David and Priscilla live it up
You don’t have to be rich to be weird.
You don’t have to be rich to be weird.
Family and friends and baby enthusiasts only, unentertaining baby jargon to follow-
Most of you probably know that I have been married to my beautiful and talented band mate, Priscilla, for a very long while. We actually met in high school, and a year later a friend of mine invited her to play in a band with us. As a result, we ended up dating, taking over that band, and eventually we married. I was twenty-one and she was nineteen. …and that was a while ago. I think, a lot of people had just thought that we probably weren’t having kids- or they’d at least stopped holding their breath. But, this summer we finally announced Priscilla was pregnant.
Fast forward to about a few days ago. (And it really was a fast forward. It seems like it was yesterday.) We were still feeling very unprepared, and I have to admit I’ve been in a little bit of baby denial. I’ve been thinking to myself, No worries! You still have some time left! Which, of course, I didn’t…
I came home from teaching a class on Tuesday and Priscilla was pretty uncomfortable and having contractions that were intense. She’d been having them for the last day at least, so we weren’t super concerned. We’d also just seen the doctor that morning. But we decided to call in when they got a little worse, and they told us to stop by for a check up. We grabbed a few extra things just in case, and made the hike to the burbs where our hospital is. We were probably in the hospital for about one minute when Priscilla’s water broke. I helped her out of her clothes fast because she was worried about ruining her boots… (they’re fine, by the way.) But, then we knew we were smack-dab in the middle of baby time.
The kid had been breach for a while and was stubbornly resisting turning, so we were planning on a cesarean section already. They took Priscilla out and left me in the room to put on scrubs. I was waiting for some sort of mental break down or freakout, but, as is typical, I stayed surprisingly calm. Someone poked their head in and said, “ok, in five minutes you’re going to be a dad.” I started pacing a bit, and I said a quick prayer for baby and waited. I felt poised as if for some looming adventure and I was starting to feel adrenaline.
When they called me in, I went straight to Priscilla’s head, walled off from the rest of the operating room. She was scared and very nervous so I sat with my head next to hers trying to help her stay calm. It was such an odd feeling waiting there. Pretty soon I could hear the staff talking about our baby, and I heard little squeaks and squeals. I stayed with Priscilla as baby started to cry and I wished I could be with both of them at once. They called me over to cut the umbilical cord – which I had only learned I was supposed to do earlier that day. …it was creepy.
I had thought about how I would feel seeing my first child for years without knowing what my reaction would be. And seeing her I was still caught not really knowing how to react at all- but I was drawn to her. She was upset, and purple. The nurses were handling her with gloves, putting a diaper on and weighing her in. I didn’t know if I could touch her, but I just wanted to grab her up. Finally I asked and they said of course I could. I’ve seen and held babies before, but never a newborn, so I was feeling out of my element but driven to be close to her. She was fussing and I put my finger in her hand and she quieted down. I’ll never forget that. I had the camera around my neck and snapped a photo. They swaddled her and gave her to me and I carried her over to Priscilla so they could meet.
After that, the next forty-eight hours have been a weary and exhausted, but very happy blur. I swaddled my first baby, changed my first diaper, and helped Priscilla as best I could to get what she needed to recover. And I slept the fatigued sleep that only parents and the deranged know.
I still think it’s odd that after this bizarre endless and sleepless night, our daughter will go home with us, and things will simply never be the same. I couldn’t be more happy about that, although I still have only logical guesses of what that means. What I do know is that this little kid has got me. I had a murky thought drift in while on my way back to the hospital after stopping home to feed our cats (who can tell something is up…) I would, without remorse, hesitation, or the slightest regret, die to protect her, or do anything else I needed to do for her. It was a very peaceful thought, honestly; nothing would be more right in the world than me giving her everything I’ve got.
We’ll keep you all posted, and enjoy the pictures!
Henrietta (Henri) Peach Priebe was born January 30th at 2:25 am weighing seven pounds and fifteen ounces. She was twenty inches long, and a purple-ish hue.
By now you’ve all heard about the ancient Mayan calendar that predicts that Jerry Bruckheimer’s movies will all be so bad by December of 2012 that even just seeing a billboard for one will kill you. (Amazing information to glean from a calendar written by people who have been dead for over a millennium!) But, maybe you haven’t heard about some of the other dumb ways people think our planet may plummet into a bizarre Mad Max sequel. Solar flares. These could come and wipe out all the electricity globally. How about the super volcano? It’s right underneath YOU Wyoming. Good luck with that. Or, what about the next animal flu? Birds and pigs are one thing, but what the hell will we do when we get something REALLY bad, like Shark Flu?
