Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 30

"The English Beat" and The Plimsouls at Mezzanine.

Okay, I have to put "The English Beat" in quotation marks because we all know the band currently is comprised of just lead singer Dave Wakeling and some session musicians. However, that doesn't stop me from going to see them every time they come to town. To that end, there I was at Mezzanine last night surrounded by a crowd that actually made me feel young. You've gotta love the music fans who discovered these bands when they were in high school and college... As opposed to sixth grade, which is when I discovered them.

As soon as we walked in the doors and checked our coats, my English Beat friend Carla and I, along with her friend Brian, laid claim to some space right in front of the stage. Maybe it was the overly-crowded Beat shows I attended at the Red Devil Lounge a year and a half ago, but I now need to be front and center every time I see Dave Wakeling sing. I think one of the reasons Carla loves catching up with me at these shows is because she likes being in front, too, and I just have no shame when it comes to staking out my territory.

Opening for The Beat last night were The Plimsouls. I saw The Plimsouls last year at Cafe du Nord, and if you're someone who knows only their hit record "Million Miles Away" (and I confess to having been one of those people), I'd advise you to get yourself a Plimsouls album or two. What perfect garage-pop The Plimsouls play. I honestly regret that I missed most of their music 25 years ago. Better late than never, I suppose.

After The Plimsouls hour-long set, The Beat took the stage. And they played for two solid hours. Two hours! The English Beat has been one of my favorite bands since 1982, and they busted out a couple of numbers even I'd forgotten about. It was so great.

Of course, because Carla and I are both single and attractive (that may sound egotistical, but whatever), we got hit on. And it's kind of my fault. I first made eye contact with the guy in question, and initially he seemed normal. He and his friend had driven down from Sacramento for the show, and he started telling me all about how he had seen The Beat in high school, and he played bass in a punk band for 15 years, and so on and so forth. When he learned neither Carla nor I are married, he actually said: "Have I gone to heaven?"

That sounds cheesy, but he actually played it off pretty well.

Mr. Sacramento tired of me and began chatting up Carla almost exclusively, which turned out to be a very good thing for me and a bad thing for her. You see, as the evening wore on, and the alcohol he'd consumed started settling in, the touching began. When the show ended, we were rather relieved to lose that dude. No wonder he was coming on to women who live an hour away from him.

Carla's friend Brian was none too impressed with our wannabe suitor either. I learned last night that Carla and Brian are very good platonic friends, and... Well, you know how that goes sometimes. Brian actually disappeared soon after The Beat began playing, and we found him outside the club at about 1:30 a.m. Don't you love the occasional fun provided by male-female friendships?

Aside from all of that, there was the music. Which is definitely making me happy today.

Ladies Who Lunch

There's nothing better on your day off than some leisurely mid-day snacks.

Today I met my friends Teri and Katie at Palomino so we could officially become Ladies Who Lunch for an afternoon. Teri, Katie and I all work in the same industry, so most of the conversation centered around "shop talk," but it was still fun. And you'll notice that despite how full we were after our meal, we still managed to smile pretty for the paparazzi.

Now I need to practice my singing, clean my apartment, hit the gym and study lines for my acting project. However, after a huge grilled steak salad and some pear bread pudding, all I want to do is nap.

Which activity do you think will win?

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 29

The Shins at The Warfield

The Shins may well be the most perfect band I don't listen to nearly enough. I own merely one album and have loaded only three or four songs into my iPod. However, I like what I've heard enough that I signed right up when I heard they were coming to town. So tonight, Ann Marie, Paul and I hit the Warfield for the second of two nights featuring the Shins.

For a lot of reasons that had nothing to do with the band, this show was unlike any other experience I've had at the Warfield. For one thing, I think the show must have sold out very quickly because Ann Marie got our tickets the day they went on sale, and only balcony seats were available. I've never sat in the balcony at the Warfield, save the 2001 afternoon when I escorted some fans up there to watch Billy Idol sound check. No, I'm not making that up. Anyway, given that The Shins are kind of mellow, we were okay with balcony seats. And by and large, our location was fine, aside from the contact high we were sure we'd get from our fellow balcony denizens. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, San Franciscans love their marijuana.

As mellow and refrained as The Shins were, the audience was not. There was a lot of shouting to the band, beginning with the guy who proclaimed, "I love the consistency of your music!" That was odd enough that The Shins responded and had a little discussion about it. Well, the flood gates open, people began yelling all sorts of nonsense like "Do you like beef jerky?" (if you're a Shins fan and know of some significance to that question, please enlighten me) and of course, the ever-so original "Freebird!"

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the refined and sophisticated Bay Area.

As for The Shins themselves, they treated us to one perfect, mod influenced, harmony laden pop confection after another. They played my favorite songs from "Know Your Onion!" on down, and as it turns out, I learned tonight that there are several songs of theirs I enjoy that I never actually knew were Shins tunes. So for me the evening was educational as well as entertaining. And it has inspired me to procure another Shins record or two.

I didn't yell anything from my seat, but I can conclusively say that I, too, love the consistency of The Shins' music.

Urgh! of Joy

If you read or watched any news today, you undoubtedly know that it has not been a good day for humanity. Or at least not a good day for college students. Icky stuff, that.

However, there is a bright ray of joy in my world tonight. I arrived at work this morning to discover Tom had brought me a copy of Urgh! A Music War. I had seen bits and pieces of this post-punk, new wave concert film about twenty years ago, but now I own it! Comprised of almost forty performances from around 1980, the film showcases good 80's music... the stuff that grew out of the punk and glam movements of the late 70's and ever-so briefly made a splash before music took a decided turn for the worse around 1985 or so (The Replacements, REM, U2 and others like them notwithstanding, of course). The Police, The Go-Go's, XTC, Echo and the Bunnymen, X, The Cramps and Devo are just some of the artists featured.

I'm watching it now, and I am so happy. Thanks, Tom!

Sadly for me and pretty much everyone at work, though, Tom is now on a six week vacation. Yay for him, but boo for us. Honestly, we're not sure how we'll make it.

Two Songs, No Waiting

So today ended up being a slightly disappointing day for me.

Imagine your Fake Band was invited to play an event where Bill Clinton was the keynote speaker. And imagine you were going to get to meet Bill Clinton, as well as sing in your Fake Band. And finally, imagine that this was likely to be your swan song with Fake Band, so you were really going to go out with a bang. Well, that is what lay in store for me when I got up this morning.

Except that things didn't go quite as planned.

Now, Fake Band did play said event. We played two songs before Bill Clinton spoke, and above is a photo of me in all my sassy glory during that mini-set. Kind of cool, huh? We were then supposed to play another ten songs after Bill's speech, but due to circumstances beyond everyone's control, the timing was all off, and our second set was cut. Well, what are you going to do, right? We'd still get to meet him, which would be very cool.

Except for the fact that this was a work event, so I had other obligations and was tending to them when Bill was finally ready to meet us. However, here is a photo of the rest of the Fake Band boys with the Former President... just so you know he was really there. You can imagine me photo-shopped in this picture, I suppose.

Ah, well. I'm disappointed, but again, what are you going to do?

After the work event, I went to Jelly's, a bar behind AT&T Park, for my friend Nikki's birthday party. I haven't seen Nikki in forever, so it was very nice to catch up with her a bit as I wished her the happiest of birthdays. My friend Debbie was also there, and I went with her, her boyfriend and another friend of theirs to Puerto Allegre for snacks and drinks after the party. Then I met Emily and her fiance in Hayes Valley.

It was in Hayes Valley that I got the news: Don Ho has died!

You might wonder why, aside from general human compassion, I would care about such an event. After all, Don Ho is not a close, personal friend. Well, remember dear readers, that I took in Mr. Ho's Waikiki Review when I was in Hawaii merely three weeks ago. Just three weeks ago. Little did I know it would be one of his last performances.

This makes me want to head back to Waikiki so I may mourn properly.

Rock Stars, Rock Stars Everywhere

Yesterday was one fascinating day. For pretty much the entire morning and afternoon I was super crabby due a stinky situation that has recently reared its ugly head in my life. It's no big deal, really, but it was leaving me stuck in a mildly foul mood.

