Random Acts Of Friendship (And Family)

Okay, so full disclosure, I've had this skeletal piece of prose languishing on deck in the dusty bowels of Blogspot for oh, I don't know... five months now. Poor Baby's been left in the corner to fester and rot while I grappled with an inability to finish a post, a paragraph, a prime rib.

Oh wait. Prime rib I CAN finish... with flourish, boy howdy! The others... meh.

Aaaaaanywho, it's 2015 and DAMMIT, it's time to get on with it and clean out the closet. So let's hit the reset button and put this turkey on the table, shall we? Why am I suddenly hungry?

Aaaaand.... GO!



pre binge drinking/snacking/toking

beach fest provisions
just add sunshine
and sand in your crack

Okay, so my Special K bud, Beets and I chucked our family responsibilities and Thelma and Louised it to the Jersey shore. Strangely I didn't take any photos of our revelry (besides the ones above…shut up), but instead snapped a few shots from the I-will-kill-you-in-your-sleep collection being proffered at the antique fair by a creepy cat I just know is a serial killer in the making. I mean, HOLYGOODGODJESUSCHRIST!!! WHAT THE SERIOUS FUCK!

Don't make eye contact
Don't make eye contact
Don't make eye contact...

is this really the most sought after part
of stuffed vermin?
isn't killing small animals the
first sign that you might be
a serial killer?

you just knew this fucker was into clowns
definite serial killer

He definitely has young women chained in a well somewhere in a farmhouse in middle Jersey. Other than that nightmare, a sun-filled, snack-fueled, inebriated fun time was had by all.

the guuuurlfriends kitten club
with our pussy shirts...
and ob tampon, muthafucka!
long story. don't ask

You know how it's not as easy to connect with people the older you get? Adult humanoids can be more guarded as they age, not willing to let their protective force fields down long enough to really become close friends. Well, I have been #BLESSED (as the Twitters say) to have made not one, but three---I said THREE MUTHAFUCKA!-- new kick-ass girlfriends to dine, drink and dish with. Not to mention dangle GD prepositions.

babes at the WYEP birthday bash
billy joe, bobby joe and a double shot of betty joe
(i'm carbon dating myself with that Petticoat Junction reference)
(look it up, wiseass. it took place in HOOTERVILLE. 'nough said)

Abby, Suzanne and Denise are the veritable BOMB, y'all! We hit it off immediately. We are all on the same page. Oversharing is encouraged and no topic is off limits. The force fields are down, waaaaay down. I laugh so much when I'm with my Kitty Bitches. (That's the moniker we've given our posse. It stems from one of our conversations, but for the love of coconut coffee, I cannot fucking remember why. I blame vodka.) They are a gift from the Guuurl Gods. Seriously. They are the real deal. Love their asses!!

phone in one hand, wine in the other, surrounded by friends
yep, my happy place

the picture of elegance

DeDe photo bombed by Pirates manager, Clint Hurdle

Abby's hubs
honorary gurlfriend subjected to tmi talk

Besides general carousing, we four took in the Riverlife celebration in September. Held on the north shore in front of the casino, Riverlife is a swanky-ass, gilded affair with fancy foods, signature cocktails, dancing, a riverboat cruise and demure behaviors from society folks.

I know, right? How'd we get in there?

Fortunately, frivolity was encouraged. And we frivoled the fuck outta that joint, especially the photo booth.

lovable asshats
coincidentally WEARING hats

Suzanne wore this knock-out vintage gold number that was straight out of the chifferobe of the impossibly curvaceous Joan from Mad Men. She was henceforth referred to as Joan. #Raaaawr

 

beeewbs

super model fan dancing 

All in all, we brought an understated elegance to the entire affair. Yeah, we did.



Moving on...

One of the events I look forward to every year is Savor Pittsburgh. It's a charity event in which up to 30 local restaurants vie for best entrée, appetizer and/or dessert. There's a live band, silent auction and OHMIGODTHEFOOD!! So very much amazing food! Gobs and gobs of it. All in bite size servings. All uncerimoniously shoved into my maw by the graceless fistful.

