JJB’s Ramblings

I’ve been busy.  Between my regular workload, photo work, soccer, general social engagements and packing, I am pretty tired.  Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining.  It just is starting to take its toll, making me semi-brain dead lately.  But that’s not what I want to talk about today.  I want to talk about last night.  Last night, I got home from work and immediately busted into Super Packer.  The way I figured it, I had about an hour and a half before meeting Erin and her friends for some super BBQ at Redbones,  but you don’t care about that. In fact lets just say that I got most of the kitchen packed up before getting the text that I should head to Redbones.  On the walk into Davis Sq. I reflected on how tired I was feeling and started wondering what food would be appropriate considering I had a game to play in a few hours.  Oh yes, 11pm soccer game in Newton. Neat. 

We all meet up at Redbones, get seated and place our drink orders.  We chat amicably though I don’t have my normal, “I can hold a conversation with new people” ability. In fact, conversationally, I suck.  Tim is asking me some questions and in my head I can formulate answers but what comes out of my mouth is nowhere near as detailed and genuine as I planned.  At one point, after discussing eRock’s pursuit of opera, Tim asks, “Oh, that’s great. Is she a mezzo?”  Me:  Head – “No, she’s a soprano.” Mouth – “uh…*awkward pause*..no…she’s a…uh…….” Tim sees my struggle and starts to say soprano… “Yes soprano.” Wow. That was off the mark.  He continues saying, “that’s great.  Who is she with?”  Oh god I know this.  Why the hell can I not think of it….fer chrissake. BoCo…BoCo…no you dope, that’s where she went to school…BOC. That’s right; Boston Opera Collaborative.  To prove I know what my girlfriend does, I talk about the recent shows she’s done.  He nods and asks if she’s done any internships. Internships……yes.  Actually I know this one.  Yes she did, last summer in FL.  (Crap I am sitting at a table with people that are from FL.) I know the question is coming….  “Where in FL?” where in FL…um….  (Now, all three of them are mentioning potential areas, hoping that something will jog my mind.) Sarasota? Orlando? Miami?  I blurt out:  “Palm Springs?  Yea I think that was it” Shit, is that even in FL? I don’t know.  I am going to stick with that.  I tell them I know the program name was Intermezzo, but I don’t recall the school…or apparently the town.  (For the record, it was West Palm Beach)… This goes on for a few more minutes until I’ve given the impression that I cannot carry on a normal conversation about myself or loved ones.  Thankfully the food comes out and everyone tucks into their meals.  I am enjoying my brisket (thankfully I can still remember how to chew and swallow food) thinking that this is the perfect portion size.  About 20 min later I realize that I had grossly misjudged.  The Redbones adventure ends without any other embarrassing moments, though I would like to make mention of this awful tattoo I saw though.  This guy (maybe in his early 20’s) had, on his right tricep, the word “HATE” except the letters were written to look like large pieces of stone, like you would see at Stonehenge.  I don’t know how either got there, but I don’t really care. It was awful.

 The whole purpose of Erin bringing her friends up here to Davis was to show them how cool it was and what a nice area, etc etc, etc.  The Burren (in spite of the lack of TV’s showing the Sox game) was the next destination.  I concurred.  Let the record show that Tuesday night at the Burren is open mic night.  We chose poorly.  When we got there, this girl who was maybe in her late teens (maybe) was just starting to play her piano and sing Anna Nalick’s – 2 a.m.  Well the poor thing had some serious patch trouble and her keyboard kept clipping out and buzzing.  Then she forgot a lyric and started again.  Then, another pause because she didn’t start in the right place.  She laughed nervously and apologized each time, but it didn’t really help.  She finished up and there was wild applause…because from what I could tell, her family was sitting in the back corner.  Anyway, we all have to start somewhere.  So she launches into Alanis Morissettes – Ironic.  Our table breaks into a discussion of how bad the song is in itself and how should could have chosen ANY other Alanis song and it would have been better.  Still technical difficulties and now she is a little flat.  Anyway, one more song from her and she wraps up.  Not the best I have seen, but I am notching that up to age.

ANYWAY, during her last song, my eyes wander around the room and see the two guys (and I use the term loosely because they are maybe 17 or 18) waiting to go on.  I turn back around to the table and make eye contact with Marisa who was just looking in the same direction. Something in my brain clicks.  What did that kids shirt say? I ask her “Does his shirt say what I think it says?”  She starts laughing and says she just realized the same thing and then confirms what I saw.  The shirt says “I © Female Orgasm”.  Yeah.  His buddy’s is rockin’ a Pantera shirt.  Both T’s look BRAND new and negate any street cred that may be garnered from witty shirts (though these are a Zero to begin with).  Wow.  We discuss what kind of music they will play (with a keyboard and a guitar) and decide it wont be covers of Dashboard Confessional or Supertramp.  They open with an original.  The climax lover is tickling the faux ivory (which is synthed to drum sounds) while our 80’s prodigy is nailing some power chords.  No lyrics.  These guys don’t need no stinkin’ lyrics.  About 2/3 of the way through the song the guitarist actually drops his pick, so he stops, bends over and picks it back up.  Marisa saw this too and we just started laughing and said, “ok, we need to go.”  Now.  Am I showin’ these guys the cream of Davis or WHAT!  We part ways, I make my way back to my house, grab a totally useless 45 min nap where I neither feel rested or relaxed and drive out to my 11pm soccer game…that the other team didn’t show up for.  You can’t script this stuff.

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