high ceiling club with a stage in front, bar in the back and tables and chairs in the middle and along the side. As is the case with these venues, the food is stinky. Really. I don't know why they can't get decent cooks. I mean, come on. Just pay someone's Granny to make like, six things that are edible. That's all you need. At least the margaritas were pretty kicking. 

So we're sitting next to this couple who are joined by two LARGE men. Okay, like extra, extra large dudes. I have no problem with a person's size. People are what they are. What I do have a problem with is this fat cat would not SHUT THE F*CK UP while the opener, Mia Riddle was playing!! Geo has a great line for these situations... "don't you just hate it when the band is so loud you have to shout over them?" I was all set to leap over the table and shove 16 enchiladas down his gullet to shut him up if he talked during Rhett's performance. Fortunately for him, after three songs I couldn't contain myself any longer and ran in front of the stage to dance and sing with other fevered females.  

Mr. Miller must have been tired, because my fantasy Honey had a few uncharacteristic struggles during the show. Okay, more than a few. He mucked up the lyrics on several songs, stopping during "Roller Skate Skinny" to ask if he had sang the third verse (he hadn't, but the crowd helped him out), throwing down that silver capo thingie that changes the key only to have to fish for it and put it back on, dropping his lone pick a handful of times prompting a quiet "f*****ck blurt... You know how it is--one thing happens then it all sort of snowballs into Shitsville. Poor thing. At one point he looked like he just needed a big ole hug and a reassuring "That's okay, Baby. We loves ya no matter what." 

And yet, in spite of all the difficulties, he blasted through 24 songs, including two new ones and shared a handful of stories the best of which was about his garage apartment "swinging dick" roommate who was schtupping two babes at once while only a thin sheet of canvas tarp separated Rhett from the action. His new song "Another Girlfriend" is his tale of the tail--if you know what I mean. 

We stuck around afterwards to chat with him. He's a huge Dallas Cowboys fan, so naturally we brought him a Steelers Super Bowl Champions shirt to jag him. When he saw the shirt, he told me I sucked. 

Ha Ha Ha Ha!! 

But then I gave him a bootlegged CD of a great old solo show of his from 2002, so hopefully that made up for the shirt. :P

And then we drove West for what turned out to be the coolest day EVAH... (to be continued)

In Which I "Borrow" a Topic  From Isabel 

hey, don't judge me. I'm giving her credit so get off my ass already... 

Okay, so last night I read one of my favorite bloggers, HolaIsabel. She's pregnant and went on about how "they"- the mysterious experts- tell you pregnant women have better sex lives (which she denies) and are prone to more (as in number) sexually charged dreams (which she confirms). Having never been preggers meself, I cannot speak to the truth of either of these two claims. 

But what is apparently universally true, whether one is with child or not, is how these vivid sex dreams never seem to get to the "Happy Ending" (if you know what I mean. yeah. you do. I can tell by the way you're chewing that ice cube...) before waking. 

What's up with that?

I've had some pretty fabuloso, semi-carnal unconscious trysts with mystery, somewhat faceless guys and one truly spectacular make-out session with TV's Kyle Chandler from his Early Edition days. It was on a couch, and he was all soft and manly, shirtless and a GREAT kisser!! Oh la la. But again...I woke up right when the BVDs were coming off. So. Not. Fair!

Why is it you always seem to stir when the gutchies start to come off. And no matter how hard you try, you can never, EVER go back to sleep to pick up where you left off in your subconscious booty call. Never happens. NEVER. Double Not Fair. Isabel attributes it to being loyal to her husband even in slumber. I think it's just the cosmos dicking with us... figuratively, and kinda literally, too... you know, because the cosmos is a mean drunk and sort of pricky.

In all the 26 years I've known Geo, I think I dreamt of him maybe... three times. And even WE didn't do the nasty in dreamland. I don't get it? (that's what she said--okay that was a freebie) You'd think since it's your hubby your subconscious would do you that solid and let it all play out, but nooooo. 

However, if I ever had a sex dream about the King-of-all-my-things Rhett Miller, I think my ovaries would spontaneously kick out three eggs and I'd wake up pregnant in dire need of a cigarette. Yowza! THAT would be seriously hawt!!   Look at him... he's thinking how hot that would be, too. Yeah... He wants me.  :D

More Bits And Pieces  

or cleaning out my mind's attic...

As  noted in the prior posting, my muse hit the highway some time last week and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. (www.nataliedee.com)

So I figured I'd just toss a bunch of random mental trash on the junk heap. 