Now, I agree with all the naysayers- I’m going to die. I even agree that the world will end sometime. AND, I’m not even worried about that one. I know some dead people already, it will be nice to catch up. Plus, if we all die, I’ll know a lot more dead people. Also all the people who have had near death experiences say really nice things about being dead. …Except for the ones who say they went to hell… So, what AM I concerned with here? Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve seen some of these movies. The Road?! …thanks for that one Cormic- what a great combination of boring and morbidly depressing. The Happening?! Sometimes when I see M Night Shyamalan’s flicks I think he puts crap out, sits back, waits, and then says “What, people still came out to see this one? Really? Ok, ok, I can still do worse.” (Rather than link you to what ‘The Happening’ really is, I’ve embedded a video by the same name that you will enjoy more.)
Folks, what scares me more than anything is being trapped in a boring post apocalyptic world, watching the world blandly expire. Barf.
So, what’s the solution? How can you stop the inevitable? Can we really launch Bruce Willis into space with a nuclear warhead every time an asteroid comes by? Not realistic. But maybe, just maybe, if we’re all going to die anyway, we can have a little bit of fun with it. Eh? So, I’m sure you all know what I’m thinking of- Zombies AND Dinosaurs. Duh. Can the Gub-ment stop the massive tidal wave of destruction? The guys who try to fix a leak of harmful oil in the ocean by dumping more harmful chemicals in on top of it? Ask any of the guys who helped clean up the Exon Valdez spill- oh wait, they’re all dead now… Nope, not likely. But, as always, I’m sure they’ll know all about it before some terrible, terribly boring disaster takes place. So, all I’m asking for, is for them to implement my simple Zombie/Dinosaur plan of action about… lets say, one year before things get really crappy.
Where will they get Zombies and Dinosaurs? Well, I would like to think that first we would try Zombie viruses, and Jurassic Park style DNA experiments. But, if all else fails, we could always go animatronic. Once they’ve figured out the ‘how’ they just need to mass produce both, and then release the Zombies and Dinosaurs into the unsuspecting populous. Now granted, some people won’t like this. Maybe some people don’t even know how to kill a zombie or out smart a velociraptor, but I think we can all agree they would be the minority. They would also be the very first to die, leaving behind a wealth of firearms and canned goods for the rest of us.
Now, of course, none of us would be able to survive forever with millions of zombies swarming and a hundred deadly species of dinosaurs roaming around, thirsty for blood. However, the fast paced thrill ride would be just the shot of adrenalin we need. And the colorful sights and sounds produced by the new monsters would keep our imaginations preoccupied and, dare I say, enchant us, up until the quick-ish painful end- Eaten alive in an entertaining, honorable, and fulfilling death, long before boring natural disasters ravage our already lifeless planet. I guess it would suck to be the Dinosaurs in that scenario though… back on top… for a second, and then boom! Another boring asteroid extinction.
I know what you’re thinking- WTF?! Why hasn’t anyone else thought of this yet? I have no idea. I can only hope that Uncle Sam already has and they’re just waiting for the right time to surprise us! Lets all keep our fingers crossed!
Ok, so my last blog was about Priscilla and I getting attacked by bears in South Dakota- AND LOVING IT! …that was about six months ago. …or eight. And, it seems as though I’ve gotten pretty bad at updating this blog. I promise to try and do better… but, in the mean time, he’s what I’ve done the last- I don’t know, year or so.
In September we went down to Winona for the fifth annual Zombie Pub Crawl. Unlike some more normal cities zombie crawls, in Winona you get a good feeling for what a real zombie attack would look like. People stop traffic, climb on cars, projectile vomit all over, and even chase unsuspecting college kids who don’t know what’s going on. One high schooler tried to start a fight when his daddy’s Chrysler 300 got a little bit of puke and blood on it… what a wuss. The only zombie he attacked was a girl, and his opening line was, ‘you can’t hit me, I’m a minor.’ Then he promptly tried to strangle a girl zombie before the rest of the angry mob of drunken undead gently removed him and told him to go home. This boy will be a huge douche bag one day…
Also, Priscilla launched Pirk, a soap and beauty company. All natural, organic when possible, soap and face scrubs and bath bubbly salt junk, all that sort of crap. People have been liking it so far!