Well, all the stink melted away at about 6:30 when I arrived South of Market to see Daydrinker (also known as Higgins) play at Brainwash. Do you know Brainwash? It's a laundromat, cafe, live music venue combo. Practical and entertaining. Higgins' wife and my dear friend Jayn was, of course, there, as well as many other fun people, including Roland, who was my absolute favorite San Francisco radio DJ when I first moved here. He's no longer on the air, but I still regard him as one of my idols. I also got to meet Sean and Lisa, Higgins and Jayn's neighbors, who promptly described themselves as the most interesting people ever. After talking to them for a little while, I can't say they were too far off the mark.

Daydrinker's set was fabulous, of course. Plus, afterward, Higgins and I talked about the possibility of me singing with him. I'm not sure I'm good enough to be a fellow Daydrinker, as I have only been taking voice lessons for about four months, but we'll see. That would be super fun, if it works out. If you're interested, you can find out more about Daydrinker here.

After Daydrinker's nighttime set, I wandered across the street to meet Sheela for a cocktail at Julie's Supper Club. Well, who knew that Julie's Supper Club has karaoke every Wednesday night? Apparently not many people, because there was hardly anyone in the joint. Sheela sang two songs, her husband Ben sang one after he arrived later in the evening, and I sang four! I wailed my way through "Love Will Keep Us Together" (my standard karaoke number), "Vacation," "Someday, Someway" and "You Can't Hurry Love" with the charisma and poise of the greatest of rock stars. Sheela and I have both decided that we will likely become Wednesday night regulars at Julie's.

Then today, I began my little acting job and after that did some real singing during my voice lesson with Best Friend. We're going to wrap up Kirsty MacColl's "They Don't Know" next week and then likely start working on Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know."

Can you tell that I really wish I was a rock star? It's a good thing Fake Band is playing this weekend...

Squish

Want to hear something gross?

I figured you would. The radiator in the front hall of my apartment building had some sort of unfortunate accident this weekend. As a consequence, it has been leaking a ton of water, and the carpet around it is completely saturated. And I mean saturated. To the point that our front hall has become a big, squishy swamp. Apparently a plumber has been called to fix the radiator and ring out, I suppose, the carpeting, so it should all be dry soon. Until then I would not recommend anyone check their mail or answer the front door of this building in slippers.

Squishy hallways notwithstanding, I am in a very good mood. Tax returns are not even due until next week, but mine was filed weeks ago, and I have already gotten my refund! Of course, that money has already been spent, but you'll be happy to know that my recent trip to Hawaii was fully funded, and the union dues I'll soon have to pay will be taken care of quite handily.

I wanted to go to The Marsh tonight for a staged reading my friend Wendy is doing, but I had one of those super short turnarounds between work shifts today, and I am exhausted. I just went for a short run; I'm about to practice my singing; then I'm off to bed. Sleep is a very good thing, so even though I'm sad to miss Wendy, life is looking pretty fine right now.

In Our Easter Bonnets

Well, as you can see, we weren't actually wearing Easter bonnets. However, this afternoon Bill, Kim, Ben, Sheela, Serena, Anne, Keri, Denise, Paul, Mark, Wendy and myself all gathered at The Rex Cafe on Polk Street to enjoy a lovely Easter brunch.

And let me tell you, it was delicious.

Everybody got along swimmingly as we munched and drank our way through the early part of our day. I also brought along an Easter basket, so we're probably all going to crash down from our collective sugar high later this evening. This photo, taken with my new digital camera, by the way, probably could have used the assistance of a flash, but all I can say is that I didn't snap it myself.

Then, after I got home I caught the end of Easter Parade on Turner Classic Movies. I'd missed most of it, but I did get a chance to see Judy Garland sing "Easter Parade" to Fred Astaire at the end of the film. I adore that movie.

Okay, I'm off to work in an hour. Love, Peeps and Happy Easter, my darlings!

"That's A Sexy Leg"

That is the line, dear readers, which was very tactfully uttered to me by a random man at the Latin American Club in the Mission last night.

If you've ever been to the Latin American Club, you know that there is an elevated platform (perhaps a stage in a former incarnation of the space) toward the back of the bar. All the barstools and tables in the place were taken, so my friend Wendy and I took residence on edge of said platform, where we enjoyed our cocktails. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, our position put us along the pathway to the bathroom. So not only did that charming fellow choose to comment on one of my limbs, but a random woman also asked us if we knew which was the women's restroom and which was the men's room. And yet another woman asked us if we knew of a bus that would take her to Reno because she had to go there to "make some money."

While Wendy herself was in the bathroom, Leg Man came back and explained to me that when lays his eyes upon something so beautiful, he can't help but comment. My leg was very flattered, I guess. He then asked me not to tell his girlfriend he was talking to me. Um, don't worry buddy, this was not a conversation about which I'll be bragging. Well, except to mock you on this space. Another random man stopped during his pass to the loo to tell me he thought he'd seen me at the Latin American Club before, but he didn't say much more.

The lesson here: don't sit on the edge of the platform at the Latin American Club if you don't want a lot of people to talk to you as they move to empty their bladders.

In other news, I just got together with my friend Jacob, who is in town for a philosophy conference. Jacob is a friend from Brown and is now a political science professor at McGill University in Montreal. Too bad he never made anything of himself, huh? Anyway, he and I took in the brunch offerings at Sears Fine Foods in Union Square and caught up on all things fun. We also reminisced about the crazy, ridiculous, amazing experience that was college. Ah, to be young, idealistic and privileged enough to attend an Ivy League university.

While Jacob brings his political science experience to conference halls full of philosophers, my own work life continues. Yesterday, I had to interview a pop culture and television expert about the final nine episodes of "The Sopranos," which apparently begin airing tomorrow. I have never seen "The Sopranos" and frankly, never care to see it. Yes, I know the show is brilliant, and everybody on the planet respects, loves and reveres it. So shoot me. Anyway, the co-worker who was interviewing the expert with me has never seen "The Sopranos" either, and he and I managed conduct the whole conversation without actually talking about the show. We made the interview about the hype around the finales of long-running television shows and the phenomenon of these finales becoming cultural events. I even managed to summon the names of a few programs I actually have enjoyed: "Sex and the City," "Six Feet Under," "MASH" and "Friends." And never once did I have to discuss the specific plot lines navigated by Tony Soprano. I call that a victory.

Oh, by the way, I booked that acting job I auditioned for on Thursday. So watch out Academy of Art directing students... you have a Sassy actor in your midst.

Back In The Saddle

Today I did something I haven't done in almost five years: I went on an acting audition. As I have mentioned before, I used to be an actor. I trained; I did shows; I hung out with other actors. I still have many actor friends, but in mid-2000, I took a break from performing that turned into a semi-retirement. Since then, I have taken all of three acting classes, done one play and performed in a handful of staged readings and 24-hour play festivals. And I think I've only gone on two or three auditions, the last of which was, I believe, in 2002.

Then, on pretty much a whim last weekend, I decided to join Casting Connection. That lead me to this morning's audition, which was for a student film. Much in the same way the staged readings I occasionally do help playwrights, these little movies help students learn the craft of film making. Whether they use me or not, the audition was really fun. I also ran into my friend Wendy there, and she slipped the cutest little note into my purse when I wasn't looking. It basically said, "Yay, Sassy!" How sweet is that?

I'm not sure how committed I'm going to be on this pass, but it's nice to stick a toe back into the acting pool.

After my audition, I decided I needed to spend a lot of money, so I bought myself a digital camera. Another whim, really, but I take a lot of photos and needed to graduate from those disposable cameras you can buy at Walgreens.

Newly-purchased digital camera in hand, I hopped on BART and headed for my singing lesson with Best Friend. During the lesson we (and by "we," I mean Best Friend, as she is the real musician here) did lots of harmonizing, and it sounded great. I have invited Best Friend to join my soon-to-be band, Blo Pop, and she came up with the brilliant idea that we should have Blo Pop names... much like the Spice Girls had Spice names back in the 90's. I, of course, am going to be Sassy Pop. Best Friend is going to be Sexy Pop. I'll have to run this by Mindi, Blo Pop's other founding member, to make sure she approves of this idea. And then she can pick her Pop name.

And finally tonight, I had Fake Band rehearsal, and it went really well. It was actually one of the more productive rehearsals we've had in a while. Writer Ben Fong Torres (of Rolling Stone fame) is going to sing two songs with us at our upcoming show, so he joined us for rehearsal tonight.

Acting, singing, potential photography. All in all, today was this week's Day of the Arts here in Sassyland.

