Realizing A Dream

When I was in 1st grade, I was obsessed with Kiss. Yep, 1st grade. In fact, the first record I ever bought with my own money was Destroyer by Kiss, which I purchased that same year. Eventually, I collected all their albums, studying them carefully as I listened to them over and over. And I was especially fixated on Gene Simmons. I read his letter on the inner sleeve of Alive! intently until I had it memorized, and drove my mom batshit crazy by sticking out my tongue at everyone I passed by. Needless to say, my dream was to be Gene Simmons when I grew up.

That dream will be coming true this Halloween Night when I perform as Gene Simmons at my friend's Kiss-themed Halloween party (KISSHOUSE). This thing is going to be huge, as it has already made the front page of the Tennessean. I have obsessively pored over my costume details for weeks now, trying to get it perfect. Right now, it resembles a disturbing S&M ensemble. I'm hoping that that by the time the wig and make-up are in place, it won't be quite so unnerving. I'll have pictures to post in the next few days. Happy Halloween, bitches!

Tenses - Where Did We Go Wrong?

In my ever-frustrating world of Grammar Nazi-ism, I've come to notice way too many people who have no concept of tenses in sentence structure. If you're wondering what I'm talking about, just listen to Finebaum or go to Wal-Mart. For example:

"Yesterday, he come out of the house and run down the street." Incorrect

""Yesterday, he came out of the house and ran down the street." Correct

And people wonder what is wrong with our education system. Where did we go wrong as a society? I understand that kids pick up a lot of bad grammar habits from their friends and/or parents. I can't speak for everyone else, but we covered tenses at my elementary school. And don't these children read? Why is it so effing hard to speak correctly?

Random Fleeting Thoughts

I know it's been awhile. Let's catch up.

The Tide
I don’t want to jinx this year’s team, but damn they’re good. I realize we still haven’t gotten to the meat of the schedule, but McElroy is looking like our most efficient QB since Gary Hollingsworth. Julio is God. And I would rather get sacked by Charles Jefferson than have to fuck with the two headed monsters of Ingram/Richardson or McClain/Hightower. Damn they’re good.

The Fuck?
MacKenzie Phillips, what the hell are you doing? Whether it’s true or not, no one wants the image of you and your father doin’ the grown-up in their head. Personally, I think it’s BS – either way, she comes off looking reeeeally bad. This is nothing more than a whore tactic to sell books.

Banned
Recently, my old band from college, Three Hour Tour played a gig at the “new” Booth in Tuscaloosa. The following week, we were asked to never play there again due to “vulgarities” that were communicated over the mic that evening. Other than telling some chick that her mouth would make a lovely urinal (an oldie but goodie), I don’t recall anything all that offensive coming out of our mouths. It’s a college town for gawd’s sake – let the people speak freely!

A Dream Come True
When I was in first grade, I wanted to be Gene Simmons. Besides Evel Knievel, I thought he was the coolest mofo in the world. After being turned down by my dad to go see them live as a kid, I finally got to see Kiss on their reunion tour in ’96, and once more a few years ago. Now I have the opportunity of a lifetime. Next month, a bandmate buddy will be throwing a huge Kiss-themed Halloween party. Headlining the event will be a Kiss tribute band with none other than yours truly as freaking Gene Simmons. I received my Gene wig in the mail the other day and I’ve got platform boots arriving next week. Game on, bitches!

Drinking, Charles Barkley, Elephants and More Drinking

The dreaded 40th birthday has arrived and I must say that I am proud of myself for accomplishing my goal of getting s**tfaced this past weekend. It started with a bang Friday night when me and my PharmHand bandmates arrived at Greybar to find out that Charles Barkley was in town and might be stopping by at some point. Apparently, he and the owner are big buddies. I filed that tidbit away and went about my business of rocking the house and drinking many brewskis.

Finally, around 1AM, in walks Charles Barkley himself. It just so happened that we were between songs, so I took it upon myself to call out Sir Charles over the microphone. "IT'S ABOUT F**KING TIME YOU GOT HERE!," I hollered as he walked in the door. He stopped briefly and turned toward the stage with a "Did I really just hear what I think I heard?" look on his face. "Oh shit," I thought to myself, and turned toward the rest of the band. "Um, okay - one, two, three..." Fortunately, nothing came of it. At 2AM, we were in the parking lot, ready to go home. I asked my faithful bandmate, Patrico Suave, if he was going to Buffalo Wild Wings to hang with our buddies there for a late night drink. Three beers, two Jaeger Bombs and two hours later, my head finally hit the pillow. I felt like ass on Saturday as a result. But I had to recover for...

Three Hour Tour Saturday night. We were set to play at our home away from home at The Brick in Decatur with a special guest - Steve Boyd of The White Animals, a musical idol from my youth. The shots started at 9:15 and continued through the night: Goldschlager, Jaegermeister, Maker's Mark - it was a plethora of libations. By the time we had made it to the second set, I was plastered and my liver was drowning. The third set doesn't exist for me, since I have no recollection of it whatsoever.




Today was the big day and I pulled into the parking lot at work to find a collection of elephants and footballs, as pictured above, from the company that displays those gay flamingos. Regardless, I received many lovely birthday wishes and gifts from many friends and family members. It's over now, so I can quit my bitching and get on with it. I'm still paying the price for my drunkenness over the weekend, but it was damn worth it. Peace out, bitches!