In October, Maudlin and our agency Green Room Music Source, went to New York City again for the CMJ music festival. I was very disappointed by the fact that we didn’t steal any mannequin body parts this time. We did eat a lot of food, and get a better understanding of how the Russian Mafia operates.
Then, in November, Maudlin welcomed a new band member into our wacky fold. You may remember Nick from last years St. Patrick’s Day adventure.
December was a time for holiday magic! Maudlin hosted our second, kind of annual ‘The Worst Christmas Pageant Ever’ at the Hexagon in Minneapolis. Discribing this event isn’t as much fun and just listening…
January was cold. We don’t do anything in January here because it’s just too cold. When the New year is over we turn in to primordial cave people. …We also make ice sculptures though.
February has Valentines day in it… Weak. I got Priscilla a pan for Valentines day. Yup, a nice pan. I thought this was probably not the greatest gift I’d ever come up with for Priscilla. However, after seeing her reaction to getting a very nice pan, I’ve decided that she only gets pans for gifts from now on. That’s your relationship advice for the year- Pans, chicks dig them. Or, at least, Priscilla does…
That’s about it… Oh, and George Clooney, STOP making movies. Please. The glory days or over my friend. Speaking of people who should stop doing what they do, I found this website recently. What a beautiful charity! www.killlilwayne.org Hopefully someone will make a similar site for Weezer soon. They must be stopped!
Until next time…
Well, only if you wait for someone else to throw you one! So, when I found out I was turning thirty, I decided to do just that- throw myself a funeral. Once again, facilitating the event fell on the muscley shoulders of Scott Weber- because I don’t know anyone else with a 35 room themed mansion well enough to throw a party there. He was happy to help. Then, I shamelessly requested friends of mine to write “eulogies” in the form of a roast. Everyone was told to wear black. …and this is totally one of those ‘had to be there’ stories. But, it was amazing! I’ve never felt so loved while being made fun of!
Barb Abney (transplanted hillbilly) was called on to MC, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to say anything mean about me. …which was too bad, because in my retort I had written several things about her… Laurel Ogren had some choice words for me- but I’m mostly mentioning her full name in here because someone keeps googling her and finding my site. …so there you go whoever you are… Then the infamous Scotty Herold roasted me with a blow up doll. Nick of The Icy Shores recounted our St. Patrick’s Day adventure (which is also a blog) And, finally, my lovely Priscilla came up to roast me while doing her best Courtney Love imitation. It was all hilarious.
There was a cake too. It was great. Thanks for the great time everyone!!!!
Some of you readers may be from Minnesota where Maudlin is headquartered. So, you will all understand this. Others may have to take a trip up here to visit. …It’s really cold here. Really, really, cold. It may seem odd to many of our friends to the south that this blog has lay dormant for months since last fall- but like the illusive groundhog, I poked my head out into the frigid reality of Minnesota, and just went back to bed. Like all burrowing rodents, I was eventually lured out by food coloring and crowds of people in dumb costumes. I’m, of course, referring to Saint Patrick’s day.
Like many of our treasured holidays, Saint Patrick’s day was a total flop when it was first recognized. But after many uneventful years, the meaning of the holiday was swapped out with the simple, yet effective, focus of complete drunkenness. The name remained the same to lend legitimacy. You may remember this model being used for Christmas when the celebration of the birth of the savor was not as popular as the celebration of a fat guy who stages an annual home invasion, pilferes the fridge, and makes advances on your mother, in exchange for cheap Walmart toys wrapped in shinny paper and tape.
But, regardless of how things got the way they are- or what Saint Patrick’s was supposed to be about, the bottom line is clear. At 10 am on a Wednesday morning, downtown Saint Paul was crawling with a hundred thousand people desiring nothing less than to shame their families and defile themselves in every way possible. …and I would certainly never miss a freak fest like that.
It started out like any other party. I saw a film crew from a Canadian broadcasting company doing a piece on Saint Patrick’s day so I introduced myself. ”Hey, I’m a douche bag, interview me!” …Why that always works, I’ll never know, but they did proceed to interview me for several minutes. Ten bucks to whoever can find the footage online, because I can’t. …and, I mean, obviously they would air my interview.
After that my party buddy, Nick, and I went to the parade to have candy thrown at us by members of NASA. I don’t know much about what the space program is up to these days, but I’m pretty sure that putting a marching band in a Saint Patrick’s Day parade is a pour use of government funding. I mean, we can’t even live in space yet, WTF. Let’s fix that problem, and then maybe have a marching band.