1. As if you didn't know, the Steelers won the Super Bowl lasts Sunday. Pittsburgh celebrated with a "Salute to the Champions" parade on Tuesday. 350,000+ Steelers Nation faithful lined the Boulevard to cheer and revel in the glory of our unprecedented sixth title. Some of the players stepped off their cars and walked the parade route. One went one step further...

Yes, Troy Polamalu treated his rabid fans with a repeat of his crowd dive from 2005. You can see a much cleaner, professional video from a rival TV station here. Can you say "crowd pleaser"?

2. So apparently an Arizona newspaper reporter has been bad mouthing Steelers fans. He was saying crap like we're just a bunch of rude, ignorant rubes who are loud and ill-mannered. WaWaWa...sore loser. Does this cat not know there is an entire NATION of Steelers fans around the country and the world...even in Phoenix?!? What a douche. Perhaps he and the other Cardinals fans should remove the stick from their collective butts and learn how to have some good, old-fashioned, blue collar fun. Bottom line is they can say anything they want. The fact remains we have six Lombardi trophies AND Troy Polamalu stage diving. In the words of Tina Fey... he can just suck it.

3. Okay, so remember my "wiener of the week" posting from January 28th wherein I spoke of a co-worker's anxiety over what was prowling around in her new beau's pantaloons? No? Well you can read it here, then come back.... I'll wait.....

(whistling Jeopardy theme....) 

Done, okay. So last night we were at a wine tasting with one of our favorite couples. Afterwards we were at a bar when I told my girlfriend Kels about my wiener posting. Well... she has her own horrendous hambone horror story. 

Get this!! She once dated a guy who had one ball ... and two holes.

I repeat... Two. Holes.

The one ball thing is no big deal, but he had TWO HOLES. 

I mean, come on. That just brings up all kinds of questions.... what happened to his other nard... what's with the two holes... seriously, does like .. pee come flying out in two different directions?  How the hell does one end up with two holes in his schlong? A Prince Albert piercing gone horribly wrong? A shaky Mohel at a Bris? A bizarre bicycle accident? (seriously...who's bright idea was it to make boys bikes with that scrotum crushing bar, anyway?)  What could possibly have happened to this dude to turn his tube steak into a meat whistle.

Of course, she was so stunned (and much more of a lady than I) she never talked to him about it, thereby denying we twisted and curious from obtaining the (w)hole story. Sorry. had to do it. Oh well. Maybe it's more fun to ponder anyway. 

4. I haven't obsessed about the king of all my things lately, so here's a video just for me... because it's MY blog, dammit!! 

One of the best parts of Rhett's solo shows is his storytelling and banter with the audience. This is classic. And, no... they won't play at your wedding... unless you have lots and lots of money to throw their way. 

Hmmmmm... note to self... if we ever win the lottery... restring all your guitars and pack up all your stuff, boys. You're playing at my house!

In Which I Admit I Suck At This Blogging Thang Lately  

Mea Culpa

I don't know what's up, but lately I've been really scattered. I can't seem to focus on something...anything entertaining to write about. My muse has apparently motored south for the winter, to bask in the glory of the warm sun and sip Mojitos poolside in that skimpy little leopard bikini that used to look so hot on me until, you know, excess stuff started settling in around my mid-section, but of course it still looks fantastic on her because she's a freaking "muse" and therefore immune to getting fat or cottage cheesey in all the wrong places (not that there are any places on one's body in which being cottage cheesey is acceptable). But is she happy with merely mocking me by looking uber sexy in my own bathing suit... No!! She has to rub it in by sending postcards of her antics with young, muscular pool boys named Sven and Gunther. AND if that's not bad enough, she stabs my very heart by getting my one, true, fantasy love, Rhett Miller to kiss her!?

Stupid little skank. Do you see how she taunts me? I miss you, Muse. Please come back.

Setting Yourself Up For Failure

or how I resolve to avoid the sticky web of resolutions this year...

Okay, so I was never big on resolutions. Very few are ever kept past...I don't know... January 3rd and it just seems like another soulless, societally dictated action whose entire purpose is intended to make you feel like a total loser by the end of the year since you haven't accomplished SQUAT except the realization that you're just one huge Asshat.

Ooo...I like that word, "asshat". That word reminds me of this guy at work who uses the term "like ass" to describe pretty much anything that is vile and disgusting. You know, like, "OMG! That smells like ASS!" or "Wow...that tastes like ASS." or "That show sucked like ASS." which doesn't even make sense, but..whatever. The question remains, exactly how much ass has he smelled or sampled to make him such an expert? No, wait. Don't reeeeeeally want to know. Really. No thank you.

