Random Thoughts - 9/23/10

It's been awhile - sorry. A combination of nothing to say and laziness have kept my thoughts hostage. So where are we?

- The Braves. The GD Braves. Why do I continue to allow this team to blueball me year after year after year? I love Bobby Cox and I'll miss him, but dammit if this team doesn't lift my hopes and dreams only to destroy them with a swift backslap to the face. I'm done. Thank God for...

- The Tide. An absolute magnum force of a program right now, even with the current team's drawbacks. Just four years ago I wondered if we'd ever crawl out of the quicksand pit of mediocrity, and look at us now. Nick Saban is the embodiment of badassery. He has chunks of opposing coaches and dumbass beat reporters in his stool.

- New music is practically dead. I didn't put out a Top 10 list at the end of last year because I couldn't come up with 10 albums I even liked. That being said, Crowded House put out one of their finest works this summer, and I saw a "band" the other night (The Black Keys) that really cranked my tractor. I use quotation marks because it really only consists of two members. The guitar/drums duo trend has really become annoying, but the Keys impressed me with their chops and creativity (plus, the fact that I'm a bass player means that I get offended by any band who doesn't feel the need to have one themselves).

- I'm really sick of dudes wearing the Jason Mraz fedora hats. I really don't understand how anyone can look in the mirror and then walk out of the house wearing one of those things. Just completely dorky.

- Yogurt, yogurt everywhere. One day there's a creamery here and a TCBY there, and now all of a sudden there are Yogurt Labs, Yogurt Mountains and Yogurt Whatevers all over the damn place. When did we as a society become so obsessed with DIY yogurt?

Peace out for now.

Fables

This week marks the 25th anniversary of the release of my personal #1 favorite album of all time - Fables Of The Reconstruction by R.E.M. Wow - 25 years. The summer of 1985 was possibly the darkest period of my life. My parental units were going through a separation, and I had gone away to camp for 6 weeks to be a CIT. I was 15 and already a confused enough kid as it was without throwing in the whole divorce issue. You folks are gonna have to bear with me if you want to get to the end of this post, because it represents what might be the most critical time of my life, albeit not necessarily a happy one.

I knew that Fables was going to be released shortly after my arrival at camp, so I made a buddy promise to record it onto a cassette and mail it to me when it came out (keep in mind that this a long time before downloading music and/or even the advent of CD's). When I finally got my hands on the tape, it never left my Sony Walkman for the rest of the summer. I walked around aimlessly listening to it over and over, mesmerized by the dark and murky sound that I heard (despite this, I did a good enough job for them to ask me back the next summer as a junior counselor). Later on, through interviews with the band, I came to find out that the recording of the album was a dark period for them as well. This certainly came through in the music. R.E.M. had arrived in England to record the album, just a scant few months after coming off the road after 4 years of non-stop touring. Like the band, I felt detached, scared and alone, and Fables either helped or enhanced my mood, depending on the day. Either way, it got me through that summer and many more.

Unlike their previous releases, Fables did not open with a bouncy, upbeat rocker. "Feeling Gravitys Pull" (apostrophe intentionally omitted by the band) was eerie and disjointed, setting the tone for the album with Peter Buck's creepy guitar in the forefront - and topped off by a string quartet, of all things. Next was "Maps And Legends", a brooding, meandering midtempo number that drew inspiration from the legendary GA folk artist, Howard Finster. Where was this album going anyway? Then came the classic one-two punch of "Driver 8" and "Life And How To Live It". "Driver 8" was a quintessential R.E.M. song, complete with minor chords, vivid imagery and "WTF is Michael talking about" lyrics.

Many people have asked me over the years what my favorite song is, and I usually give them a look of disdain, as if they were asking someone to choose their favorite child. But, in all honesty, there's always been one song that I really would have to put above all others, and that is "Life And How To Live It". This song is just it for me. If I had to live the rest of my life with this song looping over and over in my head, I wouldn't complain. The mysterious guitar intro, the melody, the tempo, the lyrics, the background vocals, the looping bass line, the breakdown in the middle, the ending - the whole song struck a chord deep inside of me and has never let go. It is as perfect a song - for me - that has ever been. And, naturally, I had no clue at the time what Michael Stipe was singing about. But, like so many of their other songs, that fact actually worked in my favor, because I interpreted and got exactly what I needed out of that song to apply to what I was feeling and experiencing at the time. I felt, through the few words and phrases I could understand (this was also years before you could just look up lyrics online), that Stipe was speaking to me - that it described a man and his life that had run amok.