When the parade was done, we walked back to see historic West Seventh street in Saint Paul be destroyed by morons. I prefer to make Patrick McGovern’s my home base for Saint Patrick’s Day. When we got there, there were already a thousand people in the joint. I was hungry and Iron Man Nick had only had some cottage cheese before biking thirty five miles before I woke up… so we decided to carb up on some hamburgers. Now, on a serious note, McGovern’s is great, and the food is great… any other day of the year. Every single employee looked like they should have been on suicide watch, and they served my burger on a paper plate with ketchup packets. …ketchup. Packets. *shudders*
We got stuck sitting right next to a couple of “hilljacks” -Thanks for the scientific terminology Barb! (Barb Abney, that is. Barb is MPR’s foremost expert on Ohio- the native breeding ground of the hilljack) Nick and I tried really hard to make fun of them in code that their primitive minds couldn’t follow without getting killed. …there are no picutres also because I didn’t want to die for a photo opp. …but just imagine that they were so hilljacky that I had to mention it. That’s a lot of hilljack.
After the carb up, we ventured up to see all the freaks dancing to the DJ’s very non-Irish set. This guy was the live of the party, and my goal for elder life. If I could be one part this guy and one part Johnny Cash, I think I’d die happy. He’s 62 years young, and he was dancing there with his daughter all day.
Later we made the horrifying discovery that some people were wearing Zubas again. …Although, one of these girls also had a fanny pack on, so they may have both just been from a group home.
There were a whole lot of freaks there, and Nick and I bothered all of them. One girl thought that wearing a white shirt and letting people write things on her would be fun. Boy was she dumb. Then some girls pants fell off of her butt. I’m really excited to see how many google hits I get from someone googling that exact phrase, btw.
Later, Priscilla joined Nick and I because we still hadn’t managed to get the crap kicked out of us yet, and she wanted to try and fix that.
Some of you may have noticed that when these pictures started it was very noonish, and in the Green Man picture it’s very bedtime-ish. Well, seeing as well at to work the next day, we called it a night shortly thereafter. As Nick would say, “…and cut!”
The Marc Pease Experience. …um… if you pick this one off the self and take a look you’ll probably think. “Oh, Ben Stiller and Jason Schwartzman in a comedy about a musical? Classic!” Then you’d rent it, and then you’d find out this movie has no jokes in it, but but it does have eight full songs from The Wiz in it. If you’re thinking, “That sounds good, but I’d rather see Stiller and Schawartzman co-star in a movie where they are both pedophiles” then this is really your movie.
That’s all for now, I changed our cats food, and they’re number three-ing (which is the scientific term for excriment that has both the characteristics of number one and number two…) all over the house, and I need to get my hasmat gear…
I hate how you can’t really advertise your true feelings anymore. The internet turns even the most mild blogger into a gossip whore. I can’t even talk about how I hate my day job and I want a new one because it’s likely that someone I work with will read this, and let me boss know, and then all the work pot lucks will be awkward. Not to mention, that dude I called a douche is probably going sneak up on me and say something designed to intimidate me. The world is more dangerous than ever.
So I try to keep things positive. These guys do that too. If they mention you, they like you. If they don’t, they probably just wont mention you. That’s a sound, friendly approach. But what about everyone else? Should we never be able to talk about things that we think suck? Should we be afraid to let people in our vicinity know that we don’t like their work? Should people even get upset if someone doesn’t like what they do in the first place? Who knows, but I do hate my job. I don’t hate The Alarmists though, so lets talk about them.
I don’t know Eric Lavold super well, but I do know him and his cohorts Drummer Boy Schwandt and Bassist Brian who are also in the bands White Light Riot and So It Goes respectively. All great guys. So, when I was told that the City Pages peed on them, I wondered what was up. A friend alleged they had recently called them poop heads, and ass clowns who couldn’t play instruments. …or something like that. It’s sparked a huge debate about whether or not The Alarmists suck and/or whether or not the City Pages sucked. Also how in the hell do you spell the Star Tribunes music guys name? I had to know the truth, so I decided to investigate.
Like all important people in the Twin Cities, I had an advance copy of The Alarmists new album, The Over-head Left to listen to. I also went to the release show, and then I read all these articles AND all the blog comments on the City Pages site. Then I read Chris Rachmaninovschneider’s interview in the Star Tribune. I’m pretty much an expert about now, so, I will tell you all the truth. But before I act like I know everything, let me first drag out this story by adding in personal experiences that are unrelated.
