...and One More Thing

The best part about playing after national acts is the leftovers! I think we should add to the dressing room rider that the band gets the food leftover food from the national acts. It does not matter how left over it is.

Last Wednesday, comedian and actor Damon Wayans did a show before we played. The folks at the club let me in for free, so I got to see almost all of his act. He was fantastic! I was a little worried when he started going off on Bush. I was like, "Dude, you're in a conservative state! People here love Bush." He caught on that the audience did not find his political comments amusing and went on to a different subject. I thought his political comments were funny, but I am sick of hearing about how backwards the Bush administration is. I would rather concentrate on local government, anyway.

Anyway, Mr. Wayan's leftovers were amazing! There was a fruit tray that was so beautiful, it inspired me to eat more fruit. It really made me want to cry. The boys ate the leftover chicken wraps, but they said that they weren't that great. I did not touch the wraps, since I do not eat poultry anymore.

I have to say that Mr. Wayan's leftovers were way better than Merle Haggard's.

My Pea-Size Brain

There is a lot going on in my little pea-size brain today, particularly because of my busy week ahead.

Last night I had to go to a computer lab. I have to admit, I am a geek and I really enjoyed the Microsoft Excel training. I am sort of digging the statistics class, too, even though I want to shoot myself in the foot every Tuesday night, after a three-hour statistics lecture.

Today I had to bid my guitar Maggie May farewell for a few days. Maggie is my Taylor acoustic. She has to go into the shop to get her intonation set. I have had her for almost four years now, and she has never had a proper set-up. I like high action, but my fellow guitar player, Dave, pointed out that her neck is bowed a bit. I have noticed, too, over the years that her intonation is not quite right. I expect that when I get her back, she will be better than ever. Okay, I am a bit traumatized to leave her at the shop, but I trust these men. They are one of the best shops in town. On a high note, all puns intended, I will get to play Ophelia, again. Ophelia is my Ibanez, satin-finish acoustic guitar. Ophelia was my first serious guitar. I bought her back in 1998, and she has toured the world with me. She has been dropped out of third-world airplanes and C-130s. Ophelia has been on loan to my bass player for the past year. It will be good to see and play her again. Why do I name guitars? Guitars are made from wood, which was once a living thing, that is why.

I am a bit concerned about my vocal health. I have been fighting off some sinus stuff for the past two weeks. Now, all the crap is hung up in my larynx. I have to gig for six hours on Wednesday at the Casino. There is a private party from 6-8, then the regular gig from 8-12. It is the band's last Wednesday at the casino, not because they hate us, rather the casino is closing the bar from Sunday through Thursday. Some of our regulars are bringing a cake, so I am sure some of the cake will end up on me.

This Thursday we play from 9-1 at Helen Fitzgerald's, Friday we are at Howard Johnsons lounge--uh--I mean Syberg's, and Saturday is the fun gig in the Duck Room at Blueberry Hill. I just hope my voice holds out between the singing and being sick, along with the lack of sleep.

The Duck Room is so much fun to play. It is one of those few rooms where we play for the door, so it could be a good night or a bad night. The question is, will people want to go out the night before the Superbowl? We were thinking about turning the gig into a fan appreciation night and putting everyone on the guest list, so they do not have to pay a cover. The bar cannot take twenty-percent of zero, right?

The other cool thing about the Duck Room is the feeling of intimacy, not to mention all the cool acts that play there. Chuck Berry still plays there once a month. There is a residual energy on the stage from all of the acts that have ever played there. I just worry about the dressing room, being as how Chuck has a history of strategically placing peep holes around areas where girls may get naked, you know what I mean?

I don't mean to ramble, but it may be a few days before I post again, so I have to get it all out now.

Regards,

Jeni

Mama Still Knows Best

Saturday, my mom and I got into a discussion about tea. I discovered a place that sells Turkish apple tea, so I bought some and am now addicted to it. I have not been able to find apple tea like it since, well, since I was in Turkey in 2001. This Turkish tea from the store Teavana has an uncanny resemblance to what they serve in the suks in Turkey. Anyway, my mom said that the best way to make tea is to boil the grounds, then strain it. Man, is she ever right! I bought some more Turkish tea on Sunday to support my new addiction, and I made Doug search for his strainer when we got home from the mall. We brought some water to a boil, then added the tea and let it boil for about five minutes. This tea does not come in tea bags, by the way. Doug strained the tea into our cups and by God, that was the best cup of tea I have ever had!