Moving on...

So this year instead of making a list of serious resolutions I should actually keep, I'm choosing to make a list of resolutions I have no chance in Hell of keeping. Sort of a reverse psychology resolution list. This way at the end of the year my lack of ambition will actually be an accomplishment for which I can take pride. Get it? It's kinda like that game "I Never" we used to play at parties. You make a declaration that is actually true, but you put the phrase "I Never" before it and everyone else has to raise their hand if they also did the same stupid thing, and then take a drink. (of course it was a drinking game. we were in our 20s. sha!) For example, someone might say "I never smoked pot" or "I never threw up on your shoes" or "I never motorboated your girlfriend's naked breasts while you were passed out on the couch" ...and that's when the fistfight would start...and the party would be over.

So here goes. I "resolve" to...

1. stop swearing in f*cking general, and at work in f*cking particular.

2. stop using the phrase "that's what she said"

3. stop buying shoes

4. pay a bit more attention at work (well, okay, this one I probably should actually do)

5. stop chewing my lip and/or nails

6. stop using the phrase "in your pants" after titles (i.e. Big Bang Theory... in your pants)

7. start acting more lady like (snort! yeah, right! who would recognize me?)

8. write more entertaining blogs

9. end the dirty talk with my co-workers

and finally...

10. quit obsessing over my fantasy husband, Rhett Miller AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! SNORT!

I couldn't even keep a straight face for that one. Like that would EVER happen without the aid of a twelve-step program! Pa-Lease!!?!

Anyway, best wishes to all for an economically upturned, top-shelf liquor laced, resolution free new year filled with more of the folks you love and adore and far less of those who give you shit.

And just because it's the end of the year and I can, here's one of my favorite tunes from the Rhett concert at Hoboken. So bite me.

The Meaning Of This Particular Christmas 

according to Geo and Murray

So I was out running errands today and got caught in the pre-Christmas shopping madness happening this time of year. Fortunately I was able to skirt around most of the crowds in the stores by knowing exactly what item I needed as well as it's exact location. Otherwise I would still be trapped in the quagmire (giggity giggity) of hypnotized, Zombie shoppers--which would have no doubt rendered me completely irritated and in an unfestive mood.

It got me thinking...there isn't a whole lot of time between Thanksgiving and Christmas yet the entire Western Culture insists on wasting nearly every minute standing in lines, fighting for the latest electronic gaming system and generally stressing out over whether 300 gifts are enough.

The way I see it, the real gift is your kindness towards others...your humor to lift a store clerk's spirit when she's having a bad day...your time to just be there for someone whether you know them or not. Sometimes all it takes is sitting next to a stranger on a random bench and letting them talk. Sometimes listening can be the greatest gift you can give somebody. That's what it's all about, Charlie Brown.

You know my one brother-in-law teases my side of the family for always talking to strangers when we're out. Why not? What else are you going to do while you're waiting in long check out lines, waiting for the bus or hanging out in an airport--get your bowels in an uproar? No thanks. I'd rather talk to people. Everybody has an interesting story.

Besides, we all have waaaaay too much crap.

In this spirit, Geo and I decided this year to do away with most of our material gift giving. Instead we're going to donate the money to charities like Kiva.org (a micro financing organization for third world countries--also listed on my side bar) and Heiffer International (to buy livestock for villages), as well as local charities like the food bank and my church which does a lot of great community work. 

I know what you're thinking...Wha?!? She of the potty-mouth and lewd remarks goes to church? Yes. I have a strong spiritual side. Jesus loves me warts and all. It's in his contract. :D

Other than buying for the five youngsters in our family, we're going to hang out with friends and family during this festive season and be thankful for having them in our lives. Plus, we've started a new tradition where we each find the most hideous thing imaginable in our homes, wrap it up all purty-like and fight over them in a Yankee Swap. It is HI-LARIOUS!! The best part is when the games are all said and done, you can just throw it in the trash without any guilt. 

Helping those less fortunate during these difficult economic times AND guilt free gift tossing, combined with several cocktails and holiday pudding shots...makes for a Happy Holiday indeed.

(Rhett Miller Concert Countdown: 4 days!!)

I Want To Be A Snow Bird When I Grow Up

or I think Old Man Winter just grabbed my ass?!

Okay so, every year my work buds, Beets, Jude, Suzette and I trek up to the outlet shops about one hour or so North of here to lunch and shop for Christmas. The funny thing is one of us will see something we like and the other will like it too, so we buy it for each other. Right there. In front of each other. We dutifully take the "surprise" gift home, wrap it and exchange it at the Christmas luncheon. Silly, yes. But it's what girls do. 