Cocktail Nostalgia

When you have lived in a city for more than a decade, as I have in San Francisco, you realize the potential for nostalgia is everywhere.

Tonight, after not seeing each other for several months, my friend Steve and I met in the Mission for snacks and drinks. Even though I do still pay the Mission fairly regular visits, this evening was like a blast from my late-90's partying past. Our first stops were Truly Mediterranean and Mariachi's so we could procure a chicken shawerma for Steve and a veggie burrito for me. Snacks in hand, we then made our way to Blondie's Bar and No Grill.

Ah, Blondie's. That place was a mainstay of my social life from 1997 until about mid- 2000. I still enjoy it during the week (the weekends there now suck), but I must admit, I don't think I've been to Blondie's in almost a year. I know the proprietor and am actually going to her birthday party in about a week and a half, but I used to know everyone who worked there. Also, I met the first guy I kissed in San Francisco in that joint way back in the day. Ah, to be young... Anyway, that was then and this is now, and I certainly did not recognize the bartender when Steve and I walked in, nor did I have any desire to make out with any of the other customers. Well, at least we got to know our bartender, Jeff, who was very nice and who introduced me to what may become one of my new favorite bands: they're called the Green Horns or something like that. I can't find them on All Music, but Jeff told me to that if I swing by again tomorrow, he'll give me one of their cd's. Sweet.

After a drunk customer scared us out of Blondie's (literally), Steve and I decided to wander across the street and pay Casanova a visit. Okay, I do still frequent Casanova kind of a lot, but it was a much more regular stop of mine back in the halcyon days of my youth. I closed down that place many an evening during the first couple of years I lived here, and then in 2000 and 2001, my friend Gry and I established a Wednesday evening happy hour tradition there until Gry had the nerve to move away. Ah, good times. Tonight, Steve and I chose about 20 songs from Casanova's free juke box... none of which we got to hear because the DJ arrived soon after we'd made our selections, but we didn't care. We still soaked up the atmosphere and giggled over our cocktails.

The twice-divorced Steve offered me an interesting bit of advice while we were out tonight. He recommended I never get married, saying I will be much happier if I avoid that tradition. He also suggested I keep a mental list of all the men who like/hit on me and keep them as my collective back up plan. Interesting advice. I can't say I'll definitely heed it, but I'm not going to write it off either. I'm just saying.

Music and Maturity

Now on the mainland with my Hawaiian tan fading, I quite handily have settled back into my regular routine.

On Thursday, I headed to the East Bay for my weekly singing lesson with Best Friend. After vocal exercises followed by a rendition of Kirsty MacColl's "They Don't Know," complete with harmony (thank you for the extra voice and good ear, Best Friend), we wrapped up the lesson and proceeded to spend 45 minutes playing Nintendo Wii. That's right, Nintendo Wii.

I have never been a video game fan, not even when I was a kid, but I can see why this little contraption is so incredibly popular. Best Friend and I delighted in games of tennis, baseball and bowling. We even created a profile for me on her system. I think a little Nintendo Wii time will likely follow every voice lesson from now on.

Oh, yes, Best Friend and I are serious grown-ups.

After my singing lesson was Fake Band rehearsal on Thursday night. Then a super early morning work shift yesterday left my afternoon free for some power napping. Once well rested, I met Carolyn and Dima, along with two friends of theirs, at 12 Galaxies last night for a live show featuring the Extra Action Marching Band (pictured.. at least some of them... above). The opening bands were a little dull, so we went to the bar next door for cocktails and rejoined the good times at 12 Galaxies just before midnight.

The Extra Action Marching Band really was a lot of fun, but I was reminded that my recent commitment to only drink alcohol two days a week has done a number on my tolerance. (By the way, I suspended my two-day a week drinking rule while I was on vacation, but I think most of the cocktails I had in Hawaii were pretty weak.) To put it bluntly, after four drinks over almost three hours, I was pretty much over-served. Admittedly, two of those four drinks were glasses of Chimay, so I really should have known better. I did nothing whatsoever to embarrass myself, but suffice it to say I was glad that 12 Galaxies now serves pizza, as I was in need of a stabilizing snack. I also realized not long into Extra Action's set that I needed to put myself to bed, so I found a cab and was home well before the band was done playing, I'm certain.

Apparently, the older I get, the more of an amateur I become. Although, it's probably healthier to have an amateur tolerance for alcohol as long as it keeps me drinking less. Better for the waistline and better for the liver.

The End of Paradise

Here I am back in my little hilltop apartment in the City by the Bay. I decided to post this photo to remind myself how much I love living in San Francisco... So I won't get too sad I'm no longer in Hawaii. It is a little surreal to think that just this morning I was basking in the sunshine on Waikiki Beach and playing in the warm waves of the Pacific. As wonderful as San Francisco is, the beach in this city means a wool sweater and a decided hesitation to take a dip in the drink, unless you want to be swept away by a strong rip tide.

Not quite the same thing.

In the cab on my way home from the airport tonight (yes, I could have taken BART, but by the time my plane landed, I was over travelling and just wanted to be home), I heard our local "Smooth Jazz" radio station play "Every Breath You Take" by The Police. On a smooth jazz station? Yes, The Police were/are brilliant, even though that song sucks and is a little creepy, but maestros of jazz, they were not.

Okay, anyway, back to the 50th state in the Union. I said this six months ago, but seriously this time, kids... Group trip to Hawaii later this year; who's in?

Oh, and P.S.: Huge thanks to Gretchen and Paul for checking my mail while I was gone. They are tremendous rock stars.

Brilliant Idea

I have formulated a plan to finance my move to Hawaii. I'll form a band or duo to perform at the hotels here. I know, that's a bold statement from someone in Fake Band who has only been taking singing lessons for a few months. However, early yesterday evening I learned that you don't really need to be good to be employed as hotel musical entertainment. Admittedly, most of the musicians I've seen here have been talented, but the band yesterday evening was not. I can sing as off-key as those singers did. And unlike them, I can sing on-key sometimes, too. By the way, the band in the photo is not the bad band. I just found that online for illustration.

Should I not be able to find employment as a hotel singer, I'm thinking I could maybe work in a Hawaiian hotel spa. Doing anything; I'm not picky. The spa I visited today was lovely and would make a great employment backdrop. Now, you may find yourself asking: "Um, Sassy, you have a career that is not geographically specific; in fact, it's in demand everywhere... So why not just do the same job in Hawaii?" Well, because my current occupation would command about half the salary in Hawaii, even though the cost of living is comparable to San Francisco. So if I'd have to be poor anyway, why not be poor by being a "professional" (in the strictest sense of the word) singer? Or by working in the tranquil environment of a spa?

Do you like my idea? If so, and you'd like to be in my Hawaiian hotel band, just let me know.

By the way, Don Ho last night was positively surreal. He's about 1000 years old and sang "Tiny Bubbles" twice. His act is also kind of like a variety show with two teenage winners of "Hawaii Idol" and various members of the audience singing songs, as well. (For the record, they also sang way better than yesterday's bad hotel band.) But don't take my word for it; if you find yourself in Waikiki any time soon, you must take in Don Ho.

Only one full day left. Can you hear my sniffles and sobs from where you are?

Paradise Burns

I am incredibly diligent when it comes to sunscreen. The Scottish, Irish, English and French side of my ancestry years ago claimed victory over the Jamaican, Native American and African side, and the prize is my relatively fair skin and tendency to burn very easily. I have my uber-Anglo father to thank for that. Anyway, I have learned to do everything right regarding sunscreen: I slather on a generous layer before leaving the safety of an enclosed building; I re-apply after about an hour and a half; I use spf 30. But I suppose I should say I do almost everything right. However diligent I am with my sunscreen, I am inept at its application.

To that end, vibrant patches of bright pink now grace my skin. A long streak along my left arm, a tiny bit just above my collarbone, a patch that fills the space between my breasts (that's the most attractive one, let me tell you). I'm armed with aloe for my post-sun skin care regimen, but I might want to get better at the sunscreen application thing. Or at least request assistance.

That tale shared... After three hours at the beach followed by an hour by the hotel pool and hot tubs this afternoon, I'm going to see Don Ho tonight. Just because I can. Did I mention I am going to cry huge alligator tears when I have to come home?

