Words

June 24, 2010

When I was growing up, there were only a "select few" that my sister, cousins, and I deemed worthy enough to display on our school lunch boxes. If you grew up in the late 70's and early 80's you know what I'm talking about. These lunch boxes really did look like boxes only they had handles, opened up like briefcases, and had a matching thermos inside with convenient pop up straw.

Back then these food totes were like accessories, windows to your personalities, and probably what defined which table you sat at during lunch. The guy with the Scooby Doo lunch box sat at the nerd table. The girl with the Charles Angels lunch box was at the snob table. I had a Strawberry Shortcake lunch box and my sister had The Smurfs, which more often put us at the same table with the Scooby Doo lunch box guy.

But my older cousin Ginny? She had a Bee Gees lunch box. It was beautiful, slightly embossed, and made of metal. It also had the matching thermos, of course. My cousin went to a different school. But I'm pretty sure with a lunch box like that she sat at the cool table. Man, I wanted that lunch box and every time I went over her house, I'd admire it as if I was literally in the front row of a Bee Gees concert. Sigh.

Those Gibb brothers could really groove and I seriously think they sparked in me an attraction for skinny white boys. Hence, I married one. On a side note, a good friend of mine recently told me that her father and stepmother decided to be cremated when they die and so gave their grave plots to her and her sister. The plots are located on the same hill where Andy Gibb, the youngest of the Gibb brothers who died before he was inducted into the group, is buried. My friend and I agreed that this generous gift from her father was both morbid and totally awesome. "It's very hard to find prime real estate like this in Los Angeles and at such a good deal," I told her.

Anyways, my favorite song of all from the Bee Gees is a song they released in 1968 called "Words." In my book, it's the sweetest love song I've ever heard.

Ironically, "Words" has very few words - about 100 from my last count. Still, it goes to show that, as the song says, it doesn't take much to steal a woman's heart away. My roadie husband sang one karaoke song and my heart was his. He was probably relieved that he didn't have to do much wooing with love letters, poetry, and anything else that required a lot of verbiage. That's because he is a man of few words. He listens more than he talks. I guess that's why he is a very good sound engineer (which is the formal title he holds). He's the guy who makes sure that what the artist hears sounds good and sometimes he's also the guy who makes sure that what the audience hears sounds good too.

This requires a very skilled set of ears. I should have figured out that there was something special about those ears when I first saw an old black and white photo of my husband's great grandfather. Grandpa Huckleberry had ears so big I bet he could hear people talking in their kitchens a few miles away. Those things were like radars.

Well, my husband's ears aren't quite as big as Grandpa Huckleberry's although my sister always joked that my husband could use his lobes to fly away. I think his ears are cute and go with his face, which to me is also cute. Most of all, those ears certainly get the job done. I should have my husband's ears insured. Why not? From what I hear, J-Lo has her butt covered (uh, no pun intended).

Since my husband is a small talker and a big hearer, then you can only imagine what kind of conversations we have. I admit that most of the time my mouth is moving a million miles a minute and I bet his ears are tuning in and out just as quickly. Couple that with our present situation and man oh man! Our conversations can get really interesting.

Here is a sample of conversations that could only happen between a roadie and his wife:

(When he was doing some work with Queen Latifah)

ROADIE: I have to go back to La's house tomorrow and help her with some music files.

WOAR: Again? I wanted to take a drive up to Malibu.

(When he was on tour with Lady GaGa)

WOAR: Seriously, you've got to tell me if she's really a guy.

ROADIE: She's not a guy. She's a girl.

WOAR: Wait a minute, how do you know?

ROADIE: She just is okay.

(When he did a few shows with Christina Aguilera)

WOAR: So is she nice?

ROADIE: I really didn't get to talk to her much.

WOAR: Not even a hello?

ROADIE: Well yeah. Oh, but right before the show she took her cough drop out of her mouth and wanted me to throw it away for her.

WOAR: What?! Did you?

ROADIE: No, her manager took it.

WOAR: I was about to say, you wouldn't even hold my cough drop for me!

(Last year when he was on tour with the Paradiso Girls)

ROADIE: Can you do me a favor?

WOAR: What?

ROADIE: Will you go upstairs to my computer, find the Patron Tequila file, and e-mail it to me?

WOAR: Clean or dirty?

ROADIE: Clean

(Two months ago while my husband was in New York with Erika Jayne)

WOAR: More confetti canons arrived today.

ROADIE: Ok. Just bring them inside and don't open the box.

(Last week, the day he left for Oregon)

WOAR: Who was that on the phone?

ROADIE: Arggghhhh! Steve Vai is having a private party at his house on Saturday and they want me to mix his show but I'm going to be in Oregon with Erika.