Anywho, we always end up in the Mecca of gutchie stores, Jockey. There's always some sort of sale in which we have to pull all of our purchases together to take advantage of the discount. Plus we are highly entertained by the men's section displays. Seriously. The photos are outrageously...endowed. 

These boys are packing some major heat. (salutes ...Major Heat-ala How I Met Your Mother) It's like they've got armadillos in their briefs. There was one display that had four styles of briefs, one of which was called the "Paco". I kid you not. Paco. So naturally, our phrase of the day became, "How's your 'taco', Paco?" Yeah, okay you probably had to be there, but trust me it was hilarious. Another girl thang. But I digress...

So I drop off Suzette and realize we were charged for some other chippies gutchie supply. I call them, explain the situation but have to drive all the way back up the next day to have my unmentionables sorted out, so to speak. No big whoop. 

So I drag my sorry ass out of bed at bloody 7am--I'm on vacation mind you--drive up North in record speed, singing (badly) to Old 97's the entire way. (That's my not-so-secret passion...singing loudly in the car. It's like the verbal equivalent of Elaine Benis dancing. I'm sure I look like I'm having a seizure.) Ten minutes later I'm back in the car heading South to pick up Suzette for another round of shopping at Macy's.  

Three hours later, with many gifts in hand including a fabulous Pea coat and shirt bought for each other (again with the girl gift thing--it's an illness in need of a twelve-step program), the weather had turned decidedly unpleasant. The roads were covered with snow that didn't seem too ominous until my ride home.  I passed three tow trucks cleaning up accident messes. 

What the ef?! Did Armageddon strike while we were buying baubles? It really didn't look that bad. Until I got to our hill. 

We live at the bottom of a steep hill. I'm talking like 60 degrees. Okay it's not, but it certainly seems so especially in bad weather. There is absolutely no way around it. You have to go straight up to get out, and straight down to get in. (that's what she said)  There was a Cadillac in front of me on the descent. I stopped near the top to allow further distance between us, you know,  just in case. I threw the car in the lowest gear and started down. Next thing I know I'm starting to slide. Now I live in Urban Suburbia which means roads are tight and there are always cars parked on one side of the street. 

Holy crap! I was not stopping or slowing down. 

Stupid Stupid Ice!! The only course of action was the curb.

BANG!!

Poor Rita. (Yes, we name our cars.) We limped around the corner into the driveway. I fully expected to see a trail of car blood trickling from her front tire teeth. Fortunately there was no visible damage, but one thing was abundantly clear. 

My tires SUCK!! 

Now I have to spend all of Monday at the tire store dropping several hundred bucks we don't have. Joy. It's only December 7th, for ef's sake. *sigh*  Well, at least I'll be able to finish my book.

Seriously, I am totally going to be  a crazy-asssed Northern Snow Bird when I grow up. Screw this weather.

(Rhett Miller Concert Countdown: 5 days!!) 

Secondary Obsession of the Month 

or more Jeffrey Dean Morgan please 

Some of you may think I'm solely consumed by my love of all-things-Rhett, but you'd be wrong. Sure Rhett may be the King of all my Thangs right now, but there are others who get my motor running...if you know what I mean. (I love that phrase. It makes anything sound dirty.) 

Case in point is one Jeffrey Dean Morgan. If any of you are devout followers of Grey's Anatomy, JDM is familiar to you as one Denny Duquette--hunky dead guy. 

He is so manly, I could just lick his face! Seriously. Look at him... Seriously.

Those who know me well are aware of my appreciation for men. I like being around guys. I like how they look. I like how they smell. I like how they tease, and I love their bawdy sense of humor. There is no bigger aphrodisiac for me than the combination of intelligence and a roaring sense of humor. Throw in a Scottish accent or slight Southern drawl and my ovaries are quivering like an Aspen on a warm, breezy day. Mr. Morgan here is totally my type...tall, dark, handsome, gorgeous chocolate brown eyes and a Cheshire Cat grin. H-A-W-T!! For lovers of the Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich...he is soooo Joe Morelli!! Hotter still.

Wait..do you hear that purr? That's my ovaries humming. Yowza!

