New Year's Greetings!

Happy New Year to you all!

I took a Holiday Hiatus, not that my 3 followers noticed, due to the hustle and bustle of the season.  I don't know about you, but for the Rocker, the holidays are usually a blitzkrieg of gigs, booze, parties, events, gifts, fruitcakes (I'm not just referring to the inedible brick-o-food-like-substance), friends, family, debauchery, douch-baggery and other B.S.

To get you up to speed, I will brief you on the highlights of what you missed starting from the Halloween gig:  {takes deep breath}  new fans, new Face book pages, holiday parties, more lesbian encounters, booze, a tired Columbia Records rep out scouting that ultimately was not impressed by the Janis Joplin I busted out even though everyone I have ever encountered is floored by it, Mouthful's first San Diego gig where a new fan told me that I was the most beautiful woman he had seen since he could remember (I do clean up nicely, but I still think he needed his glasses checked),  Mouthful's single "Fist" and bio featured in a Nikki Sixx biography to be released in a couple of months, a new haircut and color, a bad batch of my usually delicious gyoza, more booze, lots of time playing FarmVille, a few unmentionable moments, our flocked Charlie Brown Xmas tree with broken ornaments courtesy of Foxy, The Rocker fixing Xmas dinner for the G-Pa and Pops, a few visit to Mum and my brother aka *The Milkman in San Diego, a visit to the San Diego Zoo, a new favorite bartender in SD at Vitral, a trip to Disneyland/CA Adventure with Pops that included several stops at the bar within, making homemade peanut butter cups and candy, the discovery of new favorite cocktails (straight Jack D is still the fav but I get bored), a new vacuum cleaner that really sucks! a new flat screen TV, four nights of Christmas feasts that included French food, Italian, tamales with the best fricking frijoles ever (courtesy of Mrs. Teddy Bear) and Chinese food, and if being in two bands wasn't enough, Rocktane doubles as a Pat Benatar tribute so I have bookings for that coming up.... eh, that's about it.

Rocktane's NYE gig at the Auld Irisher was a blast.  I got to see my Aunt and cousin which was a bonus besides being able to spend the evening with the family that is my band.  Fairly uneventful night as NY's celebrations go, however, more lively than the cemetery we performed at last year.  I even had a few gentleman pestering me for a midnight kiss, of which I did not oblige... poor things.

Lighthouse, Lezbos & Sex on the Beach, Oh my!

Hello fellow rockers.  Please accept my apologies for the delay in new postings as it's been a busy couple of weeks for The Rocker.

Our Lighthouse gig in Hermosa Beach was mostly uneventful, with a few exceptions, though nothing out of the ordinary for us.  It's a fun venue with a mixed bag of drunks.  We get a roomy stage at this joint, with very few cracks in the floor.  A bonus for me considering I wear whore shoes that the stilettos routinely catch in the holes and/or cracks of the stage causing me to twist an ankle, making me look plastered even though I most likely am quite sober.   This is the stuff you guys in the audience don't realize that I have to deal with.  It's not all fun and games.

Aside from a dude heckling me to play some Pantera, the crowd was great.   As I sang,  I watched a group of cougars dance with the 30 year old B-day boy, and he was loving every minute of it, even busting out some break dancing moves.  It wasn't pretty, he was white.

After my second set, I went to powder my nose and was approached by a lipstick lesbian.  She was hot so it was almost a shame I don't swing that way.  Thankfully, she was cool about it and I found myself with a drink in my hand not long after when she brought over a Sex on the Beach as I was chatting with friends at the bar.  I had a taste tester check it out for me (safety first!).  I haven't had one of those in years, usually it's too sweet for me.  However, I was sweating through my new Guess tank top and jeans, and it sounded refreshing.  Besides, it is rude to turn down a drink so *of course* I had to accept.  

After the last set of the evening, we broke down our gear and the bar manager comp'd me a long-pour Jack Daniels, as I couldn't really have any during the performance.  Ah, a nice reward for a job well done.   I also scored a couple the ribs that he ordered from the pub next door, helping to quell my standard hunger after a show.   It's the little things that make me happy.

 

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'!

The Drunken Sailors

Saturday's gig at a venue in Orange near the Honda Center greeted me with drunken sailors.  What, you expected sober sailors?!


As I drug my keyboard into the bar, wearing my clear plastic platform shoes, I noticed some younger fellows huddled around my Pops at the end of the bar.  Yes, as I mentioned, Pops comes to most of my shows.  Turns out, they are in the Navy on leave, and Pops was in the Navy, instant bond, so they were having a good 'ol time together before I got there.


I keep tabs on Pops as I load in and set up to make sure he stays out of trouble.


