Birthday Boy

Happy Birthday, Mr. Anastasio!

Sphere

Sphere
Originally uploaded by Beezwaxxx.

once in a while you get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right...

Classy

I have decided that there must be something about me that just shouts class. Case and point-on Sunday night I met a guy who I gave my number to. Anyway, he called me and asked me out, and last night was our first "date". He picked me up and we went in to Georgetown. As we walked around, looking for a bar, he spotted a liquor store and his eyes sort of lit up. This is when he looks over at me and says, "I've got an idea." Twenty minutes later we are sitting on a rock next to the Potomac River, with a bottle of Jack Daniels in a paper bag. If that doesn't scream class, I don't know what does. I was definitely taken aback. One part of me thought, "OK, well he has obviously discovered my love of bourbon, and I guess that's a good thing..." While the more logical part of me was thinking, "The homeless guy who lives on this rock is going to be pissed when he comes home and there are two people drinking bourbon on his rock, unwilling to share. What in the hell am I doing here?" When did it become acceptable to bring someone on a first date down by the river to drink booze? I mean, I don't need anything fancy, but, seriously, schwilling JD out of a brown paper bag on a homeless dudes rock? The worst part of all of this is that I actually went back to his house with him afterwards to watch "Lost". He then attempted to grope me for about twenty minutes, and that's when I said goodnight. A seriously classy night with an even classier dude. I think I'm in love...

Rook-Star=Rock-Star?

This e-mail says it all (make sure to click on the link):

Kids,

Just for fun, I edited down "Let It Bleed" and "The Gambler" and posted them for everyone's listening pleasure. You can download them at:

http://homepage.mac.com/blueman7/FileSharing1.html

Neither of these were the highlight music-wise, but they sure were fun. On Let It Bleed, Glenn pulls off a decent lead guitar solo, which is unfortunately way too loud. Listen through it though, because there's an excellent keys solo from Jordan after it. There's also some good bickering between Rook and Timmy after the song is over about how it was supposed to be sung.

And, with The Gambler...even if you don't listen to the song, definitely check out the "warm up" part at the beginning. Rookie is working it big time over Monk's beat box. Kenny Rogers done with Beat Box...now that IS a new one for the Lounge.

I'll maybe edit and post some of the better stuff over the weekend when I get back. The Sneakin' Sally, Feelin' All Right and Wolfman's all have good moments.Fun night.

-blue

The Man (#4)

A week or so ago, I made a pretty long list of people who I consider to be the man. This morning, I realized a massive oversight on that list, and I decided it was time to rectify the situation. George Harrison... The man has written the majority of my favorite Beatles songs, and wrote love songs like no one else could. His poignant words and guitar work resonate with me always and he holds a very special place in my heart. I originally had another guitar player on the list as being the man, and although he still may make the final cut, no one does it for me like George.

I only wish I would have had the chance to see him perform before his very untimely death...

In honor of Mr. Harrison, I would suggest listening to some Beatles today (I am currently listening to "Revolver") or some of his solo stuff-"All Things Must Pass" may just be one of the most beautiful albums of all time.

No Doy

I have rediscovered a classic, and friends, I couldn't be happier. VERY long story short, a certain former roommate of mine (who will go unnamed), who I lived with for a good amount of time made out with the majority of my CD's when we stopped living together. Since then, I have been trying to replenish my large collection of music, and slowly but surely, I am. Anyway, No Doy by moe. was one of my favorite albums, I used to listen to it all the time, back in the day, but unfortunately, it was one of the albums that was made off with and I guess I just sort of forgot about it. Well, today (thanks to id1g1t.com and Monks) I remembered it and began listening to it at work. Looks like I still love this album. Every song is fantastic and listening to this album is reminding me why I began to dig moe. in the first place. I haven't seen them in so long though, and now I am even more pumped to go and see them at Vegoose. I miss seeing those guys-and for the life of me I can't remember why I haven't seen them in so long (damn Phish coming back really got in the way of me seeing a lot of music I had been seeing during the hiatus). Just thought I would share my elation at my new rediscovery. Carry on.

The Man (#3)

For the third edition of men who I love, I have chosen someone, who to me, epitomizes sexiness and britishness. That man: Moore, Roger Moore. Moore played Bond a record of seven times (a feat only accomplished by one other man, Sean Connery) and stared in my favorite James Bond film of all time, "Live and Let Die". Although he hasn't aged all that nicely, Mr. Moore will always have a place in my heart, and I will think of him always as Bond, James Bond.

