Yabba Dabba.. Doh!

or Wilma, Barney and Betty head for SXSW

Okay, so tomorrow me and my two buds, Howard and Mary Ann leave for the musical spectacle that is SXSW. (Geo, being of sound mind opted out of this particular jaunt.) I am equally excited and overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed because seriously I feel like I have been cramming for a final exam to a class I have never attended. There are a gajillion bands playing...and that's just on the "official" showcase listing. There are another thousand or so on the "unofficial" showcase list.

Yowza!!

I have officially slaughtered a small dell of trees in preparation of the four-day extravaganza. Paperless society, my ass!! Friends and other various SX veterans keep telling me to plan, but expect to just go with it once we get there.

Fair enough.

I suspect the consumption of free liquor and food will help stem my tendency to freak. Hell, it's just music, right? Something we don't like we can just move along to the next venue. The good thing is my pals are pretty laid back, and we'll be assisted at least part of the time by my friend and Austinite, Cindy.

Fortunately, the sun is expected to shine all week, heating up Austin to the mid 70s. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah... That alone along with the Bar-B-Que will be worth it.

If I can find a computer and am coherent at the end of the evenings, I'll try to post updates of our Flinstone adventures outside of Bedrock. But then again, the less coherent I am the better my writing might be. We shall see.

Now if I can just figure out what shoes to wear and how much to pack and, oh yeah I need these papers, and what about snacks, and....

Pray for us.

In Which Sometime Ones Musical Dreams Come True

Okay, so I am one lucky SOB.

Seriously.

First of all, I'm married to the greatest man on earth. He continues to go above and beyond. Case in point, last Friday we drove five hours across the chubby Commonwealth of PA to Philly in order to attend a concert featuring the two musical loves of my LIFE... Francis Dunnery AND Rhett Miller!!!!

I repeat:

Francis Dunnery AND Rhett Miller... together... on the same stage... in the same evening!?!

The whole event came about to celebrate the 20th anniversary of WXPN's morning DJ, Michaela Majoun. Turns out these two gents are her favorites as well. Marvelous taste Ms. Majoun has.

Yoda! What did I tell you about messing with my keyboard?

That's Michaela on the left. I LOVE her for putting this together. She got more than one big ole bear hug of thanks from me that evening. I'm happy to say I refrained from planting a big, sloppy, wet kiss on her. Now THAT would have been awkward...even if we were drunk. ;-)

Anywho, we met up with Kate (she's the woman right above me), Francis' house concert booker along with some other house concert hosts. Tony, our favorite merch guy was there, too. Erica and Francis brought their German guests (who hosted Francis), Rolf and Anka and their two adorable children, Julie and Lily. It was like old home week.

Geo and Rolf

Rolf's daughter Julie, looking adorable in Geo's hat

That's the cool thing about Francis. Once you have him to your home, you're part of his clan and are invited to visit him any time. We really like these people very much. They are so warm, affectionate and inclusive. They feel like family, without all the crappy expectations.

So back to the show.

Francis was up first. He played a short set which included his popular "Too Much Saturn" and this cover of Peter Gabriel's "Solisbury Hill".

He's such an amazing, effortless guitarist.

However, he's so used to the intimate house setting, I think the chattiness of the crowd threw him a bit. They were really loud. I find that so rude, and not just because they're talking over my buddy. As we like to say here in Pittsburgh, it's just ignorant. Geo's favorite line is "don't you just hate it when the band you've paid money to see is so loud you have to scream over them to talk to your friends?" Ha Ha! He kills me.

Then it was Rhett's turn.

In his usual fashion, he plowed through roughly 15 songs with his usual high energy, working up a complete, full-on sweat by the third song. The crowd had gathered around the front of the stage (including me, natch), but still there was chatter. I don't know. I don't get it. I seriously do not get it.

Another Girlfriend

Singular Girl

He ended his set with "Time Bomb" (his signature closer), jumped off stage and headed for the back when a radio-type asked him for an encore. So he finished his evening uncharacteristically with the rocking "Our Love", incorporating Michaela's name into the lyrics.

Then Kate let us tag along backstage where we were greeted with a big bear hug and kiss (for me, not Geo...although maybe he got one too) from Francis.

Y'all know how much I love hugs, right? Well, I do. LOVE em. Can't get enough of them from people I dig.

Rolf and his family were there, Kate, Erica, us...all yakking about this and that together. I looked to the other side of the room, and there was my little Rhett... all by himself putting his guitar away with no one talking to him. Unable to bear anyone being left out, I took one for the team and went to say hi.

I know, right? It's a dirty job, but someone had to do it.

But honestly, I felt bad. Everyone else was there for Francis. Turns out Geo and I were the only two of his fans in the room. We had a lovely conversation about recording, the beauty of bonus tracks, the Olympics, how my beloved Pens beat his Stars... I was surprised he brought that up. I had sent him a picture of the final score to jag him. In any case, he was as sweet as sweet could be, especially to agree to this..