Mmmmmm....droool...

But by far the best part about Savor Pittsburgh is hanging with my favorite Burgher in Beantown, Jimmy McParkway. Together we down too many small plates, consume a wee too much liquor and dance like Elaine Benes. Okay, so this year he would NOT get up to dance because he was being a puss-face tool, but we DID serial photobomb patrons in our pretty, grown-up clothes.

how to be a jerk in public

YAAAAASSS!!!!! Photobomb perfection!!

Jimmy, master of the interwebs managed to find this gem on instagram. And isn't the sad truth about photobombing that one rarely ever sees ones handiwork. A Goddamn shame.

I miss him every. damn. day.

this view never gets old

Fortunately it's just a short plane hop to visit him in his new zip code. Last October I invaded his personal space for a few days. After a sizable flight delay due to a helacious storm of biblical proportion, I dropped in Boston just in time to race off to the fancy theater to see David Sedaris and his man culottes.

swanky venue for the cultured

We had pretty much explored Boston the prior year, and since it was fall, we opted to hop a train to Providence, Rhode Island to do a little leaf peeping and rummage around the capital.

fall leaves from the speeding train
Claude Monet would be jealous

And act like a jackhole. And assault public art like a boss.

is that a pole in your pocket...

Providence is a lovely little metropolis. It is the home of Water Fire festival in which torches are set up all along the riverwalk (and in the river), artisans set up booths and live music plays all weekend. A small river town north of Pittsburgh has tapped into this Water Fire festival notion the last two years.

providence, ri
permanent bowls for Water Fire festival

After we sullied the ship sculpture, it started raining. A little at first, then gobs and gobs of it. Nothing left to do but have a cocktail or three, and wait for the next train back. True to his technological bent, Jimmy summoned an Uber driver to pick up our sopping frames. I swear when I visit, he and I take every single mode of transport--save boat--to tool around. Next time we're getting on GD a boat.

one rainy-ass mofo day

jimmy is very proud of the tv hat he is wearing

in case you didn't get the idea that it rained

Anywho, this car was the polar opposite of the one we took the night before. Sweet Baby Jesus! That nightmare on wheels was outrageous, and not in a good way. The driver was very sweet, but Holy CATZ there was barely room for Jimmy to sit in the back because this guy's entire life was in the car with us. And then he had like, a thousand pine tree fresheners dangling from his mirror to, I don't know, mask the rotting road kill in the way back of his Hobomobile? I have no idea, but there was a nasty funk burning a hole through our nostrils.

No. Just...NO.

Fast forward to Rhode Island…a pristine, white cadillac with supple Corinthian leather interior and soothing jazz music… Aaaaaa…

Luxury Limo >CraCra Jeep Dude any day of the week.

Funny story: When Jim went to work the next morning, his co-anchor asked what we did the day before. When he told her we hopped a train to look at leaves, she said "What? Is she FIFTY??!?"

No, Motherfucker. I'm 54.

Okay, to be honest, I laughed my ass off imagining her utter disdain. Surely fifty year olds have hunched backs, hammer toes and Hoverounds to shuffle their twisted bodies to Early Bird specials. To his credit, he shaved a year off my age and defended my fun-loving spirit. I still have some life left in me… Bitch. You're on my list.

I kid.

Maybe.

slow down there, grandma! you'll break a hip.

And then we ate...



breakfast of champions



the station diner's industrial-ish interior

wtf?
get your shit together, diner.
go heinz or go home!

severed hand is the new black

or is it?

who wouldn't get a lady boner?