Tourist Is As Tourist Does

Conventional American wisdom holds that anything worth doing is worth doing big. Well, since Fabulous Patti's arrival here in Honolulu yesterday afternoon, we are doing the tourist thing big.

Unlike the elegant but actually rather understated W Waikiki, where we stayed on our last visit, the Hyatt Regency Waikiki Resort and Spa (pool pictured above) has everything its guests could possibly want... no understatement necessary. In the 21 hours we have been guests here, Fabulous Patti and I, at times with Diva Mommy in tow, have indulged in poolside cocktails at the Elegant Dive while a completely cheesy cover band serenaded us. They were actually good musicians, but their song selection left a little to be desired. We have also filled our tummies with snacks from the complimentary breakfast buffet and, after a spell on Waikiki Beach across the street, sat poolside and sipped rum drinks this afternoon. This morning, I took advantage of the small but very efficient hotel gym. After some resistance training I got on what can only be described as the cardio machine of death. It looks deceptively just like the elliptical trainers at my regular gym, but this is the devil's elliptical. 28 minutes on this machine yielded me the hardest won three miles and 300 calories of my exercise career.

However, I believe I'll have to pay many visits to the devil's elliptical while I'm here. Given how I seem to be eating and drinking, I am going to get happily fat during this vacation.

Last night, it took about 15 minutes for me to get hit on while Fabulous Patti, Diva Mommy and I took residence on the bar stools at the Elegant Dive. Well, it took more like 45 minutes, but that's just because the gentleman in question was waiting for the seat next to me to become free before he pounced. But he had been very obviously staring at me up to that point. Now, the good news is this guy was only 35; usually I am the target demographic of the 70+ set. He was also kind of cute... and a contract security guard at the U-S Embassy in Iraq, a job he chose after his tour of duty there ended. Given that I know... well, no one in the military, this could have been really interesting. But all I could think to ask him was, "Is it just ridiculously scary over there?" That's some well thought conversation right there, Sassy. For the record, he told me that life for him in Iraq is fine most of the time, but when things get bad, they get really bad. To say the least, I imagine.

His choice of workplace (that's how he described it) may have served as just a short conversation piece, but then he found out what I do for a living. The fact that I live in evil, liberal San Francisco was not at all question or opinion generating, but my profession certainly was. I answered his questions the best I could and never once got defensive, despite his occasionally ill-informed opinions. Frankly, however I feel about the war, I have great respect for the men and women willing to put themselves in harm's way because our government, lead by a moronic Commander In Chief, insists we continue to occupy Iraq (I guess you now know my feelings on the war). Besides, I'm on vacation; why cause trouble?

The down side of this gentleman's attentions? Well, first of all, he was throwing back cocktails like nobody's business. I let him buy me one, but it was the only one I consumed, compared to the five or so I saw him drink over the course of an hour or two. Also, he was dumb as a stump. Let me be perfectly clear, I am not denying that many intelligent people join the military, but this particular guy was dumb as a stump. And for me, that's one of the biggest turnoffs. As the evening (or two hours, I should say) wore on, he told me his room number and said I should swing by so we could sit on the balcony, talk or watch a movie. While the sex clearly on his mind was not on the list of approved activities, I'd say we both knew where this was going. I replied to his offer with a vague, "I may take you up on that," and then promptly retired to my own room with my mother and sister in tow.

Afterward, Fabulous Patti declared that had I taken him up on his offer, she would have been forced to openly mock me at many a family Christmas to come. I told her that had I wanted to go, she would have been welcome to mock away. After all, I would have been the one who had gotten lucky. But there will be no mocking because it wasn't to be. At the end of the night, sex with a dumb guy is still sex with a dumb guy. Not to mention sex with a complete stranger, but that's another story. There was a cuter, somewhat funky looking dude wearing a fedora at the bar last night as well. I may have welcomed a chat with him, but he didn't bite before the other dude moved in. Ah, well. I didn't exactly come to Hawaii to meet boys, although I'm not limiting my options. But the beach is my primary lover while I'm here.

Tomorrow we venture to the North Shore, but I may actually skip that trip. Although it's the North Shore, I'm not sure I'm up for a long car ride so that I may visit the set of a television show I don't watch. On Monday I'm going to get a mud wrap at the hotel spa. And on Tuesday I predict there will be a lot of pouting and crying while I anticipate returning home on Wednesday.

But luckily for me, Wednesday is still several days away!

Aloha!

What are you doing this afternoon? I have just returned from Ala Moana Beach Park (pictured to the right), where I spent a leisurely hour soaking up some sun and dipping my feet into the cool water. Diva Mommy lives about six blocks from this beach for incredibly easy access.

Since my arrival last night, Diva Mommy and I have done all kinds of fun things. She met me at the airport with lei in hand, and then we hopped into a cab and took off for her apartment. After a lovely evening in (it was 11 p.m. San Francisco time when I arrived, and Diva Mommy is not exactly a partier... anymore... so we stayed in), I got up this morning and took a run along the aforementioned Ala Moana Beach Park. After my run, Diva Mommy made us smoothies for breakfast, and then I washed up, changed into my bikini, and much like Frankie and Annette did in the mid-80's, headed back to the beach.

In just a little bit we are going to Waikiki to listen to the acoustic guitar players at Duke's Canoe Club. Yes, Duke's is completely touristy, but we love it, especially on a weeknight. I imagine we'll indulge in a few snacks and drinks while we're there. When in Rome, after all. My sister, Fabulous Patti, joins us from L.A. tomorrow, and then the fun really gets going. We'll be heading to the North Shore because, television fans take note, there is talk of visiting the Lost set with a friend of Diva Mommy's. I've never even seen Lost, but Fabulous Patti likes it, so I can get behind this plan. We also may puddle hop over to another island. Plus, I intend to indulge in the spa at the Hyatt Waikiki, which is where we'll be staying once FP arrives.

Or we may just relax on the beach.

The good news is that Diva Mommy has computer access in her apartment building, so I should be able to update this space a few more times while on vacation. That way, it can be like you're here with us. Or something like that, anyway.

A Hui Hou!

And Away We Go

In less than 30 minutes I am going to make my way to the airport, where I will be whisked away to Honolulu. Yippee! I have managed to do laundry (actually that task was tackled after work yesterday), go to the gym and get packed. So I'm ready to roll.

I was a little more tired than I should have been this morning because I went out last night with Carolyn and Denise. We first went to this new fancy restaurant, and while a sizable lunch had left me without an appetite, their champagne was delicious. We then swung by Favorite Bar where the frustrating but entertaining Mr. Gowdy was spinning one "last" time before he moves to L.A. for two months. He played 60's surf pop and soul music while Carolyn, Denise and I chatted and, of course, got hit on by some ridiculous dude. Whatever. We unintentionally stayed until the music was all done, and then Mr. G. and I ended up chatting for a while as I wished him in luck in Southern California.

But all of that is in the past, and my future holds nothing but tropical beaches and 80 degree temperatures. Gotta love that.

Three Days and Counting

In less than 72 hours I leave for Hawaii! Can I please tell you how excited I am? Apparently, it's been a raining a bit in Honolulu, as this is the end of the rainy season, but I don't care. Cats and dogs can fall from the sky every day I'm there, it will still be Hawaii. (Okay, maybe pouring rain wouldn't be so much fun, but I am very much looking forward to my vacation, regardless of the weather.)

I was going to go shoe shopping this afternoon for the perfect strappy sandals for my trip, but I got completely sidelined when I stumbled upon Wuthering Heights on Turner Classic Movies. I hadn't seen this movie in years, and I was immediately sucked in. It has everything: intense love, dysfunctional families and marriages, alcoholism. Were these characters real and alive today, they'd all be making appearances on "Oprah." Or, more likely, "Jerry Springer." I have to admit, I dozed off a bit in the end when Cathy died, but I knew what was coming.

My friend Mindi was in town this weekend, so yesterday she and I got together for the first rehearsal of the newly reformed Blo Pop. Well, it was a rehearsal of sorts, anyway. Mindi and I learned that we approach music in slightly different ways. She likes to get a grasp on just a few chords of a song and then jam without stopping to see what happens. I like to learn a song as its written, and once I've really got it down, tweak it to make it my own. It didn't take us long to realize these styles don't exactly go together, and we're going to have to meet in the middle. We kind of worked out part of one song and then just decided to appropriate another one I've been singing with Fake Band for the last five months.

