Hi Beer Nuts:
I went this morning for free food and mimosas at the House of Blues for some weird "speshal" announcement (ok, they didn't spell it that way) from "Warner Home Video" and some other weird company. (You should always be careful when people call something special. Just a tip.) The announcement was really, really exciting for the "teams" at both companies and it had to do with "penetrating" the music DVD market. There were a lot of young white guys in expensive suits and we all had to wear these artificial leis. (If this is the closest I come to getting "lei'd" this summer I will just die.)
At first the leis seemed embarrassing: How sad that we're here at a fake-party wearing fake-leis and getting fake-excited about Warner Bros. making even more not-fake money, while the Mexican guys making the make-to-order omelettes are making play-money. But then I looked around the room at the savvy young suits in their sharply tailored uniforms, and I realized that the leis gave them an air of ridiculousness that made them seem almost likeable. You almost felt you could walk up to such a person and he wouldn't talk down to you, or ask "who you're with," or look right through you, or look at your body--because he was wearing flowers.
We watched excerpts from the forthcoming "Janet Jackson in Hawaii" DVD, which is the gayest thing since faux-finish paints, and I noticed that normal, cuddly Janet has once again become robo-Janet over the past year. She must eat paper and work out in her sleep, because we all know Miss Janet is not only Nasty, she is also Nasty Curvy. No more. Her six-pack is carrying its own six-pack. She looks great in a zoological, Olympic-triathlete way, but come on, people. There is no way in God's green flippy-floppy that she can maintain this physique and be a Real person with a Life.
I will just have to keep it real for her. Won't you join me? I think meatloaf would be a good way to start.
It is decided, then. Tonight, we meatloaf!
Then I'm going to Mercury Rev and the Shins tonight. I'm mostly excited for the Shins, who are an excellent Beach Boys-and-psychedlia-inspired indie rock band with poetic lyrics with a definite sense of place--farms, fields, trees and streams. I first got into them because of a 15-year-old boy with better taste than me, my cousin Joe, the future guitar hero. (That's another story.)