Now that Big Mar is in her 90s, the siblings are making the trek home every September to celebrate her latest circle around the sun. It's been great having everybody together for her.



big mar, her brood and some strays who love her

sure. make the old lady blow out a zillion candles.
jerks

This year her birthday coincided with the quarterly gallery crawl in downtown Pittsburgh. As much as we are together as a family, we rarely go out anymore. It was a gorgeous Friday night, so SURPRISE! we actually went to town. Madness.

giant jenga

monkey shenanigans

monkey boy

the brother
and crazy, hypno eyeballs

I don't know about your family, but as a unit this one takes a while to make decisions. Eventually someone takes the lead and points everyone in a direction. Any direction. It's like wrangling feral cats. Welp, we managed to make it to one of the 30 galleries before getting caught up at the Artists Market and finally just opting for beer, booze and pizza.

i can't quit you, silly props
and i can't quit this awesome family

I adore these lovable pinheads! The logistics may be a bit trying at times, but the payoff is always ALWAYS worth it. Hey, we even managed to get out to see local band legends, The Clarks during Christmas break!! Two outings in one year… who can live at that speed?!? :)

Trains, Buses and Automobiles...

Last, but not least, my best friend from college, Dennis and I took a 24 hour road trip north to deliver a car to his son in the Hudson Valley. We haven't been on a trip by ourselves since sophomore year when we hopped on a bus to DC to "protest" something or other. I can't remember. We were only in it for the sightseeing opportunity. We were opportunistic jerks.

awwwww… ain't she adorable?
whatever happened to her?
oh wait.. she got old, fat and sweary

Anyways, we have never been in a car, alone, for a solid eight hours. It was marvelous. We have a bit of a past together. The romantic portion was short-lived and didn't end gracefully at all, but we managed to remain close friends for over 35 years. And I could not be any more thankful. The fact that he met his future wife shortly after our breakup helped. I love her, too.

our 24 hour trek began with a beauty shot out of a tunnel

Our car ride was amazing. Dennis and I discussed all the elephants that have been lurking in the room for a Stone Age. He got to ask me everything he has been holding in for decades. We rehashed snapshots from our past life. It is incredible how much I have forgotten or misremember of our brief time together and ensuing college years. I swear he's wrong on some points, but no matter. Apparently I was a lot more forthcoming with my opinions and such. Imagine that. :)

The cool thing is there was no hurt or pain, just a fondness for our past selves and the silliness of youth. We laughed. A lot. Especially over the drama of it all. It was extremely therapeutic and absolutely delightful. And we will never speak of them again. LOL

there is so much wrong with this

it's good luck to kiss this bear
no. it's not.
we just made this shit up
#shenanigans

transporting kim kardashan's butt

One of the great things about our journey was stopping at random shit we found amusing or interesting. We had no hard and fast timetable. Dennis was game to back track for me to snap a funny sign, seek out a better view of a frozen river or eat lunch in a classic old dining car.

retro lunch

even these hoopies know enough to use heinz
seriously. get with it boston!

menu cover redo

proving middle aged white men
CAN jump

After dropping off the car with his son, we ate at another diner that was all about deco overload before we boarded a train in Poughkeepsie bound for New York City, where we had four hours to kill before hopping on the 11pm Megabus home.

'allo hudson valley

 

 



pano of the stately culinary institute



 

appropriate banners decorate the campus

road buddies

ever at the ready to serve up some
delicious diner fare to sooth all your hangover needs
because really, aren't drunken clientele an
all-night diner's bread and buttah

tres deco

most folks drop a deuce
this creeper drops a … pumpkin
just add this to the list of shit that weirds me out

one-take father son jump
seriously, this new iPhone camera is amazing
one shot, that's it
i may have to have people jump more just to dick with them

busting outta this rural setting for the big city

We hit up three bars between 3rd Avenue and Broadway near Union Square, photo bombing clueless, self-absorbed 20 somethings, downing craft beers/cocktails and laughing over one stupid thing or another. It's so great to know it is still so easy to hang with Dennis.

He's my buddy forever.

the majesty of grand central

no bathing your stanky ass in grand central toilets, mofos

the most beautiful building in ny

stop #2 wherein we photo bombed
a gaggle of self-absorbed 20-somethings
who probably STILL haven't noticed us in the background
LOL



someone needs to take his meds



the empire state informing us it's cold
um... yeah!



it is balooooooooon!!



flatiron building art exhibit
of war journalists
their notes are afixed to the helmets



Heartland Brewery
the third stop on our way to the megabus



disturbing things you see at the Megabus stop



sunrise to sunrise
home sweet home
where the eff's my bed?!?