As I mentioned, the entire cast of Maudlin showed up to the show. The first bit of evidence that I collected came when I saw the Rock The Cause table in the Varsity Theater. As you may or may not know, Priscilla and I sit on the board of directors for Rock the Cause. If you’re not familiar with how we help the community and music scene, please take a look.
Eric Lavold approached Rock the Cause with an offer. Bands approach us with offers all the time. Some of them are good ones, some are a little self serving. Some would be really difficult and some more realistic to do. Eric’s offer was both generous and easy. At a time when our org could really use some extra cash, he offered to let us accept donations for digital downloads of the new album on our site and keep 100% of the proceeds.
This might not seem like a huge deal to you, but the amount of work, money, and liability that goes into RTC putting on an event to raise money is huge. This required nothing of us other than we upload the song.
The comment was made that The Alarmists drama may have over shadowed their music. Why can’t someones generosity and good nature over shadow the drama surrounding their band? I guess because People magazine would go broke, with the City Pages along with it.
The crowd at the show was great, and the bands selected where right on too. Maudlin had a great time running around and mingling. I let my agent buy me a drink, and Eric’s dad tried to buy Priscilla a drink because she adjusts his glasses at work, but Craig beat him to it and bought her a drink too. Primarily we like Craig as our agent because of the drinks. Anyway, Jason bought himself one too many drinks and then ran around taking pictures for posterity.
The Alarmist show was actually really good. The new line up is great. Someone on a blog made a comment that all the new musicians couldn’t stack up to the old ones, and made special citation of the drummer being included. Their old drummer was very good, but complaining about Mark Schwandt’s drumming is pretty retarded. Aside from being a solid show, it was more raw than the album and had a more personal feel to it. I enjoyed it quite a bit. It actually made a few songs I was a little luke on from the album really grow on me.
The Album itself is certainly nothing at all to scoff at. I can see how it differs from previous releases with less edge, but it adds a more haunting feel- actually reminds me a bit of Chris Isaac on some tunes. (course I was just watching True Blood so…[At least, when I first wrote this pharagraph I thought that Chris Isaac wrote that song, but today Barb Abney *cough cough name drop* corrected me. Some random hillbilly wrote that song. ]) The vocals are more stripped and personal. They bring out a great contrast against synths soaked in reverb. There are some dark sounding melodies and hooks, but the album still feels hopeful even if melancholy. Something for a rainy day if you’re not the kind of person that gets super depressed and hates rainy days. I definitely favor the first half of the album with tracks like, “Rhyme and Reason,” ”Car Crashing,” ”Flutter and Fly,” and “Hollywood’s Not My Home.” Not feeling songs like “The Country” or” We Belong” as much, and I flat out do not like “The Elusive Mr Albright.” …not sure what the motivation is on that one.
Over all it sounds very much like a liberation or a rebirth than a swing and a miss. These guys knew exactly what they were going for, and while it’s not going to thrill everyone, I think it will win a lot of people over. As to whether or not The Alarmists will take over the world, who knows- and who cares. They’ve already carved out a place for themselves, they’re making music that’s rewarding to themselves and still have an audience to listen. That is what success is.
I believe in real criticism though, real honesty. If there isn’t anything bad, then, of course, nothing is really good. It’s just all double plus ungood. We don’t want that. I’ve met Andrea from the City Pages before, and even if she hadn’t been talking with me about my band being good, I still would have thought she was really nice. Not at all the kind of person who seems out for a vendetta. The City Pages article is pretty scathing, but, if it’s honest, then it’s not meriting retaliation.
Chris Rumpelstiltskinschneider said that The Amarmists are big enough to take a hit. They are. His own article in the Strib praises the album and gives a great inside look at what’s going on with the band and what’s transpired. It’s hard for me to not take a step back and see the two biggest papers in town arguing about a band and think, “Any press is good press.” Ultimately the controversy made listening to the album more fun for me. …Although, if it was my album getting shredded I would release angry bees into the office of the offending party. Not killer bees, just kind of having a bad day bees.
My biggest complaint with local press has always been what they miss, not what they criticize. There’s so much music here in Minneapolis, and way too much for everyone to go out and see what every band has going on. A scathing review here and there is a service. Just like letting people know about a new great band, and keeping up with what the bands we’ve all heard of have been up too. The more reviews the better, good ones and bad.
So what are my conclusions? People may have differing opinions about whether The Alarmists new album is good, just like people have many different opinions on how to spell Chris Rasputinschnieder’s name- and that’s ok. Because, in the end, there really isn’t a right or wrong answer. And, if that conclusion offends you, blame this guy.
