Saturday at the Clubhouse

Last Saturday's gig was fairly uneventfully, hence my delay in a posting.   Also, the sew-delicious topic of fashion and food has preoccupied me this week seemingly.  I shall run through some highlights though.

It was my Pop's birthday last week, so I thought I'd surprise him with a triple layer chocolate cake at the gig.  I spent the afternoon in a thousand degree kitchen making my creation from scratch, and to my dismay, watching my hand decorated music notes melt in the heat, and drip down the side of the cake.  Oh well, at least it tasted good.

It was supposed to be a surprise, though my big mouthed guitar player of Rocktane, I will affectionately refer to as Asian Halen (more on this later), almost spilled the beans when he asked me in front of Pops, "Where's the cake?"

 "What are you talking about?" I retorted with daggers shooting out my eyes.

Realizing his gaff, his recovery reply was "I mean, where's Babs?"  {insert eye roll here}

Pops is getting older so he probably didn't hear any of that anyways, did you?  He seemed genuinely surprised when I brought the cake out after my first set.

One of our newest fans, the Marine, showed up for a few sets and kindly bought me a double shot of Jack, and the girls (by this I mean, Babs and my bass player's chick - hmm what a good name for you chica?) a round of drinks.  He's seems like a good guy.  It is refreshing to know that there are still some gentlemen out there who can enjoy my band without getting totally wasted and try get into my pants.  That's just annoying, because I am too old for that crap.  Oh yeah, and I am taken.  Of course, it is nice to know I can still attract the lads, but after so many gigs, I've heard every line in the book and been drooled on enough to last a few more lifetimes.  Also, I get tired of telling the boys I am taken if they are interested because they get an attitude with me as though I led them on or something.  Go figure.

The douche of the evening, (there's always one) was some guy who had put a $20 in to the tip jar so he thought he owned us.  Jumping up on the stage, he requests a total hard core riff or song, but at that point we were cut off.  It was already past last call, meaning the bar staff has got to get everyone out.  This also means we can't play anymore, but most folks think we have total control over when we stop and start.  No, there are laws, noise ordinances and you know, things you drunkards don't understand.   However, my guys are incorrigible, so they bust out a random 10 second hard core riff and against my better judgement, I play along by growling into the mic.  So of course, the douche goes for my mic too.

What is Rule #1 people?  Hands and mouths off the f*cking equipment!  In my fit of rage, I catch him by the throat and pull the mic away.  I hate that!  When I got home, I took the basket off (the cage that protects the actual mic) and disinfected it in alcohol.

Now, back to Asian Halen.  My reasoning for that name would be that he can play better than Eddie.  His hands are as fast, if not faster and he's a huge Van Halen fan.  Did I mention he's also Asian?  Philippine to be exact.  Not long after I joined up with this band, Asian Halen won a radio contest live on our LA classic rock station KLOS, where he competed with other guitarists performing Van Halen songs for a pair of VH concert tix.  He easily killed the competition, scoring the tickets.  It was awesome  listening to it at work (prior to my lay-off) with all my co-workers cheering him on.  Very cool.  So, he's our Asian Halen.  He's a hell of a chef too.  I am official taste testa'!