Granted there's not enough Denny Duquette in Grey's Anatomy for my liking, being that he's dead and all. And even though this last three episode arc featuring the return of the uber-hunky dead guy is a treat for us ladies, the show has totally jumped the Happy Days shark in a big way. Come on. Even I can't suspend my belief enough to ignore the preposterous notion that he could magically take corporeal form and make love to Izzie--enthusiastically enough to make her sweat...profusely. Please. That just ain't right. Not that I'm not enjoying gazing at the boy on our drive-in-movie sized computer monitor. I am. But, please. Izzie better have a brain tumor or some other such predicament to explain this crap away. At the very least she better be lying in a broken heap on the hospital basement cement floor, drifting between life and death. 

Not that I'm going to stop watching or anything. 

As a viewer I'm owed a viable explanation. Yeah. That's it. That's my story and I'm sticking with it. Besides...Hello? Denny D is still around. I may be a bit peeved, but I'm not nuts. I mean, come on...look at him. Hey, as the blog title states..blame it on being a girl.

Obsession Loves Company

validating my love affair with Rhett Miller

Okay...at the risk of having Geo roll his eyes completely out of their sockets from disgust, I've found a kindred spirit in my whole (she said "hole") rampant love-for-all-things-Rhett obsession. Her web name is Hola, Isabel! and she is a self-proclaimed stalker Mom. Added bonus--she's funny! There are a couple entries centered around the velvet-tongued boy with the deep blue eyes worth a read Here and Here. She seems like any normal, married woman with children, so there.

Oooo. I am so diggin' this LINK thang! I'm going to have to start linking to just random crap for the halibut. (OMFG! You must, MUST click on that last link. My bud, Beets would love it!) Holy Dingly-Dangs! There are literally over 82 million entries on the internet involving the word "crap"!?! Wow. Who knew? (BTW that last link is for comic lovers.) But I digress....

Back on topic, Geo and I are going to see my fantasy second husband over vacation in December...the gushing will continue ad nausea upon my return--hopefully with photos, perhaps a video and a fun story or two. And maybe an autographed barf bag for Geo. :D

Obsession Of The Month: A Day With Old 97's @ Diesel, October 9, 2008

(just blame it on being a girl....)

On October 9th I had the great pleasure of meeting Rhett Miller and Murry Hammond at an in-studio concert at WYEP here in my home town. They could not have been more charming and kind and gracious to those of us in attendance. They chatted with every fan, signed autographs, swapped stories and patiently posed for photos. It was delightful to watch these two old friends interact with each other as well as the audience. It was evident they've been buds for a looooong time, seeing each other through life's pathos. Murry, the jokester, kept things light and buoyant. Rhett, soft-spoken and mild-mannered, charmed the ladies in the room without even trying. *sigh* Hands down, two of the sweetest performers I've ever met. They remembered everyone's name and even changed their set list to accommodate a little girl's last minute request.

And then that night they took the stage, and Rhett released a riptide of raw emotion filled with angst, anger, longing, betrayal, passion and heartache which flooded over the crowd like a breeched levee. The energy level so high it lifted the audience and carried us from one blistering hook to another. Un-freaking-believable!! They totally blew the roof off the joint. Ninety minutes sailed by in a moment, and I so did not want the evening to end. Like an over-indulged child, I wanted to scream, "Do it again! Do it again!"

Old 97's is the best band I've seen live in 15-20 years. Their performance is incredibly tight for a band that doesn't rehearse. I suppose it's a testament to their skill as musicians as well as the depth of their relationships. Or maybe it's the Jameson. Either way, the boys are in sync! Rhett's stage presence is so captivating I dare anyone (particularly female) to watch anything else. You just can't do it. Not when he's soulfully belting out those brilliant lyrics. Yeah, okay...the hip action is pretty stellar, too. I may be older, but I'm still a girl for God's sake.

The next morning I jumped on line and bought everything that was missing from my Old 97's catalog. If you're a newcomer, I highly suggest starting off with the quintessential live CD,

Alive and Wired from 2005. This two disc set includes a large portion of their work up to that date. It's one of the few live recordings which successfully transports the listener to the live club experience. It's exactly like being there. No shit. Search through iTunes for some other choice chestnuts and a copy of Blame it on Gravity, and a happy camper you will be.

Many thanks to Rhett and Murry for taking the time out of their busy schedule to stop by the radio station to perform. It was great meeting them both. The concert was phenomenal.

I cannot wait to catch the next one.

And for f*ck's sake...GO SEE THEM!!!!

**The guys are so cool they let anyone record their shows. There are an abundance of videos on YouTube. Search either Old 97's or Rhett Miller and plant yourself down for a while.

www.Hitbyatrain.com

www.rhettmiller.com

http://blurt-online.com/video/view/138/ (podcast inerview from Athens, GA 10/20/08)