And not by tickets, hookers! Because I got here before 9am so I could RUN to the front when the doors opened at 5pm! So its almost opening act showtime and I couldn’t be mor excited! What’s funny is that usually I’m worried about armpit deoderant flakes and today, I’m wearing my totally awesome Little Pink Houses concert tshirt that I bought last night for $35 and I more worried about if I have sweat marks now. And I’m trying to listen to all the people (men!) Around me with all their stories and expertism (is that even the word I was looking for?) Oh wait- NO- its expertise! About every show they seen from here to Petty to Cougar, to Dylan and back the opener for Mellencamp is almost on and, just like yesterday and today, I couldn’t be mpre excited for this show. And I already saw it last night. Its GOOD to be alive today!

Amy OUT!

Let’s go over this again. It’s been a few weeks since Steve Miller’s concert on the lawn at Edgefield, so here’s some things to remember:

•Only low-profile lawn chairs (not exceeding 8 inches from the ground and no higher than 27 inches total from the ground to the top of the chair) are allowed.
•High-profile and standard-size lawn chairs are not permitted.

•You may also bring blankets and beach towels to sit on. (Iris’ note on this little gem….YOU WILL NOT BE SLEEPING THERE. Only reserve enough room for the actual amount of butts that will be in that area and some path room for people to get in and out of there with beer or food. You do not need a tent sized space of real estate for just two of you. Seriously. Plus, if someone comes and politely asks if you can just move your blanket over a bit, don’t be greedy. MOVE! Get to know your neighbors. You may end up dancing with them, or sharing a beverage or two.

Here’s some more answers that I got off the Edgefield site:
Q: Can I bring in bottled water?
A: Yes, as long as it is in sealed plastic bottles.

Q: Can I bring in a picnic?
A: No outside food and beverages (with the exception of bottled water and pizza purchased at Edgefield) may be brought into the venue. Food and beverages including burritos, yakisoba, pizza and more are available for purchase, along with soda, bottled water, McMenamins handcrafted ales, wines and spirits and more.

Q: Can I bring my dog?
A: Unfortunately, pets are not allowed on the property or in the concert venue.  (I think service dogs are fine, but no pets.  This is a concert, not a dog park.  I love dogs, but this is no place for them unless they are in service.)

Q: Can I leave the concert area after I’ve saved my spot?
A: No, re-entry is not allowed.

Q: Can I bring my camera?
A: Disposable cameras are usually allowed, but it varies by performer(s). It is often unknown until the day of the show whether or not cameras are allowed. If you bring a camera, you may be asked to take it back to your car if it has been determined that no cameras are allowed. (Iris’ note-It depends on the artist.  If they want NO pictures, the staff, who otherwise is totally cool with just about anything, will be on you like white on rice.  Trust me.  Ask Amy the KGON’sider)

Q: What is Reserved Seating?
A: This is a reserved seating area directly in front of the stage. These ticket holders are assigned their own seats so they do not have to stake out a spot on the lawn.

Q: Can I bring my kids? Do kids get in free?
A: Guests of all ages are welcome to attend these shows. Concertgoers 2 years of age or younger are allowed in free of charge. Guests over the age of 2 must have a ticket. (Iris’ note- PLEASE watch your little ones.  I’ve seen way too many get lost in the shuffle.  Also, it’s sweet to put the little kids on shoulders so they can see the show, but you know, they most likely won’t remember that moment, and if you are doing this in front of someone who is short, like me, that’s just rude.)

Q: Do you take credit or debit cards inside the venue?
A: No; however there are ATMs available both inside the Edgefield hotel and within the concert venue itself. (Iris’ note: There’s usually a line for this unless you get there really early!  Bring cash.  It’s better.)

Q: Where do I park?
A: Concertgoers can park in the East and West grass lots located south of Halsey St. on the McMenamins Edgefield property. There is staff posted at the entries and within the lots to assist you. Please note that the lots are uneven and may be difficult for those who are physically challenged. Guests are welcome to use the hotel turn-around to drop off those who are unable to walk from the parking area to the venue.

The paved lots directly in front of the Edgefield hotel are reserved for hotel and/or disabled guests, while lots in other areas of the Edgefield property are reserved for non-concertgoing guests.

Q: Is there a charge for parking?
A: Onsite parking is included in the cost of your ticket.

