And we're going to go out

Dear friends,

I know I said I'd have a few words up about my Wednesday night reading, but haven't you learned yet not to trust me? I actually started it but it turned into a convoluted mess about a beloved reference guide with a "butt-ugly orange cover"* and how writers never look like you picture them in your head. Especially if you're me and it's my head doing the imagining, because then you're likely to throw in auxiliary details, like a giant forehead, a childhood spent among carnies or an obsession with little people**.

But I digress... I hardly ever mention birthdays here, unless its mine, then its mentioned MONTHS in advance, but I thought I'd change things up a bit and send out some b-day shout outs to two very special ladies.

First up is Therese, she of the lovely first and last name and the only person to ever recognize my facination with trickster myths. I've known T-Money for a long time and while we don't share friend-circles, we always make time out to meet at a show now and again to mock all the indie rock women who are trying too hard and the men that love them. I am not one of those, of course. (Insert Rodney Dangerfield-esque tug of collar) She has HUGE blue eyes that get even bigger when she's telling you a story; either of Action Park shenanigans, or a long-ago record store crush. She posted here once about Pantera (Tommy!) She will claim until she dies that it was me, not her, who called Lou Barlow fat to his face***, ****. And I will wait forever for her to write her masterpiece, I Was a Heavy Metal DJ. Do it, Miss M! You know you want to.

"It was you Daniella, YOU!"
I am not even sure she likes this one, but I don't see how she wouldn't...

Song to seek:

Back in Black (Live)/AC/DC (mp3)

Buy AC/DC Live by AC/DC.

Second on the birthday trumpeting is my friend Kristie who has a peculiar "No, no, no" jazz hand dance that needs to get patented STAT and eyes for which the word "mischievous" was minted. I actually saw a photo of K on Bryan's site before I ever met her. I remember thinking to myself "She's purty." (yes, I think in sic) and also, "She's probably a classically trained beeyotch." We eventually met, and in a rare role reversal, it was she who chatted me up first. She quickly proved both assumptions false (she's not purty, she's beeeyoooti-full) and showed me that I'm not the only person who enjoys talking about sexual humiliation at loud volumes in bars. She's hilarious and true, absolutely yar! as the movie says. I love being serenaded by her ridiculously sexy voice and I hope that I eventually get to own some recording of her karaoke version of No Doubt's Underneath It All. It's that good.

Bryan took this picture (natch) of the K-dance in action. Jazz hand!
We both worship at the altar of Mary Timony. This one's for you homey. Bust a move.

Song to seek:

Silver Strings/Helium (mp3)

Buy No Guitars by Helium.

Happy birthday ladies! I'll see both of you later.

Love, D

* I'm quoting here. I'd say it was meta, but I'm not sure what that means. I will finish that book report but I need to make sure it makes some sorta sense.

** Actually, that would be birthday girl #2's obsession. Destined to be poached for fiction, I tell ya.

*** It was T. We had been whispering back and forth about whether or not it was actually Mr. Sebadoh himself. Her exact words were, and I'll never forget it 'cause I had a clear view of Barlow standing right behind her, "That can't be Lou Barlow, he's too faaaaaat." Traumatic!

****I had my own being accidentally mean to a 90's indie musician moment some time later, when I made fun of a certain female singer for buying a bio in which she's mentioned many times in a negative manner. I bandied about words like DESPERATE, SAD and worst of all, UGLY while my co-record store clerk snickered. I don't mention her by name because later I saw that she had been sitting around the corner the entire time, listening to everything I said with a shellshocked expression, and I wanted to punch myself in the face. She stayed there a long time, staring at the floor and eventually left. I was never a mean girl until that moment and haven't been since. I'm just not cut out for it.