New Year's Eve and it's hard to believe
another zodiac has gone around.

While you drank yourself high on hoping
and watched the ceiling spin from the ground.

Counting down from ten it's time
to make your annual prayer.

Secret santa in the sky
when will I get my share?

Then you tell yourself
what you want to hear.

Cause you have to believe.

This will be my year.

This will be my year...Semisonic


Go Ahead Punk: E-Mail Little Squaw @ squawpunch@hotmail.com

AIM: gimletgurl7 (Remember when she used to be here?)

Wednesday, March 31, 2004

"I hate guitar solos. They're like auditory masturbation and I'm not the one masturbating." - Moi

So it's been an interesting couple of days to say the least but let it not gone unmentioned that yesterday was Gert's birthday. A big exciting one but a lady never mentions numbers (for fear that Gert will thunk me over the head)...

Last night I went to the taping of the Crossroads @ the Hammerstein. The show featured Brad Paisley (country and he of the tight pants and not much personality) and John Mayer (he of the loose pants funny face when singing and snarky personality).

I worked late (interviewed a potential future boss) and hopped an elevator with the following people a. an African American co-worker (AC's new assistant) who also happens to be a HUGE JM fan kind of like me and Fountains of Wayne but without her having gone to nearly as many shows as I and plus he actually won the Best New Artist Grammy he was nominated for...b. a very large gay rockabilly fan and c. good old CT she of the island of Dominica. Add me, she of the tired, happy to be away from my desk doing something completely unrelated to work...

So we get to Hammerstein and people are falling out the doors so we end up going across the street to a burrito by order place. Now I am not even a burrito fan but these things were great. They were built to order and size of a hagus. Plus the tattooed cook was muy friendly...so we sit there eating with the JM fan getting all itchy and worriesome that we're going to miss something. I totally knew how she felt 'cause that's how I always feel right before I see Fountains of Wayne. So we cross the street and there's a mob trying to get in, but of course we know the people working the door and they know us and we have special passes. We wait patiently and then we get wisked in and escorted up the stairs to the first mezz by one of our Southie co-workers who's a huge Dave Matthews fan with an orange tan (poor girl)...well she set us down, now get this...she puts us in seats in the second balcony, stage left RIGHT OVER where Mr. Mayer was going to play. Mind you for this taping the stage was only two feet tall but we were positioned perfectly. I'd have given my right pinky for those seats when I saw Pulp there a few years ago.

So now I feel itchy 'cause these are VIP seats and we work for the company. The taping commences and Mr. Mayer gained new respect from me based on his ability to actually play the guitar (seems to be a bit bluesy which I never knew) and because he cuts a striking figure from behind. I love to stare at men from behind to see how they wiggle. But more importantly his guitar strap slung across his wide shoulders was quite pleasing to the eye. I worry about Mr. Paisley's sperm count and if you're curious HE tucks to the right. I was NOT curious and wish that I did not have that knowledge. He kind of looks like David Copperfield without the poofy shirt. JM looks like Carson Daly without the pointy Eddie Munster ears. Paisley was the straight man and Mayer was the smart ass.

Some how rockabilly boy and I started singing the "Gigantor" theme (one of his friends calls him that) and "Islands in the Stream" (JM said his first love song which he wrote at 17 basically sounded like that).

One of my old managers who left the company ended up sitting BEHIND us! She was there for Brad Paisley and she love love loved his tight pants.

It was fun. I have a feelling that we made it on camera a few times. I totally know how to work the "I am so intent/enamored/engaged/concentrated/cute/oh no I don't notice the camera on me" look. Look for us on CMT sometime soon.

Now the morning after and all the 25's and under are in LOVE with John Mayer apparently because he's "sarcastic and cute." Now I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers but looking at how his face contorts, if that's an indication of his post coital expression, I'd guess that I'd laugh myself out bed eventually. Tee hee.

It's always fun to attend a show with a "true fan." Lots and lots and lots of fun.

CT and I ended up walking up to 45th to have our cars pick us up. Along the way we discussed tight pants vs. loose (both in favor of loose)...then I realize that I owed Gert a happy birthday call and I would be very upset if I didn't speak to her, but it was almost 11PM and she should have been in bed. I tried anyway and got her, so the post theater crowd on 44th got to hear me warble the birthday song sans the "how old are you now..." verse.

Then we notice a crowd outside of the producers and I say, "What the heck is that about?" and CT's like, "Matthew Broderick is outside." I don't know how she could tell (you couldn't see past the crowd)...but I said to Gert (who loves him...) "So should I ask him to wish you a happy birthday?" and CT shouts, "NO!" and Gert shouts, "YES!" and while I am the girl who always acts bored while in the presence of fame and often talent...well I toddle across the street and wiggle up to the front of the crowd getting autographs...this was all very out of character!

Me: Mr. Broderwick, would you wish my best friend a happy ## birthday? - Always call them Mr. or Miss that way they can never say that you were rude...
MB: You should wish your friend a happy birthday.
Me: I already did. (Said with a smile and a thrust of the cell phone forward.)
MB: Happy Birthday.
Insert giggles of tourists and murmurs of how cute.

He's lucky he did it or I might have gotten saucy. Though I understand that he was tired and just wanted to go home. The price of fame buddy. The price of fame. P.S. I loved you in Biloxy Blues.

Gert was estatic until I said, "You know that was Gilly, right?" and then I had to convince her that I was kidding. I know mean but I was very tired and that is very much how I operate. Yes, Virginia I can be cruel to those I love...

It was one of the few times I'd wished I had a phone with a camera so I could email Gert his image.

Going to bed now...tune in tomorrow when I discuss the price of fame and deciding who gets a chance at it via my little news correspondent contest...Choosing who's losing babycakes...pardon the misspellings...my eyes won't stay open.
posted by JustKeepMum on 11:09 PM