Peeing my pants, in a GOOD way
There's a good chance I have my head lodged firmly up my ass, or maybe up someone else's ass. I can tell you which I'd rather it be, especially if I get to pick the person who's attached to the ass wherein my head will be residing, sightless but well pleased.
Where was I going with this before I began to riff on asses? Oh, yeah - I had no idea Tom Waits was even staging a mini-tour until Bone Machine tipped me off. I've been bouncing off the walls (possibly of my own ass) since I was able to score a ticket for the Chicago show. Nineteen years since Mr. Waits and I were in the same room together, and maybe he and his pesky li'l restraining order would like to make it twenty or twenty-five years, but here I am, packing a duffel bag for my trek to Chicago, having dreams wherein I forget my ticket and have ten minutes before the show to drive home (in a car my mother-in-law owned about fifteen years ago) and fetch said ticket, and in my dream the venue is in Detroit and I must drive back to Flint for my tickee, and I've somehow also lost the keys to the car, which I can't find as the parking garage winds around and around...
Yeah, I'm a little worked up about this. But I didn't think the anticipation could be any more delicious until I stumbled across a detailed review tonight that dropped a new tidbit on me:
Duke Robillard is Waits' guitarist on this tour. Duke Robillard, he of Roomful of Blues and post-Jimmie Vaughan Fabulous Thunderbirds, and creator of a number of solo albums I listen to constantly, the man who is my favorite guitar player in the world, THAT Duke Robillard will grace the same stage as Tom Waits. If I sound short of breath when I call in my audioblog tomorrow night, you will know why. If I never make it to the audioblog, then you may assume that I have either spontaneously combusted or my heart has exploded from too much delight in one small auditorium.
Must go obsess over my packing list now. At the top of the list? TICKET.
I hope I remember to wear pants.
Where was I going with this before I began to riff on asses? Oh, yeah - I had no idea Tom Waits was even staging a mini-tour until Bone Machine tipped me off. I've been bouncing off the walls (possibly of my own ass) since I was able to score a ticket for the Chicago show. Nineteen years since Mr. Waits and I were in the same room together, and maybe he and his pesky li'l restraining order would like to make it twenty or twenty-five years, but here I am, packing a duffel bag for my trek to Chicago, having dreams wherein I forget my ticket and have ten minutes before the show to drive home (in a car my mother-in-law owned about fifteen years ago) and fetch said ticket, and in my dream the venue is in Detroit and I must drive back to Flint for my tickee, and I've somehow also lost the keys to the car, which I can't find as the parking garage winds around and around...
Yeah, I'm a little worked up about this. But I didn't think the anticipation could be any more delicious until I stumbled across a detailed review tonight that dropped a new tidbit on me:
Duke Robillard is Waits' guitarist on this tour. Duke Robillard, he of Roomful of Blues and post-Jimmie Vaughan Fabulous Thunderbirds, and creator of a number of solo albums I listen to constantly, the man who is my favorite guitar player in the world, THAT Duke Robillard will grace the same stage as Tom Waits. If I sound short of breath when I call in my audioblog tomorrow night, you will know why. If I never make it to the audioblog, then you may assume that I have either spontaneously combusted or my heart has exploded from too much delight in one small auditorium.
Must go obsess over my packing list now. At the top of the list? TICKET.
I hope I remember to wear pants.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 10:20 PM
9 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
Don't forget your pants!
/just sayin'
Check your ticket, Bucky. It probably says "Pants Optional" on there somewhere in fine print.
Duke Robillard????? Wow, that is too fantastic!
Enjoy :)
Enjoy yourself! Don't worry about the pants, just wear the assless chaps!
Have a great time. I hope it is all you dream of and that your pants are able to hold in all that you cream yourself during the show.
Bucky, reread the first few lines of your post and then go to Susie's. I promise you'll laugh you ass off.
I second the motion:
Assless chaps!!!
Yes, I'm a sick fucker. :o)
What's the point? Your pants are going on stage by the third song anyway.
Why do I feel I have commented on this blog post before? Am I prescient—or is this a dream?
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