The 1st Annual Casa Stella Food Thing … hey, don’t break my shoes. I don’t know what to call it anymore, but it’s this Saturday at Casa Stella in beautiful (vey iz mir) downtown Fords, New Jersey … figure it’ll start about 2:30 p.m. and should it rain, you’ll probably get wet.
The Band … not that we have a name picked out or anything, but Pete Chinnici (guitars/vocals) and Cliff Radlauer (bass/vocals) and I had a nice first session this past weekend. For a guy who claims he wasn’t comfortable with Clapton, Mr. Chinnici sure nailed it. Mr. Radlauer was sounding very good subbing for Jack Bruce and I served as ballast (because NOBODY subs for Ginger Baker ... that and I weigh 5,000 pounds).
The Russians are paying … the Russians are paying! Let’s here it for foreign agent, Svetlana Pironko for bringing in the duckets from Russia with love. Fazools, that’s what I’m talking about. Jimmy Bench-Press has been published and is now available in Russia.
14th Annual Cape Fear Blues Festival … The ugly one will be playing with a band mate from way back in the day (Pete Durso) at the Blues Festival in Wilmington, North Carolina on Sunday, July 26th. The big question is will they have a drum throne strong enough to keep the ballast from busting through the stage? Yes, Cape Fear of the Robert Mitchum (later De Niro) scary flicks. Flash from the past Canarsie High School and West Virginia football star Nate Parker will be there as well. Nate was an all-city football star from Canarsie who then went on to play BIG TIME college football at West Virginia (where one of my beloved new york state buffalo bills (Bruce Smith) came from as well.
I wish I could take these with me …
The DW's were bought from Cymbal Fusion ... talk to Erik there ... great service, amici.
My Last Waltz … August 29-30, 2009 … this is it … the last FOCKING weightlifting meet for moi (at least for this year). The knees did not handle the attempts to regain former form in the squat (not that there was much there to begin with—a squatter (in the weightlifting sense) I’m not) … in fact, the knees (especially the right one) outright rejected any and all attempts to work without pain. There were even a few nights I could hear them talking to me: “Oh, fatty, are you kidding me? Try that shit one more time and guess what, we’re not coming back up! We’ll leave your fat ass half a foot from the floor.”
They’re calling it the South Jersey Sports Extravaganza & Wellness and supposedly ESPN will be there covering the several events. Powerlifting is just one of 8 events. It’s in Atlantic City and so long as I don’t get hurt in the next 7 weeks, I’ll make one last attempt at my best bench. Right now, it’s not looking like it’ll happen but I should blast past my lift in the April meet.
Talking to me … lately the ugly one has been very busy and it hasn’t been often when Spartacus and I have had a few minutes to share our thoughts on the world at large (amongst other things) … or as they say in the legal profession (ad nausea) “inter alia” … but last night the champion of all New Jersey mice(sisis) took a few minutes to engage in the following Socratic dialogue:
“Where’d you put the dog treats?” Spartacus asked.
“What’s that? Hey, it’s good to see you again, Spartacus. Where you been hiding?”
“Timmy’s room. Where are the dog treats?”
“Timmy’s room? Why there? Don’t you like the kitchen cabinets anymore?”
“Are you crazy? With that flame throwing bitch you married? No thanks, the kid’s room’ll do fine.”
“Oh, don’t mind her. She was just upset at me because I didn’t … well, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. I was there, remember? Where’re the treats?”
“Same place, I think.”
“Uh-uh, she moved them. Duh, or why would I ask you?”
“You sure? I thought I saw them the other day when I went to get my coffee.”
“Yeah, your coffee. It wasn’t for that shit, she never would’ve heard me the first time. You took up half the third shelf with that giant can.”
“It is a big can.”
“Yeah and you’re a big dumbsky. Now, where’re the dog treats? You have that psycho DOC and his gun-toting friend the Jenmeister coming and I don’t trust either of them not to poison the goods.”
“You know what? I think DOC is just a big softy.”
“No, you’re a big softy. A very big softy. DOC is a gun nut and he’ll shoot me if I show my tail Saturday so I intend to hibernate until this Casa Stella whatever the fuck is over and all your redneck friends are safely back in Alabama and your militia friends are back in Idaho. Then I’ll come out and feast on leftovers, but until then I can use some stores for the weekend.”
“You know you’re awful demanding for a little mouse?”
“And you’re awful fat for a human being. Now tell me where the dog treats are hidden or I’ll burrow a whole in your precious DW bass for the family of 60 I met in your garage last night.”
“Treats are in the basement.”
“I knew she knew I didn’t go down there since you two are using the air conditioners again.”