So, my two dream men of rock finally met and performed together. They seemed to really hit it off, too. We must be living right this year. Either that or perhaps I have a fatal tum-ah which will cut my life short and God's doing me one last solid for the road. In any case, as the cheezeburger cat says "I can diez happy?"

Yeah. It was a good night. It was a very good night indeed.

Friday Photo #37

Oh yeah, like you're surprised. Two of my current favorite things together on the screen...Curling and a person named after a male body part. You just knew I'd have to share it.

My inner 12 year old boy is chuckling.

(Note: I was rummaging through my old posts and realized I never posted this gem from the Olympics. Good Lord! How could I have missed this? It still made me chuckle, so here it is.)

Dude, What's That Shitz On Your Head?

or Son, you gotta hamster on yo' bean

Okay, so it's Oscar Night and we were catching up on old programs inhabiting our DVR to make room to record, you know, nineteen hours of the bullshit filled king-of-all-network-time-killers, The Academy Awards, when we stumbled across the episode where Edward Cullen, that uber teen-age (and 30-somethings) heartthrob himself, Robert Pattinson pays a visit to Jon Stewart's The Daily Show.

Once the throngs of screeching females settled down, he started talking about a variety of things including the fact his face is virtually EVERYWHERE, and how he has a fear of overexposure. To which Geo responded:

"more like a fear of combs."

HAHAHAHAHA!! His wit slays me.

Oh-oh. Gotta run. The Oscars are starting, and you know I love me some Alec Baldwin.

Who's Afraid Of An Inch Or Six Of Snow?

or screw you February. I'm going to see Sondre Lerche

Okay, so last Friday the snow fall was supposed to stop by 1pm. It did...for about two hours, then it came back with a wicked vengeance. That omnipresent white shit fell so steadily and heavily that it felt like you were standing in the middle of a freaking snow globe. Seriously.

It was very slow going on roads that were coated with at least four inches of the blasted flaky stuff. So naturally I ventured out to meet friends, Sheila and Tim, and head to our favorite little night spot of which I've spoken ad naseum, Club Cafe.

Why would I venture out in such an inhospitable evening?

See here's the thing... I have been wanting to see Norwegian songwriter, Sondre Lerche ever since I heard him interviewed by WYEP's Rosemary Welsh.

That was six years ago.

Six years. I've waited six whole years to watch him perform, and I can tell you no snow storm was going to stop me from seeing him. Six years...Six inches of snow. Pffft! No contest.

So off we crawled through February's latest punch in the gut, mired in a line of traffic that went on for miles. It felt like we'd never get there. There was actually a split second when I questioned the wisdom of traveling in such conditions, but once this diminutive figure took the stage all doubts were washed away.

He was brilliant! High energy, strong, clear voice, and he absolutely shredded that electric gee-tar. There was a lot of power pouring out of that little frame. I honestly didn't expect such a passionate performance from him.

He charmed the audience with his banter between a set of old and new tunes. At one point he paused, contemplating what he should play next. That's when I shouted for an older favorite of mine-"On the Tower"-which he graciously agreed to sing even though he hasn't sung that particular tune for years. Here he is butchering the lyrics:

Look how cute he is about it. I don't know why, but I love when performers kinda tank the lyrics to their songs. It allows them to let down their guard and be a little vulnerable, more human. If forces them to trust their audience to not dick them. I have never been to a show where the crowd wasn't 100% behind the singer when he was less than perfect. In fact I think they get more support for putting it out there.

For the third time at this club, the artist exposed the sham of the encore. Once again, Sondre, much like Bell X1 and Mike Doughty before him, decided to dispense with the drama of walking off stage and waiting for us to beg for his return, in favor of just telling us the next songs are his official encore.

His honesty was rewarded with one of the all-time best audience sing-alongs to the delightful "Modern Nature". The girls in the crowd inspired him to switch from electric to acoustic and go completely unplugged.

Isn't that great? What a lovely way to end the evening. Our hearts remained buoyant as we made our way through the never ending falling snow. It was well worth the journey.

AND get this...Sondre Lerche's going to be playing a gig or two at SXSW this year, so I get to witness his talents again! Umm...that is if I can navigate through that craziness and find the party.

Did I mention I'm going to the megalomaniacal uber monster music fest SXSW? Well, I am. Yes. Wilma Flintstone is jumping into the shallow waters head first. My noggin is already spinning off its axis.

Pray for me.

Anywho, here are a couple more songs from that grand evening.

Two Way Monologue

No One's Gonna Come

Carrying This Torch For You (?)

Oh, and uh...sorry about the ambush there, Sondre. Sheila made me do it.

