I’m sitting here waiting for my peeps to come pick me up. We’re doing this early dinner before the parties later. It’s the birthday celebration that may just kill me.
I’m dolled up, pretty in pink, and while I wait, I’ve also been tooting my own horn. I just hope I don’t get spit all over my outfit while I’m waiting. That would suck.
Hopefully I’ll have a lot of pictures to post. That’s my plan.
Last night, after my last day at Huge Corporation, I went to band practice. We’re still in the process of trying out singers. So, it was a fun practice, but I didn’t really feel like I got to nail anything down. It’s still just so much fun to go and play. I wish we could practice more.
Afterwards, I was giving Ruckus a ride home. That guy is super cool, and can always make me laugh. Like, gerbil laugh. He got me twice during practice last night. We were talking about family, and about my uncle’s memorial.
Since he lives near the lake, I decided to drop in on some friends afterwards. Wednesday nights, some folks from the musical theatre crowd hang out at The Alley, a dive-a-licious piano bar in the Grand Lake neighborhood. I used to hang out there every so often when I lived in that neighborhood, and I’ve always been quite fond of the spot.
I’ve dropped in a few other times, but never found any of my friends, but last night that was not a problem. I walked in, and found many familiar faces around the piano. I also got the chance to make a lot of new friends. It was a good time.
And they got me laughing, too. In fact, I now have a new friend who is completely enamored of me for that laugh alone. I laughed so hard and so long that I actually lost my squeak. My throat was raw.
In the end, it was two in the morning before I got home. That was actually the second night in a row that I was out until the wee hours. I’ve really been enjoying myself lately.
And no, I didn’t sing anything at the piano.
Here are the few photos I took on Friday night.
What I wore.
Had the Bowser’s Pizza with Rippor and ‘Elle before the show.
Deal’s Gone Bad
Commando!
Baby Bro.
Rippor, ‘Elle, and Baby Bro
I didn’t get a single decent shot of The Slackers, but you know, I have a million of those already.
Went out last night, and saw a couple of bands I like and know, Deal’s Gone Bad and The Slackers. Missed a lot of The Slackers set, actually, as I got too wrapped up in the socializing and silliness. I think I’m a little bit spoiled, because I know they’ll be back and I’ll catch them next time.
Went to a gathering after, and found myself trickling in my door around five this morning. Normally that’d be fine, but I have practice and my mom is coming in this evening. It’s going to be one very long and interesting day.
Still crazy. Still single.
The fun starts tomorrow evening, with friends from Chicago, Deal’s Gone Bad, opening for The Slackers of New York City at Slim’s in The City. I have been looking forward to this show for weeks. Months even. It’s always good to see friends, and when those friends are also great musicians and performers, it’s like a double whammy.
Saturday I have another band rehearsal. The last one was a lot of fun, so I’m looking forward to this next one. We might have a singer by then.
Saturday evening my mom is getting in. She’s going to be staying with me for over a week at The Rock. Hopefully we won’t be giving each other black eyes, sharing such close quarters in my studio apartment.
Sunday, Mother’s Day, Mom wants to go to the Winchester Mystery House. I think Creeper is going to join us, as he’s lived in the San Jose area most of his life, and still has never been.
Monday I am taking a personal day from work, so I can spend some more time with Mom. Three day weekends are the best. Every weekend should be a three-dayer.
What are your plans for the weekend?
What do you need most when life gives you the finger? Friends. And if those friends happen to be the best intergalactic rock and rollers and their cadets, well even better!
Maldroid opened the show. I tried to get some good shots of them. Tried is the operative word here.
They get better every time I see them. I just got their new self titled album last night. I have been enjoying it and The Phenomenauts’ “For All Man Kind” all morning.
Next up were The Lovemakers. I don’t know any of them. They were less than inspiring. I didn’t take any pictures.
P-H-E-N
O-M-E-N
A-U-T-S
PHENOMENAUTS!
I did my best to help get the chant started and then they took the stage.
I love the new opening.
Commander Angel
I love this trippy red shot.
I didn’t get any good shots of Joebot, but I bet Agent 99 did.
It was a great show. The bands were good, the club was packed. But most of all, it was good to be with friends, making new friends, and celebrating the success of some hardworking guys and everyone who’s behind them.