Have a martini on me today Mr. Moore, shaken, not stirred.

Ultimate Fighting, Particle and Player-dom

An hour of my life was just lost, and I will never get it back. I just wrote an incredibly witty and irreverent post, and lo and behold, since technology hates me, it disappeared in to cyber-space when I tried to publish it. All of that hard work, gone. I am now going to try round 2 (and this time, I will not be foiled, for I am drafting said post in MSWord. I apologize, for I can almost 100% guarantee that this post will not be nearly as good as my last, but that is only because I am wicked bitter that all of my hard work was ultimately for nil.

I’ve been having all sorts of great ideas lately. I don’t know what has been so inspiring, but take them for what they are worth. I came up with this idea while watching Particle at the 9:30 club last night (I’ll talk about the show in the next paragraph). OK, my fantastic idea of the moment is ULTIMATE FIGHTING: Jamband Edition. That’s right. I want for all of my favorite bands to fight each other to the (near) death. There would be odds and lots of betting, and the winner of the said fight would get to play a victory show afterwards. Take a moment to think of all of the possibilities-they are endless. Moe. vs. Umphrey’s. The remaining members of the Dead vs. the now defunct Phish. The Slip vs. The Duo. I think this is better than my US Weekly style gossip magazine idea that would be based on the Jamband scene. My band friends would probably disown me if I told all of their dirty secrets (plus, many of them were divulged in the “circle of trust” and I am pretty sure that the punishment for breaking the “circle of trust” involves fire and pitchforks). You can take the idea even further, and pit members of your favorite bands against each other. Who would win in the Mike vs. Trey fight? Would Kris kick Andy’s ass, or vice versa? Keller is the man, but is Lou more of the man? Nershi is old, but big, would he crush Kang? Marco and Russo both have equal prowess with the ladies, but which of those boys from the dirty Jerez would ultimately have the 1-2 punch combo? Brownstein has a funny voice, but Jon seems like he would be scappy. Ah, just thinking about this gets me all excited! I think I should talk to someone about this, it would be the hottest thing to hit the Jamband scene in a long time.

Particle rocked my world. This was my second time seeing them, and to say that they brought it would be a massive understatement. Steve Molitz’s hypnotized me with his amazing keyboard talent, and I have never enjoyed the moog as much as I did last night. They kept me pumped and dancing during the entire show, which is quite a feet for any band to accomplish on a random Sunday night. The crowd ate them up, and they, in return, played their hearts out. I would be very interested in checking out their incarnation as Hydra (with Mickey Hart on drums). I think that Mickey would bring a whole new element to their already amazing sound. Particle indeed has Rook’s seal of approval-I would definitely recommend checking them out when the come to a town near you.

Now, for my final random thought. I realized this morning as I was walking to work, that I am a player. There is no getting around it; I love boys (much in the same vein as Jay-Z loves girls). Don’t get me wrong, I am definitely looking for love and companionship from one man, but right now, there are so many different men in my life who all serve very specific needs of mine. For example, among my repertoire right now are: the doctor, the golfer, the DJ, the musician and the mid-westerner. All of these men are great in their own special ways and I have much love for each one of them. Yet, ultimately, I need to find someone whose personality covers all of the previous personas, and more. So for now, I am a player, and you know what? When it comes down to it, I am proud of my player status. “Put your number on this paper ‘cause I’d love to date you, holla at you when I come off tour.” Who knew Jay-Z and I had so much in common?? But please folks, don’t hate the player, hate the game. I really do love boys…

Kittens

Ah, kittens. Is there anything more precious than the sweet bundle of joy known as kittens? As of lately, my partner in crime, CPT, and I have been having a lot of fun with the notion that every time you masturbate, God kills a kitten. I guess you could say its become a theme in everyday conversation. Here is a pretty funny example of an exchange on the killing of kittens (keep in mind, this conversation took place in a room full of people):

CPT: I don't know what I am up to. I'm hanging right here for now.
Rook: Hmmm. OK. I guess I will just go and kill some kittens.