Okay, now you’re ready for the show.  Remember, it starts early.  Doors open at 5pm, music at 6…or whenever the artist is good and ready to start the show.  Don’t complain, they are doing what they have to do to give you a great show.  I’ve been backstage, and there’s all kinds of last minute things that happen and delay the start of the music. 

Have fun and enjoy the show.

Don’t drive under the influence…of anything that impairs your ability to command a vehicle…this means that you also shouldn’t drive after having a fight with your significant other because they were looking at some eye candy at the show and you are seeing nothing but that green monster of jealousy.  Being drunk on anger is not good for driving.

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News:
Parking at McMenamins Edgefield is limited; therefore, we encourage guests to carpool and arrive early!

Tickets:
Tickets available through Ticketmaster and the Crystal Ballroom

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I seem to watch The Travel Channel a lot.  The problem with it is that it makes me want to cash in everything I own, and take off with a credit card and a smile.  The good thing about watching is that I get to travel vicariously through people like Anthony Bourdain, Samantha Brown, Adam Richman and now Zane Lamprey.  Last night while surfing through channels looking for something to watch I saw a listing for “Three Sheets” as in “three sheets to the wind” which is a term that I am unfortunately all too familiar with in my past. 

This is a show that my son wishes he had come up with.  The host, Zane Lamprey, travels around the world sampling the locally produced alcohol and does a show about it.  Seriously?!  It’s like that episode of “Cheers” when Norm Peterson was hired to be a beer taster and almost openly wept for joy.  Like a duck to water.

This show has been on TV since 2006.  I had no idea it even existed until last night.  It moved from MOJO to FLN and started on The Travel Channel in May of this year.  He also had a show on The Food Network called “Have Fork Will Travel” at one point, and has done stuff for MTV, VH1, and Comedy Central.  Zane is a likeable guy.  Easy to watch.  Doesn’t piss you off like Bourdain might, although I adore Tony and his foul mouth and snarky attitude.  I adore him from afar.  Zane comes across as a guy you would actually like to go have a drink with.  There’s been 52 episodes of this show so far.  Hulu has 50 of them.  I must catch up. 

Last night I saw two episodes.  One about Iceland, and the other was Amsterdam.  Hemp infused beer.  Yep.  At the Hemp Hotel.  He didn’t seem so fond of the taste, but enjoyed the people hanging around imbibing with him.  One woman reminded me of the “Mother” character that Eileen Brennan played in the movie “FM” with that very deep voice and a total handle on the whole scene around her.  She was apparently the owner of the establishment.  Not a bad life choice if you wanted to hang around and smoke pot all the time, I guess. 

So, there you go.  A show that makes me want to travel, sample, and never come home.  I’d probably get tired, but it does make me want to go somewhere for about a year.  I wonder if checking in at the Hemp Hotel is anything like the Hotel California.  “You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave….”

Check please!  And where is that new credit card and my luggage?

I’ve always loved the prank that Bart Simpson would pull on Moe…calling the bar and asking for a name that sounds hilarious when said out loud.  Like Amanda Hugenkiss.  I found a whole website with a list of those.  Click here and you’ll link to it.

Product names can be a disaster as well.  Especially if they are an export and someone didn’t check before labeling and sending.  Click here for 65 badly named products.

Then of course there’s just bad names, and they have been passed down for centuries.  Like one in my family…Butts.  Yeah.  I’m glad that was 3 generations before me.  Not that it’s a horrible thing, but the teasing you get as a kid is already more than a person needs to bear on the playground.  I’ve imagined all kinds of first names and initials to go with that last name that could have happened, very innocently, but that would have been so very very wrong.  I don’t have to spell it out for you, do I?

I went to school with a Sandy Beech.  Knew someone who named their child Peter Holder.  My friend, Franny Hogg, changed her middle name so that it truly was Frances A. Hogg.  She was quite proud of that name.  I went to an oral surgeon named Dr. Slaughter.  My mom knew a Dr. Fink when we lived in Louisiana.  I’m sure you have run across someone who has an interesting name and occupation to go with it.  Here’s a list of names that fit occupations that appeared in the column “Dear Abby.”  You’ll see that my Dr. Slaughter wasn’t the only doctor with that name.

Just to give you one more thing to look at, the Huffington Post has a bunch of bad realtor signs, and most have to do with the name of the person.  Click here for the link.

Enjoy!