Science and Honor!
And People.
OK – to be honest, I don’t really know who all is reading this. That being said, this might not be such a good idea, but I’m going to let you all know where I will be next Saturday night. Hopefully all the Mark David Chapman’s of the East Bay region will stay home.
At any rate, long time friends, and even longer time rockers Los Hooligans (Fresno, CA) and Monkey (San Jose, CA) will be playing, along with close acquaintances SOL (East Bay, CA) at the Starry Plough next Saturday. This promises to be an excellent show, and I promise to drink at least one beer. Los Hooligans don’t play often, so it’s always a treat when they make it to the Bay Area. (Yes, it’s capitalized. ‘Cause I said so.) So, if you’re in the vicinity and you want to hang out and hear a variety of takes on the sounds of Jamaican ska, please stop by.
I just got the weekly newsletter from the Red Devil Lounge, announcing that Black 47 is booked. Unfortunately, the gig isn’t until March, but tickets go on sale this weekend.
Black 47 is a political Irish-American band from New York that I have loved since the nineties. I have even read the singer’s memoir, “Green Suede Shoes”.
The thing is, I’ve never actually seen them live. I had intended to go out to New York a day early for my business trip so that I could catch their weekly gig, until I found out how expensive a hotel room in Manhattan could be on a Saturday night. I had every intention of going to see them last time they were in SF, but no one was interested in going with me, and so I caved and went to Pier 23 instead.
This time I’m going. Even if I have to go alone.
I’m excited.
This last week’s journey to New York City was a work related trip. I got in on Sunday evening, checked into the hotel, and then headed out with my two co-workers from SF to find some food. We decided to try the West Village, and as we were walking down the street, I spotted an Ethiopian restaurant. Everyone knows I love me some goop on flat bread, so I was down. One of my co-workers had never had it, but he was game to try. I thought it was really good, but I also think I’ve had better in Oakland at either Ensarro or Cafe Colucci.
Once we were done with dinner, we decided to aimlessly wander the streets of New York. We ended up at a pub for a pint, and caught a bit of the ALCS game 7. Then our party diminished by one, and me and the other co-worker decided to check out Times Square.
Sorry to report, there was no debauchery this time.
After tromping through the theater district, my co-worker decided to call it a night, so I was on my own. I decided I wanted to see some more of that ball game, so I found an Irish pub (there are a million of them) and bellied up to the bar. The funny thing, mambo music was blaring out of the jukebox the entire time. No jigs. No reels. No airs. Just mambo. I thought it was a wee bit funny. Anyway, I was watching the game, enjoying the pint or two, but I was really only one of two paying attention. I felt like there had to be a better place to see it, but at the same time, I didn’t want to wander any more. I eventually went back to my room to watch the last inning. And then I called my mom to tell her how big the room was. I had a suite to myself, and it was bigger than my new apartment. (BTW – still haven’t moved, but I’m packing.)
Eventually I got to bed around one in the morning east coast time, which would be ten back home, so still pretty early for me.
Monday was the first day of our training and meetings. I have to say the best part of the trip, work wise, was meeting a bunch of people face to face who I had only emailed, IMed, and telephoned before. My co-worker likened it to the first date with someone you met via on-line dating.
After work, we went to dinner as a crew, I think there were probably 30 people at the dinner. We had “Mexican Themed” food. They called it Mexican, but I’m sorry, that was not Mexican. The guacamole was decent. That’s all I have to say about that. I’ve had better margaritas. After the dinner, a smaller contingent of about 15 ventured to a nearby lounge. From that point on, people began to mysteriously disappear, and the party dwindled. Finally it was just me and the crew from Boston. I had no idea what time it was, but they wanted to make their way over to Times Square (again) and were very keen to have me come along.
So I found myself at another Irish pub, with the 4th pint of Guinness on the evening, having a lively discussion with a pair of guys from the Boston office, when I leisurely looked at my cell to find that it was three in the morning!!! I booked it out of there, got a cab back to my hotel, and crashed.
I made it to work on time the next morning, but I’m not sure how. I chugged two cups of hotel room coffee first thing in the morning, and I know that I would have died had I not. That day went without much incident, and that evening, I finally had some time to myself.
