Trying To Make the Dull Seem Interesting

Sorry for the dearth of updates, but there just hasn't been anything exciting happening in the life of Mikey all week long. But I'm going to do my best to act like a Mexican sportscaster doing a soccer game--the action may be boring as hell to watch, but you'd never know by hearing it.

First of all, this week was much slower for me than the past two (but I am not alone--all the cocktail waitresses were also complaining about how slow things were this past week, too), and I didn't work nor earn nearly as much as I would've liked. Oh well, I live in a feast or famine world, and I'm used to it. (And just as I'm writing this, the phone rang--tonight's graveyard dealer has called in sick, so I just picked up a shift!) Also, I've not done much socializing at all in quite a while, either. The two gals that I had been going out with several times a week this summer, well, that has pretty much run it's course, and I'm back to being an unaffiliated gentleman of leisure.

I've only played poker once in the past week, too, and it was nothing to speak of--I got stuck big time right out of the gate, and only a furious comeback let me walk away with just a $35 loss for the evening before the game broke. Since I'm trying to maintain a frugal lifestyle as of late (my addiction to Amazon notwithstanding), that was a rather disappointing showing.

Speaking of Amazon, I've got two orders in the hopper right now. The first one I've already mentioned--the next couple of O'Brian novels, plus a couple of guitar workbooks. The other one came about because of a couple of things--a conversation with Papa-san this week, and a random comment by Falcon Rob.

Rob commented about the Doyle Bramhall CD, Birds Nest on the Ground. I discovered it back in 1994 when I was working part-time at Bull Dike Lesbian Central Borders Books & Music in Phoenix. It was one of the sample CDs that they played overhead in the store, and let me tell you, it just kicked ass, musical and otherwise. It's great guitar-based blues, and Doyle actually spent many years as a part of Stevie Ray Vaughn's band, so he has the chops. There is a blues cover version of I Can See Clearly Now on the album that is just about the coolest cover tune I've ever heard, and a five-minute long instrumental dueling-guitars style riff called Take Your Time, Son that would also rock a million faces, if only he had the audience of Bon Jovi. He also goes old-skool with a cover of Elvis' Marie's The Name, of His Latest Flame, which, on the musical family tree, appears to be the grandfather of Jessie's Girl.

Basically, it's just a killer album that would appeal to anyone, blues fan or not, and I can't say enough good things about it. Anyhow, about 12 years ago, I lost it to the sticky-fingered lead singer of the band I was in at the time--our plan was to cover I Can See Clearly Now just like Doyle did, but you know, things have a way of not working out, and I never got the CD back once our version of Slash-and-Axl parted ways.

Back when Rob and I lived together in the Man Cave over on Green Valley parkway, one night I told him of the album's amazing ability to lift spirits, calm the raging sea, and bring about peace in our time, and he brought it up in the comments section the other day. It's been out of print forever, but occasionally available for resale on Amazon. After I got that reminder, I went back to look and see what the prices were like on any copies that might be floating around out there. Holy shiat, was I ever surprised to see that a re-seller had it available for only $3.50! So I swooped in with my handy-dandy MasterCard and snagged myself a copy. It's on the way as we speak, and very soon I shall be dancing around the apartment doing my Tom Cruise-in-Risky Business imitation, minus, of course, the tightie-whiteys. And a couch. And Rebecca De Mornay, come to think of it...

But that's just one of the treasures that's on its way to my lair. While I was talking to Papa-san this past week, we were discussing various books we've been reading (both of my parents read a lot, and as a kid, the house was always full of books). I told him of my latest affair with historical fiction, and he offered an enthusiastic recommendation of the Prelude to Glory series by Ron Carter. I told him that I'd look into it.

Well, everywhere I've looked, the series is highly recommended, and it's a seller's market. The prices seemed quite out of line with other historical fiction. But the lack of availability, the long list of positive reviews, and the high prices seem to indicate that people are buying what the author is selling. So again, I looked around, and due to the miracle of the internet, about five minutes into my search, I found the first two volumes at a used book dealer in Texas for the bargain price of about twelve bucks each. Sold!

I look forward to reading them, but it won't be for awhile yet--I'm going to finish all of Captain Aubrey's adventures first.

Besides that, my weekend has been kinda, well, dull and predictable. Although, I had the good fortune to stumble across a local San Diego channel the other day while giving the TV remote a workout that seems to be the local affiliate for the Padres. And the Cardinals are in town for a four-game set this weekend, so I've been able to watch my Redbirds stretch their lead in the central to eight games. And tonight my thumb was especially busy, with the Nascar race from Bristol on ESPN, plus the Chargers/Cardinals NFL game on, too. Just as my sports watching was winding down for the evening, I realized that I had a perfectly good TV sitting in the dining room not doing anything but taking up space and collecting dust. So tomorrow, I'll probably fish out some extra co-ax and a splitter, and hook up the second TV. I was going to do it anyways, before the start of football season, so I may as well get after it.

As far as other plans go, not much else is going on. I *may* be able to pick up the new furniture this week--at least I hope to, as long as I get in a couple more good nights at work and they haven't sold out at Costco before Wednesday. On Monday night, Linda Lou and are are planning on descending upon the Henderson Writers Group and letting them bask in our awesomeness. And I fully intend to hear an endless stream of compliments while dodging anything in the way of unnecessary constructive criticism. Or they all may stand speechless, what with being in the mere presence of two literary giants such as we.

Actually, it'll be my first visit, so I'm just gonna kind of be unobtrusive (not one of my greater talents, alas) and watch from the sidelines. I have no idea what goes on at these gatherings--they could sacrifice a goat while reading poetry in the nude and it wouldn't surprise me. Although it won't rival the excitement of The Girls Next Door partying in the VIP room, I'm sure it will be an interesting gathering, regardless. And I might learn something, too.

Oooh, and speaking of Linda Lou, she's on the market again, legs and all, so all you young dudes in the greater Henderson/southeast Vegas area better look out, it's cougar time! And believe me, there ain't nothin' sexier than an experienced woman cruising around in a classic Saturn with a dented roof, singing along to Neil Young, on cassette. Trust me, you are powerless to resist...

(Ass kicking coming my way in 3...2...1...)

With that, I am spent. I'm gonna call it a night--maybe grab a sammich and prepare myself for a night at the red-felt tables.

Peace out, y'all!

Mikey