Saturday In The Kitchen With Big Mar

Okay, so once or twice a year, I gather mass quantities of fresh vegetables, olives, pickles and tinned tuna, and head over to Big Mar's house to can our Northern Italian family's version of antipasto. Unlike more traditional fare, there are no lunch meats or cheeses, just the above ingredients in a tomato base that is a magical treat to the taste buds.

my beloved Big Mar: kitchen warrior

and now she's had enough of my
interwebs nonsense

The chopping and par-cooking and canning takes all goddamn day, but seeing the rows of jars stacked neatly on the shelf leaves me with a sense of satisfaction, not only for the yummy snack we'll devour throughout the winter months on the days I don't feel like cooking (read: nearly every damn day because I'm a LAZY SHIT), but also for the satisfaction of keeping this tradition alive another generation.

Besides the obvious consumable end-game, my favorite thing about this long-ass process is I get to spend quality one-on-one time with the woman who brought me aboard this roller coaster we call life. She may be 93, but she is full of élan.

shenanigans!

i may not have inherited her elegance,
but i like to think i have her irreverence down pat

In spite of her physical trials, her spirit remains light, buoyant and a wee bit bawdy. She's an absolute joy to be around. Warm and welcoming, she thrives in social settings. Her big, full heart and infinite kindness envelopes everyone in her path. (Except for Uncle Fred who was a right-royal mean mother-scratcher asshole, but that's a story for another time.) There is literally ALWAYS room at her table for another place setting.

And fuck YEAH, can she cook. Unbelievable.

Big Mar is a shining example of how to enjoy the time one has on this spinning orb. She looks that bad boy in the face and says, "bring it, MoFo!"

And Holy CATS is she smart!! A voracious reader, she keeps up with ALL current events local, national or global. She puts me to shame. Had she been born in my generation, she could have been anything she wanted to be. And what she wanted to be was a Chemist. Sadly, her accident of birth placed her in a generation and financial circumstance that kept her goal out of reach. And yet, she is not the least bit bitter.

Nope. Not. One. Bit.

Instead, she chooses to focus on that which brings her happiness, namely her family, her friends and Steve Harvey. I am not even kidding about that last one. She LOOOOOVES Steve Harvey. That little fact cracks me the hell up. My sister, Toni and I aspire to be her when we grow up. We should be so lucky. She kicks ass at this living thang.

                   She bought this for Geo, because, C'MON! Even at 93, fart machines are fucking funny!


But I digress...

So, Saturday I go over to her homestead for Canning-Fest and find her in the kitchen, mixing up fruit cakes, a CD of 40s music cranked to 11, doing her little old lady shuffle dance, and singing like a boss.

Throughout the afternoon while we waited for the veggies to cook, she told me stories of my Dad's antics including the one in which he fleeced four grand from fellow soldiers on the boat home from the war. He later blew it all on a bus trip across the country to see his brother in San Diego. A trip which included a couple days dalliance with a little filly he met in Indiana.

soldier boy

This all happened before they met. He had seen horrible things during his three years abroad. I get that all he wanted was to distance himself from the war with a little comfort from the embrace of the open road, a bottle of whiskey and a random, healthy female. It's so crazy to think of your parents as 20-somethings, adrift and acting like, well … 20-somethings.

Big Mar's musical heartthrob 

lighten the eyes to blue, add a little scruff and a mole…

At one point we put Jack Jones on the player, and I wrapped my arms around her shrunken little frame while we danced to her favorite song. Jack is totally her Rhett Miller. She likes to tease me about my obsession with the blue-eyed lovely one, but guess what?

I said... GUESS WHAT?

(this is where you say, WHAT, muthafucka?)

I FINALLY got her to admit that SHE would have followed Mr. Jones around the country, too if she had the chance.

Ha! I KNEW IT!