Old Concerts, Part 2

One of the greatest live bands I have ever seen, The Replacements made frequent appearances in these parts during the late 80's until their breakup in '91. I actually saw them a total of seven times, the most interesting being the opening slot with Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers in the summer of '89. I'll never forget this show, which was in Nashville. The Mats (as they were affectionately refferred to by their fans) had already endured a not so friendly Tom Petty fan base, who were simply not prepared for the contrast of The Mats' sloppiness compared to the professionalism of The Heartbreakers. Not only did the boys walk out onstage wearing dresses, they also proceeded to flip off the crowd while being booed. Classic.




Like The Police, Prince and VH, I was lucky enough to catch U2 at their absolute peak on the Joshua Tree tour. Despite having nosebleed seats at The Omni (so high up that we resorted to renting binoculars), it was still an incredible show.






In the summer of '89, my friend Dave S. and I did something I had never done and haven't done since - camped out for concert tickets. The Stones playing at Legion Field in B-ham was a HUGE deal at the time, but not as big of a deal as the face value of the tickets - $30.00! I know that sounds paltry considering how much concert tickets are these days but believe me, it was a big deal. Naturally, we didn't give a rat's ass. It was the Stones! The concert was truly a religious experience for me. I couldn't believe I was standing there watching The Rolling Freaking Stones. It was an out of body feeling that I've only had one other time at a concert - seeing Paul McCartney in '02.

I saw the Stones at Legion Field again in '94 but it just wasn't the same as seeing them for the first time. The other ticket stub from London was sent to me by my friend, Dave C., who saw them at Wembley Stadium on the Urban Jungle Tour of 1990.

The Worst Birthday

As the impending doom of turning 40 approaches, I'm reminded of another dreadful birthday from years ago - my 13th birthday. My friend, "W", had a patch of woods behind his house and the afternoon before the big day, he led my back there to see something he had hidden under some leaves. That "something" was a Hustler magazine. Now, I had sneaked into my parents' bedroom on several occasions to peak at my father's Playboys and had gazed with giddy excitement at the photos inside (and the articles of course). But nothing had prepared me for the pure bliss of Hustler's graphic shots of nether regions. I mean, I was 13 after all.

I sat on a tree stump and stared in amazement at each page with ecstasy while "W" took a leak behind a tree. Suddenly, there was buzzing all around me. Alas, I had sat/stepped on a yellow jacket's nest and now they were wailing on my horny ass. I threw the magazine down and started running while flailing away at the swarming insects as they stung me all over. By the time I made it home, I had been stung over 20 times, and there were still several live ones stuck in my hair. I ended up in the bath tub the rest of the day with meat tenderizer rubbed all over my body. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper.

My birthday party was scheduled the next day at Holiday Skating Rink, and the show went on as planned. Unfortunately, I was unable to do anything but stand at the door and wave stiffly as all my friends entered and proceeded to have all kinds of fun rollerskating to the hits of the day. I was miserable and in pain. I didn't tell my mom the real reason we were in the woods until years later. As with all the other incidents I disclosed over time, she just frowned, shook her head and wondered just where in the hell she had gone wrong.

Old Concerts, Part 1

My first concert was The Doobie Brothers in 1977 when I was in second grade, complete with the great Jeff "Skunk" Baxter jamming away with headphones on while sitting in a chair. The next shows I attended over the next several years included The Bee Gees, The Village People, Christopher Cross, Loverboy and The Police. At some point, I decided to start saving my ticket stubs, some of which you're about to see. I must disclose that I stole the idea for this post from my Spitball Army comrade. Sorry/thanks, Fred.






Last year marked the first R.E.M. tour since the '84 Reckoning tour that I didn't see at least one show. Both the '84 and '85 concerts were at the old Foster Auditorium in front of about 1000 people. The '85 show was special because we hung around afterward and met all of the band except Mike Mills. Peter Buck was wearing blue suede shoes and I decided right then that he was the coolest person in the world. I got each one to sign the back of my ticket stub, as you can see.




I was lucky enough to see Prince at his peak on the Purple Rain tour. The show went so well that a second show was immediately booked for an unusual Sunday afternoon show two weeks later at the same venue. I saw Prince again a few years ago and he was once again amazing - like he hadn't aged at all.





That same year I had the privilege of seeing another giant artist at their peak, the mighty Van Halen on their 1984 tour - their last with David Lee Roth until reuniting almost 25 years later. They absolutely f**king rocked that night. I remember buying a tour t-shirt at the show and wearing it to school the next day without washing it, wondering why it smelled so smoky and putrid. The next time I saw them in '86, they were fronted by Sammy Hagar. It was also the night I almost died thanks to Clark Cooper, who drove his mom's station wagon at 95mph down Red Mtn. Expressway.



Believe it or not, there was a time when Phil Collins wasn't necessarily considered cool, but he was not yet considered uncool.




Speaking of uncool, Bryan Adams became just that the night I saw him play "Summer of '69" and sing the lyric "Back in the summer of '85!" during the last chorus. I don't know who was more dorky at that moment, Adams or the thousands of tools who roared with approval.




This was the first concert that I was able to drive to with friends after getting my drivers license two months earlier. And what a pairing! About the only thing I remember was Night Ranger rising up from under the stage amid thick fog before launching into their opening number, "You Can Still Rock In America". Yes you can.




This was Sting's first solo tour after years of success with The Police, who I was fortunate enough to see on the Synchronicity tour. Great show, weird venue (Boutwell).