Listening, per Doug's request, to a copy of his band, The Neighbors. Actually, Doug is in the band, I think Allen would prefer that it be called Allen's band The Neighbors. I think Allen might be disappointed to know that I think it's fine pop - especially now that I hear tambourines rattling.
Last night celebrity guest bartended for a while and overcharged a biker. I breezed past him a bit after depositing his pint and bottle of beer and he inquired How did these two things equal $8.
I looked and said I'm not a bartender and I can't add numbers up on the fly... Kelly, what do these two items total? Then I said OK, I owe you $1.75 and handed them to him with my patented Thanks for shopping at Nietzsche's. Jeesh, thank the good Harley gods above, pal, that you're not tippling in NYC I should have tossed in his goateed direction... goatee with Guiness foam around the edges.
Excruciating is how I'd describe the vocals heard last last night. I escaped to the front of the bar to visit with musicians and non-musicians and suddenly heard a huge, mic'd yelp. This is not what I expect from a band incorporating my name. Nancy's Candy is no treat. They do, however, have busloads of pals so there were lots and lots of onlookers.
Marty invited me, as did a few others, to Super Bowl parties.
In lieu of a bag of chips and a beer I prefer to enter into such an escapade with an armload of the Sunday Times - looking up, of course, at appropriate intervals.
Off for Janet Reno Fan Club brunch and points beyond, like shooting the Campbell Bros. at the art joint this aft.
No football love.