Just as I am about done and ready to freshen up before we start our set, one of them, I'll call the Bulldog, comes up, starts talking at me about wanting to hear me sing, how he stayed cause my Pops told him all about the band, this, that, and other drooling ramblings.  I am trying to be as gracious as I can but he is rather obnoxious, even though I can tell he doesn't intend to be as it is just his nature, and somehow in all of this, I spill the beans that it is Pop's birthday this week.


Opps, it's full speed ahead upon receiving that transmission.  He wants to tell Pops happy birthday into my microphone, makes a grab for my silver Sennheisser,  and when I won't let him slobber all over it, he turns into a sour puss saying that I am mean.  Oh, but he likes it, says he thinks he's in love.  Ugh.  I politely indicate that his ship is not welcome in my port.


Rule number one: The equipment are not toys.  It is expensive, does not belong to you, so you do not touch it.  My microphones are not cheap karaoke mics from some dive bar, or the Guitar Center $49 no-name special of the week that you can play with, spill your beer on, drop and spit into.  Keep your grubby hands off our stuff.


What? Harsh?  Maybe, but after as many incidents as I've had, you'd feel the same way.  I don't come up to you and grab your purse, wallet, beer or whatever from you, so don't grab my property away from me.  Fair?


Eventually he goes outside where he unknowingly spills his guts to my drummer's wife about the mean singer inside, but he thinks he's in love with her because she's a straight shooter.  {Insert eye roll here}.  BABs (Bitch Ass Bitch, as I affectionally refer to her) thinks this is hilarious.


Additional riff-raff ensues periodically with the Bulldog buying my Pops beers and rousing choruses of Happy Birthday! shouted throughout the bar all night.  All in all, I'd say was smooth sailing.  The crowd was fun loving and as a band we sounded good.  I was also relieved I did not have to shove my stiletto up the Bulldog's rear because experience told me to expect he was going to get much worse as the night wore on.  Happily, he and his friends turned out to be OK fellows, they'd just had too much to drink, and ultimately, the Bulldog's friends forced him out of the bar into a cab.


In summary, I concluded long ago that there is no such thing as a sober sailor (and I the daughter of a sailor tells you much about me).   This evening was an yet another affirmative.  Hey, you'd drink if you were in the service too, I assure you.  The only sailor I have run across in my years that does not care for much booze is my G-Pa, but that's because he is 85, as of this posting.  But don't think he hasn't told me a story or two from WWII.

The Dubliner Gig

Ah, the Dub.   I am fortunate to have a regular gig with my cover band at this Tustin venue.  Great staff, good food, roomy stage area protected by a railing which safeguards us from falling drunks and/or rowdy fans, which doesn't happen very often here, and the location is close to my house.  But it's not all fun and glamour.

Load in is challenging to say the least.  By the time we have our equipment in the bar, we are drenched with sweat, some of us possibly even smelling bad.  Then, we have to set up the equipment.  Seriously, after all these years you'd think I'd have some roadies...

I don't particularly enjoy carrying equipment in my stilettos with a face full of make up as on lookers pester me about start time, what type of music we play, if I am the singer, who in the band am I with (really?) and other annoying questions that usually I am not ready to answer because HELLO PEOPLE,  The Rocker has only so many brain cells functioning and right now, they are working overtime focusing on setting up the equipment correctly.

It's not that I don't enjoy talking to the crowd, of course I do, but there is a time and place.  Unfortunately, since I am not a famous rocker, I don't get to hide back stage while a crew sets up, demanding only green M & M's, Evian and fruit be placed before me.  Fellow musicians understand where I am coming from, don't you?

Over all, the show went well, despite the snotty 20 something crowd that patronizes that venue with their to cool to be seen, don't dare crack a smile or clap attitude.  It's annoying but also amusing.  They are sure missing out on life acting that way.  I do get girls hitting me up in the bathroom telling me they love the band, which is nice.  And, we usually get many requests for business cards, but you really wouldn't know they enjoyed us otherwise.  They are too cool to hoot and holler, even though I do see them moving ever so slightly back and forth to the beat of the songs.  Be careful, you don't want anyone to see you having a good time...ah, kids.

I was very excited to see a former co-worker of mine on this night, The Accountant, his lovely wife and beautiful adult children.  They were having a great time and The Accountant was in rare form, swigging shots of Patron.  That was a side I never had the opportunity to see when were were working together.  They were kind enough to send a few shots of Jack Daniels my way also.  They are good peeps in my book.

By the end of the night, I was starved so I asked if there was anything left in the kitchen, and wahlah! Chicken finger and fries, YUM.  That's gonna' cost me some extra time on the stair master.  Oh who am I kidding, I'm allergic to exercise.