As CPT and I explode in to hysterical laughter, the room full of people looks at me, shocked. That's right people, I just said I am going to go and kill some kittens. Get over it. Anyway, I suggest that you use this phrase as a euphemism for masturbation-it really is a lot of fun. I even wrote a haiku about it during lunch:

nothing left to do
lets go kill us some kittens
that never gets old

I am literally sitting here at my desk laughing out loud. This truly will NEVER get old.

The Man (#2)

Welcome all, to the second installment of men I love. For the second installment, I decided to go with an athlete that I love. This was a tough choice. There are a lot of runner's up in this category (Patrick Ewing, Kwame Brown, Ron Artest, etc.), but when it came down to it, I had to go with the one and only, Mr. John Daly. Not only does he have one of the longest drives on the PGA tour, but he is also a big drinker, smoker, and eater, he is sponsored by Hooters and he recorded a hysterical album titled "My Life" (which featured classics such as "All of my Exes Wear Rolexes", "Longball Rebel", and my personal favorite, "I'm Drunk").

So Mr. Daly, for all of those reasons and more, you are now one of Rook's favorite men! Congrats buddy-have a beer on me tonight!

The Man (#1)

I am starting a new feature on this here blog---giving my propers to men that I love. #1 on this list is FDR. Three words for you-THE NEW DEAL!

Stay tuned for my next installment. That man I love could very well be YOU (probably not though).

A Haiku (or three)

Partying all night
Makes me useless on Monday
Those Umphrey’s dudes suck

Working is for bums
Sleeping in would be so rad
I wish I were rich

My nose is stuffy
Allergies abound before
Yet not anymore

Killer Disc, Brah...

I am sure most of you do not know this about me, but one of my favorite things to do is make kick-ass mixes. I'm talking balls to the wall, great selection, great placement, get the party started type of discs. To welcome the advent of Fall, I would like to make a new mix, but, lo and behold, I am feeling a little uninspired. So, please leave me your suggestions of what songs should be on "Rook's Killer Fall Tunes" disc. I promise you, it will be greatly appreciated!

The Bush Family Visits New Orleans

Stop Being Polite, Start Getting Real

A new era of Rook has begun, and it is an era I would like to share with you, my loyal readers, and this is an era of "getting real". A very wise person brought a few very interesting ideas in to my life last week, and the most important of all of those ideas was the fact that the first few times she met me, she thought I had this odd air about me, a meanness of sorts. This caught me off guard. Of all of the things that I consider myself to be, mean isn't one of them. She went on to tell me that after spending some time with me, she came to notice that I am in fact not mean, but just very closed-off. Translation: I don't let people in to see the real me, because I am afraid of getting hurt. Her advice to me; start getting real. I thought about this statement for a really long time... What am I if not real? And while at first, her statement really bothered me, it eventually occurred to me that she was absolutely 100% right. Only a handful of my closest friends and family know the "real" Rook, and in my humble opinion, she is a pretty good person to know, so why shouldn't the whole world know her? I should probably translate, I haven't been being fake, I just haven't been showing my full-hand, so to speak. Who cares about getting hurt? So, as I started out saying, this is the beginning of a whole new era of Rook-the era of "getting real". I've got to say, it's a pretty exciting thing, and it's working just as it should! Why hide your emotions? Why be afraid? For after all, the other side of fear, is freedom.

Special Delivery!

I am pleased to announce that as of yesterday, I have a new baby in my life. Weighing in at 5.9 ounces, and equip with 20 GB of memory, I have laid my original i-pod mini to rest and am making room for my new and improved baby, the original i-pod. While the mini and I had countless good times with each other, it was time for an upgrade, and I couldn't be happier! Five times the amount of music, a cool color display and sleek design make my new i-pod the best investment of the year. I will miss the old one though, in all of her pink splendor. Anyway, on to more exciting things...

This weekend. What can I say about this weekend that hasn't already been said (probably a lot, seeing as I haven't said anything about it yet, that sentence just sounded cool). I spent another weekend in my fantastic home state of New York (I was there last weekend as well). It's funny, because I have all of these things that I have been wanting to say about the past two weekends, but every time I try to sit down and express my feelings I am at a major loss for words. So, instead of putting you all through a half-assed account of the events that have made up the past two-weeks, I will simply say this: at the moment, I am an incredibly happy-camper! I wish I could elaborate, but I won't...

TONIGHT---Everyone's favorite band, Moxie Brown, will be playing a gig in Falls Church, VA at Bangkok Blues, starting at 7:30. If you want to see some great music on a Monday night and support my favorite group of musicians, come on down; you will not be disappointed.

