Two Weeks Gone

(July 18, 2002)

July is more gone than not and I want to know where it went. What happened to the last two weeks?

On Thursday, July 4th: How about a Last Minute Fourth of July Party? I'm talkin' real last minute, baby. Sometime in the afternoon of July 2nd, Laura IM'd me at work saying "We could have some people over to watch fireworks on my roof." Or better, a barbecue at MY place and THEN fireworks on her roof. I have the big kitchen and the yard, and I LOVE to throw parties (but hate going to them, oddly enough). I was all "Eh." Everybody will have plans, it's only two days away. So I sent out a "feeler" email to my bestest: Wolf, T, Jim, just to see. Surprisingly, the only people I cared about seeing were all "Yeah sure!" Well hell, Moneypenny, let's do it! So I did a quickie evite to my usual list. I made sure to tell Gene Dante to wear something sexy. Oh, here's more Adventures With Lexi that the poor man who shares my apartment has to put up with: Hub was of course on the evite. And that's how he found out about the party. He replied to it saying, "Sounds great. I'll bring the grill." "Oh..." I called him from work, "Um...heh heh...wanna have a party?" Anyway, we did. It was the simplest of food (just burgers and dogs and chicken, some salads, fruit salad etc) and we had 18 fabulous people. Fun. Music. Gene Dante, proving he can not only sing his heart out but can also follow instructions, wore a Superman belly shirt. Very sexy. He definitely won the wet T shirt contest, though Baldino came in a close second. I love my friends.

On Friday, July 5th: I actually had to work at GiantSuckingSound.com, but I went in late (11:00) and left early (4:00). It was a ghost town. Two calls all day. I grinned tolerantly through all the lame jokes proffered by the few co-workers who showed up. "Think there's a staff meeting today? Guffaw!" I came home wiped out, took as long a nap as I could before having to get my ass up because houseguests had arrived and were standing in the living room. I'm no Ms. Manners, but I find it's nice to NOT be face-planting on your pillow when company's over. Company was Z and Fatima, part of our oh-so-very-missed New York contingent of peeps we never get to see anymore. I, though it's hard to admit, haven't gone back since before 9/11. I freak a little every time I think about it. I'm not going to think about it right now, okay? So anyway, we were going to have dinner at Skewers in Harvard Square, but none of us were hungry yet. I thought maybe we could catch Anita Suhanin (ex-Groovasaurus, astonishing singer) do an hour at Club Passim at eight. But, though we left our house around eight, it took half an hour to park in Harvard Square and we were STILL a mile from Passim. "Fuck it," we collectively said, and went to dinner. Fun. Ice cream at The Garage. I love my friends.

On Saturday, July 6th: Z and Fatima had brunch with us at S & S and HA! WE paid the bill. See, Hub and Z have been friends since college, and I know from all these years that it is VERY hard to get a restaurant bill away from Z. I look at this as a victory. After brunch those guys took off for points beachward, and I got ready, because Laura was picking me up to go to Pete and Hunzi's barbecue. A million months later, I finally brought back the cooler they'd brought to my Eighties party. That guy Ed, Pete's friend, was at their party. Ed's cool. Ed's a music teacher. Ed played Pete's piano a LOT all afternoon, and ya know what? Turns out Ed knows all the Billy Joel and Elton John songs ever written. Kinda never thought I'd hear Andrew Kuhn and Andy Galdins harmonizing on "Just The Way You Are." It was the epitome of that fine line straddling Corny and Cool that many local Boston musicians seem to own. During that song that goes "Bottle of Red, Bottle of White," Chris Cote, who sings in, among other things, a cover band called Rock Bottom, stuck his head in the door and said, "Oh my GOD." I said, "Oh RIGHT Chris! YOU made me listen to "Carry on Wayward Sun" last Saturday so don't even start!" It's true. His band covers friggin' KANSAS. He laughed, 'cuz HE knows it's silly. Kansas, are ya kidding? Let the boys hold each other and croon "Piano Man," dammit! Later though, Hunzi (could she BE more adorable?) threatened to throw a bag of frozen shrimp at Ed to get him to step away from the piano. Fun. I love my friends.

On Sunday, July 7th: No yoga class today, so no excuse NOT to go to Connecticut with Hub for the kids' birthday party. But DAMN, I could seriously have slept all day. But I missed like the last few party thingies Hub's family has thrown. Because I hate family things. It's nothing personal. I just...ugh. But Hub's brother Norman has three kids (in ONE HOUSE!) and two of them have a July birthday. So in July they do this combo party. Terrific kids. But they're KIDS. There's KIDS at the party. I'm ALL GROWN UP, I HATE going to family things, and at this one there's KIDS, with OTHER KIDS that are the KIDS' friends. But you know, the best conversation I had all day was with eight year old Henry. This particular kid is sharp as a tack. I can't believe he's just eight. Sitting across from each other, balancing paper plates on our knees, we talked about Shrek, my hair ("it's interesting that it's long in front and short in back," he observed), and water cooler germs ("I USED to use the water cooler at school, until I saw this kid put his mouth all over it...") Eh, some kids aren't so bad I guess.

On Monday, July 8th: Hub went to Wisconsin. I worked late. No connection between those two things.

