Prowling the darkened Middling City streets is next on the Perfect Agenda.
Last night Tori was a huge el grande NO. A certain Margo from Sony said Tori is saying no to media in all secondary markets.
So in case you didn't believe me that the MC is secondary, there's backup.
Or perhaps it's another case of ARSS (Aging Rock Star Syndrome).
Tonight is art then music then music then music before a visit to the Tequila Maiden.
As I had to deliver handiwork north of the city I made a very politically incorrect visit to the Seneca Casino as a plus one. At the entrance several security guards converged upon us at the sight of my camera bag... red-faced and hands a-grabbin.' I talked my way into keeping the bag with the warning that if the camera popped out they'd take it.
Hopped aboard machine but wasn't feeling It. I was fixated on a Tabasco-themed slot machine, $1 + a shot with meager results. Surrounded by the sunken-faced elders who spend way too much time in front of the mesmerizing music and flourescent lights of the machines.
We curiously took a look at the buffet - a half-mile of all the starches and fried items a body could hanker.
Off to points pointy and blunt.

9580.
Every person reading epinw remember this 4-digit number and use the hell out of it.
It comes to me at a very steep price, compliments of Verizon and Verizon DSL so please use it and pass the number along.
9580.
Pick up a phone and dial it and nothing else and wait until the recording comes on and tells you what phone number belongs to the phone that you are holding in your listening and holding hand.
Use it at payphones, someone's mysterious phone.
Why am I passing this along after Verizon made me promise I'd never remember the number, let along pass it along?
Well, hang on to your hats as your Favored Nancy is currently a Steaming Nancy.
Friday I was in NYC and called my residence to find a stranger at the other end of the line.
Are you in my house?
No, I'm in my house.
So my land line now shows up as if I'm calling from her house, she has been getting my phone calls and I have no internet access. According to my neighbor, who I called yesterday on my cell phone, she's been receiving most of my calls since Friday and she took a call from someone who wanted to hire me as a freelancer.
Thinking of making Sprint PCS my sole phone and cable my new internet provider.
Goodbye Verizon. Well, unless they comp me about $1K.
Onwards.
My undying and communicational woeful love.

At the Old Fart Concert me and my boy colleagues were made to participate in a biathalon of sorts. We were shown the diagram of the stage with our photo positions near center stage back about 5 rows and then either side back about the same distance. For the intro (cheeseball music, pianos rising from below stage, Billy Joel then Elton John waddling to stage, meeting at center and raising their joined hands in a victorious geture underneath huge circles of snippets of the American and British flag conjuring up thoughts of the pending Bush/Blair war) we were at center and for song 1 my half-group was escorted to Joel's side of the stage. For song 2 we were ushered over to John's side of the stage. This meant running from one position to the other, dodging folding chairs, ushers, people carrying snacks on trays. Realized back about 40' was a better angle for Elton John (who looked like hell in shaggy red-head wig and sunglasses, puffy jowls jiggling about) and then tried to escape my group to return to Billy Joel's side to make more images of him from reverse, better angle. That's when our usher, Jesse, caught sight of me jogging away and I was busted. Nancy, come back to your group, he shouted. I obliged.
Then onwards to Flogging Molly show and shot the opener before standing in pit with security men. I was next to one guy and I glanced up and commented that if the oversized disco ball let go from up at the celing we'd be kaput. He said his secret passion is disco so it would be appropriate. We discussed the panic and horrors of the Rhode Island club disaster and I said that people will grab for those they know in time of pandemonium and that one slip and fall means crushing and piling. This conversation took place a few minutes before Flogging Molly (Guinness-guzzling lovelies) hit the stage and the barricades were nearly collapsing from the crush of punk rock and Celtic music-loving fans. It was time for Your Favored Nancy to evacuate and shoot from the wings.
Thanks to Joey Marcella I now know the club's many secret passageways and navigated through a secret door to walk behind the bar and leave unscathed.
Onwards.

En route to a really really really really fabulous show pairing one decent guy and one complete jerk. Of course I mean the Elton John and Billy Joel Face-Off in mere moments. Have to show up at security for check-in in about half an hour. Happened to catch something on cable tooting Billy Joel's sad horn - how he granted some misguided young girl backstage access to Him and he was Mr. Finesse, basically saying Yeah, we do a lot of good here and if it makes somebody's day...
Yeah, whatever.
It's two pictures in my column, and I believe it's sold out.
Afterwards a quick stop into the Flogging Molly show downtown and then that should be sufficient for today's wheelings and dealings.
Off to see two puffy pop stars.
The joy of the night will be, of course, seeing the boy colleagues en masse - it's been a while and it's usually a time of laughs and usual equipment banter.
Pop rock shooting star Love.