So I'm thinking it may be quite a while before Blo Pop graces any stages near you.

Sex Talk at Val's

Beware the Ides of March, my friends. This day could lead you to the counter at Val's Burgers in Hayward spilling tawdry tales of past dalliances.

Yes, gentle readers, it was that fate which befell me this afternoon.

If you've never been to Val's, let me assure you, it is worth a trip to Hayward. This morning I met Best Friend for my weekly singing lesson, which always happens in the lovely town of Hayward, and afterward we indulged in quite the lunch at Val's. We'd been planning such an excursion for weeks, but little did I know it would be soooo good. We got the smallest burgers on the menu (Baby Burgers, they call them), shared one chocolate malt and one order of fries, and that was still plenty of food.

But the size and deliciousness of Val's portions are only a small part of the experience. You see, once you walk into Val's, you are back in the 1958 South or Midwest. I swear the menu signs on the wall are that old, and the atmosphere is pure Americana. What this restaurant is doing in the Bay Area, I will never know. But then, why question such a wonderful discovery?

Over our burgers and milkshakes, Best Friend and I soon fell into a conversation that would have made the geriatrics all around us blush... with delight, most likely. A couple of weeks ago, I discovered Best Friend had done a play in 2001 with a man I had quite the little tryst with in 1997. Yes, that was ten years ago, and yes, I have had many a tryst since then. This just happens to be one of my best sex stories, made all the better by the fact that Best Friend knows the fellow in question in a totally different context.

I'm afraid I can't go into any details, as my mother reads this space (although I seem to recall telling her all about it back in the day). But I spared no details in my lurid play by play for Best Friend. All while sitting at the very innocent counter of Val's! Kids sit in those same chairs, I'm sure. Not to be outdone, however, Best Friend enthusiastically shared the details of her first date, and coincidentally first time, with her now-fiance.

I'm certain Val's will never be the same.

And after that lunch today, I know I'll never be the same. I can't say it was the wisest choice to have a burger, fries and chocolate malt six days before I have a date with a bikini, but whatever. Fat or thin, I'll be in Hawaii, so who cares? Now I'm off to meet some co-workers for drinks (likely just sparkling water for me), and then I have Fake Band practice. Ick. Isn't it nice that my attitude about Fake Band is improving so much?

Credit where credit is due: a shout out of love to jatbar.com for the lovely photo of the Val's sign. You can go there to find a more comprehensive review of the Val's dining experience.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 28

iTunes and the juke box at 15 Romolo

When I was younger and far more sprightly, I used to spend many a weekend evening at 15 Romolo, a bar neatly tucked into the Basque Hotel in North Beach. However, I fast grew weary of the mob scene created by the weekend mating crowd, and I haven't been back in years. Well, little did I know that the very same bar that's overrun with Marina and Pac Heights denizens on Friday and Saturday nights is delightfully dead during the week. This is a wonderful discovery because 15 Romolo actually is a lot of fun, especially when you've been freed from the advances of superficial dudes who all look alike and have the same money-grubbing but otherwise totally uninspired occupations.

Gosh, Sassy, judgmental much? Apparently, I've grown a little cynical in my old age. With an attitude like that, is it any wonder I never met the man of my dreams in this joint?

Anyway, last night I met Debbie, Emily and Carolyn at 15 Romolo, and it was much fun. We were four of eight people gracing the place, and I got to program the juke box for free! I thought I was getting some sort of special treatment until the bartender told me that the juke box at 15 Romolo is free every Tuesday and Wednesday. I'm sorry, but a free juke box every Tuesday and Wednesday? Not that I needed any more convincing that I like this bar, but you know how I feel about a free juke box. The free tunes at Casanova are a little better, but I was able to create quite the soundtrack featuring The Pixies, The Jam, The Supremes, The Clash, Blur, Massive Attack, Frank Sinatra and The Kinks, just to name a few. I'll take that any Tuesday or Wednesday.

Ans speaking of Emily, she just got engaged! Who knew? Well, I assume Emily and her fiance did, but I've been a little out of the loop. I'm so happy for her.

In other good music news, back in December, Emily gave me a $20 iTunes gift certificate for my birthday, and I just started using it this week. So far, I have procured selections from The Killers, The Shins (whom I am going to see next month at the Warfield with Ann Marie and Paul), Penelope Houston and Earth, Wind & Fire. Yes, you read that last one correctly; "September" is a delicious guilty pleasure of mine. All that music, and I still have $13 of credit left.

This may be the best birthday present ever.

Long Days, Cool Nights

It's the first day of Daylight Time! As you well know, that means longer and... in most parts of the world, anyway... warmer days. Here in San Francisco, summer rivals winter for coldest temperatures of the year, but whatever. No amount of fog can take the extra hour of daytime from us. Daylight Time also arrived three weeks earlier this year, much to the consternation of techies worldwide who feared the consequences of computers automatically programmed to switch their internal clocks the first weekend of April. Everything seems fine today, though.

Anyway...

In addition to being granted extra daylight, I'm also working during the day this weekend, as opposed to my usual Saturday and Sunday night shifts. So last night I found myself in possession of a rare Saturday evening off. I celebrated the occasion by going to see the always exciting Chris Sams in his latest show, You Bet Your Improvisor. Normally, I leave sir names off this space, but game show host extraordinaire Chris Sams is too big a personality to be held to simply one name. Regis, Howie, Wink; they all need to watch out for Chris. He's the one in the fabulously sparkly green jacket in the above photo. The improvised game show high jinx were most amusing, and after the show, Chris and I took off for a post-game cocktail.

Believe it or not, we actually ended up at a bar in my neighborhood. While a lovely place to hang your hat, my neighborhood is not exactly known for its dynamic nightlife. That's actually a large part of why I like living there, but last night found Chris and me sipping pomegranate martinis (yes, we're that trendy) in a watering hole not five blocks from my front door. Who knew? The bar itself was okay. The music in the juke box was a little... common, let's say, but I heard a couple of gems over the sound system.

The best part of the bar for me, however, was the rather cute bartender. An attractive bartender is this Sassy girl's best friend. Our relationship results in the bartender working some nicely inflated tips, while I practice my charming flirting skills. Plus, once I get to know the gentleman in charge of the liquor a little better, I usually get a free cocktail or six. It's a great system. Last night's specimen was named Mike, and he was adorable. Plus, he made a mighty tasty pomegranate martini. Bartenders offer a great flirting opportunity because there's no fear. It's all fake and only good for keeping business moving; no real emotions involved. Waiters are also perfect candidates for fake flirting sessions.

Yes, yes, I will address you readers who know me well and acknowledge that, in the past, I have developed sizable, genuine, hope-filled crushes on a bartender or two. All I can say about that is: I've lived and learned. Now, bring on the free drinks.

My weekend would have been perfect, were it not for the bad combination of daytime work shifts and a Saturday night that was an hour shorter. I didn't stay out terribly late, but 9 a.m. Sunday morning comes awfully early the weekend we move the clocks forward. I managed to take a decent run before work today, but I've needed a bit of caffeine to keep the pep in my step. Nothing wrong with that, except that I'm trying to keep the amount of caffeine I drink to a minimum. I spent about six or seven years blissfully drinking nothing but trace amounts of caffeine until I reintroduced it into my life in 2004.

But then, for the last month and a half, I've been limiting my alcohol consumption to only two nights a week as I combat my recent weight gain. Who needs all those empty calories? (And yes, eating less has occurred to me; it's just easier to cut the booze.) Even though it was only two cocktails, I nonetheless fell off the wagon on that one last night, too. I blame Daylight Time.

Screening Process

Last night, mere days before Fabulous Patti makes her big move to Los Feliz, she and I hit the town. Our first stop was Favorite Bar 2, where a very polite young gentleman offered to scoot over one bar stool, so we may have room to belly up.

The polite young gentleman turned out to be rather friendly, as well, and we soon fell into an enjoyable patter with him. His name was Marty, and he told us all about how he's looking for a new job; he lives across the street from FB2; he's lived in San Francisco for 6 months. He's even applied for a job at my place of employment, but he couldn't remember for exactly which position. If he can't even remember the position, I can't say I think he'll exactly be a shoo-in for the job.