On Tuesday, July 9th: I worked late again. But it was Wolf's birthday, and, realizing that with our two nutjob schedules there was no way I was going to get to take him out for dinner this week, I just dropped off the card on my way home. It was a funny card. No really. I laughed when I saw it. Heh. Ask me later. Or ask him. Whichever.

On Wednesday, July 10th: Jim and I went to see Lucky 57 (country funk!) at Toad from 7 to 9, and then had dinner at Wok N Roll. Terrific food there. Really good dumplings.

On Thursday, July 11th: Planned to: See Medea Connection and There (doing Sabbath covers) at TT's. Decided: "Eh," and stayed home. Missed all the scuttlebutt, the cops, the fight, the whole nine. I dunno what happened, exactly. Somebody be a doll and enter it in the Guestbook, eh? YOU. You know who you are. YOU do it, I know you were there.

On Saturday, July 12th: It has arrived at LAST! The night of Project Eno. For months, all T Max has been saying is "Eno Eno Eno Eno EnoEno Eno Eno EnoEno Eno Eno Eno. Eno Eno? Eno Eno Eno Eno." I can't believe it's finally here. Oh, here's a thing that makes me look like the complete and utter ass I am. A couple weeks back (July 1st) Laura and I went to Peter Moore's and took some pictures of the band, and we met this guy, Joe Kowalski. At least I think I met him. Later Laura said he had a friendly smile, but I hadn't noticed. I wasn't paying attention. It was about a thousand degrees in the sun, and I didn't know how to use her camera (mine had bit the big one THAT DAY, another tangent I won't take you on). Friendly smile, hell, I didn't notice. But at the Project Eno show? You know what I noticed? Okay, well, the man had stripped to the waist and covered his damn self in glitter, how could I not notice...the dude is...hot. In a Red Hot Chili Peppers kind of way. He didn't look like THAT with his shirt on, yo. It was just...surprising, you know? "Ahem, Laura," I casually mentioned, unable, though, to look away from all the glittering manliness. Laura and I were, inexplicably, I still don't know how this happened, T shirt table girls that night, "...check...look...the..." Yep, she looked. "Whoah." Yep, she was as shocked as I was. Oh but my darling little Junglebunnies, that's not the "I'm an ass" part. The "I'm an ass" part was later, after the show. Kowalski was just hanging around. But he had not put his shirt on. So this is his fault, really. I stood behind Laura, placed my hands on her shoulders and turned her so that we were both facing him. Into her ear I think I said something like, "break me off a piece of that..." Bad? I know, bad. But oh, it gets worse. He looked over at us. So of course I waggled my fingers at him and burbled, "Dude, you totally just caught us checking you out!" Yes I did, I said that. You want to hang around with me? It's FUN. Really. Ask Laura. Anyway, the show was good.

On Saturday, July 13th: I woke up feeling like an old sock. Head, stomach, all of it was just not willing to get up and start the day with me. And that night was Bastille Day. There are some shows where I, in jocular hyperbole, declare "I'd go to that even if my LEG was broken!" The proof, is, as they say, in the pudding. Only, would that I'd eaten any pudding, I would not have been able to keep it down. I know this because Hub insisted that I needed to eat something, and the very nice soup and sandwich I ate at S & S just about made it home with me before coming back up again. Yeah, that's...lovely. The next day I had to explain to Kenne Highland why, as we were passing his street and he was yelling at us to come over to his tag sale, I only waved and kind of ran into my house. But in any case, some sleep, some tea, some saltines, and I put on my damn black strappy dress and fake fall (I got this little bit of whimsy-- a long pony tail-- I'll show you sometime) and we went to the show. It was fan-fucking-tastic. Lots of peeps came. Benjy and Gabi, S. Decay, Al. T Max came, with Mardi Gras masks, and with...Joe Kowalski. Seriously. You know, the stud with the glitter? I didn't even see him at first. I felt this tug on my arm, turned around, and there he was. "Hey, you ran away last night," he grinned. "Ohhhhh boy," I thought. Then, realizing the floor in the Lizard Lounge isn't the kind you can just will to open up and swallow you, "Just go with it," I advised myself. So I went with it. Yep. Sometimes you just gotta go with it. It was fun, Kowalski is cool. Later, Hub said, "Joe seemed really into you." "He was drunk, mostly," I answered. But dammit peeps, who cares, did I mention the glitter?

On Sunday, July 14th: No yoga class today. Around 2ish, I went over to Linda and Wayne Viens', for a very nice barbecue. I almost didn't go, but that was good, because there I finally finished booking my August 24th show at the Linwood by getting Chris Mascara and Stephen Fredette (Pony) to play. Yay. That's done, and those two are great. I left at 5:30, took the train to Harvard Square, where Wolf and Suzi were putting on another Bastille Day show. Good god, people. Professor Longhair, Eddie Bo, Howlin' Wolf...I'd been grinning all night, even in my illness, not caring, just dancing, and I still wanted more. What is it about that groove. What. Tell me. What. Tell me!

On Tuesday, July 16th: I left work early. Seriously feel ill. But I went to Gabi's birthday party at the Milky Way anyway. Hub came too. The Buckners played. And I ate pizza.

On Wednesday, July 17th: I stayed home from work. I slept all day. I am officially ill.

On Thursday, July 18th: I stayed home again. I slept all day. I got up. I typed this because July is more gone than not and I wanted to know where it went. Now I know where it went.

I'm going back to bed.