I’m thrilled that William Shatner is going to be in the new series based on the Twitter phenomenon where a guy, living with his dad, just writes down the verbage that comes out of his mouth.  It started with Twitter.  I picked up on it via Facebook.  Then it was a book that was published, which my son bought for Marty for Father’s Day.  Now it’s a CBS TV show for the new Fall season.  They could just have William Shatner reading from the Twitter postings and it would be fine with me. 

 The funny part is the fact that the actual title is “Shit My Dad Says.”  So, being a TV network that isn’t HBO or Showtime, they can’t say the first word of the real title.  So they have those little #*&%# symbols that stand for the fact that someone is swearing.  That sucks.  Seriously, HBO should have done this one, because the actual quotes from the dad, with the profanity intact works much better.  If you’re a follower, you know what I mean.  If you don’t follow this guy, go find it and do it right now.  Click here to link and enjoy.  You’ll laugh your ass off.  Plus, who NEVER says that word?  Seriously?  Even my sainted late mother who came up with cutesy little “almost” swear words such as son of a biscuit, or hell’s bells, occasionally used that one.  Why is poop, crap, and other descriptive words for the same thing okay, and not shit?  Like the late great George Carlin said, “In TV today, you can say “I pricked my finger, but you can’t say it the other way around.”  I know, the subject has been explored to death, and after everyone was shocked and awed by Janet Jackson’s nipple at the Superbowl, and Bono’s expletive at the American Music Awards (or some awards thing that I didn’t watch…but have heard about ad nausium) we’ve had to edit songs that have been played forever in their original form.  I get calls about this all the time.  Silly really. 

Anyway, back to the #@!*$ My Dad Says…..The casting and the promo for the show look really good, I just wish they could say all the words we are used to reading from the guy.  Can’t you just hear those lovely expletives rolling off The Shat’s tongue?  Click here for the link to a preview of the show.

There’s all kinds of thoughts on profanity and swearing and I’ll close with some great quotes about the subject.

“When angry count to four.  When very angry, swear.”-Mark Twain

“Many a man’s profanity saved him from a nervous breakdown.”-Henry Haskins

“All hockey players are bilingual. They know English and profanity.”-Gordie Howe

It’s been almost a week since surgery and I’m entering the zone where I’m getting anxious for absolutely no reason.  I’ve got great home health nurses that come every other day and tend to me.  My vital signs are still there.  Hey, like Keith Richards said “It’s great to be here….It’s great to be anywhere!” 

Maybe it was the call from the bank telling me that someone was trying to charge things at Wal-Mart on my credit card.  They were ringing up quite a little bill too.  Hey identity thief, I know where you live and where you shop you piece of work.  Thanks for stressing out my day while I’m trying to heal.  Ever hear of Karma?  Hope a load of it drops on your pointed head.

Anyway, I was desperately in need of a giggle…a guffaw…a belly laugh without the belly being involved because of surgery.  Something rediculous yet intelligent.  Immediately I thought of Craig Ferguson.  I had some on the DVR!  Oh good!  So I settled down and as usual the description of guests was half right.  that’s how the show goes sometimes.  People talk longer than they are supposed to, people don’t show up, you know…talk show stuff.  Anyway, the reason I was excited about one show was that Eric Idol was on.  The two of them were hilarious.  Timing was fantastic.  They are both so smart and funny.  Being a Monty Python fan from way way back, it was like the most delicious little TV moment. My mood was lifted! 

Then I went for the second show where Craig’s  guest was John Waters.  I’m feeling so much better now that I can actually attempt this blog.  John Waters is bizarre and hilarious and that’s without even saying one word.  Love his crazy movies.  He’s always a great interview and he and Ferguson took conversation to a new level of double entendre goodness.  Dandy!  I’m feeling better now.

I should follow this with a replaying of “The Hangover” or “I Love You, Man”  just to make sure I stay this way as I drift off to sleep.  Send me ideas for funny movies.  Even if I’ve seen them, I would probably enjoy them again.  I need a funny book to read too.  I just finished two sad ones and I can’t go there right now.  I need comedy.  Laughing heals, rock heals.  And really great home nurses too.

Give yourself a large embrace for me. 

Iris

Yesterday I told my doctor that I had S.A.D.-Seasonal Affective Disorder.  He told me that I really have Situational Affective Disorder.  Yeah, it has been another weird winter for me, and this rain is NOT HELPING.  Not only that, but when I took a vacation in December to Palm Springs, usually SUNNY Palm Springs, it rained like a mother.  Then after my hernia surgery we went to usually sunny Arizona, and again…IT RAINED!  I’ve had it!  Enough!  Yeah, yeah, these places are usually dry and need the moisture, but how about when I’m not there?

