Last night HRH and I went to our friends' show at a new Texas style bar/saloon/steakhouse/line dancing joint (yes, I said joint). HRH went because he was asked to play the banjo during a couple of numbers. The plucka-plucka of the banjo may make me want to tear out my hair then attack my teeth when he practices at home, but I do understand that when it comes to serious country music and bluegrass, you can't not have a banjo.
Arizona - the name of our freinds' band - is super cool. They have an awesome repertoire with one hit song after another. They look like rock stars and they're so well rehearsed the show doesn't feel stiff or uptight in any way. They have tons of fun and it shows. Their set was going just fine when all of a sudden this ridiculous snake creature slithers out of his hole and after insisting for all and sundry to get up and play the harmonica with them, he finally gets called up.
Let me describe him for you. Stupid hat/cap, dark sunglasses (in a dimly list establishment AT NIGHT), earrings on both ears, skinny jeans that are strategically ripped in special places, LOW cut V-neck Tshirt and ----- necklace/chain. He looked like a total douche.
He gets up on stage and starts making out with his harmonica and playing like a man possessed by Narcissus himself as well as several other harmonica playing demons. To say that he was stealing the limelight would be an understatement, he was more like an attention whore/vampire/hog all rolled up in one - and that's being kind. I'm going to call his solo in "Sweet Home Alabama" - "An Ode to My Penis". Was the solo, and subsequently the song, good? Yes, yes it was, though it got old fast. Was his performance entertaining? Yes, if nothing else it was hilarious and very ridiculous which is perfect fodder for blogs, jokes and gossip. Did it sound like he was playing to his penis? Yes, a little bit.
I would like to say he only got up for one number, but that would be a lie because then he proceeded to shove the drummer off his stool and then told the base player to take a walk. Why was he given this much freedom to do whatever he wanted, you ask? Well, because first he was being all needy and grabby in public, and it's always better not to argue with a douchey slimy looking crazy in front of everyone as it will most likely turn into a bar fight if you do. And second, because he's friends with the owner's sister's boyfriend.
We're taking the kids to Arizona's show tonight, here's hoping we don't cross paths with the most ridiculous person alive again.
FYI, I really tried to find out his name, but it seems even the people standing next to him, the band members and people he was greeting like long lost friends pretended they didn't know him when I asked them what his name was. Not surprising.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
I just finished reading D.H. Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover. I had seen the 70's movie ages ago but I had never read the book. When I first started reading it, it took me a couple of pages to get accustomed to the style of writing. For the most part it was the excessive use of exclamation marks that threw me, and then there was the Hugh Grant style narration. It really felt like Hugh Grant or Anthony Hopkins was the narrating with all the starts and stops. Very British.
I do love British writing though, so I decided to power through and I'm glad I did. It's a great book. Well written, insightful, honest and kind of pornographic. After my last experience reading sex scenes written by a man I thought I would never be okay, but as it turns out it's not all men, just some - or possibly one. D.H. Lawrence deals with it head on in a very factual and straightforward way. It's interesting.
The book is not only about animal lust and sex between a lady and her gamekeeper, no, it's about how boring the British nobility is, for one. It also touches on their social divide, love, tenderness and real intimacy. It's not a shallow book with no substance past the sex, so it does keep you interest and while reading it you understand how relevant the sex is, and even the description of it is.
I highly recommend it if you're in between books and you don't know what to pick up next. It's a solid read and a good time.
Finding a new show is as fulfilling as finding a new brand of makeup you never new existed and always hoped you'd find.
While looking for something interesting to fill my Grey's Anatomy Monday night slot while the show is on hiatus I happened upon the coolest show on TV right now, Justified. During the first episode you follow a super bad-ass US Marshall as he literally does a Billy the Kid style quick draw and kills a super creepy bad guy with nasty skin resulting in his transfer from Miami back to hicksville Kentucky, his home town.
The show makes Timothy Olyphant into a quasi superhero who can bring down seriously evil and ignorant white trash without breaking a sweat and wears a cowboy hat with the grace and ease of John Wayne. He's even got a swagger. With winner lines like the ones below there is no doubt this show is going to just get better and better. Super witty, hard-core without being grotesque like The Shield and some other shows out there, it's a recipe for success. The show has been renewed for a second season and considering the reviews it's getting, I wouldn't be surprised if it hangs around for some time.
God help me, I love it when bad guys get brought to justice. Buenos tiempos people. Surprising how different two shows with similar story lines can be. Do you remember that show I call Circling the Drain - In Plain Sight (I literally had to look up the real name)? That show is so lame it's enough to make you turn off your TV and wash the dishes. Thank God for decent writers.
Fave lines from episode 1:
[giving the prayer at Boyd's camp]
Raylan Givens: Dear Lord, before we eat this meal we ask forgiveness for our sins, especially Boyd- who blew up a black church with a rocket launcher, and afterwards he shot his associate Jared Hale in the back of the head out on Tate's Creek bridge. Let the image of Jared's brain matter on that windshield not dampen our appetites, but may the knowledge of Boyd's past sins help guide these men. May this food provide them with all the nourishment they need. But, if it does not, may they find comfort in knowing that the United States Marshal Service is offering fifty-thousand dollars to any individual providing information that will put Boyd back in prison. Cash or check, we can make it out to them. Or to Jesus. Whoever they want. In your name, we pray. Amen.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
It was a typical spring evening in Rio de Janeiro. The humidity in the air was so thick you could wash your hair with it, or cut it with a knife - if you're into everyday, unoriginal expressions. My hair was defying the law of gravity and proving every stereotype associated with curly/frizzy hair. At one point I considered cornrows like Monica when she went to the Bahamas in Friends, but rejected the idea when I got a mental image of what my face would look like - a perfect, shiny circle. Not flattering.
Earlier in the day I had woken up to find an orchid waiting for me, and only moments later opened the door to find a delivery guy with another one. It was clear that even though I was having one of the worst bad hair days since everyone in the 80's, someone very powerful was smiling in my direction. Still recovering from the beauty of the orchids and the sparkling fairy happiness of my Christmas tree, I drank my morning iced mocha and turned on my laptop.
While I opened Outlook I held my breath hoping and praying that my smiling Protector would remove emails from my inbox if there were too many - luckily (or by divine intervention) there were so few emails I finished the first part of my morning to-do list before you could say sushi. And that's exactly where I went for lunch. My sister and Tati kidnapped me and whisked me off for an extravagant lunch at a wonderful place where we ate crazy delish food and drank kiwi frozen caipisakes (caipirinha made with Japanese sake). So good.
Was my day over? - not quite. A good friend of mine offered to make me a special birthday dinner - Peruvian food. I had long suspected that I didn't like Peruvian food because when I was there we never ate Peruvian food - in fact I don't think we ate anything resembling food at all. We lived on a poo related diet, as it turns out. After dinner last night, I can say with complete and surprising certainty that Peruvian food is delicious. I wish I could go back in time and eat real food there - I lived 2 whole years in a country and never really experienced the cuisine. Sucks so much, you know?
Our memories and impressions of a country are definitely linked to the food we eat there. If you eat crap kebabs for 2 full years, there is very little chance that you're going to remember your time there fondly. All that to say, I had a tremendous birthday, received so many birthday wishes I was positively overwhelmed. I am surrounded by amazing friends and a huge wonderful family.
Now that I've turned 58 - at least it feels that way - I'm researching anti-aging skincare creams and will let you all know which one I choose to use next. Most likely a good cosmeceutical brand.
Tata for now!