And I Meant, Everything I Said

Ok, I am going to admit something really embarrassing to you, my loyal readers. I have horrible taste in music. Horrible, and incredibly varied. Actually, maybe I should re-phrase, for the most part, I have pretty good taste in music, but, their are definitely some questionable artists in my i-pod, such as Rod Stewart, ABBA and there may even be a Jessica Simpson song on there (I am sorry, but I couldn't get "With You" out of my head for months, which must mean something). Anyway, along with those somewhat questionable artists (and that's just a sampling), lies REO Speedwagon. That's right, I listen to REO! Anyway, this morning on my walk to work was one of those times that I was grooving on the Speedwagon. So, I am rocking out (as always) on my 7 1/2 minute walk from my apartment to my office, and their massive hit, "Keep on Loving You" begins playing. I have always thought of this song as a song of love. Yet, as I listened carefully to the lyrics this morning, I came to a whole new conclusion. As the chorus sang out to me; "And I'm gonna keep on lovin you, cause it's the only thing I wanna do, I don't wanna sleep, I just wanna keep on lovin you" occurred to me that this is not a love song at all. No, no, no-it seems to me that this is a song about "doin' it" all night long. It's about a marathon sex session, not love. Anyway, maybe this is just my minds way of telling me that its been WAY too long, but that is how I interpreted said song this morning.

Please share with me your own interpretations. I'd be curious to hear if anyone agrees with me, or if I am just crazy (which is probably true anyway).

Feelgood story of the day

In this world filled with fear and uncertainty, it's nice to know there are still goals to be set and titles to be upheld... here is one such story taken from the PGroove message boards:

"Here is a story about a man, a man named, 30 Funnel Steve...thats me.

It all began about two months ago, in a small party house in madburry new hampshire. I had come up from mass. with my buddy rob to party with his cousin kevin (k-funk to be correct) and all his buddies from UNH. Now when you take alot of people and all of them bringing 30 racks of beer over something special is bound to happen.

I have to say there were probably 24 cars all parked around this house and the party was bump'n. Beer pong, music blarring and oh ya then there was the funnel. For whatever reason I decided I'm going to see how many funnels I could do in one night. So I'm running back and forth from the fridge and grabbing two beers at a time and counting off the funnels one by one. Now unfortunetly i dont know exactly how many funnels I did but it seems when i got to number 22 I started to count backwards... rediculous haha. I'm guessing the final number was somewhere in the 30's. Hence the name.

After the party was over and the sun was up, people said they could hear a growl outside near rob's van. It was actually me passed out in the van snoring. Now to my surprise I wake up feeling pretty good, well rested, and no hang over. Pretty much drank myself sober. Now this is where it gets crazy.

My friend Jess's friend "Biggie" from maine hears about my 30 funnel night and challenges me to a funnel off. So I accept the challenge and we decide to throw down at this years moe.down. Now only a few days before we left I'm thinking, wait a minute, 30 funnel steve thats a...a great platform for running for mayor of moe.down. anyway we'll get back to the election later, back to the challenge.

So I wasn't messin around with this challenge, we made it legit. We had some rules...
1. You have from dusk till dawn to do 30 funnels
2. You are allowed to boot and rally (puke)
3. You have to have your own funnel and 30 rack
4. The winner is the person who funnels the most beers in that amount of time.

Ya there were some other rules but basically its just about gett'n poo-tanked and having fun with it. So before I left for the moe.down this year I went to the hardware store and bought a little metal funnel and some gold spray paint and started to construct the 30 funnel trophy. now all i brought with me to the festival was a piece of broken railing and that golden funnel. On Saturday i just walked up and down shakedown street and people gave me some duct tape and we taped a PBR can to the bottom to make the base. Then I tied some hemp string to it so i could just carry it on my back like a back pack. I also had one of the artist on shakedown do some cool art work on it. Never the less this thing was sooo ghetto but so perfect at the same time. Then there was the campain...

On sunday I dressed up in a black dress shirt, a black tux vest, black slacks and borrowed a red white and blue striped tie from my friend ali.The icing on the cake though was the red stripe brimmed hat...so money. So I just walk around all day telling people that I'm running for mayor and everyone's eating it up. and then the election....

