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:

In Which Francis Dunnery Returns to the Burgh And Is On Our Show

Okay, so back in January when Geo and I had our house concert, we tried to get Francis Dunnery booked at our favorite night spot, Club Cafe. They didn't have room on the schedule then, but penciled him in for Thursday, March 25th.

Last week Mr. D came back into town for a rare bar tour with an even rarer full band, The New Progressives. Part of his journey west included a spot on our little dog and pony show, Pittsburgh Today Live. (A big sloppy thanks again to our producer, Jill) He did splendidly, as I knew he would. And get this... there were at least six people at the show that night who told him they came out to see him because they saw him on the TV. I don't know what surprised me more... that viewers made the trip out or that we have, you know... actual viewers.

Anywho, afterwards I drove he and Erica to President Obama's favorite diner, Pamela's for their famous pancakes and kick-ass breakfast. We ate our fill, engaged in great conversation and fought over the check. I felt bad Geo couldn't tag along. He would have enjoyed the hell out of it.

Funny story: anyone who knows Francis Dunnery is aware of his love of swearing and particularly his ubiquitous use of the f-bomb. Being the professional he is, he refrained from swearing during the broadcast. As soon as he closed the door to my car, he let loose with a string of every curse word imaginable, let out a big sigh and declared "That's better. I haven't f*cking swore in 20 f*cking minutes!?! Right. Let's go."

Ha Ha Ha!! Ya gotta love it.

The concert was great! It has been years since we saw him perform with anyone, let alone a full band. The band was tight, the crowd was singing along and Francis was his charming self. A very good time was had by all.

So whereas last year the musical entree was Rhett Miller/Old 97's shows with a side order of Francis. This year's musical menu is leaning towards a main dish of Francis Dunnery with Rhett as a tasty dessert.

For those of you keeping score, namely moi:

Francis- 5 1/2 (the fraction being PTL)

Rhett- 3 (we're seeing two Rhett shows back to back this weekend. *swoon*)

After Saturday we've got nothing else definite on the back burning, but you never know what might come up, right?

Here are some photos from the day and a video from the evenings show. Enjoy!

Looks like Stepford Wife host's brain is going through a reboot, no.

At Club Cafe

The evening's playlist signed

The ever popular "I'm In Love"

Because Again... I'm A Twelve Year Old Boy At Heart

Okay, so this is hands down the funniest thing I have ever seen on The Daily Show. Truly a golden nugget from the vault of the greatest non-news show in television history. I miss Stephen. Enjoy!

P.S.: Don't drink anything while you're watching. Seriously.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Prince Charles Scandal
www.thedailyshow.com
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SXSW Wrapped in Bacon (part two)

this time it's photogenic

Okay, so the last post was all about the videos, mainly. There are a bunch of random photos I'd like to share from our time in Austin.

There were loads of great signs and shirts and hipster doofi adding to the general fun and frivolity that is SXSW. So in no particular order, here we go!!!

Breakfast of champions consumed pretty much every day...multiple times a day. Hey, don't judge. Tomato juice is a breakfast drink.

Groovin' Baggage Claim

Colorful double mohawk man

molesting the Banana Dude

Queens of the Free Beers! (our band name)

Oooo. Pretty.

Pretty, Part Deux

Um.. Hello... Fajitas.

Hangin' in Toilet Town (perhaps it was the Fajitas)

Cupcakes... with a "happy ending"?

Wait...what? When did we go to the Furries Convention?

Mystical-Crazy-Zipper-Face-Inca Head crush

Okay Okay. Relax. Take your Ritalin, Dude.

Hey! I'm standing right here.

I'll drink to that!

Baby's first encounter of the Hipster Doofus kind

Buy me lunch first, Sailor?

Empirial Storm Troopers digging the scene

Clearly this man's answer is a resounding YES!

(that reminds me of a joke: my tight pants are like a cheap hotel--no ball room)

And here is my absolute favorite sign from SXSW posted on a website:

It was enormous fun. But now it is over. And so it goes.

SXSW Video/Photo Wrap Up (part one)

(now with extra bacon)

Okay, so I've been a slug all week. I realize these videos/photos/observations are old news now, but I couldn't muster the energy to get on it earlier. So sue me...I'm old now.

Anywho... turns out vacationing with Jim and Mary Ann is easy-peasy. They are great travel compadres--very low maintenance and very easy going, especially if there is lots of bacon involved.

As the sign suggests, the genesis of all good things in life... is bacon. Sadly, we never got around to trying this treat.

All the unending hours of prep, pouring over the band lists day after day paid off. Even though there were some bands we never got to see (RaRaRiot, Damnwells, Those Darlins, Waco Brothers) we did one hell of a good job managing our entertainment. The only decision I might change if I could jump in a Hot Tub Time Machine is bail on Stone Temple Pilots after four songs and high tail it back up the street to catch Ray Davies. Although I was able to get this groovy rock 'n roll photo at STP.