Regardless, Marty was actually quite cute. He was working a sort of Buddy Holly-Rivers Cuomo thing. In other words: he was precisely my type. Now, I've spent countless hours I will never get back chatting with and being chatted up by men in bars, and over the years I've learned to cut to the chase. I could easily ascertain that Marty was single and straight, but I needed more information. So in no relation to anything we were discussing, I asked the third most important question.

"Marty, how old are you?"
"27."

And with that, I threw him back. Not that a man being a decade my junior will always serve as a deal breaker; after all, what's ten years between soul mates? However, I don't think Marty was my soul mate. Honestly, he was a little on the dumb side (see previous sentence about him not knowing which job he's applied for at my workplace). There may be room for movement where age is concerned, but intellect is not negotiable.

In the end though, Marty was nice, cute and a pleasant conversationalist. Should I run into him again at FB2, I'll talk to him. Perhaps I'll even help him find a more age appropriate young lady who doesn't mind if a man is dumb as a box of hair.

After just one drink and our nice Marty chat, Fabulous Patti and I took off for the original Favorite Bar, where we caught up with Sheela and Helen. For reasons I have previously explained, I haven't been spending much time at Favorite Bar lately, but last night was very fun. My favorite bartender was working, even though Tuesday night isn't his usual shift, and there was hardly anyone in the place. That's my kind of Favorite Bar evening.

Tonight I'm going to wander across the street to the residence of my friend and neighbor, Laino. She switched jobs about two months ago, and I want to hear all about how her career is going. Then tomorrow it's back to the grind. There was a tiny hole in the schedule at work, so I had yesterday and today off instead of today and tomorrow. So after an earlier than normal singing lesson, the work week begins once again.

Face the Music

Fake Band had its Los Angeles debut this weekend, and I have but one thing to say: thank goodness that's over. We played an industry party at a restaurant in Universal City, and there were some technical problems along with a dwindling crowd as our set progressed. However, all those concerns were eclipsed by what has become typical Fake Band drama. It probably wasn't that bad, but to be completely candid, the experience of Fake Band is starting to wear very thin on me.

While in the Southland, however, I got to have coffee with my friend Mindi, who moved from San Francisco to L.A. in 2002 and will be moving back here in May. Back in the day (also known as 2001), Mindi and I formed a band with our friend Adam called Blo Pop. I sang; Adam played guitar; and Mindi handled drums. There was talk of me also playing bass, but I wasn't terribly interested in that, so we went bass-free. Anyway, Blo Pop had precisely two rehearsals. My lack of self confidence when I sang, combined with a bit of collective A.D.D., stymied our efforts to arrange even one full song, but we brilliantly worked through bits and pieces of about 15 stellar numbers.

The very best part of Blo Pop's halcyon days was the point during our first rehearsal when Mindi played drums and guitar at the same time. And she did so quite well.

So, as Mindi and her fiance Matt sipped lattes and chatted with me, we all decided Blo Pop has to reunite. Actually, Mindi and I had made this decision over email a few days earlier, but the plan was fleshed out Saturday night. Mindi will start on guitar until we recruit more players, and then she'll move to drums. I will once again sing, but this time with significantly more confidence and gusto (thank you very much, Best Friend School of Music). And Matt will act as technical advisor, marketing director and fan club president. We also plan to cast our friend Chris as our mascot, and somehow I don't think he'll resist. Be ready for Blo Pop 2007 to explode, kids.

Now, realistically speaking, it's possible Blo Pop will only exist in the confines of Mindi's and my respective living rooms where we'll play and sing to entertain ourselves. However, you should keep in mind, dear readers, that Mindi and I both know several musicians in town who might be in need of an opening act one day. So you never know; when you least expect it, Blo Pop could turn up at club near you.

And that would be pure charm and comedy.

Happy Birthday, Fabulous Patti!

Today marks the anniversary of the birth of my sister, Fabulous Patti. To the left is a photo of her and our grandmother, Toni, at my birthday party back in December.

Tonight, to celebrate the day Patti graced the world, we met Anne, Ann Marie, Carolyn and Carolyn's sister, Isha, at the Ferry Wine Merchants in the Ferry Building. After sipping wine and indulging in gracefully brilliant conversation, Ann Marie, Patti and I bid Carolyn, Anne and Isha farewell and made our way to Town Hall, where we met Bill and Kim for dinner.

Have you ever eaten at Town Hall? If not, I'd highly recommend it because oh, my goodness, it is delicious. I had mushroom soup that tasted like God himself had prepared it, followed by fried chicken and then apple bread pudding for dessert. My meal probably had about 3,000 calories and 400 grams of fat, but I haven't eaten so well in months. Yum-mee. It was a meal almost as fabulous as Fabulous Patti herself.

We were also celebrating Fabulous Patti's close-to-last San Francisco hurrah because she is moving back to L.A. for a fancy-schmancy job. It's a job only available to those in the world with medical degrees and master's degrees in public health. It's a good thing Fabulous Patti has both. She's moving to the lovely neighborhood of Los Feliz; so you can bet I'll be visiting often.

Speaking of L.A., the annoying but addictive Fake Band is playing there this weekend. To that end, tomorrow morning I'm hopping a flight down to Burbank. I'll stay with my brother, sister-in-law and the lovable Mikey Jet for a night, and then I'll meet my fellow bandmates in Universal City on Friday. I hope the show goes well and that I don't want to murder anyone in Fake Band before the weekend is over. Here's to hoping, anyway. Now, I'm off to bed. However well we are or are not getting along, I have to be well rested for the Fake Band tour.

Marathon Woman

The world called in sick at my job today.

That probably comes as no huge surprise. It is late February, and many workplaces experience mini-epidemics once one person falls ill. However, there are many positions at my job that cannot go unfilled. So if the people who normally do them call in sick, they must be replaced. There simply are no other options.

To that end, one particular woman called in sick, but so did the woman who normally replaces her. Two other candidates to fill this woman's shoes were also unable to join us this morning. So in what can only be described as a fit of insanity, I volunteered to step in. What made my offer insane is that this woman's shift starts at 4 a.m. My own shift ended last night at 1 a.m.

That's right, I had a whopping three hours off between shifts.

It's really not that big a deal. I took a little nap at work instead of going home, and I was ready to roll at 4 o'clock. I did learn that the floor at work is a much colder sleeping place than my bed at home, but I don't hold that against it. I have been working in my 24-hour industry for 15 years now. So I'm used to occasionally crazy schedules, and it was actually pretty fun to run my little work marathon. When all was said and done, I had worked from 5 p.m. on Sunday afternoon until 10 a.m. on Monday morning, with just a short three hour break.

Good times, my friends. Just call me Marathon Woman.

Anyway, since 10 o'clock this morning, I have pretty much lived in my pajamas... with the exception of a very brief run I took this evening. You know what? Running is harder and not nearly as rewarding when you've had very little sleep. So I'm a little punch drunk right now. Oooh, but guess what? We just had the coolest little hail storm. Sure, I think it was cool because I'm safe and warm in my little apartment. But it was neato; it looks like it snowed outside.

By the way, Fake Band has succeeded in annoying me again. So the high from Friday's show is officially over. Two and a half days that happiness lasted. Actually, that's not bad for this band. Lordy, some of those boys are beyond irritating. As my brother, who has been a musician for about 20 years, just said to me: you're seeing all frustrations of being in a band without any of the successes. He couldn't be more right.

Okay, off to bed.

Hooray for Hollywood

Call me cheesy, but I adore the Academy Awards, and they are tonight! Unfortunately for me, I have to work during the ceremony, but the good thing about my job is that I'll get to watch at least parts of the event. I'll consult my vcr tomorrow for any moments I may have missed.

As I have told you before, I'm incredibly lazy about seeing movies in the theatre. So here's what I've done to prepare for Hollywood's biggest night. Yesterday afternoon I went to see The Queen. It was good, and Helen Mirren did a nice job as Elizabeth II. The most interesting part of the film to me, however, is its incredibly sympathetic portrayal of Tony Blair. Who knew back in 1997 that such a popular Prime Minister would turn into Bush's lackey. What a terrible shame that turned out to be.

I also watched yesterday's Independent Spirit Awards as both a warm-up to the main event and an opportunity to see the honoring of actual good cinema. And there's nothing wrong with a truly live awards show that allows swearing. I hardly have a potty mouth, but sometimes more colorful language is necessary. I also intended to see all the Oscar-nominated short films at The Lumiere Theatre this afternoon, but a combination of laziness and a laundry crisis put a stop to that plan. Ah, well. In addition to The Queen, I've seen Little Miss Sunshine, Dreamgirls and The Pursuit of Happyness. I'd say that's a decent combination of indie and mainstream films which are up for awards.