If you dont know what i mean they have an election at every moe.down and choose a mayor. last year it was a 11 year old drummer named matt.There were a few contestants this year, some people even had buisness cards, i went strictly word of mouth. Just before the last set moe starts off the election and the crowd always decides. To get the bands attention i was about 4 rows deep and i had a funnel in my hand that i snuck in and it was ready to go. I finally get rob (the bassist) attention and he adds me to the ballot. Then i walk the funnel down to the front and offer it to rob, he declines and then i just do it for him and the crowd goes ape poo. They end up electing this guy beer song gary, some 80 year old hippie dude so i quickly whip out the trophy and hold it proudly in the air and rob sees it and i pass it up stage. Moe just looked in amazement at this trophy and end up keeping it right on stage. rob even said "This thing is sweet, I think I'll throw it up on my wall."

So after this whole extravaganza the rest of the night was rediculous. I mean I walked up to every site i could with my funnel and gave funnels away, people were just loving it and i was loving it too. Someone even had a 5 foot funnel and I mean what the hell I'm 30 funnel steve right? So I did it and it was full too.

And thats the story up until now, I'm sure there will be a part 2 coming up soon. Both Biggie and I decided that at every moe.down we will be doing this 30 funnel challenge so if you want in start training now because no joke, its intense as hell. But what I took from this experience is this, there are few times in life where you feel apart of something and the more we can get something like this going the better life will be...well shit something like that.

Thanks for reading, enjoy your day. peace.
~bostonsteve~

Tell It Like It Is

(Thanks to Aunt Juji for sharing)

Friday, September 2nd, 2005

Dear Mr. Bush:

Any idea where all our helicopters are? It's Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Do you need help finding them? I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag.

Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren't there to begin with?

Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn't want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don't like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her!

I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don't let people criticize you for this -- after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike?

And don't listen to those who, in the coming days, will reveal how you specifically reduced the Army Corps of Engineers' budget for New Orleans this summer for the third year in a row. You just tell them that even if you hadn't cut the money to fix those levees, there weren't going to be any Army engineers to fix them anyway because you had a much more important construction job for them -- BUILDING DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ!

On Day 3, when you finally left your vacation home, I have to say I was moved by how you had your Air Force One pilot descend from the clouds as you flew over New Orleans so you could catch a quick look of the disaster. Hey, I know you couldn't stop and grab a bullhorn and stand on some rubble and act like a commander in chief. Been there done that.

There will be those who will try to politicize this tragedy and try to use it against you. Just have your people keep pointing that out. Respond to nothing. Even those pesky scientists who predicted this would happen because the water in the Gulf of Mexico is getting hotter and hotter making a storm like this inevitable. Ignore them and all their global warming Chicken Littles. There is nothing unusual about a hurricane that was so wide it would be like having one F-4 tornado that stretched from New York to Cleveland.

No, Mr. Bush, you just stay the course. It's not your fault that 30 percent of New Orleans lives in poverty or that tens of thousands had no transportation to get out of town. C'mon, they're black! I mean, it's not like this happened to Kennebunkport. Can you imagine leaving white people on their roofs for five days? Don't make me laugh! Race has nothing -- NOTHING -- to do with this!

You hang in there, Mr. Bush. Just try to find a few of our Army helicopters and send them there. Pretend the people of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are near Tikrit.

Yours,
Michael Moore
MMFlint@aol.com
www.MichaelMoore.com

P.S. That annoying mother, Cindy Sheehan, is no longer at your ranch. She and dozens of other relatives of the Iraqi War dead are now driving across the country, stopping in many cities along the way. Maybe you can catch up with them before they get to DC on September 21st.

RIP Lil' Buddy

I hope you make it to heaven on your three-hour tour.

We'd Rather See the Chicks in the Front Row

Taken from jambands.com:

Dudes In The Front Row
Holly Isbister
2005-05-08

It doesn't seem that long ago that I watched the infamous scene in Bittersweet Motel, in which Trey Anastasio sings a little improvised ditty about the beloved chicks in the front row. The relationship between rock star and groupie is decades old. From the tall tales about Led Zeppelin's "shark" incident to the Hollywood films, Almost Famous and The Banger Sisters, the groupie is a mythic, tragic character commonly misunderstood (or so she would claim) who at best, serves as a muse for creative male musicians, and at worst, subjugates herself through sex to feed her need for the attention of the famous star she idolizes.

