It’s now almost 12 hours into year 38 for me, and I at least I no longer feel like I’ve been beaten about the upper back with a truncheon (even after yesterday’s 3-hour nap, necessitated by one of my editors who thought it would be funny to have me up and working yesterday morning after an extra-late night). But it was a good pain in which to suffer; anything that can restore my faith in the NWI music scene with the sheer joy akin to getting picked up by a 20-something and then bent over the hood of a car signifies a good night all around.

I’m not even sure I can describe Friday night’s show with River Oaks, FIL and The Steepwater Band other than with a slack-jawed “Whoa ...” Like, put your drink down and stare in wonder at how three skinny boys from Portage can make all that rock. Just unreal. At one point, guitarist Jeff Massey did this thing where both his hands were on the base of the guitar, and it was all “weedleeweedleeweedleeweedleeweedleeeeeeeee!” with fingers flying, swear to God. I’ve never seen anything like it. River Oaks, led by my D-list celebrity BFF hairstylist Ben Mollin (I love bringing that up), opened up the gig, and it was the quirkiest of the three—Girlie describes it as “middle-aged punk,” while FIL was hard-driving power pop(Girlie and I hate this cliche, but I have no better way of describing them at the moment). Then Steepwater, then a jam featuring Steepwater and NWI guitar virtuoso-leprechaun Danny Giorgi, who can sing backup with a cigarette in his mouth like no other. Seriously, I can’t say enough about these guys, and not just because they’re friends of mine. (Sidenote: Are they REALLY going to make them play the last freakin’ second of the Super Bowl!?? Really!??) So, when Steepwater comes to a bar near you, treat yourself and go. Oh, and I would say go buy something of theirs off iTunes, but keep in mind that magic can’t really be recorded well.

Second day of my birthday weekend: Up at the asscrack to work, then lunch with Kaffy, then sleeping. Glorious sleeping.

Today was lunch with Mother—who’s doing well with the anti-psychotic, and that’s the best gift for which I could ask, really—and now I’m over at Girlie’s for Crap TV night after hanging at her family restaurant for the Super Bowl. Have I told y’all lately that my peeps are the greatest peeps in the world? Because they really are, and I love every one of them. The birthday wishes have me all mooshie and stuff, even the drinks from my Facebook pals whom I’ve never met. It’s nice being remembered.

I’ll post pics from Friday night when I get home...

12:26 ayem: Ok, I’m home now, so pics ahoy below the fold (please note that for my purposes here, I ran some of these through Photoshop quick fix, so colors and stuff are going to look wonky): 

Ever eat something that you dig SO MUCH, you start eating it for like days straight because you totally can’t get enough of it, only to never pick it up again (like when I worked at Olive Garden in ‘94 and went on a green-noodle-marinara kick for weeks)? I’m really hoping that’s not going to happen with my beloved cauliflower thingy, because this stuff is like crack. Seriously. I’m not sure if it’s the lemon and olive oil or the pepper and lemon together (always a favorite of mine) or the fresh parmesan over all of it, but you know when I’m standing in front of the sink at 10:30 at night chopping up a damn cauliflower, I’m in love. 

In my inbox today I found not only a complete replacement of my 30th birthday CD that wad birthed from his loins lo, so many years ago, but with upgrades and additions! Rube and I have already blasted “Ultimate Sin” and the Stroke 9 song, which I found hilarious and most appropriate (I do! I do!) (The Night Ranger was of my own doing, however. Shutup). The 12-inch Ministry might make my head explode, but that’s a risk I shall happily assume, along with thinking of the venerable Blood Bubble and how he looked like death when I saw him on St. Pat’s last year. (*There’s* a name for you, right?) So thank you, thank you, thank you! Now, if I just had something to put it all in and take it with me ... (sigh) Also, where the hell are you off to, wad, and do I know who it is?

Got my first churchin’ of the year in this morning, just not of the Catholic variety: The annual ecumenical Emancipation Proclamation service at church on G.I.’s west side, where they brought in Imam W.D. Muhammad, son of Elijah, the Nation of Islam guy. Good talk. Still not sure where he was going with the history of Islam and how it relates to the emancipation, but it was the first time a Muslim has ever keynoted one of these services, so it doesn’t have to make sense, I reckon. Still, I enjoyed it, even sluggish on cheap, cheap champers that was sweet instead of dry, exactly how I like it.