One regret in four days is pretty damn good, I'd say. Especially considering this was our first megalomania festival.

Canadians are the sweetest group of people on Earth! They let us deface their flag for grins AND gave us extra free drink tickets.


Oh Canada... we stand on guard for thee... and your freebie cocktails!

Surprisingly, I like the Blues. Who knew? Well, let me clarify that... I like watching Sharon Jones and the DAP Kings sing the blues. I admit I was a bit hesitant to stay to see her because I kinda had my heart set on seeing RaRaRiot and The Pains of Being Pure at Heart across town, but once she took the stage by siege I was hooked. The midnight show was her third performance that day, but you would never have known it. Her voice was powerful and clear and she did not stop moving. The energy was incredible.



And boy can she work that fringe!! Once she takes off her shoes and earrings--Look Out, Baby! Big-Time Fun.

Big ole bean bag squares are as comforting as a bear hug when you've been hanging in the heat, listening to music and imbibing more than your share of free vodka.

Sondre Lerche is adorable. He's so tiny and elfish you just want to carry him around in your pocket.



Ditto with Zoe Deschenal! At one point she pulled out an adorable miniature guitar. To which a young girl in front of us made this hilarious comment "Oh, come on! Could she get any more adorable? What's next, is she going to pull out a puppy?"



My fantasy husband's side project, The Spring Standards are really, really good!! Not surprising since he's involved, but still really good! The lead, Heather, is crazy talented...juggling playing the keyboard AND drums in one song.



I think I'm in love with those Scottish lads, The Frightened Rabbits. Seriously. Okay. They have not usurped Rhett's reign over my heart and soul, but still... LOVE them. We saw them twice and I would have been ecstatic to see them all 28 times they played during the week, but you know, I was with friends and it would have been uncool not to share decision making. But seriously. I would not have tired of them.



I admit I wasn't that familiar with Alex Chilton who passed away during the SXSW week. Aside from the theme to That 70s Show (In the Streets) and a mention in a Replacements song, I was completely unfamiliar with him and his work. The concert Saturday night was a wonderful tribute to this man who never reach a level of notoriety he felt he deserved, but who influenced countless musicians. To make that sort of impact on others...that's worth something, don't you think? That has more lasting value than fame and fortune.



John Doe playing "I'm In Love With A Girl"... I actually recognized this one.

Evan Dando

The finale of perhaps his most memorable song, "September Gurls"

There are more videos on YouTube by me and others with much better, clearer equipment. Also my friend Cindy has an entire string of terrific postings on her blog, Onthatnote.com including some amazing photos of Courtney Love and Hole.

I said "Hole" (tee hee)


The first thing I think of when I see this photo of Cindy's is "Good Lord. I hope to Hell she remembered to wear her gutchies."

Have fun searching.

Friday Photo #38 (the extended EP version)

A Long Day's Journey Into...Pittsburgh?

or Murray's Odyssey

Where's a Hot Tub Time Machine when you need one? For that matter, where's a hot tub when you need one?

Okay, so it's taken me all week to remotely recover from our Austin adventure. More precisely, it's taken all week to semi-recover from our travels home on multiple eastbound planes.

Dude. It was epic. No shit.

The last I left off, Mary Ann and I had dragged our sorry butts to bed around 5am-bellies full, ears buzzing like the interior of a bee hive and all tanked up on hootch. Not a bad way to slip off to slumber land except for one small detail...we had to get up three hours later at the way too early hour of 8am in order to be ready for the airport shuttle at 10am.

And by "get up" I mean crawl pathetically towards the bathroom, whimpering and moaning like an injured dingo, longing for the cool, cool comfort of icy porcelain to stem the steady, 3/4 time, throbbing, drum beat of pain coursing through our nauseous noggins.

In our misguided zeal to drink in every last bit of flavor (and liquor) from SXSW, we seriously miscalculated the math of recovery time and were paying the price. It took both of us several tries to actually navigate movement from the bed to bath.

Jim, who pansied out on us at 10:30 the night before, was feeling no ill effects of his decision to bail early. I gotta say I was hatin' on him a little bit right then. But only a little.

Here's a little known fact (to me anyway) I've learned about Jim from this trip. He loves bacon. No, he is IN LOVE with bacon. He loves it perhaps more than anything or anyone else in his life, but only when he travels. He cannot get enough of its salty goodness. It's like he's conducting a clandestine torrid affair with this Princess of Pork product every time he finds himself in another town. He can't resist its seductive siren's song. Most relationships aren't this loyal. Seriously. Ha Ha!