The band finally had a weekend off. It was a well-deserved weekend off, after playing four nights a week for the past month, not to mention doing all that gigging in addition to working our day jobs. It was so nice to go home from work on Friday and catch up on some laundry. I baked a frozen pizza and almost polished off a bottle of Norton. Then, I folded laundry and watched two of my favorite shows, "Monk" and "House, M.D." I went to bed pretty early, early being eleven, for a Friday night. I still had to work Saturday morning for a few hours. My poor little brain did not know how to act on a full eight hours of sleep.

Saturday night was Credit Union Trivia Night to benefit the Children's Miracle Network. It was held at a VFW hall in Overland. The turnout was great and I think we raised a good amount of money between the silent auction and the 50/50 drawing. My table scored the lowest amount of points, but we still had fun. My table did have just about all the answers in the Movie, Motown, and other music categories, however. My table's theme was "Birthday Party." We sat the closest to the trivia judge and when he tried to insult my table for scoring so low, my friends Pam and Katie attacked him with silly string. He asked my table what department we work in, and I said, "We are the janitors," to which he cracked up.

Katie, Pam, Angie and I went to a country bar, after trivia was over. Saddle Ridge is a new country and western-themed bar in Westport Plaza. I was not going to go at first, but then I learned that they have a mechanical bull, so I had to go and show all the city-slickers what a good mechanical bull rider this small-town girl is. I was a bit worried, as we were waiting to get in though, because I could hear from the outside that the bar was playing Def Leopard's, "Pour Some Sugar On Me." I was thinking, "Can I not go anywhere on my night off without hearing that friggin' song?" Moreover, I was at a country bar and I wanted to hear the latest in Pop-Country music, not friggin' "Paradise City!" Yes, I play in an 80s pop band, and the general publics' drunken love of songs like the Beastie Boys, "You Gotta' Fight" is paying my college tuition, but give a girl a break on her night off, eh? I know, I should have gone to a blues bar if I did not want to hear "Like A Virgin." Man, am I a music snob or what? I had a great time, anyway, singing karaoke with my friend Angie to "Toxic." It is actually one of the better bars at Westport Plaza. It is kind of like a theme park, with different rooms hosting various activities and challenges, like line-dancing and billiards. I have to say that I will definitely go back there to do some bull-riding in the near future--especially at gun-point!

Welcome to Wit's End

My previous entry had a point, before I started to ramble on about taxes. I meant to say that I cannot wait to meet up with my two best friends in West Hollywood this April. The three of us have not been together since 1999! I cannot wait to go to some clubs (gay and straight, thank you, Kim) and listen to some decent music. We all know the gay clubs play the best music, though. Maybe I will run into RuPaul? Then again, I don't know if I would want to run into her.

I am so sick of hearing the same terrible, degrading, hip-hop/pop crap that bars always play when the band is on break. I realize that most bar-goers do not listen to lyrics; they just like the hook and the beat, but after hearing the same songs over and over every week, I happen to catch the words when I am sitting there, watching the white folks' feeble attempts at finding the two and four, and the words are pretty funny. The majority of the words are pretty degrading to women. The words are far more degrading, in my opinion, than many of the rock cliches from years gone by.

I feel I am at my wit's end, once again. I am so sick of answering asinine questions all day long at work and I am tired of feeling tired. I am tired of not having enough hours in a day to do what I need to get done, like laundry and toilet-scrubbing. I even entertained the idea of hiring a housekeeper, since no one feels the desire to do her share to help out around the house. I just want to buy my condo and be done with it, but I have not had time to go looking. I have about six hours of homework a week, but I do not mind, since I pissed around so much when I got out of high school. I wish the band could take a hiatus.

I am tired of paying for other people's mistakes. I have no problem loaning my parents money, especially since they do not charge me rent. I do have a problem loaning my folks money to fix my sister's screw-ups. I think maybe I can work out a deal, though. My room could use a couple of fresh coats of paint, instead of cash repayment. Perhaps a lesson about personal finances will be learned while slaving away, inhaling paint fumes? I will say, again, that I am happy to help out, because I can. I had no problem paying my parents' bills, when my dad was out of work. I do have a problem with paying for my sister's mistakes, because running to her aid will teach her nothing. I am just a bit ticked off.

I suppose that was the proverbial icing on the cake. I just want some spare time to work on some more material. The creative get cranky, when we cannot create.

Wishing My Life Away?