I know my time with my beloved Big Mar is limited, although not so limited that she can't buy green bananas, if you get my drift. There's still a lot of life left in her, but it's more tangibly finite with each passing year. I know someday her Energizer Bunny battery is just going to wear out, which makes these afternoons all the more precious. I'll take days like this as long as I can.

And who knows, maybe one day when my 5'8" frame has shrunken with age and my hearing is diminished, I'll be in my kitchen, elbow-deep in antipasto, Rhett Miller and Old 97's cranked to 11, singing and dancing with my niece, telling scandalous stories and passing on this tradition to the next generation just like my Mum.

Godspeed, Baba

I knew when I saw Geo's cell number pop up on the Caller ID that something was horribly amiss. He could only manage to say my name... and then the flood of tears came.

His mother had passed away.

Do you know how tough it is to witness your strong spouse crumble? It's heartbreaking to watch his heart break.

The thing is, none of us expected Stancy to ever be able to live in her home again, but no one thought we'd be saying goodbye to her so soon. I touched briefly upon her travails earlier this summer. She had been doing somewhat better over the last few weeks, but her C-Diff flared up again, and I believe she just decided to call it day. She passed peacefully in the presence of her oldest. On her own terms.

Good for her.

Stancy didn't  have an ideal marriage. Out of the turbulence, she raised four wonderful men, the third of whom I will be forever in her debt. For over 30 years I had the privilege to be Stancy's daughter-in-law. I wasn't always the most attentive, caring or thoughtful daughter-in-law, but I like to think we loved each other in our own special way. She was a good person, who did the best she could with the circumstances she was given.

Her smile was bright, her heart was huge and her devotion to the Pirates was infinite. She knew more about baseball than most announcers. In her youth, she played the game in her small hometown north of Pittsburgh. A rarity for a woman of her generation. On a whim, she and a girlfriend would hop in her car and drive the couple hours to Oakland to pony up two bucks to watch her beloved Bucs battle against a rival club. Her unwavering dedication over the past dismal 22 years paid off. Stancy finally got to see not one, but TWO winning seasons. She never gave up on them. EVER.

She also was a wicked good baker, sharp as a tack and enjoyed sarcasm. She loveLoveLOVED Vince Gill (none of those other "fake country acts"), homemade cheesecake and did I mention the Pirates? But mostly she loved her family unconditionally, especially her delightful grandchildren who called her Baba.

Alex was her buddy
these two were two peas in a pod

many years ago with all her treasured offsprings' offspring

the unmitigated joy in her face while holding
her grandson, Matt says it all

I'm not going to lie, Orthodox funerals are rough. If you aren't depressed when you enter, you're desperately clutching for Xanax afterwards. The dirge-like chanting, repetition and incessant incense just magnifies the sorrow.

And oh my goodness, the poor kids. They were devastated by the service. This was their first loss of a significant family member. It's difficult enough as an adult to process the magnitude of what's happening, but as a young adult, it's unfathomable.

We all rallied around each other during the grueling ceremony, holding on while the tears flowed. And as the priest gave Stancy absolution, the eternal flame, which never goes out... extinguished. And her spirit was gone.


Side Note: Sitting beneath the vividly painted icons of Saints and Deity, amidst the rhythmic chanting, my mind began wandering about subjects like the physical act of dying, spirituality and the inevitable departure of my beloved Big Mar. My eyes focused on the icon of the Virgin Mary, and honest to God a joke popped into my head. You know, the one about St. Peter turning an unsavory person away at the Pearly Gates, only to have Jesus encounter the same man in Heaven moments later. Perplexed, Jesus asks how he got inside. The man replies, "your Mom let me in the back door." And I realized, OMG, that's my Mom! She's the non judgmental soul, welcoming everyone in through the back door with open arms, a hearty laugh and big ass table full of food. She IS that joke. I don't mean to sound disrespectful and callous, but what a wonderful gift it is to embody that punch line. It made me smile during a difficult moment.


In contrast to her somber final send off, the viewing could not have been more lovely. It was more like a get-together than a viewing. The space itself was warm and homey. There was a nice steady flow of visitors throughout the five-hour block. People were eating pizza (Stancy's favorite), cookies and pizzelles.