Well the long awaited pool opener at the stately manor of Scott Herold came upon us a few short weeks ago. Naturally, not only was Maudlin attending, we were also planning on favoring our fans with a few songs while we were there. But first we had the first in our series of shows at Hot Topic.
This was one of those kind of deals where we needed to do some thing completely different from our normal stage show and, to prepare, we spent weeks creating a bold new acoustic set. …course if you regularly read my blog you knew that was a lie. We had no freakin clue what we were doing.
Anyway, after that pit stop, we were off to the pool party! Nothing at all could stop the greatest party of the summer! (So far. …I don’t want to limit myself.) But that total d-bag, Minnesota Weather, sure tried. (foreshadowing!)
The first day of the party, the snots from the Melismatics took the stage and hoarded all the good weather. They did play The Jesus Mary Chain at my request though, and Pony also came to the defense of Priscilla ninja style when some creepy dude was hitting on her that night… so I suppose I won’t hold it against them. Naturally the show made me embarrassed to even tell people I own a guitar.
Then… I really don’t know what happened because I was mingling too much. I remember chatting with Ryan and then my agent, and then a few other people, and then the next thing I know there are a bunch of naked people in the pool, which means that all the normal people had already left. We stayed a little longer when Scott made biscuits and gravy… His biscuits and gravy are so good that they are going to appear in a cook book that Priscilla might make some time maybe. That’s good.
So, anyway, then we went home and slept for a long period of time. At some point on Saturday we woke up and basically just went right back to the pool. Only now, the weather sucked. It was like 65 American degrees and raining all day. The only thing cool about that was that the pool was actually 85 degrees, so it was steaming all day. Seeing as the weather sucked it was more of a regular style party rather than a pool style party. One disgruntled party goer actually smashed the tank on one of the toilets. (Probably the dude above. …I mean, just look at him. Seriously.) True to form, Maudlin played and brought the noise regardless of the weather. Following the example sung by Queen and set by many a mailperson, Maudlin plays regardless of weather conditions. …although we did move things inside to the Rock The Cause world headquarters in a secret underground bunker below the pool.
After we rocked out, we were really hot, so we all ran out into the rain and jumped into the pool. After that refreshing experience Maudlin actually started requiring that there be a pool in the green room for all of our shows.
Anyway, that was that.
The next weekend we traveled with our pals So It Goes down to our stomping grounds of Winona to play Rock Roll music. I think Mr. Mike Minehart who came down to document has a short video up of this already, but I’ll probably leave that till next time. …When we got home from Winona we had sad, sad things waiting. Our cat, Ebony, couldn’t walk. We tried to help her up when we realised she was having difficulties, but she couldn’t even stand. We took her to this vet. I’d recommend them, normal hours go till 9pm seven days a week. Turns out poor little Ebony is diabetic. So we have her on a regiment of pills to help her get on her feet, and daily insulin that she’ll probably need the rest of her life. The good news is that, as of today (I’m writing this at home from work cat sitting), she seems to be doing a bit better. She is now moving from room to room with some effort, but unassisted. We’re hoping she makes a full recovery… I’ll keep you posted…
Rummage Sales. I love them at and hate them all at once. Usually you go to these things, and everything smells. Or it’s pointless and over priced for the garbage that it is. …but, every once and a while you find something totally cool. This is a tale of the latter. The elusive cool rummage sale.
So this was a few weekends ago. …or one weekend ago, I have no idea. It wasn’t yesterday though, that much I’m sure of. So I wanted to go to this hot rummage sale I was tipped off to by a guy I know. It’s once a year up by 394 and Penn Ave (Minneapolis) It was supposed to be big. Lovely day, super nice out, and there were like about a trillion people there. Hot dog stands, mini donuts… it was a tripped out rummage circus. …and there, at the very first place I went to was… an amp.
Ok, so we all know that I’m in a band, right? …if not, I’m not sure where you’ve been, but you should probably check us out before someone makes a lot of fun of you… Anyway, so being in a band usually means you’re also a gear nerd to some degree. …usually the more of a gear nerd you are, the crappier your band actually is. …which makes sense because I’m not a HUGE gear nerd or anything. I don’t really know why anything does anything… I just play things, and find out what I like and go with that. I’m not ever going to get into some lame conversation debating brand names with people. Gear talk is like Magic the Gathering talk. …Or Harry Potter talk. Lose-lose situations. I went to the latest Star Trek movie. I loved it. So what? Am I going to talk about the nuances of the new actors performances when portaying our original heros? No. Not much. Seriously. …So, I am not a gearhead nerd guy.
