Fourth of July Fun

Traditionally speaking, my Independence Day weekend was rather tame.  I had shows Friday and Saturday at respected Northern California venues.  Sunday we had a BBQ at Dick Tracy’s house.  Monday I woke up early and went to a weight training class, then bought Prilosec at Target.  Very exciting! 

So I can take some snippets from the weekend and make a haphazard post (which will be posted as soon as I have internet access!)

Friday’s show was alright besides there being an odd (read as: white trash) crowd at the usually excellent Irish Pub.  Saturday, however, was awesome!  The weather was hot to start, but perfect for most of the evening.  This led to people enjoying themselves- possibly enjoying themselves a little too much. 

During my first break a seemingly harmless girl introduced herself to me.  She was enthusiastically enjoying the show I provided, and why shouldn’t she?  I know what I’m doing up there.  She had curly hair that was essentially top of the neck length.  I have found that girls with this type of hair are usually bat-shit crazy.  I don’t know what it is about girls with that hair… weigh in if you have theories.

Yep. Fucking nuts.

At first, she was just asking general “get to know you” questions, which were fine.  I love meeting people who enjoy the show.  Grinding as a musician is not the easiest thing in the world and getting validation from time to time can be reenergizing. 

During my second break, she was much more inebriated.  I had played the song I wrote for my wife for our wedding.  She was amazed that I would play such a “sacred” song. 

“Was that song really written for your wedding?” she asked. 

“Of course.  I wouldn’t joke about that.” (Not to mention the lyrics would not make sense if it wasn’t for a wedding.)

“I just can’t believe you would allow us to hear it.  What if we didn’t appreciated it.”

“Haha- I played that song for me and my wife.  No one else needed to appreciate it- though I’m happy that you did.”

“It’s just so amazing that you played that.”

“Thank you… I’m glad you are enjoying the show.” [I’m sneaking away as things start to get more awkward.]

I figured she was done, but that’s not the way these stories usually go.  After getting back on stage and starting up my third and final set, an Asian girl came up to request a song and buy a CD.  Not to be outdone, curly hair comes up to stage to chat and interrupt my successful sale. 

Asian Girl: Can you play Bruno Mars ‘Billionaire?’

Me: I don’t know it well enough to play the whole thing- can I help with another song?

Curly Sue: Bruno Mars?  He’s a COKE HEAD.  He really likes COCOAINE.

[Awkward silence.]

Me: [Trying to break the tension] Yeah, him and every other entertainer.

Curly Sue: That must be why you’re so good, huh?

Me: Ugh- not me.

Asian Girl: How about some Jack Johnson?

Me: Of course- I’ll definitely play that.

Curly Sue: Is that your wife over there [motioning toward the table where my wife, my mom, and various others were sitting.]

Me: Yes.

Curly Sue: I bet she’s really hot. [She peers over to get a closer look.]

Me: Yes, she’s very hot.  That’s why I married her. 

Curly Sue: What is her name?

Me: [I tell her my wife’s name- MISTAKE!]

Curly Sue then walked over to my wife and my mom and then had a ridiculously awkward conversation.  Yikes. 

So my question is thus.  Why is it that my level of popularity leads to extreme situations while playing shows.  Either people don’t give a fuck about me and completely ignore me, or they come up and have to love me more than their love of alcohol- which is clearly a deep and enduring love.  There is no middle ground.

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That debacle aside, the show went great and I had a fantastic time at Dick Tracy’s house on Sunday.  He graciously allowed us to set off small fireworks in his backyard, which Mrs. P. was more than willing to light.  I still wish we could’ve put the fireworks on the golf course behind their house, but I can see where that could lead to some serious trouble.  We’ll have to settle with occasionally peeing in sandtraps.  They don’t call them hazards for no reason!

Alternate sand trap.

Last, I watched “No Strings Attached” last night with Mrs. P.  Ashton Kutcher and Natalie Portman star in this chick flick disguised as a film about “fuck buddies.”  SPOILER ALERT: There are strings attached!  Literally, the whole movie is Ashton Kutcher trying to get Padme to settle down.  And guess what?  In the end, they form a committed relationship!  BOOM!  I just saved you and your significant other 2 hours.  You’re welcome. 

Hope you had a fun, safe, and alien free Independence Day.  Until tomorrow…