"Old Man Kensey" is a dark legend intertwined with an eerie rhythm track. The next song, which kicked off Side 2, came out of left field. At first listen, "Can't Get There From Here" became the band's first "HUH?" song. Here we find R.E.M. gettin' down with some Memphis soul - a coulda/shoulda been hit. "Green Grow The Rushes" is a beautiful song with one of Peter Buck's signature two note guitar melodies (a la "7 Chinese Bros." and "Letter Never Sent" off of Reckoning"). It also contains another signature bit: Michael Stipes "la la la's" leading into a what is best described as a "hanging from the mic for dear life" vocal plea of desperation at the end, which was fairly common back then.

From here, things get interesting. "Kohoutek" is quite a confusing song to listen to without staring at a lyric sheet, as Stipe's vocals are buried deeper in the track than they had ever been before or since. The most murky, dark and mysterious tune on the album, "Kohoutek" causes significant brain swell, especially when listened to in the dark. Next is an almost punk song, at least in terms of tempo. "Auctioneer (Another Engine)", moves at a high speed train's pace before suddenly halting at the stop of a dime. But it's fun as hell to listen to.

If the aforementioned "Life And How To Live It" is my #1-a, then the penultimate track, "Good Advices" is my #1-b. Even though the lyrics were written before the band's trek to England for the album's recording, Stipe wrote of a longing sense of home. The few snippets that I could comprehend, I took to heart: "Home is a long way away...I'd like it here if I could leave and see you from a long way away...At the end of the day, when there are no friends, when there are no lovers, who are you going to call for". Ironically, I didn't want to go home at the time - I wanted to stay where I was. To me, camp was home, and I knew IT would feel like a long way away when I got back to my real home.

The final track is "Wendell Gee", a simple, country-rock song that brings an interesting, yet appropriate closure to what would become the most important album of my life. I've probably listened to this album a thousand times through in the 25 years since its release, and it never gets old. Never. But the fact of the matter is that this album probably ranks as the least favorite for most R.E.M. fans, which has always rankled me. As far as I'm concerned, these folks can take their "Losing My Religion" CD singles and go jump off a cliff. Thanks for indulging me, and I beg your pardon for getting WAY too personal.

T.P.

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers are on my personal Mount Everest of legendary artists. They've written and recorded some of the greatest songs and albums in rock history, and are still relevant while making music on their own terms. Not many bands have sustained that kind of career. I've seen them so many times over the years that I've lost count, and they've rocked every time. Now they have a new album and new tour, and I was excited to hear about both. Not so much anymore.

First, I bought/downloaded the new album, Mojo. I immediately thought it sounded pretty cool. But then, as the album unfolded, I thought to myself, "where are the songs?" Almost every song is a long, bluesy jam with little or no real substance. Don't get me wrong, the musicianship is outstanding as always. It's just that the songs weren't very good, at least by Petty's standards. And what surprises me are the overwhelmingly positive reviews from critics and fans alike who are hailing Mojo as Petty's album in years. Huh? I read that TP has listened to a lot of blues overr the last couple of years, which has influenced his writing. Fine. I've immersed myself in jazz over the years, but that doesn't mean I'm trying to re-write Steely Dan's Aja. I just don't get it.

Then I got online to check out the set lists from the first few shows of the tour. Along with a handful of new tunes, the set was sprinkled with songs that have now become annoyingly repetitive (I know this because I've been to at least one show on every tour since '89, except for the last one) - "Free Fallin'", "I Won't Back Down", "Runnin' Down A Dream", "Need To Know", "American Girl", "Breakdown", "Mary Jane's Last Dance", "Don't Come Around Here No More", "You Don't Know How It Feels", etc. Unfortunately, most fans in attendance will expect to hear these classics and cheer like a pack of school girls at a Justin Bieber concert. I, for one, won't be because I'm sitting out this tour. Oh sure, they spit out a "Too Much Ain't Enough" every once in awhile, but these are the same songs that have been played at every show for 20+ years, and I've had enough.

I'm not saying they have to go all obscure on us, but they can at least dig into their massive catalog of hits and mix it up a little. So, Tom, here's a list of songs I propose for this or any future tour, in no particular order:

"Jammin' Me"
"Here Comes My Girl"
"Don't Do Me Like That"
"You Got Lucky"
"Rebels"
"Woman In Love"
"Yer So Bad"
"The Apartment Song"
"Letting You Go"
"Change Of Heart"
"Honey Bee"
"Wake Up Time"
"Into The Great Wide Open"
"Southern Accents"
"Shadow Of A Doubt"
"Swingin'"
"Walls"

I'd give a nut for that show.

