From my BBBB (Beloved Birthday Blog Buddy) Ju-Lyn: Can’t wait to see what Birthday shenanigans you get up to this year😆🤩
Me: Oh, I will shenanigan like the wind, Ju-Lyn!
First of all, remember Snowball Man, whom I ran into another night The Band played? We exchanged emails, so I was able to invite him to BBBB. (This time, Betsy’s Birthday Band Bash. Keep up.) He wrote back:
You just made my day! Will make sure that day is clear and will wear body amour. I tore the muscle in my throwing arm unloading a 300 lb tub so I’ll have to throw left handed……………which should make it fair this time.
Then three days before the big night, he wrote:
I got rescheduled to work Saturday. Was going to go shopping all day for your present but now I’ll have to rush into Pic and Save and hope something is left on the blue light special table. Hopefully I’ll get there while there are still some tables (within throwing distance). Don’t want to miss you……….. with a snowball of course.
And he really did get me a gift. I was surprised and impressed.
Then I saw the envelope:
My name in crosshairs. Clever. Two pairs of snowball slingshots! VERY clever. Sadly, I didn’t open this until the end of the night.
I didn’t mean to make a pun there, leading you to believe this was yet ANOTHER foot post. It’s not, promise. I’ll only say that the foot’s improving, and that it reminded me to post this comment from Stuart some time ago:
Congrats on the foot! Getting better, one step at a time, I see! Looks like everything’s going tibia okay! Can’t wait to see you fully heel.
I’m sorry I just couldn’t help it. I guess I better leg it now.
He may have heard me groaning all the way out in Malaysia.
Nope, it’s something else even MORE amazing than puns, if you can believe it.
Hubby and I went to bar trivia with some friends last night. Beforehand, I thought it would be so great if there was a question that was perfectly tailored for me. I was thinking along the lines of: Who is the song “Dirty Frank” about (Jeffrey Dahmer, btw), or something involving the name Mookie Blaylock, as examples of something truly random that only I, being the freak that I am, would know.
I first heard about it from my friend who tends bar at a nearby brewery. “They play stuff from the 90s,” and he started listing several bands, making my jaw drop lower with each one.
“You’ve got to book them!” I told him.
A couple months later, he did. I told all my friends.
Then, for whatever reason, the band canceled.
Then they rescheduled. I told all my friends.
The band came! And I had one of the best nights of my life. I remember repeatedly saying, “I am so happy right now.” Plus, I did this: (It’s a slide show, so go quickly and you can almost see me playing! 😉 )
Do I know how to play the drums? No.
Did I have permission to climb on stage during a break and play the drums? No.
Did the drummer turn around and say, “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Yes. But after the first two words his face went from irritation/borderline anger to a broad smile. I was clearly having fun, for one thing, and I was the one who gave him food, for another. (That would be a separate blog post.)
Then, after applying some subtle pressure, the band got booked for a second time. I told all my friends.
The band got canceled.
The band was booked for a third time to play this past Saturday! I told all my friends.
Then Thursday morning I got a message from the bartender:
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the band isn’t playing Saturday night after all. There was a miscommunication and we double booked.”
Picture me hanging my head.
Then he says, “The band that will be playing instead is a Pearl Jam cover band.”
Now picture me laughing my head off.
Pearl Jam is the band of my youth, my first musical love since age 12 when my big brother handed me their first album and said, “Check this out.” I was instantly hooked.
I told the bartender all was forgiven. I’d be there.
The bartender and me at the brewery on another occasion. When I asked if he’d mind if I put his face on my blog, he said, “I’d be honored.” Stand up guy. Despite the fact that he’s kneeling here.
I had told my mom and sister that the band was returning, so I updated them with the news that instead the performance would be by a cover band for “a particular Seattle 90s grunge band.”
My sister responded, “Nice,” then launched into a series of puns involving PJ song titles. (I love her.)
My mom said, “Is it a country band?”
She could hear me rolling my eyes from across the country.
“Ok. Ok. EV’s band?” EV, as in, Eddie Vedder, Pearl Jam’s singer. Mom’s way cooler than she lets on. Living in Cleveland, my parents sometimes take out-of-town guests to the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame. After one trip, she mailed this to me:
Writing and Martial Arts 