There might be more musings later if I can be arsed. 

These are a few of my favorite things:

-- getting a Christmas card from one of my oldest and dearest friends in the universe that says only this:


and remembering every single time we’ve been together and I how I’ve nearly peed with laughter from his torturing (and he packs a mean torture, though no one outside of him and me would get it.)

-- subversive hair color that freaks out my family:



Hope y’all are enjoying the holiday!

Stopped at Poppy’s this morning, and she tells me that she bought the Peapod—get this—an mp3 player in the shape of a rattle that plays when you shake it for Christmas. Cool and progressive for a 1 year-old, right? Pop, however, doesn’t live in the world of mp3s, so since she digs my taste in music, she asked if I would come up with a playlist or two to load on to this thing. Even better? She wants REAL music, not kid-friendly pablum.


Boing!

Thing is, she wants music of ALL genres, not just the mostly alterna-rock-hip-hop-electronica-bang-your-head-kill-your-mother stuff that rocks my world, so I’d like to enlist the musically inclined for help. What I’m thinking so far is that any selection should make you want wiggle in your chair if not get up and dance outright; for example, I’ve had Arrested Development’s “People Everyday” on a loop for the past half-hour. But it can be jazz, country, classical, really anything as long as it won’t scare a 1 year-old. As for language? Well, the extent of Peapod’s lexicon right now consists of high-pitched shrieks, zherberts and laughing like Horshack, and Pop hasn’t told me to knock off my sewer-mouth yet, so I don’t think that’s a requirement.

Hit it, y’all.

[UPDATE: I’m reopening the comments to continue the conversation, spammers be damned. Also, told Pop that we’re doing this, and she did issue a language advisory, though she also pointed out that the Peapod is a big fan of Rob Zombie (just like her momma and Auntie Broad) and that her current favorite ringtone is “Fergalicious,” of all things, so take that with a grain of salt.]

Totally forgot to tell you guys: Despite what his site says, the Dix hath spawned! Little Connor Raine, 7-2, was born on the 6th, and haven’t heard that Momma and baby are doing any way other than fine.

Go over there and give him some luv!

Creepiness in Chez Broad this morning: Last night, I fell asleep on the couch, as is my wont, and was startled awake by my buzzer. Now, as we know, I don’t answer my buzzer after I’ve gone to bed unless I’m expecting company, so naturally I wigged and hit the double bolt, but not before I heard voices downstairs and a whole lot of knocking on one of the downstairs apartment doors. So then, my one downstairs neighbor calls me up and says, “Hey! Did you hear what was going on this morning?” and proceeds to tell me that it was the cops doing a welfare check on one of the other downstairs neighbors—the woman half of the couple—because her sister called the PD and said she hadn’t heard from her in a few days.

Now, none of this would be particularly creepy to me, except that:

1. He told the cops she was there in the house, but she told my landlord last week that they’d broken up and he changed the locks, THEN told her today that she’s in St. Louis;
2. Her name has been taken off the mailbox;
3. One night a couple weeks ago when I was coming in from being out, I was walking up the stairs and heard this huge, sickening “THUD” coming from their apartment. As I was wondering what the hell it was, I heard their door open and then close, as if someone was making sure no one heard it?checking to see what fell;
4. I haven’t seen her van in at least a week, and
5. They had a cat living with them that I also haven’t seen in at least a week.

As they say, developing ...

In the meantime, it’s BUS DEMOLITION! weekend, and after a very rough week with Mother and other things, it’ll be exceptionally lovely to get together to watch things crash and drink mass quantities of alcohol with people who value me. On tonight’s agenda is viewing the Railcats game from the hot tub suite; it has been said that the game announcers always call a shout-out to the group in said suite during each game, so we decided that we had to come up with a disgusting name. My vote was for “NWI Psoriasis and Eczema Support Group” or “NWI Random Boil Support Group,” but our ring leader may just surprise us when we get there.

[UPDATE ass o’clock 7/28: Just got back from the game—and can I just say that all games should be watched from a hot tub?—but I meant to update that one of the cops called me earlier to tell me that the couple downstairs returned home and that they identified her, even going so far as to have her call her sister in front of them. Well, that might be, but I personally won’t feel safe until I physically see her for myself.]