Great, now it's time to pack up to do it all over again the next night.

Viper Room, Hollywood

Honestly, I have no clue where to begin on this one, except... at the beginning.  

This was Mouthful's second gig at the Viper room.  We enjoy performing there because, for one thing, they are professional and treat us with respect.  And B, the sound is good.

This night found us with a great crowd that really enjoyed us.  (Phew!) After our 35 minute set, we stuck around for the band after us and WOW, their guitar player had the freakin' fastest hands I'd seen in a looong while.  That guy could play.  Too bad it was really nothing new and after a while it was overkill.  He was kind enough to approach us after to complement my vocals and our set.  Over all, they were tight and a very good band.

We decided not to stick around for the next band, but to head off to the Rainbow Room.  Since it was a Sunday, it wasn't very crowded, thankfully, as I was hot, sweaty and not in the mood to rumble with drunk wannabe rockstars, such as myself, nor washed up rockers or other posers and hanger-oners.

Did I mention that the bartendress inside working the downstairs bar was a total C-word? Jeez.  Looked like an ugly Elvira, only 100 years older.   Hey, I don't care if you have been working there 25 years, this is still a service industry position and you'll get no tip from me, witch.  So, after each beer was guzzled, I hauled myself to the upstairs bar and ordered from the blonde beauty, who was attentive and kind, and I proceeded to give her all my money.

Our drummer had brought his Mom with us.  She was from out of town and a total riot.  It explains a lot about him.  Unbeknownst to me, she was downstairs chatting up B-Real (of Cypress Hill).  We smelled a blunt cruising into the place, should have guessed it was him.  So she was hitting him up for one.  Go mom!!  We wanted to get a picture, but alas we forgot.  But we did get a pic of this guy... 

If you don't know who he is, I ain't gonna tell you.  This is a PG blog.  Well, bordering on R.  This was a great precursor for the Hustler store.  We couldn't get our drummer's wife to go in earlier, but after 5 or so cocktails, she was the first one in the store.  We piled in, moseyed around and ultimately bailed because we were tired, too cheap and broke to buy any of that over priced crap.  Ok, I confess,  I already own most of the stuff in that store anyway.

The Saturday gig

I'm pretty tired from my show last night in Fullerton.  Even though we kept it mellow, I may have been tired still from the previous night's Street Fair madness.  Good times though.  I always enjoy meeting other bands and now we have a new group that we can set shows up with.  Cool guys.

We were up first last night, but got a last start waiting for the sound guy.  After that was set, we ROCKED it!  You see, that is what I do.  The tattoo on my back says so, so now I have to or I'm a poser.

Seriously, the sound system at this venue is pretty good, the staff is cool and it is a large place.  Load in is also easy.  That's a bonus.  We don't like to carry equipment from BFE into a venue.  Then you tend to be all sweaty before you even start.  Eww.  As a chick, I really don't like being sweaty, but alas it comes with the territory.

I have to comment on the band that performed after us.  First off, they all looked like they were in different bands.  One guy's dressed like a pirate, one guy looks like a taxi cab driver from Brooklyn, one guy is a greaser with a pomp and the drummer looked like the chick from Tank Girl.  Secondly, they sounded like The Stray Cats met Social Distortion.  Now, the guitar player had a very nice Gretch and he was extremely competent.  I hope he finds a new project.  The singer was a moron and acted as though it was his first gig ever, yelling at the guitar player to "PLAY!!" when he broke a string, and then threatening to beat him up after the show.  I guess he was trying to be funny?  Oh, and he told bad jokes in between songs.  Really?

Well, its all in a day's work.  Tonight, we play the Viper Room, then later we'll be off to the Rainbow Room to party like it's 1989, when the Sunset strip was still THE place to play.  It's making a comeback though.

Rock on.

The Kidnapping after the Show

First off, my freaking elbow hurts.  That's what I get I suppose for deciding to hitch a ride home with my MOUTHFUL bass player instead of my trusty guitar player.  Somehow, I fell out of the Jeep onto the concrete in back of some dive bar after our show last night.  I only had one double shot of Jack D up to that point making me totally sober, as far as you know.  Really, I just wanted to go home, but Bass player mohawk boy kidnapped me and forced me to go to this dive with half naked chick bartenders.  Ok, not so terrible, but, I *was* tired.  I proceeded to watch his buddy, who happens to be a bass player as well, evidenced by his bass clef tattoo (lame! opps *my* bass player has one too...) play pool with his chonies hanging out all night.  Ack!  Anyway, so giant bruise on left elbow hurts.

