I had to buy it. I had a coupon to use at Borders and it was on my way home, and I bought it! It’s 547 pages, not counting the index, and I can’t wait to read every juicy word.

I’m surprised he can remember all the stuff that’s in there.  Bill Wyman published his memoirs “A Stone Alone” in 1997, and it’s lengthy, but he kept a diary through the years.  I remember the story about how Mick Jagger wanted to “borrow” the journals and Bill said no, because it was going to be his own book.  Sorry Mick!  There’s been so many books written about the Stones, and lots of books with pictures, but this is the one I think will be the juciest.  I’ll let you know.

I’ve been busy, and tired.  I’ve also been writing other things which are not meant for blogging.  You’ll just have to wait for the book…someday…if I ever finish it.

So, feeling guilty that I’ve ignored my blog, I was inspired this morning by a You Tube video that my friend sent me.  It’s Gene Simmons and our own Tommy Thayer doing a military tribute that had me grinning from ear to ear.

I was born in an Army hospital.  My father was in the Army.  My birth father was in the Army.  My father in law was in the Army.  My brother is retired Army.  My sister-in-law is still serving in the Army, and her sister is as well.  Whatever your politics, whatever your beliefs, just know that these men and women are serving with heart.  They have families.  They would rather be home, especially during the holidays.

Thank you to our troops, for their service.  Now, enjoy this video.

Salute!

How the hell should I know. Maybe you didn’t hear the part about the Parrothead party that was noon til 7:30pm. I leave you with this visual, it pretty much sums up the whole experience. Notice the look of fleeting smile/sheer terror on my face as the exceedingly drunk owner of the hand that’s creeping into the left side of the picture is coming at me real-time in full- force aimed at my crotch. Yes, mine! Not bikini chick’s. Seriously, I have stories. Good ones. If I could remember them, I’d share.

Dear B—,

Please keep in mind that Iris is still on board for the K—– event next week, but she will not be demonstrating any high-impact games. Judging from the sweat pouring off of Mr. Burns last week after he tried it out and the fact that it took him 10 minutes to catch his breath in our department head meeting, I am assuming that some of these games are very fun and also very high intensity. Iris will not be participating in such games. Even if Iris wants to, please remind her that Amy said no. Please don’t make me go to this event and stand guard over Iris and ——- so I can be sure she is not asked to do anything that might require her to do more than smile and wave, sort of like Queen Elizabeth. I will if I need to, B—. I might even go just so I can keep a close eye on ——-, and I mean very close. I tend to be quite grizzly-bear-ish when dealing with my Iris cub. I’m not kidding, B—. Not one single bit.

OK, I am kidding a little bit. But not really.  

Iris, I’m watching you, young lady.

Best,
Amy

Hi C——-,

First, I am SO sorry that I missed my lesson last week. I honestly had no idea that I even missed it until I received your email this morning.  It has been an extremely busy and quite lively few weeks at work, and as usual, the kids have the busiest schedule ever, with never-ending swim club, swim meets, water polo, cross country practice, sleepovers, playdates, cross country meets, costume shopping, yoyo club, basketball practice, and basketball games. Please forgive me.

Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking when I signed up for lessons. I guess I thought I would be able to spend a half hour a week on a piano lesson for myself. Obviously not. With work and the constantly changing child taxi etcetera schedule, I must cancel my lesson for now. I am hoping to continue to practice and work on my own when I am not drowning my sorrows at the local bar, or in a coma after a week of enjoying the pleasures of chronic insomnia.   Maybe when things slow down with the kids, like when they are in college or maybe during the summer of 2016, I will again be able to squeeze a half hour or so to myself once a week during actual daylight hours. Highly doubtful but it’s nice to entertain that notion, despite the fact that I know I am lying to myself.

Again, sorry I forgot to call and cancel last week. Well, now that I think about it, sorry I forgot to call and cancel the week before, too. I hope you can fill my Wednesday time slot with another single mom dying for 30 minutes to herself so that she can improve her musical skills and therefore  her life, or maybe with some pimply pre-teen whose mother is forcing him to take lessons when he’d rather be playing video games or updating his facebook status.

I will be sure and keep your contact info and to practice when I have time. Between the ever-beckoning frosty Coors Light bottles in my fridge and the Weeds marathon I am suddenly and addictively watching on the TV Guide channel on free TV every night, my guess is my skill level will be very close to exactly where it is now whenever we happen to meet again, and that as usual, practice time will be somewhat non-existent. 

Best,
Amy

Aerosmith’s Steven Tyler and Joe Perry, the Doobie Brothers’ Patrick Simmons and Tom Johnston, Sly Stone, and ZZ Top’s Frank Beard, Dusty Hill, and Billy Gibbons could be on their way to the Songwriters Hall of Fame.  The classic rockers are some of the nominees for the Songwriters Hall’s Class of 2011.  They’re in the running in the Performer/Songwriter category, along with George Michael, the Everly Brothers, the Eurythmics’ Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart, Leon Russell, and Chic’s Nile Rodgers and the late Bernard Edwards.  Other hopefuls include Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds, KC and the Sunshine Band’s Harry Wayne Casey, and Garth Brooks.  In addition, Joe South, Allen Toussaint, and Meat Loaf’s longtime producer Jim Steinman are among those being considered in the Non-Performing Songwriters category.

Voting members of the Songwriters Hall of Fame select the new inductees.  Their ballots are due December 17th, and the Class of 2011 will be announced early next year.  The honorees will be officially welcomed during the annual Songwriters Hall of Fame Awards Gala next spring.