The word groupie has terrible connotations to the majority of music fans for a number of reasons. The first assumption is that a groupie isn't really at the show for the music - she's there to make out with a band member and brag about it later to her friends. A second assumption is that the groupie is a slut - willing to do anything and everything to sexually please the star. And lastly, the groupie is commonly associated with indulgence. In the 80's indulgence was cool, but with Indie rockers like Radiohead and Wilco and even jamband musicians like Phish and The Dead, there's a sense of subtlety and a desire to be taken seriously as musicians - not just pigeon holed as decadent rock stars. In this respect, the groupie is a stigma to your credibility. It's like certain illicit substances - it's not kosher to flaunt it, but it's there nonetheless.

As a female fan, the term groupie causes a bit of a conundrum. No female music fan I have ever met would enjoy being called a groupie, because of the connotations cited above. But put yourself in the front row, in a cute outfit, and start shakin' it, and somehow that insecurity creeps up. Can you do that without being perceived as a groupie? Can you love the music and want to see every second of that man's finger movement on his fret board and not be seen as an overzealous ho wanting to rip his pants off? Can you love music and not the musician? Well yes, of course. And maybe that's the problem. Maybe a groupie isn't all of these things. Maybe a better connotation for the term groupie, is someone who feels complete and total adoration for the music that some individual creates and, it follows, they feel complete and total adoration for the musician.

The ironic thing about it, if you go to any sort of show, is that you don't see many chicks in the front row. Nine times out of ten, the front through fifth rows are almost all guys. There's a chick or two in there, but the area is undeniably dominated by males. There could be a number of explanations for this; women aren't as into music (in a general sense) as men are and the ratio of women to men always favors men; women aren't as likely to be as zealous and fight for the front row spots; women simply get pushed out of the way due to their smaller physiology. Or maybe, just maybe, the male fans are the actual groupies. Perhaps women fans have been ill portrayed all along, and it is in fact the male fans that are most guilty of shameless idol worship (of whatever form you might choose). Why should the fact that women have sex with rock stars stigmatize them from their equally front row, ho-esque male counterparts? It's my belief that most men, were they female, would want to hump the living brains out of their rock star idols.

I'm not condoning groupie behavior, in the same way I wouldn't condone one of my male friends taking home a stripper from a bachelor party. But I am a bit peeved that women fans face a certain stigma when in fact their male counterparts are guilty in their own right and never seem to get called out for it. Perhaps for the same reason, rock critics have credibility, when we're just as shameless, overzealous, and obsessive about music and musicians as the rest of the lot.

Insert Foot...

...In mouth.

Sometimes, my stupidity amazes even me.

God damn internet. I should know, do not post personal events from your life if you do not want them to be read.

DAMNIT. I am an idiot.

Let this be an apology to anyone whom I have brought in to my circle of insanity. My advice to you-stay away! I am trouble.

Shit. Seriously.

From now on, I vow to only speak of the most pertinent issues. On that note, I am including a link to the Red Cross. Please give generously if you can-our friends down there in N'awlins need us now more than ever.

...But I Like It!

I’ve been trying to figure out how to appropriately tell this story, without dropping names or pissing too many people off. But, after constant urging from Monks, and about a week to properly get my head around said event, it is now time to tell the true story of what happened in somewhere in Maryland, one week back. I’ll start from the beginning and end where appropriate… It starts:

Thursday evening Monks, CPT and I plan to meet up within Washington, DC to head over to the "Mumphrey's HcGee"* show in Maryland. From the time 7:30 arrived, there were problems. CPT is calling me because she can’t figure out where to go and I am pissy that she has gotten lost. Funny enough, for once, Monks was on time and we set off down the road to look for young CPT. Thankfully, we find her quickly and head off on our merry way. We get to the show (in record time) and are encountered with problem #2. While we are indeed on the guest list (thank you guys!) we have not been given passes. CPT is freaking. She wants to see bassist. I decide to let her handle said “problem” and proceed to make my way to the bar with Monks. Sometime later, "Hose Dill Rive"* takes the stage (let me just tell you, they ROCK, like, too much metal for one hand kind of rocking) and the head-banging begins. Sometime during their set, I turn around to see keyboardist walking behind me.