Yesterday after seeing the doc, I went shopping on my way home and while I was in the store, a most incredible downpour started.  The noise was what got the shopper’s attention first.  It was like someone was doing the drum solo from “In a Gadda Da Vida” on the roof.  All eyes went to the ceiling, then to the windows.  It was rediculous how heavy the rain was.  Then there was thunder and all that.  When I got back in the car, Shannon was playing “Mr. Blue Sky” and the clouds parted a little…a very little…but enough to give hope.  Of course that hope was dashed again and the rain resumed.

Yesterday reminded me of a time when I was in Mexico with my friend Chris. It was muggy and hot when we landed at the airport.  We got a rental car and drove to the grocery store.  I love Mexican grocery stores.  They are just different.  There are things about it that will gross you out if you are at all squeemish, but I get a kick out of it.  Gives new meaning to the term “mystery meat.”  Also I’m always amazed at how much Spanish I do understand when it comes to food.  The story of my life.  It’s the universal language for me.  Anyway, we were in the store, and we heard LOUD pounding on the roof of the grocery store and then KA-BOOM!  Thunder…more pounding.  We kept shopping and thought that it would pass soon.  This happens in Mexico in September.  Big drenching rains come and go…all day long.  We checked out, took the bags of food to the car, which was in covered underground parking (this is in Puerto Vallarta…very civilized) and started to drive to the road.  Road?  It looked more like a river!  I’m not exaggerating here, it looked like we couldn’t possibly drive in this without an amphibious vehicle, and we had an economy rental. 

My friend Chris is a fearless driver.  She’s tackled roads in other countries like she was born to drive.  The Autobahn (I’m hearing Kraftwerk in my brain right now….), Italy, Mexico, and the other side of the street in the British Isles are nothing to her.  She gets in whatever she’s driving and just attacks the situation.  God help the car.  So, she takes off into the street filled with water up past the kick plates on our little car and just decides to pull a Moses parting the Red Sea.  She hits that gas pedal and the car actually does forge ahead…of other people pushing their cars in this instant river…of people who were on motorcycles that are now walking beside them.  She amazes me and terrifies me all at the same time.  I’m such a pussy.  I won’t even tell you what it was like climbing the almost verticle cobblestone streets to her condo.  I pray silently when in those situations, unless I’m driving, and then it’s really LOUD!  “DEAR GOD PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE let us get there. 

Oh, and while you’re at it, please stop the rain for at least a good week here in the Portland/Vancouver area.

Alright, enough bitching about the rain, I need to do my homework and write about prayer. 

Hey, I think I just did.

It was a lovely little weekend on Mt. Hood.  I belong to a group of women who have called ourselves “The Cabin Girls” since 1991.  We will always be “girls” and we are not in the least offended by this label.  We have tried over the years to make it up to this wonderful peaceful little place at least 4 times a year, but some years it’s less due to busy schedules and all that life stuff that gets in the way of fun. 

We always have a large time no matter what the weather is like.  It’s not about skiing, which isn’t far away from the location of the cabin, but none of us ski anymore.  I gave that up after realizing that in 6 years since my initial lessons, I had not improved very much at all, and it took forever to get the gear and all that from the car, to the lodge and then spend the day falling down.  As usual I guess if I had cared more, I would have done better.  Maybe not.  I enjoyed parts of skiing, but also had a huge amount of fear associated with it.  I was forever being credited with more prowess by my instructors that I really posessed, and thus getting myself onto runs that I had no business being on.  One time I even skiied with the General Manager of Timberline and while he was lovely and kind (Mr. K, I will always love you for those “turns” on the mountain) I was freaking out the whole time that I would embarrass myself.

I have a healthy amount of respect for Ms. Hood.  I gave her the “s” in the spelling instead of a “t” because it’s like she has a personality that way.  She’s been very moody on days…dumping snow until I couldn’t find my car, much less drive the thing down the road…or not having enough snow and my skis looked like they had been used in a grocery store parking lot. 

Weather happens fast on Mt. Hood.  One time I was at Timberline Lodge on June 1st, and we got out of the car in lovely warm sunshine.  While having bloody marys (which Timberline Lodge does very well…) waiting for our lunch to arrive at the table, it started raining.  As we ate lunch, the sun came out again.  Then while we were thinking of dessert, it started to snow.  By the time we went back to the car, it was sunny again, but windy.  All within about 90 minutes. 