Here’s what it’s played for me so far this morning:

“Johnny Feelgood,” Liz Phair (back when she was badass)
“Shambala," Three Dog Night (No bustin’ on my 70s music love, yo.)
“Radar Gun,” Bottle Rockets
“Kill the DJ,” Peeping Tom (mmmmmm ... Mike Patton and his unit ...)
“Nickelback," Bluetip
“Rod of Iron,” Relaxed Muscle
“New York Groove,” KISS
“Young Folks,” Kanye West
“Drownin’," Shurman
“Walk Right In, Walk Right Out,” Levay Smith and Her Red Hot Skillet Lickers (from dong resin’s own special blend of tunage that I like to pretend he whipped up just for me but understand that he didn’t because he doesn’t know me to like me in that way)

Could be a good day, y’all.

MADE THE TOP THREE ON SHEAR GENIUS!!! HUZZAH, HUZZAH!

Hats off to P-T reporter Piet Levy: A story he wrote on a lousy con man who bilked people out of a lot of money—Lookit—has gotten him a death threat:

Indiana State Police are investigating threats con man David Sroge allegedly made against a Post-Tribune reporter who exposed his history of theft, fraud and home repair scams.

Sroge, 50, attempted to recruit a gang member to kill a local police officer, a Lake County judge and reporter Piet Levy, state police detective Rick Bonesteel said Thursday.

“Normally we don’t comment on these types of investigations. But since a Post-Tribune employee was one of the targets, we contacted the newspaper,” Bonesteel said.

Sroge’s attorney Richard Maroc refused to comment on the police probe.

His client’s criminal record was documented in an investigative report in the Post-Tribune on Sunday.

Three days later, Sroge was arrested on a new felony theft charge. He is being held without bond at the Lake County Jail.

The Munster businessman will remain in jail until May 22 when Magistrate Kathleen Sullivan is scheduled to hold a hearing to decide if Sroge returns to a state work-release program or remains behind bars.

Before his arrest Wednesday, Sroge was serving time at the Kimbrough Work Program, a state work-release center in Crown Point.

Something’s happening over here at Chez Broad. I can’t tell you exactly what it is, because it’s not completely set in stone yet (plus I’m not sure how much I’m supposed to say publically, anyway, so I’m just not going to say anything concrete at all), but I need y’all to send good thoughts into the ether for me, because if it happens, it’s going to be HUUUUUGE. And it’s all because my pal Miguelino [aka NWI news stud Michael Puente] is a golden GOD who gets dinner on me, his choice, if it shakes out.

Stay tuned ...

Ok, so I keep meaning to post, but then I get sucked into the vortex that is my couch (oh, how I’m going to be sad when I give up that couch. I keep going back and forth over whether I should just have it cleaned and the middle cushion re-cushioned or if I should just scrap it altogether, but I digress) and then you know how it goes. And anyways, things have been rather quiet in these parts.

But how ‘bout them Bears, y’all? The Bears AND the Colts!?? Jesus, it’s going to be freakin’ bedlam in NWI for the next two weeks, though NWI roots more for the Bears by virtue of us being a technical suburb of Chicago. I’ll tell you what, though: If the paper asks me to cover the Super Bowl, I will do so gladly, because I? MET A HOT GUY TONIGHT! (does a little peepee dance of joy)

(ahem)

My gig today was hitting the local bars and watching people’s reaction to the game, and he was among a group I chose to interview. (And if you were to say that I chose to talk to them because of him, you ... probably wouldn’t be wrong.) The group was a blast, though at one point they wanted me to leave because the Saints made a few key plays, and it was thought that I might’ve been screwing up the juju. But the Bears came back, so it was fine. Anyway, if I do say so myself, there was a fair amount of touchy-feely going on, and it was not wrong, so ... Haven’t decided what my next move will be, but I think there might have to be one. 

If I may direct y’all over to my myspace profile (link’s over on the right), this is what happens when I’m let loose in Photoshop. Now, only a few of you will get why it’s so damn funny, but for those of you not in on the joke, here’s the image I started with: Lookit

Personally, I think it speaks for itself.

Do “Shambala” and “Thunder Island” ring any bells!?? Because I just downloaded them to my iPod, and now I’m totally rocking out.

Yeah, man.