We've decided we are going to bury him in a chrome roll-topped, chaffing dish-like casket filled with bacon. Instead of the usual wheat spray display, it will be a bundle of perfectly charred bacon strips baring a sash stating "to my one true love". This is the kind of shit that makes one howl with laughter when one's faculties are impaired by being stupidly hungover.

But I digress...

So after we eat our fill of breakfast and wash ourselves in coffee to try to spark an internal wake up, I ingest a handful of ibuprofen, don my Vampira dark glasses in an attempt to prevent the Texas sun from boring a whole in my brain via my bloodshot eyeballs and board the shuttle to the airport.

The shakiness of our personal start of the day should have clued us in to what lay ahead.

At first everything was going swell. We boarded on time, buckled in and sat... and sat... and sat. For over two hours, we sat waiting for the wretched winds to ease enough for the okay to take off. Mind you we only had a one hour layover in Dallas to catch our connection home.

Yeah. One hour. Not gonna happen.

Nothing to do except slip on our newly bought horse shoe shaped neck pillows, and catch some much needed winks. When we finally did land in the big-ass metropolis known as Dallas airport, we needed to sprint from Terminal A to Terminal B via the Skylink air rail. As luck would have it, our plane was still at the gate having been delayed by the inclement weather. We had a chance at making it.

Aside: now keep in mind I specifically booked our connection through Dallas, because, come on, flying via Chicago in March is just... you know, crazy talk, right? That's correct, genius. Turns out Chicago was 70, clear and calm. Oh Universe. Why must you always kick me in the crotch for your own twisted enjoyment. And please... not so loudly with the laughter. Major hangover here.

Anywho, we jump on the tram in time to hear the announcer say, "Attention all passengers. This train will not stop at Concourse B due to a security issue."

What the? You couldn't have told us that BEFORE we boarded?!?

So we run, walk, ride on the special cart to the gate. All hope is not lost. We can see the plane is still docked. We got a shot at this! We get to the counter and are greeted with...

"The flight is CLOSED, loser. Now step away from the counter before I release my devil dogs to tear you limb from limb, then use your severed arm to slap you in the face over and over until I tire of the sight of you crestfallen."

Nope. Lucifer's lapdog would not budge. But the plane was right there! No doubt it was waiting for Jim and Mary Ann's luggage to be loaded. We begged, pleaded, bribed but she would not thaw her icy heart enough to let us board. That's what we here in the Burgh call being a ginormous Jag Off.

So we said "Buh, Bye" to our bags and worked out a Plan B with Baby Jane's sweeter sister. Fifteen minutes later we were booked on a flight to our homeland via Charlotte arriving (God willing) at 11:30pm. Honestly, I still wasn't convinced we were getting home that night.

We may have been exhausted and disgusted, but we still had enough cognitive brain function left in us to snap this fun photo of me and my new boyfriend, Boney James. He's very low maintenance, doesn't eat much and always gives me his dessert.

After noshing and updating family as well as co-workers, we headed to the gate where we heard this lovely announcement:

"Ladies and Gentlemen. We WERE scheduled to board at this time, but we're waiting on a part for the plane and will be delayed. You stooges from Pittsburgh can just cool your jets. You ain't going anywhere, suckers! Not with that one hour layover in Charlotte. BWAhahahahahahaha!! *cough cough* *hack*"

Son of a biscuit eating bulldog! Are you kidding me?!?

And then I burst out laughing, because really...it was just too ridiculous not to be funny. Or maybe I just snapped. Or maybe I was going through the DTs from not drinking for ten hours. Whatev. It was humorous now.

Thirty minutes later we were in the not-so-friendly skies heading for the eastern seaboard. Aaaah, but this time the wind Gods were at our back and propelled us forward at the speed of a jet juiced on roids. We had enough time to leisurely stroll up to the gate in Charlotte. No lie. Strolled. No dripping forehead. No pit stains.

We were greeted with the most beautiful sign on Earth. It's so gorgeous, I'm posting it twice.

Look at that. It's beautiful. Even now it brings a little tear to me still blood shot eye.

Aside from having to strong-arm an American employee to release the luggage from its glass enclosed cell, the last leg of our Odyssey went off without a hitch. When we finally landed in Pittsburgh, I understood then why the Pope drops to his knees and kisses the tarmac every time he travels. I wanted to give my town a big ole, sloppy wet kiss... with lots of tongue. I was that happy to be home.

Our six hour trip turned into its own 14 hour fail blog. All that on three hours sleep and the mother of all hangovers. I finally walked through the door of our home at 12:37am, passed out in my own bed at 1:00am and cried out for mercy when the screech of the bastard alarm sounded at 5:00am.

I started my week already two days behind and have been playing catch up ever since, but boy... it was soooo worth it. :D