Lemons

12.1.2015


Do you remember where you were on July 30th, 1994?  I do, because it was one of the most epic, one-night adventures I've ever had.  It started like many nights back then did:  We went to the bar.

Let me back up a sec.  I lived in Chicago at the time.  I was with my girlfriend and my sister, and it was a hot, humid Saturday night and we were waiting for a pal from out of town to meet us at my apartment.  We were supposed to be coming up with ideas on where to take my pal, Derwood, when he arrived.  We could do no better than "the bar" when he got there.

Derwood was in town for a bachelor party.  A family friend was getting married soon and Derwood, his father and several other blokes played golf and whooped it up at the club, then went to dinner.  Derwood escaped to my pad at this point.

There were dozens of bars in our neighborhood, so we tried to figure out one that we hadn't been to recently and that had food.  Derwood said he didn't care about food, so we set out on foot for a nice place called "The Jury Room."  We chose this because Derwood's father and the rest of the bachelor party was going there after dinner.  I knew Derwood's dad and thought it would be nice to see him again.

Halfway there, we saw a poster on a wall announcing a new album by a band we all really liked.  "Split" was a new record by Lush.  None of us knew of this new release.  There was a banner on the poster:  "See Lush LIVE at the Vic!  7/31/94!"  Sweet!  That's tomorrow!  There was a banner on the banner:  "Sold out."  Shit!

We trudged on thrilled about the new record but bummed that we couldn't go to the show the following night.  We reached the bar and passed its large front window to reach the door.  As I passed the window, I noticed few people in the bar, but sitting at the bar itself were two people.  One of them was a young woman with cherry-red hair.  I had a thought.

We entered the bar and headed for the tables in the back.  Passing the couple sitting at the bar, I heard the cherry-red haired woman speaking to her companion.  She had a British accent.  I glanced at her and she was, indeed, the guitarist and singer from Lush.  We sat down and the waitress came to take our orders.  We ordered and asked her to put the couple at the bar's next round on us.  She did.  We watched as she told them and they both turned to us.  We raised our glasses and they sheepishly toasted us back.

A while later the bachelor party arrived.  Derwood's dad came over and we chatted a bit.  The bachelor came over and we discovered that he was the President and CEO of the hospital that both my girlfriend and my sister worked at.  Also that Derwood's dad knew my dad, and that my dad knew the bachelor.  The circle was complete.  Almost.

That's Miki.  Most well-oiled bachelor party attendees would notice a girl like her and a few might attempt to talk to her.  Our bachelor party had a few of these fellows.  One of them was Derwood's dad.  After a bit, he came back and said, "She said thanks for the drink.  She's really nice.  Do you want to meet her?"  We stammered out a "yes."

So, he did what some guys do.  He went over to the bar and brought Miki and her companion back to our table.  And they sat down.

So for a couple hours we sat and drank with Miki and her friend.  And Derwood's dad.  And the hospital president.  It was quite a group.  I have no idea what we talked about.

Later, as she was leaving, she asked if we were going to the show and we said, no.  We'd only learned of it earlier that night and also learned that it was sold out.  She asked if we wanted to go to the show.  We stammered out a "yes, please."  She took our names and we said good night.

(The night wasn't over for us:  Sans Miki, we went back to the hospital president's SWEET air-conditioned pad.  It was in an old Coke bottle factory and it was swank.  We drank his expensive booze and stayed up real late.)

The next night we went to the show.  It was rad.  We had "After Show" privileges, so we got to hang with the band.  It was rad.

Lush has recently announced a reunion.  They're working on new material and have announced a few live dates in the UK.  I hope like hell that they will cross the pond and come to my town.

Tonight - The Phone Booth 
(1st-time TNSC visit to this glorious dive)


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

WNSC?

** In an unprecedented maneuver, in lieu of a "secret" Thursday Thanksgiving meeting, we're holding a requested Wednesday Night Social Club.  I guess there's a first for everything.

But read on.