Rook: Hey, keyboardist, how you doing tonight?
Keyboardist: Great, Rook! How about you?
Rook: Good! My girl CPT here is freaking out because she wants to see bassist, but other than that, excellent… These guys rock, don’t they?
Keyboardist: Yeah, they are pretty decent. Well, stand right here after the show and I’ll come and get you.
Rook: Thanks keyboardist, have a great show!

Problem #2-averted. So, "Hose Dill Rive"* ends and the drinking continues. CPT and I go way up front so we can really rock, and "Mumphrey's"* begins to play. Now, keep in mind, I was drinking pretty heavily and not really paying too much attention to anything but my level of alcohol and the band, but every time I spoke to CPT, she seemed increasingly drunker. At one point, I turn to say something to her and she screams at me: “No talking. Focus on the music.” At this point, I didn’t really think too much of it, and promptly turned around and continued to rock out. Well, two sets end and I am glowing with the sweat of dancing my ass off for a few hours, and almost instantaneously, I turn around and CPT is no where to be seen. I don’t think too much of it, and find Monks (who has been hanging with Crazy Red Beard for the show) and we proceed to make our way backstage. Anyway, we head on back and chill with everyone for a while, when I realize that CPT has gone missing. After some investigation I notice that bassist has gone missing as well. I don’t think too much of it, and when invited back to the hotel to party by drummer I figure, what the hell, I can guarantee that is where CPT disappeared to anyway.

So back to the hotel we go, and after hanging there for an hour or so, I realize it is time to find out about the whereabouts of CPT. I proceed to ask drummer where bassist is, and we go on a mission to find him. Lo and behold, bassist is in his hotel room, where CPT lies sleeping like a little drunken angel. After some discussion, we decide it is best to let CPT sleep, and we all proceed to go to another room to continue the party. So, party we do… I sort of lost track of time at some point, but it had to be around 5 am when I went down to the hotel lobby and noticed copious amounts of police officers. SHIT! In addition to the police officers, I heard someone screaming. As I walked closer, I recognized the voice of my little drunken angel, CPT. Upon further inspection, I see that she is surrounded by said police, wearing nothing but a tee-shirt. SHIT TWICE! So having had a little bit to drink myself that night, I try my best to sober up and put the most responsible look on my face and in my eyes.

Rook: Officer, what is going on here?
Cop: We found this girl wandering around the hotel naked. When the guard here tried to restrain her, she threw something at his face, cutting him.
Rook: [whilst glancing over at said guard, and noticing the blood dripping down his face] Oh my god Officer, I am so sorry, she has had a lot to drink tonight. Can I just bring her upstairs and put her to sleep?
Cop: No ma’am, she is no longer allowed in the Sheraton.
CPT: [screaming] What the fuck? This asshole punched me in the face! [more drunken mumbling]

TRIPLE SHIT! So, here I am, at five in the morning, in a town I’ve never been to before, with a friend who is so shit-canned that she has been wandering around the hotel naked and assaulting security guards, and for the life of me, I don’t know what to do.

As I run upstairs, back to where everyone is hanging out, I wonder to myself, how am I going to explain this one? I knock on the door and immediately drag bassist out in to the hall with me. I sort of felt like I was living that scene in Dirty Dancing where Baby sees Penny crying in the upper-lodge, and has to run back to Johnny and slyly get him to come and check on Penny. Anyway, I grab him and we go down to his room to grab CPT’s things. We bring them downstairs, and now bassist begins to try to reason with the officers. It was pretty much, “we don’t care where she goes, but she can’t stay here.” Anyway, after much quick-thinking, we decide to bring her back to the tour-bus which is still at the venue, and to have her pass-out there. Let me tell you, I don’t think I have ever been on such an awkward walk in my life, with my friend who can barely walk and a dude, who while amazingly cool, I have only hung with a handful of times.

Anyway, we managed to get CPT to pass-out on said bus and continued the party back at the hotel.

The next day, after I have drank enough pre-show to forget the previous nights events, we stumble back to the venue to get on the free-beer train. We walk in to the dressing room, and guitarists #1 and #2 are sitting there, tuning up.

Guitarist #1: Hey CPT, heard you had a great night last night!
CPT: Can we not talk about this? I am really trying to forget about all of it.
Guitarist #1: Not to worry, it’s all rock and roll!

Classic!

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent

I made up my own joke!!

"So, did you hear about the Christian dairy shop?

It's called Cheeses Christ!!"



...jesus, I need some sleep.