Followed by the beach, Cheez-its, and planning when we'll do this again.
My people.
December 28, 2006
The Greater Guy Family Christmas
Enchiladas, krumkakke, laughing.
Followed by the beach, Cheez-its, and planning when we'll do this again.
My people.
Followed by the beach, Cheez-its, and planning when we'll do this again.
My people.
December 27, 2006
Soul Brother #1
I guess this is the appropriate time for my one James Brown story, from way back when mrs guy was still Miss Somebody Else.
So...back in the day, the fanciest hotel in town only booked big orchestras and "champagne music" for its swankiest room (let's call it The Firenze Room). By the end of the 20th century, however, they wanted to change their image and draw a new crowd, so they hired James Brown to be the first act of the new era. Boyfriend and I were big JB fans, so we made reservations for the first night of his engagement at the Firenze Room.
The night of the show, I got off early from my job at the diner. I ducked into the diner bathroom to change into my "fancy" clothes, Boyfriend and I got into my 1968 Oldsmobile Delmont 88 named Maceo (after Maceo Parker of JB's band) and we headed to the big city.
And we got to the hotel too early, because we were eager to get a good table. As they were about to seat us, a tiny man came up to the host and said "The man's READY." The host stammered "But he's not supposed to go on for 45 minutes!" and the little guy countered with "Well you better call Room 225" (or whatever it was).
It was clear what we'd just seen. James wanted to go on, but the venue wasn't ready for him and most of the audience hadn't arrived yet. Drama in real life! We'd already gotten our money's worth, as far as I was concerned.
We sipped a martini and waited for the intro:
"FIFTYtwo-years-old-and-the-hardest-working-man-in-showbusiness-Mr-Ja-a-a-a-a-a-mes Brown!" The show was awesome. The singing. The cape. The whole deal. There is nobody like James Brown. The only drag was that he waged a battle with the sound guy. He stopped the show several times and threatened to walk off the stage if the sound man didn't turn up the volume. It didn't seem like part of the act. Oh well. An artist of James Brown's caliber has exacting standards, right? Oh Honey, you don't know the half of it.
After the show, we loitered. We left messages with the front desk for our "close personal friend" Mr James Brown. We were total dorks, as only very young people fueled by expensive martinis can be.
And then when we thought he had enough time to get to his room, we used the power. We went up to room 225 and for a half hour, Boyfriend and I leaned against the wall on either side of the door and smoked cigarettes and listened to Soul Brother #1 chew out his band. They were so amazing that I was shocked that he found things to pick on. It's been quite some time, so I only recall one thing clearly: he took time for a little choreography. "...and when I do THIS" followed by a trademark JB gutteral !hooh! and some unknown gesture or movement "...I want you to come in real low."
That's it, really. Hate to wind you up for a story with no ending, but the man was ready yesterday, and wherever he went is scrambling to prepare, I'm sure.
So...back in the day, the fanciest hotel in town only booked big orchestras and "champagne music" for its swankiest room (let's call it The Firenze Room). By the end of the 20th century, however, they wanted to change their image and draw a new crowd, so they hired James Brown to be the first act of the new era. Boyfriend and I were big JB fans, so we made reservations for the first night of his engagement at the Firenze Room.
The night of the show, I got off early from my job at the diner. I ducked into the diner bathroom to change into my "fancy" clothes, Boyfriend and I got into my 1968 Oldsmobile Delmont 88 named Maceo (after Maceo Parker of JB's band) and we headed to the big city.
And we got to the hotel too early, because we were eager to get a good table. As they were about to seat us, a tiny man came up to the host and said "The man's READY." The host stammered "But he's not supposed to go on for 45 minutes!" and the little guy countered with "Well you better call Room 225" (or whatever it was).
It was clear what we'd just seen. James wanted to go on, but the venue wasn't ready for him and most of the audience hadn't arrived yet. Drama in real life! We'd already gotten our money's worth, as far as I was concerned.
We sipped a martini and waited for the intro:
"FIFTYtwo-years-old-and-the-hardest-working-man-in-showbusiness-Mr-Ja-a-a-a-a-a-mes Brown!" The show was awesome. The singing. The cape. The whole deal. There is nobody like James Brown. The only drag was that he waged a battle with the sound guy. He stopped the show several times and threatened to walk off the stage if the sound man didn't turn up the volume. It didn't seem like part of the act. Oh well. An artist of James Brown's caliber has exacting standards, right? Oh Honey, you don't know the half of it.
After the show, we loitered. We left messages with the front desk for our "close personal friend" Mr James Brown. We were total dorks, as only very young people fueled by expensive martinis can be.
And then when we thought he had enough time to get to his room, we used the power. We went up to room 225 and for a half hour, Boyfriend and I leaned against the wall on either side of the door and smoked cigarettes and listened to Soul Brother #1 chew out his band. They were so amazing that I was shocked that he found things to pick on. It's been quite some time, so I only recall one thing clearly: he took time for a little choreography. "...and when I do THIS" followed by a trademark JB gutteral !hooh! and some unknown gesture or movement "...I want you to come in real low."
That's it, really. Hate to wind you up for a story with no ending, but the man was ready yesterday, and wherever he went is scrambling to prepare, I'm sure.
December 22, 2006
Goosemas
It's difficult to believe that it's already Goosemas.
Not long ago it was guava season.
Then it was foggy.
And now Porkopola and Fritz are festive northerners, Santa and Mrs. Goose.
The factory is closed until the 2nd, and all is well with the world.
Peace.
Not long ago it was guava season.
Then it was foggy.
And now Porkopola and Fritz are festive northerners, Santa and Mrs. Goose.
The factory is closed until the 2nd, and all is well with the world.
Peace.
December 12, 2006
Mele Kalikimaka
Tonight was the uke band holiday party. Mr Guy and I worked up two songs: Kaua'i Beauty and Kaimana Hila (in case of hana hou). It was so much fun. I call the potlucks "the potluck of the gods" because everybody is such a good cook. Banana lumpia? Doesn't get much better than that!
But everybody brings something to share, whether it's food or their wonderful energy, or they dance a beautiful hula or they play a song. It made for a tremendous night. I feel very lucky to be one of their members.
I got schnookered by Auntie Spunky. As I came in she asked me to sign up to play, then she asked me to sign other people up to play, then she was onstage and they asked me to tell them who was next, and when they reeled me into reach they put a mic in my hand and asked me to keep the list going. Then eventually Uncle Jr set me up with the cordless, and I could MC and snipe from the bushes and still eat my dinner between songs and keep the list going. It was very fun.
I was asked to add witty patter, which really isn't my thing. "Tell a librarian joke!" they yelled. There aren't any, so I started one that can't be finished: "These two librarians walk into a bar..."
Google this as a phrase. There aren't any hits! Until now, of course.
But everybody brings something to share, whether it's food or their wonderful energy, or they dance a beautiful hula or they play a song. It made for a tremendous night. I feel very lucky to be one of their members.
I got schnookered by Auntie Spunky. As I came in she asked me to sign up to play, then she asked me to sign other people up to play, then she was onstage and they asked me to tell them who was next, and when they reeled me into reach they put a mic in my hand and asked me to keep the list going. Then eventually Uncle Jr set me up with the cordless, and I could MC and snipe from the bushes and still eat my dinner between songs and keep the list going. It was very fun.
I was asked to add witty patter, which really isn't my thing. "Tell a librarian joke!" they yelled. There aren't any, so I started one that can't be finished: "These two librarians walk into a bar..."
Google this as a phrase. There aren't any hits! Until now, of course.
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