I digress, as usual.

MOUTHFUL kicked some serious @$$ last night at the Semi Final round of Battle of the Bands at this bar called Bigs in Fullerton.  Once again, I was bathing in my own sweat (this musician biz is not as glamourous as often portrayed unless you are famous) rocking it in fabulous designer shoes, that I scored for $12 by the way.  I have a shoe problem, but we will get into that later.  The owner/manger dude is pretty cool so even though there wasn't a load of peeps in the house, it was still a fun show with him and his rocking staff.  The other bands were very nice to us as well, doing some hooting and hollering on our behalf.  Oh, we even got drink tickets this time, woo hoo!

Seemingly, we won, however, officially, we won't know until sometime today if we go to the finals.  I sure hope we did, because my drummer snuck out of work to play the show and then snuck back.  In doing so, he had to play the show sober (gasp!)  Now that's rock star.  Gotta' do whatcha gotta do to support your music habit, you know.

I tell you what, they have these things called Vegas shots there and they are goooooood.  Oh yeah, I had one of those too before I fell.  Hmm, perhaps a contributing factor? Naw.

I was supposed to get up at 7 am and take my leaky car to the dealer however, for some reason, I didn't hear my alarm this morning.   Thankfully, the roofers were here for the millionth time to wake me up, pounding nails into the ceiling, leading me to believe initially it was my head doing the pounding.  Mercifully, I don't get hangovers anymore, I am too experienced.  The trick is to keep majorly hydrated.  Wahhlah, no hang over.

So, what to do now?  F-it!  Reschedule the appointment, make coffee drinks with Dunkin Donuts coffee (the best coffee ever!), splash of milk (lowfat of course, I try to eat/drink right) and homemade Kahlua.  Thanks Rocktane drummer's Mum for the Kahlua recipe! Kisses!

Maybe I will pee in my bass player's pool today, then much later, I am finally off to get my hair cut by my FABULOUS stylist of maaaaaanny years.  I have been too poor as of late to get a cut/color, but I saved up enough unemployment dough to get me a trim.

Life is good.

Melting in Indio

This is a great week to start my new blog.  I had great shows over the weekend and 3 more this week, including one toni.....  uhhh, uhhh ohhhhh!!!!  Opps, sorry.  My neighbors across the way from a different complex are having, uh, playtime (AGAIN!) with the windows wide open (as usual) and all I hear is the female, uh, er, singing, so it is difficult to concentrate.  Yes, I have tried closing my own windows but it pierces right through.  Might I also add it is very hot this summer and none of the town homes have air conditioning? They seem blissfully unaware they even have neighbors and are deaf to those of us who yell at them to shut up.   This goes on for hours.  While I admire the endurance, COME ON ALREADY!!  Sheesh. But, I digress.


Anyway, have you ever had your lunch race through your colon at sonic speed and attempt to exit your body like lightning?  If so, you know what it felt like to make your way to the stage to perform in front of 3,000 people last Saturday night.


My cover band was scheduled to perform opposite a Michael Jackson tribute act at one of our regular gigs in Indio.  The stage is outdoor and this particular day was approximately 117 degrees, hotter than usual.  It cooled a little by dark, however still waaayy too hot.  The many people jammed 5 deep in front of the stage at the Rock Yard made the temp rise even more; all waiting for some form of entertainment to take their mind of the stifling heat.


During our sound check, people were piling in and I started to get the feeling it would be a big night.  Of course, I had no idea how big.  By the time I went upstair to dress for the show and come back down, a time span of about hour and a half, the crowd had multiplied ten fold.  It took me seemingly forever to swim through the bodies to get to the stage.  That's when the Italian Sub I had earlier came knocking at my back door.


Thankfully, I held it together by demanding that my guitar player get the flask of Jack Daniels out of my gig bag for me so I could down a few shots to calm my nerves.  Yeah I've performed in front of thousands of people over my 10+ years, but not at the same time!


After the first set ended, every stitch of make-up had run down my face leading my drummer to call me Alice Cooper.  That's quite a feat considering the type of cosmetics I use are water resistant and run proof.  Ah, so this is what is feels like to shower in your own sweat.  Yuck.  Needless to say, during my break, I ran up to my room, took the ruins of what was my face spackle off and reapplied a new coat of paint before the second set.  Hopefully, the Press at the foot of the stage didn't get too many shots of me sans face paint.... 

All in all, the show was a smash, we killed it, even with a few of my flubs - hey, it was too hot to concentrate!  The crowd was fantastic given the miserable heat and we all had a great time.  I am glad my Dad could be there to see it too.  Yes, Pops comes to all my shows if he can.  He's my biggest fan.