Stancy would have loved it.

There was laughter and storytelling and comic relief when the kneeler broke. I am not making this up. At one point Geo's brother, Mark had the kneeler up on one end tightening the bolt, while his other brother, the priest dressed in full cassock, was wielding a red monkey wrench. All of this happening in front of the casket. It was hysterical and unorthodox and his Mom would have LOVED that, too!

Father Bob wielding the Holy Handwrench

and yes, i am THAT person who snaps a photo at a funeral
but, c'mon! it's funny

Fortunately, Robert ditched the wrench before the Parastas began, because THAT could have been painful…

In the name of the Fath--OUCH, Son and Holy Ghost. In the name of the Fath--OUCH!, Son and Holy Ghost. In the name of the Fath--OUCH! Son and Holy Ghost...


In these difficult times, comfort comes from the strangest places. After all our extended family made their way home from the repast luncheon, I decided to go to Night of the Singing Dead, because after a week of mourning, a good, strong dose of stupid-funny was in order. Two thirds of the way through, one of the characters stopped in the middle of his bit to say no one is really gone if they've touched your  life. They live on forever in your heart.

I like to think Stancy's watching over us up there, talking baseball stats with Bob Prince, playing catch with Roberto and baking pasca with her Mom and sister.

Godspeed, Baba. Thank you for your wisdom, your humor and your spirit. You will forever be in our hearts.
xo…infinity

Summer Music Round Up With A Side Of Whine

Oh, hey! Remember me?

Yeah… well, I was supposed to wrap up this braggy BS weeks ago, but I didn't. I just could not muster the energy or enthusiasm to sit down and scribe a fabrication of my goings-on for whatever you call this rambling mess of a blog.

Truth is, even now, this very minute, I'd rather sit here in my criminally comfy yoga pants, with a glass of boxed red wine and binge watch the rest of Orange Is The New Black, Ray Donovan and Sherlock instead of press fruitlessly on with this post in my cavewoman stilted vernacular.

Me go places. Me have fun. Me lose hearing.

I'd yadda yadda yadda this fucker, but even the yadda bits would be uninspired. Jebus Christos, I need a swift kick in the buttocks!!

ANYWHO… (maybe ALL CAPS will stop the whining…hmmmmmmmmmmmm…nah)

ANYWHO, I promised myself I'd toss some nouns, verbs and overused adjectives at the screen and finish this GD MoFo American Classic. Hell, I might even dangle a participle or two on yo ass. Not to mention hang a couple of prepositions out to dry all gansta like. HEY, WON'T THAT BE FUN, KIDS!!!

Wait… How the hell did this turn into a grammar tangent? Oh, yeah.

STALLING!

Not to be confused with STALIN, who was a ginormous Muthafuckin' JAGOFF.

ACK! And to think I was shooting for brevity with concise bullet point observations on this bad boy.

*sigh*

You know what? Fuck it. I'm pressing on. My track record for finishing ANYTHING lately, a book, a project, a fucking bag of obesity-inducing chips (okay, so THAT is the one thing I DO finish) is abysmal. So here goes. Prepare to be underwhelmed.

Wouldn't it be hilarious if I ended this missive right here? Ha Ha! PSYCHE!!

And now I just carbon-dated my ass with that term.

yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.



(a little thang me and Jimmy McParkway would sing to each other from Matthew Perry's ill-fated sitcom wherein he and I apparently were the only viewers. yaaaaaaaaaay…)

But I digress. Again.

BEHOLD! The rest of my Summer of Narcisim… I mean, Summer of Music.


· House Concert 2.0

Spring Standards harmoniously rocking' the haus

Okay, so last summer Geo and I hosted the uber talented Brooklyn trio, The Spring Standards. We enjoyed James, Heather and James so much, we cajoled pestered sweet-talked them into a repeat performance exactly one year to the day of their 2013 visit. Through the miracle of technology that is incomprehensible to this Luddite, the kids broadcast our little dining room show out over the interwebs via Concert Window.

james squared on the schwang

The weather was ideal, the company of family and friends was superb and the music was spectacular. Along with those who have become regular house concert attendees, there were a number of newbies, including our dear friend from Texas, Myra Jean.

that's our southern belle, Myra in front of the monitor

Here they are singing some of our favorites of theirs. Their harmonies are gorgeous.