One time at the Cabin, down the mountain on Still Creek, there was a freaky wind storm.  We saw that the wind was coming up and thought we needed to get out of there.  After loading our cars and cleaning up, this loud crash sounding like an explosion came from outside.  A tree had fallen on the cabin next door.  We were all getting ready to leave and heard another BOOM.  A tree was down on the cabin on the other side of us.  I was now in full blown panic.  Two of the girls, Ann and Becki were just slightly concerned.  I was screaming and hugging what I thought would be the most secure place in the little cabin…the fireplace.  I’m pretty sure Tina was with me on that one.  Finally I got out to my car, and tried to leave, but there was a tree across the road.  The next attempt out, there were men with chainsaws making room for cars to pass.  Here’s the really weird part: on the way down the mountain, I expected to see trees and power lines down, devistation, roofs blown off…but there was virtually no other areas than the little pocket that we were staying in that was affected.  Damn moody mountain weather system, anyway!

This weekend it gave us a little sun, and rain.  Ann’s car battery died before she left, and I missed the big event of the flatbed truck trying to get down the tiny windy driveway because I had already headed back to civilization.  I’m sure it was interesting watching him back out.  That’s what was going on when I called. 

We even got to watch the last quarter of the Blazer game on Saturday at the Rendezvous Tap Room.  There’s no TV in the cabin.  ON PURPOSE!  So if we want to watch a game, we have to go out.  It’s better that way.  It was nice to see them win.  Now, if they can pull off another one in Phoenix!  Go Blazers!

The mountain adventures of “The Cabin Girls” are always interesting.  Sometimes scary, other times very peaceful.  No matter what happens, we seem to take away great memories, several laughs and stories to tell.  I’m not rested this time though.  Not enough sleep.  I guess we should work on getting to bed earlier than 2:30am.  We just lose track of time up there in the evergreen scent and darkness.

Writing class tonight.  No rest for the wicked.

Lather up babies.  KISS, the band who will eventually market EVERYTHING (because they can) now has KISS Soap for sale.  It’s “ larger than your average bar of soap. This one weighs 11.5 ounces and comes with the band’s logo etched into it, and smelling of ‘Kiss Him’ fragrance.”  Just as long as it doesn’t smell like Gene Simmons cod piece. 

I actually want a man to smell like Isaiah Mustafa, the man on the Old Spice ad.  I have no idea what he smells like (Old Spice, probably, and manly sweat) but I love that ad with a passion.  I will stop whatever I’m doing to watch the commercial, and have been known to rewind it just so I can enjoy it again.  It’s a Wieden and Kennedy commercial, so at least there’s a Northwest connection there.   “Look at your man, now back at me.”  Hilarious.  “I’m on a horse!”  You bet!

I wonder if Gene Simmons will do an ad for the KISS soap?  Maybe that wouldn’t be the best of ideas.  Not that it would stop him.

I love this day because one of my favorite people in the world was born on this day.  He’s my son’s best friend, Mason, and there’s no better birthday for him.  He was the kind of little kid that was born to make people laugh, challenge and upset them if they didn’t “get” his humor, and just make life a better situation for those of us who have spent time with him.  He’s married and has gone on with his life, but he still can make me laugh like crazy just by being himself.  Happy Birthday!

I also can’t stand this day, because I’m gullible.  Horribly so.  Like the clueless bartenders that Bart Simson will call with phony names.  Like the listeners who are calling every hour saying their co-workers told them their name was called on the Workforce Payroll, and it wasn’t.  Like my cat who thinks there’s something evil inside the vaccuume cleaner.

I have been pranked so many times, successfully, that I probably don’t remember half of them.  I should just start this day with the sign “FOOL” on my forehead, and one on my back.  I was thinking about this in the shower this morning, where I always do my best thinking, and I’ve come up with this reason as to why I hate being pranked so much.  It destroys my illusion that I’m  just a little bit cool, or savvy, or smart.  It brings my IQ down in one quick moment, which is the intent of the prank.  Of course how can I be even remotely cool when I can actually trip over cracks in the cement in downtown Portland?  Yeah, I’ve done that.  Wow, let me tell you that I feel that coolness as I lay there laughing at what a dork I am.  Lovely.

So as you pranksters set off on your day to get us gullible targets, have a Happy April Fool’s Day.  Just watch your back, because you never know when someone cooler is going to do it to you.