Um, yeah, the party just officially started as Tom Varley band and friends, including the one and only Tim Ellis who I have known for years and is an unbelievable local musician and I totally gave him a hug and he’s probably wondering why I smell like gross fat old homeless man, have taken the stage. The Coliseum is rockin now!! You gotta see the pirates and grass skirt crowd standing in a cirle hitting the beach ball back and forth! I hope they sneal them into the arena and drive security crazy. The day is getting better and better!

Lots of costumes here, grass skirts, hawaiian (I think I spelled that wrong) shirts, funny wigs, and pirates. Over 100 people here so far, dance floor area hoppin, and I can already tell who will be falling down drunk before the show starts and probably get thrown out. Oh man this is the best job ever!

Also, surprisingly good food available. Some food cart-ish fare, like Hawaiian (crap- that word again) and BBQ, Subway, and some noodle-y looking yum yums. I should eat something other than doritos and cheeze-its.

More later…stay tuned!

Oh Man! Not only is today the most perfect weather ever, but it’s also a big huge party at the Memorial Coliseum before the Jimmy Buffett concert tonight! Can’t say I am a gigantic fan of jb, but I am a fan of a big party. The only jb song I for sure know is Margaritaville. I have heard of Cheeseburger in Paradise but couldn’t hum it if I had to. I heard he does Come Monday, which I love but until now, I thought that was Glen Campbell. Strange for a music expert like myself, right? Bahaha. That was a joke.

So at this very moment, I am hiding in my car, eating spicy nacho doritos and zantac for severe heartburn and drinking, um, coffee, yes, coffee, while I prepare for a very long day and night and I am wearing the cutest KGON vintage tshirt that I just washed and I’m sniffing my pits and wondering why I smell like a fat old man and it’s only 2pm. What the hell? And then I remember that I just hung up about 1000 KGON banners inside the coliseum lest anyone forget who helped sponsor this shindig. Considering asking mother to bring me a fresh shirt so when I hug people this evening, I don’t smell like the homeless dude with the sign outside my car, but more because I want to see if mom can climb in the window again like she did before the Mellencamp/Dylan show. And then I consider that as I am parked in a working staff lot that I might be on some security camera somewhere and security dudes may be laughing at me right now as they watch me sniff myself in my car on some security monitor. I can’t help but laugh at myself sometimes, even as I count the minutes until my tweets, facebooks and blogs become rife with errors and bad grammar as this damn party gets the best of me. I give myself until, oh, say, 7? 830? Ok, 6. Thank goodness for taxis. Just kidding. I’m not drinking tonight. Just kidding.

It’s going to be a great party- that’s for sure. Swing on by. If you happen to see me, I’ll be the hot stinky blong in the cute vintage KGON shirt, mention this blog TO ME for free entry into the Parrot Head party! I just saved you and a local charity 10 bucks. You’re welcome!

Amy OUT!

Yes, more random blabbering about things swirling around inside my head.

Trapped Miners.
All I can really think about is how awesome it would be to get a break from phones, email, TV, facebook, twitter, having to take a shower every day, computers, homework, grocery shopping, etc. Even if it meant I was stuck underground for 70 days with a bunch of stinky co-workers in a balmy 90 degree chasm half a mile below the earth’s crust, I would seriously consider the opportunity. As long as I had a good book, I’m thinking it might be a nice little vacation. A two-month break from your spouse? Oh please. You know half those dudes were dreading facing the wife as they were pulled out of that tunnel. Let’s be honest here.

Political Ads on TV.
These are getting to be quite annoying, yes? I can’t even watch the miner rescue without seeing the same 10 ads over and over, back to back. It bothers me. But only when I am trying to watch Jeopardy or when I have to keep answering these tough questions from my kids, like, “Mom, what’s a Republican?” Or, “Mom, do waitresses make too much money?” Or, “Mom, when is Glee on?” I’m glad it’s almost voting day.

Speaking of Glee.
A Glee episode without Sue Sylvester is a crime and defeats the whole purpose of watching the show. And where can one purchase a “Sue Sylvester is my hero” bumper sticker or t-shirt?

Pretty Flowers.
I have mentioned before (to the 3 of you who read this) all the fun and exciting things that happen in the flower business. Such things as all the men who send flowers to their wives and their girlfriends on Valentine’s Day and stupidly use the same credit card. The same credit card that the wife checks regularly. The same one she keeps in her purse next to her husband’s ball sack. You can imagine the angry phone calls we get from those angry wives every year demanding to know the name of the other recipient of the other flowers, their address and phone number, and what the card message said (as if we would ever tell) all the while screaming at us as if it were our fault that their husbands sent flowers to the town hooker, and we know she’s the town hooker because seven other men also sent her flowers that day. Good times! But the card message the good old family flower shop got last weekend might take the cake. My sister couldn’t stop laughing as she tried to tell me this over the phone. It just doesn’t get any better than this. And here it is. And this is verbatim aside from my protecting the obviously not so innocent by blocking the names actually used: 

“Happy Belated Birthday, Daughter. Didn’t have the money to send sooner. Got your message as follows and almost went over the edge. Tr***, your sister’s love kept me from it. The message you sent was “this message is not for me it is for my brother who deserves someone in his life who loves him unconditionally. You are a poor excuse for a mother, a despicable human and you are the most selfish person I have ever known. What have you ever done to contribute to someone’s life? You are always thinking of yourself. Always deflecting responsibility. You have never done anything wrong. The fact that you f*%king called R**…” The truth shall make us all free. Love & Prayers, Mom.” 

One can’t make this stuff up. Is it possible there is another family on earth more messed up than my own?