I designed my Beverly Hills mansion when I was in the ninth grade. Actually, I eventually planned to buy out all of Beverly Hills, then build my mansion-complex, and I would never worry about noisy neighbors. My mansion came complete with a parking garage for my antique vehicles and the foyer looked similar to that of the St. Louis Art Museum, with a fountain in the center. One day, I showed my design to a girl who sat at my lunch table and she yelled at me and said, "You're wishing your life away!"

I got the last laugh, however, because I recently purchased a plot of land that is seven-square miles. I ordered everyone out of his home by February of this year, and I am re-naming my property, "Beverly Hills."

I am kidding, of course. I plan to resume my condo search after I find out how much I owe the U.S. government for my 2005 taxes. Ah, the joy of being partially self-employed! The band had a great year, and Uncle Sam will reap the majority of the rewards. I do not have a problem with this, as long as the roads remain pot hole free. I know the Senate and the House of Representatives will never remain asshole free, but I think it is a load of crap that our senators do not have to pay into the social security system. I do not like that I am helping to fund a war that I do not agree with, either, but I suppose it will be worth it in the long run, so I can continue to freely bitch and do so in the comfort of wherever I choose.

I often catch myself internally scowling at people, when I work as a bank teller and have to cash their happy little refund checks. I always get crabby this time of year, anyway. My band mates will say it's because I'm a girl and girls are crazy. I say it's because I'm a girl and girls are crazy, anyway, but I am also tired from my insane schedule I have been keeping, since the last fall. I have so many unfinished projects and it really bothers me. What if I get hit by a bus tomorrow? Then again, if I get hit by a bus tomorrow, none of the above will matter.

I feel blessed.

The Seven-Day Itch, Going On Eight...

I cannot stop itching. I itch everywhere, except down there, thank God! I do not have any rashes, except from all of the scratching I have been doing. My scalp, face, eyes, nose, and the majority of my limbs itch.

It started last Thursday, and I thought maybe it was an allergic reaction to something I ate that day. My nose and chest began to itch on Friday, and by Saturday, my scalp and face decided to join the fun. I managed to get some temporary relief today, thanks to Gold Bond Medicated lotion. I cannot take Benadryl, because I have to be able to function today and tonight. Moreover, one has to almost make a drug deal with the pharmacist to by antihistamines these days, thanks to the crystal meth makers. Assholes! No, my ass hole does not itch.

I now come to the conclusion that my itching is nothing more than a combination of dry skin and all the mold spores that are still lingering where I work. Ah! I am allergic to work. I wonder if I can get a doctor's note saying, "Please excuse Jeni from work as she is allergic."

Way to Go, Hugh!

I am so happy that my man, HugheLaurie (House, M.D.), took home the Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Drama! I am also glad that Reese and Joaquin won Best Actor and Actress. I am exstactic that Law and Order's S. Epatha Merkelson won best actress in a mini-series. I love all of these actors and actresses.

That is all.

Friday the 13th

I love Friday the 13th. It is one of my favorite days, because the Sci-Fi channel used to run a Friday the 13:The Series marathon every Friday the 13th. I am not superstitious anymore, however, this is how the first two hours of this Friday the 13th went for me:

I stepped outside to leave for work this morning and low and behold, I had a flat tire! I did not let it upset me, though. I am exhausted enough after playing Wednesday night, working, then playing nothing short of a lost cause on Thursday night, and having to work today then gig again tonight. Once again, no rest for the stupid!

Fortunately, Dobbs is a short walk from where I work, so I took my car in, told them that whatever type of Elmer's glue and Sharpie they used to repair my tire on Tuesday did not work, and told them to do whatever they have to do to fix it for good. Then, as I was walking to work, the wind was really cold as it hit me in the face and it was making one eye water. I was like Cyclops walking with one I closed, trying to see. I felt dust or gravel constantly hitting me in the face and in the eyes, making the situation more uncomfortable. The ice pellets got bigger as I got closer to work. Now, it is snowing.

This is why I love Friday the 13th: I discovered my flat before I left the house. I was not stranded on the road in the freezing cold. I am now somewhat safe (we have a mold and a leaky ceiling near my cubicle) and warm, and I have only been slightly inconvenienced. I am feeling very lucky. The only thing I am worried about is the full moon. Oh, and I cannot wait to bring my Jason Vorhees cardboard cutout to the gig tonight!

The Beatles Catalog

You know, if I could afford to buy the rights to The Beatle's songs back from Michael Jackson, I would. Then, I would hand the rights over free of charge to Paul McCartney, just because the majority of the songs are his and John's and also as a way to say "Thank you," because The Beatles influenced so many of my favorite musicians and bands.