Geo and I have supported these three via Kickstarter for a number of years. For whatever reason, they're really sweet to us. They find our name amusing, and made up a little song and dance to go with it, all in good fun. Who'd a thunk when I saw them for the first time four years ago at SXSW, they would be hanging out on our deck, noshing on snacks and singing in our dining room. Sometimes life is too cool.



Everyone seemed to genuinely enjoy themselves and each other. After the band left, we all piled on the deck for more food, drink, and lively conversation late into the night. You know it's a great party when people don't want to leave. It could have been because of the world famous Prantl's burnt almond birthday torte, but I prefer to believe it was the camaraderie.

TORTE reward

· Matt Nathanson at the Library
Another highlight of the latter days of summer was Matt Nathanson. I've been wanting to see him ever since Steph and I watched his Denver concert on AXS last October. He's a pure popstar with thick floppy hair, mischief in his eyes and enough swivel in his hips to give the lovely blue-eyed one a run for his swoon-worthy money.

His shows are plain, old FUN! From the minute he stepped on stage, the audience was on its feet. He engaged the crowd immediately, prompting sing alongs, talking with some of those at the stage and playfully calling out patrons not willing to join the fun.

Sprinkled throughout the 90+ minutes, he did an entire bit about letting his inner Whitney Houston out,



as well as several mash-ups, mixing old songs with his own like Get High and Grease Lightning. The entire theater sang with him, following his every command. Again I say, how cool is it to stand back and hear 800+ people sing your words back to you.



Mash ups, flowing curls, and those hips…


One more for the road. My favorite of his, Faster. Mmmmmm….




The deal was you buy a t-shirt, you get to meet him briefly for a photo. Yep. What can I say? I'm a sucker for smart, witty, adorable floppy-haired crooners who enjoy shaking their asses.

· Bleachers at Mr. Small's
One of the great pleasures of having younger friends, or any friends for that matter, is exposure to new musical acts who would otherwise fly deep below my radar. I like to think I dwell in a well-rounded musical estate, but in reality, I just bunk in a small passageway in the back by the water heater.

Lizzie has been instrumental in introducing me to such musicians. Besides Chad Stokes and Matt Wertz, both of whom were represented by the label she worked for in Boston, she has a friendly relationship with the popular band fun. Her favorite member is Jack Antanoff, famous as much for being Lena Dunham (of Girls fame) boyfriend as for being the guitarist for the power pop icons. His current side project is fronting the band Bleachers.



Aside from their hit, I Wanna Get Better, I was clueless. But honestly, half the fun of these ventures is hanging out with Lizzie and her cousin, Gen. Bleachers were extremely energetic and fun. The modest crowd pretty much knew all of his songs, participating in every verse and chorus. For someone who is normally in the background, Jack is a very charismatic front man and lead singer, bounding from one side of the stage to the other, belting out lyrics and playing a mean guitar. And talk about sincere. If he said it once, he said it 20 times how much he appreciated the support he receives from the Pittsburgh area. I have it on good authority from Lizzie, he is a genuine sweet, sweet guy.

The setlist was not long, but his cover of a favorite Mountain Goats song, This Year was definitely a highlight.



And this rousing performance of his hit, I Wanna Get Better closed out the show. He even took time to shake the hands of everyone in the front row before departing backstage. Sweet.






·Jukebox the Ghost Live and Direct, WYEP
And lastly, Jukebox the Ghost stopped by the studios of the magnificent WYEP to play a handful of catchy new songs on their radio-only tour through the Northeast. Based out of DC, this three piece band has a lot of heart, a full sound, and a great sense of humor evidenced in the performance/interview here.


Aaaaaaaaaand… DONE!! WOOHOO!!