So color me prepared. Bring on the red carpet, babies!

To Be A Rock Star

Being in Fake Band is not without its frustrations: we argue over the silliest things; there are some rather healthy egos in the group; often times not everyone can make it to rehearsal. To that end, I have to admit that I wasn't really looking forward to our show at the Red Devil Lounge last night. I had been in a somewhat foul mood all day and just didn't want to deal with performing. Not to mention that we had a rather abbreviated sound check because the club was running behind. Plus, there was some odd conversation about where the microphones should be placed to maximize time in "the spotlight." Whatever.

But then, we stepped onstage.

I can see why bands stay together even if the members all hate each other (for the record, we in Fake Band do not hate each other... yet, anyway). Performing is a really heady drug. I only sing lead on four of the thirteen songs we have learned, and we did an abbreviated set last night, so I only sang lead on three. But those three numbers, combined with my Sassy tambourine styling throughout the show transformed me into a rock star.

And I absolutely loved it.

Our show was not perfect. Because we have a hard time gathering everyone for rehearsal, some of our songs are a little ragged. Case in point: our lead guitarist seemed to forget his part on our cover of "Band of Gold." In fact, he also seemed to forget when and how the song ends. It was a little awkward, but one man's memory loss was another girl's extension of her rock star belting by repeating a verse to save the number. And I was okay with that. We also played that song way too fast, so it was like Freda Payne meets the Ramones, but hopefully, we'll work that out.

What was tremendous was seeing a bunch of friendly faces in the audience, as Fabulous Patti, Carolyn, Wendy, Tom, Eric, Anne, Helen, Doug, Liz, Erin and Neal all came to the show. There really is no point to being a fake rock star unless your family and friends show up to cheer you on. Plus, I got what I consider to be the highest compliment from some random guy after we were done. He not only told me that I had been good, but he added, "Thank you." Why is that the highest compliment, you ask? Because music is so important to me that when I go see shows, I will thank the musicians afterward when I sincerely respect their talent and/or performance. Now, for all I know, Random Guy was just trying to hit on me, but his words landed on me like the highest of compliments.

I think it's fair to say that I had been suffering from serious Fake Band burnout, but I'm over that for now and can't wait for our show in L.A. next Friday. Everyone should become a fake rock star; it's super fun.

Girl Groups at Casanova

Carolyn and I made the most excellent of discoveries Tuesday night. We wanted to go out but were decidedly put off by the idea of any drunken mardi gras parties. So we chose to spend our Fat Tuesday in the Mission and wandered into Casanova. That's when we learned that on the third Tuesday of the month, Casanova features the most sublime of pop music: 60's girl group tunes. It was tremendous, with one great two and a half minute confection after another.

Sadly for us, the girl groups in Casanova were a little on the loud side, and we couldn't hear much other than the music. The draw of hanging out with Carolyn is our brilliant repartee, so we went to Dalva after one Casanova cocktail. But I will definitely revisit Casanova's girl groups night. I'll just have to make sure I go with someone boring, so I won't worry about the fact that I won't be able to hear the conversation.

Speaking of music, Fake Band has a show tomorrow! It should be fun, but unfortunately, a tiny BART disturbance today forced me to cancel my singing lesson with Best Friend. Plus, three of the seven Fake Band members have to miss rehearsal tonight. We should be fine anyway, but that's a little disappointing the day before a performance. Well, I can still practice at home, which I'm about to do, and then I'll spend the rest of my free afternoon shopping for a rock star outfit to wear tomorrow night.

When life gives you lemons, after all...

Plan In Motion

The bikini has been acquired; the vacation days have been approved; and last night, the airline tickets were purchased. All the pieces are coming together for the Grand Sassy Return to Hawaii.

Believe it or not, last September was the first time I had ever paid the Hawaiian Islands a visit, and I started making plans to return as soon as I got on the plane back to San Francisco. In just over a month, I again will be taking residence on Waikiki Beach for six glorious days. I'll pull myself away from the sand and surf from time to time for exercise, snacking and other sight-seeing purposes, but in general, if you need me... look on the beach.

My life is not terribly taxing, but I nonetheless will welcome a vacation. Plus, I'll get to see the lovely and talented Diva Mommy, and my sister, Fabulous Patti, will be joining me a couple of days after I arrive. Sadly, we'll miss my friend Tom, who will be on the North Shore for a wedding about five days before my sojourn. He and I had talked about coordinating our trips, but that didn't work out for us. However, perhaps I can make some new friends while I'm there. Diva Mommy is already talking about setting me up with some guy named Kenji. I have to admit, that prospect is a little frightening, but heck, Kenji lives in Hawaii. How bad or boring could he really be?

Fancy and Official

A few days ago, I got an email from a senior at Brown asking if she could interview me for a class project. I suppose it's no surprise that she found me, as I keep my contact info current in the alumni directory. But I was both flattered and a little embarrassed that she had chosen me. As I may have mentioned before, I engaged in a mild career shift a couple of years ago. I work in the same industry but in a slightly different type of job. The Brown student was looking for information on the specific job I have now, so I would have to tell her I have limited experience with it.

That's no big deal, really, so I agreed to the interview. And I have to admit, I felt a little fancy and official, being asked to talk about my career. But then I wondered why she wouldn't want to interview someone older, more seasoned, perhaps, dare I say, even wiser than me? I am, after all, still a spirited, passionate youth. Then I remembered what I thought of 37-year olds when I was in college. Hell, I remember what I thought of 30-year olds. Those were, in my head, real adults with real lives. They had been out of college for years with one foot possibly in the grave already.

I am practically a senior citizen compared to this woman.

That realization didn't stop me from answering her questions, though, and I hope her project turns out nicely. As a matter of coincidence, I was looking at some old photos today and found myself seriously wishing I could be in college again. I entertained thoughts like, "If I knew then what I know now..." and "It all went so quickly; I should have taken more time to enjoy it...". And so on and so forth.

Ah, well, at least I have a reunion coming up in May. Then I can get really nostalgic and subject you to Brown stories all over this space. Something to look forward to, huh?

The Good Life

It's been two days since Valentine's Day, and I have been consuming my weight in chocolate. Not a bad way to live, except that it flies in the face of my promise to myself to eat better. Ah, well, what's a few days of chocolate? Okay, perhaps a lot since I just bought a bikini for my upcoming trip to visit Diva Mommy in Hawaii.

Yes, you read that right: I wrote the word bikini. It's cute, too, and I didn't run out of the Bloomingdale's dressing room in horror when I tried it on a couple of days ago. Hopefully I'll still feel good about it after the chocolate scarf-athon ends.

Anyway... I got to interview Petula Clark at work this afternoon. I can't say I've ever been a huge Petula Clark fan, although I enjoy the catchy, sing-along goodness of "Downtown" and "I Know A Place." But I just very much respect talented, creative people, and Petula Clark is not some manufactured pop chanteuse. She is also an actress who had been a child star, and she writes songs, as well. All of that made me really excited to meet her, and she was super nice and not at all stuck up.

My interview with Petula got me thinking about the things that would make my life perfect if I got to do them, and I realized the list has some pretty good implications for the life I already lead.

1. Live somewhere fabulous that I love. Two words: San Francisco. Hawaii would be better, but having a mother who lives there is a decent consolation prize.
2. Have a career I enjoy and that doesn't feel like work (most of the time at least). I can claim success in this realm for the last 15 years.
3. Get to sing. Thanks to Fake Band and vocal coaching from the Best Friend School of Music, that's become a reality recently.
4. Get to write. In addition to my little newspaper column, this space exists as proof that I regularly indulge in this one.
5. Get to meet and talk to incredibly talented, creative people. I would like to do this more often, but so far, I'm doing pretty well. And it's not about fame. I've met a lot of famous people in my time (honestly), and they're no more or less interesting than people who aren't famous. It's about talent and creativity, and I include everyone from mega stars to local actors and musicians in this desire. I admit, part of this is about me wanting to know the cool kids, but the cool kids don't need to be famous.