..but anyway, I saw this old amp in the corner of this garage… price? $10. …So I was all like, ‘Hey, does this thing work?’ …and this grungy hippy lady told me that she thought it did… or at least that dude who left it in her garage said so. …hippies… Anyway, it was a rhetorical question anyway. Here’s my gear know-how and advice. If it’s old, it’s worth more than $10 when it comes to all musical gear, and Star Wars toys that have all the original pieces and are in 9+ condition or better. …and of course still in the package- regardless of the condition of the package really. The toy inside would likely be worth at least $10 if it’s old.
(I used to work at this place that sold Star Wars toys- and at that time, I would have been considered an expert in that field. …We sent out cataloges and I convinced the boss to let me write little articles in them. They were all really funny. …except for this one, where the boss’s brother who was the “editor” because he was in college or something… changed my whole story around because he found a typo that didn’t make any sense- so he retyped several sentences to make them make more sence, and in doing so, also made me sound as though I wanted to rape a fictional cartoon character. My revenge would come a few years later when I ditched my post at the Mall of America to go meet William Shanter…)
So The amp was a Jordan. The model was Trouper J120. And me typing that into the internet doubles the online articles that mention this amp. This is the odd part. Jordan made amps from 1966 until sometime in the 70s, and they were used by some of the top artist of the time. The Doors, the Mama’s and the Papa’s etc… huge acts. And then, the two clowns who ran the company went to work for Rickenbacker and disbanded Jordan… Now, here in the future, the things are super rare because of the short amount of time they were on the market. I’ve talked to every freaking guitar expert I can find, and they all say the same thing. “Oh yeah, heard of those- never seen one come through.” …so, at first thought, this might make you think that my $10 amp is worth a small fortune. …and if you’re thinking of buying it from me, then you’d be quite right. …but if not, it’s actually really hard to tell… there’s no supply- but also no demand. No one is looking for these, or knows anything about them, so judging a value is though. BUT it sounds amazing! So, for $10 it will sit in my place and make me happy for now.
Later that day I also found a Darth Vader mask that changes your voice when you speak into it.(Yes. You read correctly. It makes you sound like Darth Vader. …I know, deap breaths. ) You have no idea how many parties I will wear that to this summer. Like, two or three. Seriously. …because I wasn’t really to stop getting cheap things, I also went on to craigs list after seeing an organ for sale for $250 and I realized you can get these things for next to nothing. …so I bought an organ for $10 too. It makes all sorts of annoying sounds, and has the notes labeled for fake musicians like me who need help with the more “technical” aspects of playing instruments.
So, for $27 cash money I got, a vintage amp, a vintage organ, and a Darth Vader mask. Naturally I went out rummage saling the next weekend as well. …and naturally I found loads of smelly over priced garbage like toddler clothes. Eh, you win some, and you lose some.
Food for thought: I’m thinking about working brief little reviews of other bands music into my stories about nothing… FYI.
Live long and prosper,
Chicks… Priscilla was telling me she heard some radio DJ curmudgeon saying that Valentines Day is just a holiday made up so men would have to buy women crap to get laid; that it was legalized prostitution. To which I replied, ‘How is that different from the rest of the economy?’ …which I said as a joke. She thought it was funny, and she totally did me later that night. Anyway, I’m pretty into holidays in general, so I can get into the spirit of Valentines Day. The point isn’t that its contrived and that it puts all this insane pressure on you to perform wanton acts of romance and over spending- the point is that its a designated day for doing something special for that guy or girl who makes you so nervous when she looks at you ‘that way’ that you want to wet yourself and puke at the same time. I mean, I took St. Patrick’s Day off too. For everything a season; and this, my friends, is the season of love.
I took Friday off, because, Friday the 13th sounded like a good date for dental work and a hot date. I started going to this new dentist who’s great, and not at all sadistic like the others I’ve been going to. Very good experience, if in need of dental services, check them out here. So, after my face was all disabled and drooly, I went home to sleep it off and prepare for my night on the town with the Mrs.
Now, I’ll admit, I’ve been a bit lacks with the romantic adventures lately… as in the past few years… But, I’m starting to step things up a notch again. Hard work. The thing is, it’s not about prostitution as so many contemporary radio personalities have suggested; its about the effort. Its about what lengths you’ll personally go through to make someone else feel appreciated. Whether you’re dropping cash like you hope to live in a one bedroom apartment your whole life like me, or just taking the time and imagination to make things perfect without any budget to surpass at all.