I wandered the East Village for hours, trying to make up mind where to eat, before I finally decided on a Himalayan place. I had the best salad there, with avocados and potatoes in a citrus dressing. Then I hopped in a saloon I’d seen that had gotten my attention. It was the Double Down Saloon. There’s a saloon of the same name in Las Vegas that I spent some time in the last time I was there. It turns out that the one in the East Village is owned by the same man as the one in Vegas. I thought it was pretty cool, plus earned me some bragging rights for having had a PBR or two at both locations. Tuesday was a relatively early evening, as I was back in the hotel around 11.
Wednesday was nothing to write home about in the office, but my Himalayan experience the night before had me craving Burmese food. I knew that my co-worker from SF would be down too, and we decided to put the invite out to everyone. Since the company wouldn’t be picking up this check, only our boss was interested in going. The three of us had a good time, though, and I really felt that it gave us a chance to bond with “The Big Guy in New York” who we really don’t know too too well.
After dinner, the boss took off, and we found ourselves in the East Village again. At this point, the warm place in my heart for that neighborhood was well established. I got in touch with a co-worker, J-lew, from my last job at ZD who is now living in New York, working out of their East Coast office. It turns out she lives in the East Village, too. She came down and had a couple of beers, before showing us the greatest food spot in all the world. It’s called Pommes Frites. Basically, all they sell are fries, Belgian Fries to be exact. And they have a bagillion different dipping sauces. We had pesto mayo, honey mustard, and mango chutney. It was the best late night snack for us three girls to share. J also showed us around the corner to a place called Bamn that was like an old school automat, with vending machines full of hot grilled cheese and chicken strips. Well, my affection for the neighborhood increased to full blown infatuation at this stage. I vow to make many returns.
The next afternoon, I boarded my plane to return back to San Francisco. It had been a good trip, but I was ready to return to my life, get on with the packing and moving, and deal in full time reality. Plus, the food and drink was starting to take its toll. It turns out that I gained five pounds when I was in New York.
The trip was good, though. I feel like I had got a lot out of the work experience, and I feel that it boosted my confidence a lot. I think that if I wanted to, I could totally make it in New York City, and if that’s the case, then Berkeley should be a breeze.
Just sayin’.
I frequently hang out with a group of bikers, even though I don’t ride myself. They’re a fun group of people, and some of them are really good friends. Some of them are nuts. I think that could be said of any group of people. I usually see this group every Wednesday night. We get together and socialize at different bars around The City, like Molotov’s on Haight or the Hi Dive on Embarcadero. There’s a lot of taking the piss with one another, and several little pranks that folks in the group like to play on each other. My favorite is the kill switch.
On a motorcycle, the starter is different from a car, in that there’s the key and then there’s a button. To start the bike, turn the key and push the button, basically. To turn the bike off, push the button. The thing is, unlike a car, everything is out in the open on a motorcycle. Also, when you’re riding with a group of motorcycles, you usually pull up to stops and what not side by side.
One night, months ago, after leaving the bar, J4 explained the prank while I was sitting on the back of his bike at stop with Dub next to us. He hadn’t really been meaning to encourage me, but I caught on pretty quickly. Just as the light was about to change, I reached over and smacked the switch on Dub’s bike, and J4 took off, leaving Dub sitting at the now green light. I thought this was hilarious.
Last night, we were out as usual, only we had taken my car instead of one of J4’s bikes. As we were leaving, several of the others were pulling away on their bikes. One fellow, who I’ll call Yellow, came to the first light with us on my side of the car and waved. At the next light, he was on the passenger’s side. I said to J4, “you know what would be funny is if you could lean out of the car, and get his kill switch.” The difference between this and what we did with Dub was that I really was trying to encourage J4. Well, it didn’t take much.
J4 leaned out of the car window, and couldn’t quite reach the switch, but he did manage to turn the key, and shut the bike down. Just as it died, the light turned green, and J4 pulled himself back in. We heard the most awesome, “AAAAAHHH” from Yellow as I pulled away from the light.
We were pretty freaking pleased with ourselves, and we giggled all the way back to Oakland.
Peggy Lu Who's Just Sayin' 