I'd say this sassy existence lives up to that checklist pretty well. Speaking of cool kids, however, I now have to scoot. I'm meeting Helen and Liz for a night of bonding and discussions about boys, and I am about to run the risk of being tardy. So away I go...

Give Cupid A Kiss

It's Valentine's Day, and that means nothing but good things! We get to celebrate love and happiness with cheerful abandon all day and night. Plus, the secret that no one tells you is that none of the calories consumed by eating chocolate today count. Very sweet, indeed.

As for me, I am slowly, but surely emerging from the illness that felled me last week. Last night, I ventured out to a co-worker's book signing, after which Terry, Patti, Katie and I went to Colibri for snacks, drinks and witty repartee. Today, I'm treating myself to the gym and some shopping, followed tonight by a Valentine's Day cocktail party and Wendy's birthday party.

What's not to love, my sweeties?

It's Official, I'm Sick

And with my infirm condition comes extraordinary boredom.

For the life of me, I don't know how couch potatoes do it. I have been apartment-ridden for only a couple of days, and I am already stir crazy. Honestly, I haven't even been totally apartment-ridden. Yesterday morning I went out to buy groceries, rent movies and load up on cold medications, all of which took almost an hour and a half. My errands completed, I then tried to take a short run.

That didn't go very well, and it ended up being more of a short stroll.

Last night I was feeling a little better, so even though I skipped the wine and chocolate event (boo!), I did go see Paula West at the Plush Room with Terry. Paula was, of course, wonderful. She is one of the people in the world I wish I could be. Or at a bare minimum I wish I could sing like her. As much fun as seeing Paula was, though, it probably wasn't the best idea because I woke up this morning feeling much worse. I took another short walk to buy a few more groceries today, but otherwise it's been just me, my pajamas and my couch.

So here's what I've done so far:
Researched my little newspaper column.
Napped.
Edited a letter to my college classmates announcing our upcoming reunion (somehow, I have ended up on the reunion planning committee).
Lamented the fact that I had to miss my singing lesson today, not to mention that I'm too congested and sore to practice.
Watched Little Miss Sunshine and Sherrybaby, both of which are very good. Maggie Gyllenhaal is another person I wish I could be. She just may turn out to be quite the amazing actress.
Worked my way through an entire box of Puffs tissues (aren't you happy to know that?).
Wrote some emails and surfed the web to the best of my ability. You know what? There really isn't that much interesting stuff on the web.
Napped some more.
Enjoyed the brilliance of Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert.
Am writing this post.

I called in sick to work for tomorrow, and I have no idea how I am going to entertain myself. I also rented Thank You For Smoking, so I can watch that. And there are always books to continue reading. I also have an audition on Saturday, so I need to brush up on my monologue. But who knows if I'll even feel well enough to make the audition. Of course by Saturday, I may need to get out of my apartment just to save my sanity.

Again, I don't know how couch potatoes do it, but I salute their stamina. It takes a lot to be lazy.

My Mayor's A Drunk, But My Friend Is A Star

I admit that the title of this post is a cheap shot, but I couldn't resist.

Well, it wouldn't be politics without a scandal, would it? For those of you gentle readers who do not live in San Francisco, please let me fill you in: our mayor has been having a few... issues.... lately. Last week, word got out that he'd had an affair with the wife of one of his top aides about a year and a half ago. Word got out because the aide resigned once he learned of the affair.

Oops.

Were that not enough, yesterday the top manager of our fine city announced that he is seeking outpatient treatment for alcohol use. Rumors had been swirling for weeks, at least, that perhaps the mayor hits the bottle a little too hard. So there you go. I give him credit for getting help.

In significantly more positive news, my friend Assaf is famous! This is his photo; watch for him on a television or movie screen near you. I have written about Assaf on this space before, but allow me, if you will, to refresh your memory. He's an actor friend of mine who moved to L.A. a few years ago, and he has become one of those rarest breeds of humans: a real live working actor. Tonight he was on NCIS. What is NCIS, you ask? Well, I didn't know either, but I learned this evening that it is a television show starring Mark Harmon. I only saw the first few minutes, but I think Assaf played a bad guy.

Actually, I've seen Assaf in a few shows and films I would have never seen otherwise, including Numb3rs, Half and Half and Flight Plan. But he's also been on 24 (he played a bad guy on that show, too, and got shot by Keifer Sutherland) and is going to be on Entourage at some point. Okay, I don't watch those shows, either, but I used to watch 24, and I recognize that the world loves Entourage. If that weren't enough, Assaf is also in a short film that has been nominated for an Academy Award. How cool is all of that?

Assaf is a really good guy, so I'm very happy for him.

Come to think of it, my friends Schleevin and James are also working actors. Schleevin mostly does theatre in New York, but he's been in some films and on television as well. James has been getting a lot of work as a commercial actor in L.A., and I see him on TV all the time. And acting is how all these gentlemen make their livings. No "day jobs," as far as I know.

As for me, I am very excited this evening. I have two days off ahead of me, and I am already in my pajamas. Plus, I received my first issue of The New Yorker in the mail today. While it's true that I have a hard time keeping up with the other magazines that already come to my door, I have been meaning to subscribe to The New Yorker forever. After I'm done here, I'm going to curl up with said first issue.

Tomorrow night I'm going to a wine and chocolate event with Denise and Allie and then to see Paula West with Terry. At least in theory that's what I'm doing. You see... I think I'm getting sick. Shhh, if I don't say it very loudly, it won't be true. I can't really complain. I managed to avoid illness through December and January, even though most of my co-workers have been sick. So it just might be my turn.

To be honest, a couple of days in my pajamas while I recuperate doesn't sound all that bad, either.

One Big Ship

Make no mistake, size does matter.

We Americans love things that are big. Case in point: The Queen Mary 2, which is docked at Pier 27 here in San Francisco today. The world's largest ocean liner arrived yesterday afternoon, passing under the Golden Gate Bridge with a scant 30 feet to spare.

People are going nuts over this thing. Crowds have been swarming in to look at... well, just a really big ship. I have to admit, as Pier 27 is on my running route, I stopped mid-jog this morning to take a gander myself. And yes, it's pretty damn large. When the QM2 arrived, I could hear, from inside my hilltop apartment, the horn exchange between the ship and the Golden Gate Bridge. With that, I knew she was in town.

Since we use female pronouns when referring to ships, I think it's a shame the same reverence is not paid to real women who are big. I'm just saying.

Anyway, the Queen Mary 2 will be gone tonight, and all will return to normal.

How was your weekend? Mine was lovely, if a little bit mellow, due to work. On Friday night, I met Erin, Doug, Neal and some friends of theirs for live music at the Red Devil Lounge. Unfortunately for me, I didn't get off work until 9 p.m. and missed the first band, Justin King, which apparently was the draw of the evening. Oops. But the second act was Shannon Ferry, a friend of Doug's, actually, and she was amazing. As Doug says, "Shannon can crazy sing."

One day I want to sing that well. I wonder how many lessons that will take...

I will say Ms. Ferry did cover a song I despise (the insufferable "Black Velvet" by Alannah Miles-ick), but her original material was great. She's got an alt-country kind of sound; very Neko Case-esque. Good stuff all the way around.

On Saturday, I met my aunt Mary, uncle David and cousins Anna, Ian and Eliane for brunch at Momo's in celebration of Eliane's birthday. We ate, we laughed, all in honor of Eliane. It was very fun, but then it was off to work for me. Yesterday was all errands and work, but my version of the weekend is coming up soon, and it's shaping up to be excellent. How does chocolate, wine and Paula West sound to you? Stay tuned for details.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 27

Just about an hour ago, I heard "Turn To You" by The Go-Go's in the locker room at the gym. Not necessarily my favorite Go-Go's song, but an enjoyable pop number a little off the beaten path. So it put a smile on my face. I'm always very grateful when I randomly hear music I like, and I'm extra grateful when I catch any Go-Go's tune in public that is not the overplayed, insipid "We Got The Beat" (the original Stiff Records version notwithstanding).

Yes, there's actually a Go-Go's song I don't like that much, and yes it was their biggest hit. Plus, the original version of "We Got the Beat" really is superior to the one that made it up the charts.

So today it's back to work after two glorious days off. Ah, well. Days off, vacations, leaves of absence from work... they all always fly by. Tonight I'm meeting Erin, Doug and various others for live music. I think. I'm not actually in charge of the social plan, but I trust it will be fun.