Dear Blackberry Users...

I'm sorry, but your product sucks. After losing my iPhone to a hot tub a few weeks ago, I've been using a Blackberry temporarily until the new iPhone 4 comes out in 168 hours. For years, I've heard "Crackberry" users sing the praises of what they claim is a superior device to all others, especially the iPhone. Having now used both, I must say that the comparing the two is like comparing Pong to a Wii - there is no comparison.

I will go ahead and disclose that I am indeed an Apple snob. Say what you want to about the company's editorial policies or how it limits users to its own native hardware/software, but the bottom line is functionality and ease of use, and the damn Blackberry doesn't come close. It's slow, the apps suck, the scroll ball is annoying, the interface makes no sense, and I can't seem to be able to use a normal browser. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to throw this object against a wall. If anyone can offer me an intelligent argument about why the Blackberry is better, I'll be happy to listen. And then have you committed.

"Barbecue" Is A Noun

One of the many annoyances I have with northerners is their licentious use of the word "barbecue". When you cook something on the grill, you are not barbecuing it...you are grilling it. Barbecue is what you get after you cook pork for many hours over low heat. In other words, "barbecue" is a noun, NOT a verb. If you disagree with that, take your tofu-eating ass back to Michigan.

Great Moments In Jackassery: The Gym

The word "jackassery" may have been coined at some point in our history, but Id' like to think of myself as the genius who came up with it, or at least responsible for its revision. There are many, many elements of jackassery in everyday life, and I'd like to use this forum to point out some of these examples.

Today, I'd like to focus on jackassery at the gym. You've seen, or rather, heard, these guys - the weightlifter who feels the need to grunt rather loudly with every rep./exhale There's nothing more distracting than hearing an "UNGGHH!!" and/or a heavy inhale of air every 5 seconds while you're concentrating on your own workout. I keep looking up, expecting to see either porn or a women's tennis match on the corner TV. I know what you're thinking - "why don't you listen to your iPod to drown out the grunting?" Well, why should I have to do that? These jackasses should take their fellow man into consideration before trying out their best Peter North impression. And to make matters worse, these are the same jackasses who like to lift an inordinate amount of weight while checking themselves out in the mirror.

So chew on that for awhile til next time. Peace out bitches.

Have (Hair) Product, Will Travel

Last week I attended my umpteenth dental trade show, this time in Atlanta. I don't normally go to these things and I don't particularly enjoy them, but the people watching factor is always at a premium. What has always fascinated me is how everyone seems to knows each other and has their collective finger on the pulse of every tidbit regarding the latest personnel gossip in the industry. It's like a giant traveling circus that migrates from city to city on a regular basis, with everyone in each others business.

Every morning, sales reps from every booth meander up and down the aisles and chronicle the previous night's debauchery out on the town to anyone who will listen. There's also no shortage of strong perfume worn by the ladies as well as hair product placed upon the lids of almost every male that descends upon these shows, presumably in order to cover up the stench and hangover hair of the aforementioned nightly exploits.

Like an amateur 17 year-old drinker, "Dude, I so wasted last night" is a common theme that is overheard from every cheese ball within earshot. And each time, I just stand there and take it all in, gaining wisdom and enlightenment with each listen. Here's to you, tools of the trade shows. May you never wear thin or wear down.

The Latest In WTF - Men's Double Luge

Last night as I was rocking the house at a local sports bar, I glanced at a TV just in time to catch a Winter Olympic event that I hadn't recalled witnessing before - Men's Double Luge. Regular luge is inscrutable enough as it is - a man in tights, lying flat on a sled while hurling himself down an icy slide. I'm sure there is a considerable amount of skill involved that the layman is not able to see. But I'm sorry, to most of us it's just a dude on a sled trying not to crash.

The doubles thing takes it to a whole new level. As far as women go, I'm like any other male in that I'm all for doubles in anything and everything. But there's something disturbing about watching two men lying that flat on top of each other on a sled (or anything else for that matter). It's like watching Ace & Gary, The Ambiguously Gay Duo, riding along in their penis mobile. You almost expect for these dudes to stand up at the end of their run and ask, "What's everyone looking at?!?", while everyone stares at them in speechless awe.