WOAR: Sucks to be you.

(While he was in Oregon doing a show with Erika Jayne and her five gay dancers)

WOAR: Well, I'm getting tired.

ROADIE: Yeah, the show is going to start here soon and I still have to load the confetti canons, give the dancers their flashers, and light a fire under their butts.

WOAR: I don't think you want to necessarily say that "fire under their butts" phrase in the same sentence with "gay dancers."

ROADIE: Whatever.

WOAR: What are these flashers anyway?

ROADIE: They're like camera flashers and they strap them on.

WOAR: Ookaaay. I'm still not getting a visual but that's OK. Goodnight.

Wifey of a Roadie - Out!

Oh, and the winner of the guess-who-my-husband-is-and-what-model-guitar-he-is-playing contest is.....ahem....the envelope please.....

CONGRATULATIONS to On the Road Again for being the first to respond with both correct answers. Anonymous, you seriously blew me away with your very detailed answer but technically On the Road Again had it right first. On the Road Again, your prize will be in the mail. In the meantime, I have posted photos of the prize pick personally signed and decorated by me! You like?

Oh and On The Road Again? If you're not on the road again or can get to a computer please say a few "words" in acceptance of the lovely prize - ha!

Where Did You Get That Hat?

June 18, 2010

It is 10 p.m. and I'm listening to the the Stanley Holloway version of "Where Did You Get That Hat?" and I'm cracking up. My head is spinning from the jolly lyrics and dance-a-jig beat. Apparently, the little ditty is an old Victorian folk song. Makes sense. Back then hats were mandatory. To be seen without a proper hat was like being caught with your pants around your ankles. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

Anyways, the song just started when I literally went into the bedroom to get a hat. It belongs to my husband (who by the way left for Oregon earlier today) and I'm wearing it now as I write this. It is a straw Fedora from Target. The tag says that it was made in China and is intended for men who are ages 14 or older. Ha! I'm breaking all the rules. Look out GaGa! Yes, The Wifey of a Roadie is going to show the world that she, too, can put just about anything on her head.

Well, as you probably guessed, I am writing about hats because this post is the sequel to my S.O.S. post. For those of you tuning in for the first time, S.O.S. was basically about the great difficulty my husband was having looking for the same bucket hat that Joe Satriani wears. Folks, we finally found it. It's not an exact replica but at least it is one that my husband is satisfied with.

So, where did we get the hat?

Of all places, we found the hat on the Santa Monica Pier. Yes you read that right. We found the bucket hat on the famous landmark that is the last hurrah of the historic Route 66. Thank goodness, we didn't have to travel the whole 2,448 miles from Chicago to California to get there.

We just zippity-zipped on the 10 west freeway and 15 minutes later we arrived. Finding the hat was purely unintentional. We really weren't looking for it. My husband and I just wanted to walk along the oceanfront. Every once and a while, when he's home, we try to explore this big old city that we live in. We figured it was kind of odd that we know our way around London more than we know how to get around our own neighborhood in Los Angeles.

Well, during this particular jaunt to Santa Monica, we wandered first into a small aquarium exhibit where we saw some very interesting shark eggs with baby sharks squirming inside. I was both captivated and disgusted. Then we made our way onto the pier.

Even on a weekday, the Santa Monica Pier is in full carnival mode. Street, or shall I say, pier performers give it their all to entertain tourists and hopefully make a few bucks. Who can't resist riding the famous merry-go-round or having a few thrills on the Ferris wheel or roller coaster? There was sun above and ocean below and we were having a great time.

Then we saw her. The hat lady was at her booth with a whole lot of hats. Funky ones and classic ones, tall ones and short ones. Hats for men and women and kids. Hats for all occasions and even for no occasion at all. I bit my lip and went on over to have a look. Maybe...just maybe.....

Score! I felt like a Laker fan at the June 17th championship game. There it was, a few actually, stacked on top of each other at the end of a row of hats heaped upon hats. I called my husband over and he was in hat heaven! "You buy two, I give you good deal!" the hat lady said. Sold!

Needless to say, my husband walked away with two hats and one big smile. Me? well, I'm just relieved that it wasn't an exact replica of Satriani's hat.

Hats off to you Santa Monica Pier hat lady!

- Wifey of a Roadie, hanging up her (err, her husband's) hat for the night!

P.S. Of the two photos above, can you guess which one is my husband and can you also name the model of the guitar he is playing? The first to respond with both correct answers will receive a handy-dandy, one-of-a-kind, super duper, guitar pick signed by yours truly :p (I know it's not much but hey at least it's something, right?)