Garage Rant No. 1 -

So far, the ratio of interesting things to non-interesting things that I have to say at present is 0-400.  If you're a gambling man, bet on the fact that nothing in this particular post will be of any interest to you whatsoever.

I once purchased two donuts, a yoohoo, a bag of cool ranch doritos, a diet coke, a regular coke, 4 microwave barbecue sandwiches, 2 packs of camels, a pair of sunglasses, and ribbed condoms from the Circle K at Walker and 23rd Street in Oklahoma City.  Whilst the cashier was ringing up my massive, stoner purchase, I asked if he "considered me portly".  His response?  Not good enough to remember.  Probably a shrug.  Or a "heh". 

I warned you.

It feels like some guy took a pair of fancy pliers and yanked out my tooth.  It also felt like it took far too long to yank the bastard out.  I didn't mind much what with the nitrus and all, but it still was less than comfortable.  Once we were all finished and I was breathing oxygen again, they gave me my perscriptions, told me what to do, and warned me that I should probably take the pain medication before the novacaine wore off.  They were effing correct.  If the crazy wind sheer storm hadn't knocked out power to the Wallgreens for several hours yesterday, I would have been able to do that.  As it was, all prescriptions were 3 hours behind schedule, and I was beginning to hurt.

Let me explain the Bryon White definition of 'hurt'.  I've had 3 knee surgeries, none of which were anything less than severely painful, at least during the first week post operation.  What I felt when the numbing agent wore off of my jaw was a pain that was previously unknown to me.  Like some tiny fairy was taking a serrated blade and running it back and forth between my jaw and the gaping hole where my terribly infected tooth used to be.  All I could do was kick.  And scream.  And cry.  Until the damn Walgreens finally got my prescriptions.  At some point, I passed out from the pain, but it didn't last long.  After the meds kicked in, I ended up sleeping most of the day and all of the night, which has thrown my sleep schedule for a loop anyway.

So I catch on the old Facebook that my buddies Rick Reiley and Tim Bays are going to be on the local am radio station in Cushing, Oklahoma at 8:30am. I immediately begin to scramble to make the mms feed work, which required downloading of Flip4Mac to be somewhat compatible with my Quicktime.  I proceeded to spend a few hours listening to my friends and harassing them on the internet.  It was a quite entertaining morning to say the least, and I got to hear my favorite new Rick Reiley tune, "Tiny Worlds".  At least that's what I think it's called.  Might be "Little Worlds'.  Doesn't matter.  It's too good for a title.  Love it, love Rick, love the fact that he writes more songs before breakfast than I usually do in a month.  And they're good. 

Garage Rant #1 Over.  Red Leader Out. 


Wacky's 100 Rules for Success

1.  Rooster/Chickens/Geese/Turkeys
2. Word Play
3. The fine art of eating the "sandwich"
4. Weapons
4. Gary Wayne
5. Anything Tom Skinner says
6. Anything Tom Skinner does
9.  No Double Do Do's
12. Costumes and Props
27. Word Play
27. Charge $100 for cover song requests
40. Hunker down in the back of the van
61.  Just play chords there
100.  Skip numbers

Bizarro Weekend

Our real weekend started off sanely enough...or at least what passes for sane in our world at times.  We opened for Vertical Horizon, and I am happy to say that they single-handedly thwarted the stigma that so many national bands tend to proliferate.  They were extremely cordial, mucho professional, and honestly grateful for the opportunity to come to a town they'd probably never heard of and play their music.  Plus they rocked balls.  Killer harmony singing was abundant throughout the set.  Our set wasn't too shabby either, as we had the core of the philharmonic group in attendance.  It's nigh impossible to have a bad show with that many killer musicians on stage.

But it worked for The Band.

Saturday was a much welcomed night off, and it was spent relaxing.  Then, we began our bizarro weekend (Sunday/Monday) with an evening at Grady Cross's new place in Yukon.  It was a lot bigger than I expected, and it was packed full on fans that were donating money at the door, buying fund raising items for ridiculously (and thankfully) inflated prices that all went to helping out the Okies that got hammered by the recent run of twisters.  They raised over $15,000 bucks in one day.  Props to EVERYONE involved, as there were many volunteers and unsung heroes that made that thing work, not to mention all the time and merch donated by the performers.  Speakin' of them...

We messed up our time table and didn't get there in time for Camille, Aron, and Al's set.  Which was extremely disappointing, but not altogether surprising as we're always running a little behind.  However,  I'm more than certain that it was a phenomenal display of rock and roll excellence.  Stoney and Mac were the main event, and they plowed through acoustic renditions of some of everyone's favorite tunes, plus a few of the ones they wanted to play.  They were kind enough to let Gabe and I pick 4 or 5 tunes and even sat in on a killer rendition of "Graceful Swan Dive", then new McClure/Marshall/White co-write.  Say that 3 times fast. 

We also got to meet and hang with Kim Brian, our new resident DQ photographer from Fort Worth.  She has a really good eye and interesting ideas to keep us from looking like terribly non-photogenic ass clowns...which is something that comes pretty natural to us.  I dig her style, not to mention she's a true fan of music, specifically good music.  Looking forward to getting some of the pics back.

After running on relatively no sleep from the Grady's fiasco, things took a turn for the weird as we loaded Kim, guitars, lights, cameras, action, and a variety of van trash and headed down to Boohatch for a demo session that wielded some tracks for a friend and an acoustic demo of a new rockin' tune that's surprisingly cooler than I originally thought it would be.  Can't beat it with a stick. 

Unless your name is Wacky.  And you have a machete.  And a chicken.  And a loving, patient, understanding wife.  Did I say understanding?  Yes I did.  Much thanks to Scottie for putting up with all of our Damn Quails craziness, including the odd smells emanating from the basement, the ultra-loud lead guitar riffs at 3am, and the constant rabble of musicians that come tromping around the property.  The woman is a saint.

Deli rocked.  But I'm tired.  So you'll have to come next week and see what all the hubbub is about.  See you at the show...