 11.4.2015  (first posted this week 2003)

So I had to submit to a urine test the other day. I'd been accused or using performance-enhancing drugs during the last Scrabble tournament I'd won and I had to clear my name. Boy is it a cutthroat world! Anyway, I don't know if you ever had to pee in a cup for anything other than normal reasons (?), but when you're a suspect, they treat you a lot different at the clinic. They're not nice. They're cold, they're quite rude and their stares burn a hole right through you. The clinician I was lucky enough to get was as big as a house and scary looking. He breathed through one nostril and squished his face into a scowl worthy of a Halloween mask. He ordered me to empty my pockets into a clear, lucite box. When I'd finished, he spun me around and fuckin'-A FRISKED me. "Jesus, buddy, watch yr hands," I said. He grunted a shutthefuckup. When his full-cavity search turned up nothing, he slapped a padlock on the lucite box and then handed me the box and thrust a piss cup in my hand. "Go in dere," he said, motioning to a room with a unisex symbol on the door, "and you gots fifteen seconds only. And yr being watched through the cameras and such. Don't do nothin' funny or I'm comin' in." Jesus, I thought, going into the room, no pressure or nothing.

I managed to fill the specimen cup in the alloted time and capped it. I opened the door and handed it over to the Neanderthal. "Here ya go, Piss Man," I said, "now unlock my shit, yo." I thought it was funny to call him Piss Man. And I aced the test. My pee was squeaky clean, yo. Don't need dope to throw my BCHSXYZ into _EN_O___AMP_OR_ to spell BENZOXYCAMPHORS and score 1830 points, yo.

Tonight - The Homestead.

Everyone have a very happy Thanksgiving Holiday!!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Kennedy

11.2.2015

Baka guy!

In 1992 we were sitting around watching "120 Minutes" on MTV and Dave Kendall told us of a "hot new all-girl act from Japan" called Shonen Knife.  They had just released their first major-label
record in the US, "Let's Knife."  One of the tracks on the album was, "Antonio Baka Guy," and Dave explained to us that "baka" in Japanese means, "stupid."  Baka Guy = Stupid man.  We loved it.

The "we" I'm referring to is Jimi and me.  Jimi and I had gone to school together in Phoenix and while I moved away to Chicago, he moved to California.  At some point, he decided to move to Chicago and boxed up all his shit and moved there.  He stayed in my apartment for a while, as he tried to find a job and a place of his own to move his boxed-up shit.  It was winter and it was really cold and it's no fun to slog around looking for work and apartments.  Jimi's Chicago experiment did not last long.  He was back in sunny California by Spring.

But in the meantime, we watched MTV and learned exciting new foreign words like, "baka."  We wore that word out.  Replacing a word like, "stupid" demonstrated how frequently the word came up.  Baka snow.  Baka cat.  Baka ice.  Baka broken TV.  Baka this.  Baka that.  I remember ordering a pizza and upon delivery, opening it and it wasn't what we ordered.  We looked at each other and Jimi simply said, of the situation, "Baka."

I try not to say, "stupid" around my kid, as it's not a really nice word and I've proved it can apply to many people, places and situations.  I don't like him saying it either.  But, "baka?"  Some day I'll teach him that.


Tonight - Club Deluxe.

TNSC Founding Member John Metsker's Birthday!  Come on out and help him celebrate. 

Of course Little Minsky's Burlesque will be performing, so bring $5 for the cover charge and enjoy!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

It's a Jelly (REDUX)

11.1.2015  (first posted this day 2005)

Ya hear that one about varying yr routines so yr enemies don't know where and when to find you? I used to live like that. I used to exit the back door from work, ride a different bike to the bus depot, snag one of many routes that come near my place and then skitch a ride on a garbage truck. Or recycling truck. Or a cardboard-collector truck. See? Varying the mode can be easier than you think. If you say, "I have to skitch to work," I say, "so be it." Yr enemies will know where to look for you. UNLESS you vary the vehicle you skitch from. Skitch off that beer truck. Skitch off that Mission Uniform supply truck. Skitch off that UPS van (always a good skitch, that brown van), skitch off a bicycle, fer chrissakes (I done it.) Yr enemies will miss you if you skitch home off a Safeway Home Delivery van if they're looking for you skitching off a Entemen's bakery truck.

Tonight - Orbit Room

Yes... you read that right.  It's the grand re-opening of the TNSC ground-zero.  It might be packed, but TNSC is always "makin' the scene" (as kids say nowdays.)  If all else fails, it's only a 3 block walk to Elixir.


bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!