Double Tree Hotel is famous for force feeding patrons baked goods, whether they want them or not as I found out. I, myself, like cookies, but when the front desk dude handed a lady with a stroller and both arms full of crap six cookies for her and her kids, it looked like bad timing. I had both hands free and waiting for cookies. Oatmeal Walnut Chocolate chip… mmmm. They are really good. This is why I picked this particular hotel in downtown Minneapolis for a romantic evening: cookies.
Once the parking was straightened out we scoped out the room. Pretty decent, had a little living room with a couch and a pantry/coffee area with some over priced wine you could use if you wanted. Kind of like the dollies in a uhaul. There was a whirlpool as requested. Later we tried it out… but I think the water was too hot, cause we sat there for a minute and then both felt sick and had to leave… And a bed and some tvs… pretty standard hotel stuff- except for the cookies. But before we could settle into doing married couple things, we needed to hit the town.
There are also sorts of restaurants downtown that I’ve never tried, we settled on McCormick and Schmitds… or something like that. Fish place. Following my romantic plan, rather than getting reservations, we just went out the day before Valentines, so that nothing would be filled up. So, we were able to get in.
I don’t think I really like lobster. I’ve had it at a few places where I’ve paid lots of money for it- so that should mean they’re making it right… and I don’t know… doesn’t do anything for me. I had a small steak too. That was good. The best thing? The clam chowder… plain old, five dollar a bowl, claim chowder… I should have just had a lot of that. Would have been much cheaper and better. But anyway, very romantic eating, we talked and ate fancy things. But, fancy things to eat alone, do not a fancy night make. We needed a party. But, not just any party would do, we needed a Weber party.
Scott Weber is a very interesting eccentric. He lives in one of the apartment complexes he owns, and he’s transformed half the building into this party palace with themed rooms and secret passage ways… it’s pretty nuts. Check the video. This is a bit old, so there’s a lot more stuff there now… Anyway, he was having a Valentines Day party, so we checked out of the real world and entered his for a while. Lots of folks were there. There was partying. Laurel Ogren showed up. Laurel is my favorite party favor other than myself. Scotty Herold was there to affirm it was the place to be. It was, in a word, magical. So, after a time, we made our exit and went back to the room to do the married couple things that you guys are far to young to hear about.
In the morning we went estate sale shopping after some more married couple things. We stopped at this little cafe where the food sucked and was over prices near w7th and grand… but they had the most hilarious tee shirts. “The Bible talks about St. Paul, but it never mentions Minneapolis.” Ha! I love it. I wanted one, but didn’t feel like wasting anymore money there. …but if someone else wants to get me one???
Anyway, so, then later we ended up our at Club Jager with some friends. …And I’ll list them. These were the friends we were out with- all of them. Adam “Mr Figs” Newton, Jedi knight and friend to Caption Solo. Brian Beck. He likes soccer. Pat “Secret Pirate Jerk” O’Brien (who’s name I misspelled two blogs ago… here’s my retraction…) and his lovely wife Jessica, same last name. We were all dancing and talking and partying like crazy, and then we were starting to get a little bored around 1am… so, I’m thinking to myself, ‘wonder if there’s something up at Weber’s again’ So I texted him…
ME:Weber, what’s up, party number two tonight?
ME: cool,who’s place?
WEBER: mine. come over.
So… this was kind of believable because I know he owns more than one place, but I was pretty sure he just lived in the one and rented all the others, but, because we’re all the adventurous sort, off we went. After I nearly killed everyone attempting to follow me the, we arrive at this quaint little home. There are all these little bags that say ‘happy Valentines Day’ with candles inside lining the walk up to the house. We knock on the door and some guy I’ve never seen before answers with this horrified ‘ohgodpleasenomoreguests’ look on his face. And then Weber comes matching up from behind. “There with me, come on in guys” We go inside and there’s this nice little party set up, but clearly everyone had already left.
Someone was packing up wine glasses and getting things in the trash. It was hilariously awkward. They graciously offered us everything they had, and we dove into the chocolate fondue like ravenous wolves descending upon a crippled moose. Weber, naturally, conversed with us normally as though we had all the time in the world. I can still see Pat standing in the middle of the kitchen. Just standing uncomfortably… I was laughing the whole time. Eventually we made our awkward goodbyes and hurried out, me with a small plate of food. The meatballs were great. Also, I double dipped in the fondue. Don’t tell.
And that was that. Our Valentines Day adventure.