I Don't Care What Your Child's Name Is or What Sport He/She Plays

Just sayin'.

The Karaoke Life

I don't go to karaoke bars very often, and when I do it's usually just to make fun of people (ah, judging strangers - my favorite pastime). Being the musician snob that I am, I sure as hell wouldn't partake in this activity myself. It would take a blood-alcohol level of at least .024. But I still go because the entertainment value is priceless.

Recently I attended a local karaoke venue called Starz (because an 's' would be just too damn customary). And I noticed right off the bat that it wasn't just a bar - it was a community. The whole crowd sang/slurred along with EVERY song that was being "performed" by the patrons, all while high-fiving and clinking beer bottles with each other. I felt somewhat out of place, like I'd just accidentally crashed a wedding by strolling into a banquet hall with "Goldstein Wedding" written on a large sign outside.

It occurred to me that this was their own little world. While the rest of us brazenly make fun of them, these folks take take their own universe seriously. Karaokers remind me of people with mullets - sadly (or funnily, depending on how you look at it), they seem to have no idea that the rest of society mocks them relentlessly. Bless their hearts.

Enough

Once again it's that time of year when jewelers and florists raise the bar to a level of impossibility for men - V-Day. Retailers such as Jared, Kay and Flowers.com annually spew forth a bevvy of commercials that have about as much realism as a singing frog.

"Annie, why do you have a pants bulge?"

"Oh Susie, it's the diamond necklace that Nick gave me for Valentine's Day to tell me how much he loves me - I like to keep it coiled up next to my vagina. He went to Jared!"

I have to keep a stack of barf bags next to my TV in preparation for this annual sham of fanciful dribble regurgitating from the airwaves. Ladies, we may have the best of intentions and actually sometimes succeed when it comes to romance, but please don't ever expect what happens in these commercials to actually occur in real life.

New Q

There's a (fairly) new BBQ joint in town that many, including myself, have been drooling over. It's called Saw's BBQ and it's located in the Edgewood area of Homewood, for all you local yokels. As many of you know, I'm a longtime 'Q' connoisseur who knows good shit when he tastes it. With all due respect to Big Bob Gibson's in Decatur, Saw's is the new #1 on my list of favorite Q joints. I've yet to try the ribs but the pork, chicken, sauces and sides are quite simply the best I've ever tasted. This guy, Wilson (SAW = "Sorry Ass Wilson"), knows what the hell he's doing. The meat is cooked to melt-in-your-mouth perfection and is brimming with just the right flavor. It just gets better every time, too. Apparently I'm not alone - the place is packed with more and more people on each subsequent visit. Go and enjoy.

Teeth

Even before I got into the dental industry, I always made a practice of consistently attending to good oral hygiene. And as much as I hated the 18 months that I endured braces as a gawky 13 year-old, I'm very thankful to now have straight teeth. They may not be supermodel white, but by God, they're properly aligned and even.

Which makes me all the more curious about folks who don't have straight teeth and many others whose teeth are just butt ugly. I realize not everyone can afford certain restorative dental solutions, but everyone should at least be able to have their teeth cleaned twice a year or at least maintain proper oral hygiene on a daily basis with brushing and flossing.

I don't mean to sound preachy, but many people don't realize how much of a turn-off it is to have a mouth like Austin Powers (I know some of you are shocked to hear me say that I've been somewhat picky about anything when it comes to dating). Recently, a girl approached myself and my bandmates at a gig touting herself as a talent scout - a local version of Simon Cowell if you will - and offered to take us on as a client. As she was spouting off her spiel, all I really heard was the "Wah wah wah" sound you hear from adults in a Peanuts cartoon. Why? Because, even though she was fairly attractive, she had the lower half of her #8 incisor (upper right front tooth for you novices) chipped off, and it was all I could do to not stare at this monstrosity.

So come on, people. I implore you to take care of your teeth - you (and me) will be glad you did.

Those Ear Things

First of all, sorry for being AWOL for the past few months, but the dog ate my blog. Recently, I've noticed more and more young people (I can't believe I just typed "young people" - I'm so friggin' old) sporting those stretched ear lobe studs. Besides the obvious pain one must go through during the process of implanting one of these things, I can't help but wonder if these folks realize just how moronic they appear when viewed in public. I know the above image was done as a joke, but is it really that far off from reality in terms of ridiculousness? I'm all for individualism and the right of self-expression, but I feel sorry for those who unknowingly blur the fine line between being cool and being a tool.

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.