Another Great Finish For The Olympic Books

or more love for Sid the Kid and his luscious gold-medal winning lips

Okay, so the Olympic Gold Medal game came down to the USA vs. Canada. As a Pittsburgher, I was conflicted because A) First and foremost, Hello? I'm an American and B) I'm an American who is blessed to have the best player in hockey-a Canadian-play for her beloved Pens. The way I figured it, no matter who won it was a win-win for us Burghers.

But Holy CRAP!! What a game, huh?!

Once again the intensity of play was off the charts... crushing checks, top notch defense and a heated skirmish or two. The good ole US of A was down by one in the final minutes of the third period. Our goalie, the brilliant Ryan Miller, was pulled for the extra man advantage, but the boys had to scramble to keep the puck in Canada's zone. Once again, in the final thirty seconds, Zach Parise, like a Jedi Knight channeling the force, somehow connected with a rebounded puck to sink it deep into the net to tie the game and send it into overtime.

I yelled so loudly I swear I bruised my ovaries.

The youngsters from America were not going down without a fight. To be honest, I was okay with either team sporting the gold, but at that point I was routing for the boys in blue to take the brass ring.

And then Sid, who was quiet for most of the game, touched the puck... and magic happened.

In the biscuit sailed...out flew Sid's mouthpiece along with his stick and gloves. And the jubilation began with a team mash-up blur of red and white.

I don't know why, but I love the image of Sid's mouth guard flinging out of his mouth at break-neck speed, landing 12 feet away. Perhaps it's the pure, unguarded joy of his reaction.

I screamed then, too. And then I teared up, because, you know, I'm a ginormous sap when it comes to stuff like this. Our little Sid officially became the hero of his country.

Good Lord... I'm tearing up now. What an asshat.

Anywho, would I have preferred my country to win. Sure. But, hey, if we had to lose, at least it was at the hands of our own... this honorable young man who embodies the idea of hard work, dedication and youthful exhuberance. How could you not be happy for him? What an amazing ten months he's had. He led his team from the brink of elimination to snatch the Stanley Cup from the prior year's nemesis, and now he scored the winning goal in overtime--on home turf--to bring his country gold.

What the hell do you do for an encore? Win another Stanley Cup, of course. Duh?

So how do you top witnessing perhaps the best gold medal round hockey match since 1980? With a closing ceremony filled with singing Mounties, gigantic inflatable beavers (what the? insert your own joke here...) and an appearance by the ultimate Canadian, The Shat Man himself... William Shatner!!!

He is the best of all possible Shatners. No celebration of Canada would be complete without Captain Kirk extolling the virtues of being a Canadian in his own unique, stilted delivery. I've been waiting for him for two weeks! Where the HELL have you been, Bill?

At the end of the day, the US did better than in any prior winter Olympics winning 37 shiny medals. We even managed to snag the first gold medal in 62 years in the four-man bobsled.

I'm going to miss it.

So a big ole, wet, sloppy kiss of thanks to you, Canada! It's been a fun two weeks, what with the Curling mania and hockey hysteria and the world just generally coming together to enjoy itself without the bullshit yoke of politics to strangle our collective human spirit.

It was a welcomed respite indeed.

Friday Photo #38

Alas, Mr. Snowstorm. We Meet Yet Again...

Okay, so believe it or not, it hasn't snow here for about four days.

*Gasp!*

I know, right? But wait, there's more. Fueled by a mysterious large, glowing orb I believe you call the Sun, the temps were high enough to start the big melt. So much so, we could see actual grass here and there.

No shit. Grass. Seriously.

Not to mention I actually wore footwear other than my spectacular bright orange, quilted Lands End snow shoes.

Hurrah!! It seemed things were starting to look up. I could see a faint light at the end of Winter's dark, dank, miserable tunnel.

Aaaaah, but February, that fat f*ck, had other sadistic ideas and decided to dump yet another substantial storm on our collective heads this morning. So I have once again donned my bright orange PennDot galoshes, pulled my hood tightly over my pea-sized head and armed myself with our super-scooper shovel to push to the curb the latest load of the Lord's beauty.

And now my fingers are numb and burning from spreading salt like I was tossing beads to tanked-up, topless Tarts at Mardi Gras.

Whoa Whoa Whoa. Not so fast. Hold on there, Skippy. It's STILL snowing...steadily. So I'll get to do the shoveling and the salting and the grousing all over, again and again and again. The only good thing is this time around, I'm off today so I don't have to go to work and deal with all that madness.

February has officially become the snowiest month on record. Oh Bravo! Well done! You can stop with the overachieving now you silly be-yatch. But, nooooo. This menacing month will just not go quietly. Much like that crazy-ass Glenn Close character, Alex in Basic Instinct she refuses to be ignored. I just hope it doesn't leave any "surprises" like boiling bunnies for us to find.

Hey, wait a minute. I don't remember leaving that big pot on the stove...