Now I know all you money-hungry capitalists are like, "Yeah right." Go ahead and think like that, though. Then again, the odds of me getting sucked into a black hole are better than me ever being able to out-bid the highest bidder for the rights to The Beatles songs.

E-bay Addict

So, now I am one of those people I used to make fun of.

I am proud to admit that I am an e-bay addict. I think that in the past I knew better than to shop at an online auction site, because I am a fanatic and collector. One really can find almost anything on e-bay. I still haven't tried searching for a "left buttock" yet, but I am certain someone out there is selling one.

I just received "Fearless" in the mail and I thought to myself, "Hmm. I wonder if I can find Tim Curry's third LP, "Simplicity"? On a whim, I went online yesterday and low and behold, there it was! I don't have the option to buy it outright this time, so I placed my bid. Now, I check up on it from time to time and am trying to be patient. I have a record album frame set aside for it.

My attraction to antiques and collectibles started when I was in junior high. I love to go on a "witch hunt" for items that are hard to find. I also collect amberlina or sunburst glass, tea cups and saucers and perfume bottles. I also collect matchbooks from all the places I visit.

I have been thinking about reducing the size of my Star Trek collection. Everything is in boxes in the basement. It would be interesting to see how much I can get for an autographed picture of Brent Spiner. I have two autographed pictures of him (Commander Data), but one is personalized. Autographs are cool to me, but only if I meet the person and they personalize it. I have many action figures, which are still in their boxes. Yes, I am a geek. I would also like to offer up several miscellaneous boxes-o-crap.

Oh, Elusive Ur!

http://www.stlouis.art.museum/index.aspx?id=176

The above link is to an exhibit at the Saint Louis Art museum. The exhibit has been in town since October and runs through January 15. I have been dying to see this exhibit, ever since I saw the billboard for it on highway 170, but the holiday season has kept me from attempting to go to the exhibit.

Saturday, Doug and I decided to go to the art museum. We went up to the information booth to buy tickets. Mind you, there was already a line about a hundred people long waiting to get into the exhibit. A man at the counter said, "Are you here for Ur? If so, we are sold-out for the day." No big deal. I figured we would try again on Sunday.

Sunday was a repeat of Saturday. Sold-out for the day. Granted, my ass had to gig Saturday night and slept until 11am, but c'mon, give a girl a break! I seriously thought about calling in sick to work this week to go to the exhibit.

So, here I am on a Monday and still, no Ur exhibit tickets. Once again, the only day I can go is this Sunday, which is the last day. Once again, I have to gig Saturday night, but I told Doug to kick my ass out of bed, so we can get to the museum before it opens.

I am fascinated with Mesopotamia and I have to see this exhibit. I feel like Veruca Salt in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I want to see the Royal Tombs of Ur and I want to see it NOW!

In The News...

I am sorry to hear that singer Lou Rawls passed away at the age of seventy-two. He had lung and brain cancer. I always loved his soulful, sultry voice. It was very unique.
I don't think there is any worse insult for a singer than to die of upper-respiratory illnesses. Another example is Freddie Mercury dying of pneumonia. I would have rather these two men with such beautiful voices be hit by a bus than to spend their last days unable to do what they loved to do--sing. It just disturbs me.

It appears that glam rocker Gary Glitter ("Rock n Roll part I and II") will not be facing the firing squad for allegedly raping two Vietnamese girls, who are ages ten and eleven. He will, however, face three to seven years in a Vietnamese prison, where I am sure karma will be a bitch. Perhaps someone named karma will make him his bitch? Gary, please keep your penis in your pants and start working on "Rock and Roll part III." High school pep assemblies and football games need new songs, eh?

Why do the perverts live forever and the good ones die all too early?

More Cowbell!

My boyfriend buys me the most thoughtful and romantic gifts.

The band is going to learn the Escape Club song, "Wild, Wild West" and I mentioned to him how there is a cowbell in the song. I told him I have to buy a cowbell. Today, he stopped by work to surprise me with a gift of a brand new cowbell! I can't wait to play it in traffic on the way home from work.

Ever since the "More cowbell!" skit on Saturday Night Live, the only sound I hear in Blue Oyster Cult song, "Don't Fear the Reaper," is the damn cowbell.

New Year's Pics

Here are some pictures my friend Jennifer (in the party hat) took at the Bottleneck Blues Bar on New Years Eve:

Jennifer in her party hat.

Becky, Jennifer, and Heather

Me (I think the song is "Micky")

Jennifer and Heather

Jennifer

Me with D. Lorean's bass in my face