Monday, December 18, 2006

So I get a phone call last night around 9pm from my boy Cliff, who at the time, was about five minutes from meeting this woman for a blind date. He had grave concerns about her weight, since her page on match.com, really didn't provide info as to what her size was (obviously Cliff prefers the slimmer ladies). So he called me up, and asked me what he should do, just in case she turned out to be a big girl. Me being the good friend that I am, I provided him with two viable options. He could 1)Tell the girl, look, let's not waste each other's time, you aren't really my type, and then leave. 2)Have me call him about 5 minutes into the date, and then tell the girl, look I have to take an emergency flight(Cliff is a pilot). Cliff had a third option which was to endure the woman's size long enough to possibly get some oral sex out of the deal. Of course, if he had been able to pull that third option off, he would instantly be placed into the friend Hall of Fame..that type of action on a first date is rare..but not impossible. Anyway, he went on the date, she wasn't fat, but he ended up saying some dumb shit to sabotage himself anyway. The point of my story? There is never a dull moment with your friends..never. Two of my female friends got on me this weekend for not being as accessible as I've been in the past. One was just kind of joking with me, while the other seemed to be questioning whether we were really friends anymore. On one hand I did kind of diss(do people still say that?) one of my friends, but on the other hand, that's how friendship goes sometimes. We piss each other off, we explain why, and then we keep it moving. Like I said though, its never a dull moment with your friends. This is the longest paragraph I've ever written.

I went to this jazz club with a friend of mine in DC on Friday night called HR-57 to watch this talented pianist named Eric Lewis. This club was relatively small, and it had a nice atmosphere, and they also allowed you to bring your own beer or wine if you were so inclined(which was odd). Mr. Lewis is incredible piano player, but his band failed him miserably, and it pissed me off, and I'm not even a jazz player..just an enthusiast. First off, the bass player broke his bass. How is that possible? I do not know, but midway through the third song, the bass player was out of commission. Since a set with just a piano and drum player really isn't all that entertaining, Mr. Lewis had to readjust his set, and play solo. Now he pulled it off brilliantly, playing his own compositions, Christmas songs, and Stevie Wonder classics without missing a beat. But there were a couple of moments when the drummer should have jumped in with him, and the drummer was just clueless..he was sitting on his hands like a fan, instead of realizing that he was on stage too..Mr. Lewis was even baiting him to join in, and he never took the hint. Once the bass player "fixed" his instrument, the drummer joined back in, and they played a beautiful version of the classic, "My Favorite Things". And again, the drummer was just off, despite Mr. Lewis' repeated attempts to get him on track. Again what's my point? Two things. 1)Seeing this performance not only made me wish I still played the trumpet, but it made me wish I had stuck with playing and learning jazz in general. 2)The whole night made me appreciate the lessons in jazz my father had taught me over the years. I know my friend was getting tired of me talking out loud and making observations. The next day I promptly called my father and thanked him for how I was raised. It was a Kodak moment indeed.

Damn this is a long entry..

Anyway, I wonder how many games Carmelo Anthony is going to be suspended for this fight on Friday night. I know somewhere Michael Jordan is pissed that the main player wearing his label is in trouble yet again. It was a damn good punch though.

And now, my favorite Maxwell song. Get to Know Ya.

Again, my spell check function is broke, so if you see errors, just let me know, but don't antagonize me dammit

2 comments:

hadassah444 said...

what's stopping you from picking up the trumpet again?

Jo said...

DAYYYMMNNNN! That sure was a good fight. I couldn't help but notice the privileged white guy who was running scared. (Literally!) Stupid bastard . . . he didn't even realize he was a part of a historic event. I can't remember seeing anything like that on the b-ball court. At least not these days when fines and penalties are set so high! It sucks not being rich, white, and male sometimes. Or should I add at times like these. Had that been me sitting there, I would have used that as an opportunity to take a punch at one of them (depending on which was my favorite team) and then I would have told all my friends and my future kids what I had done. It would have been phenomenal . . . of course, for months all of my family and friends would have been like, "Jo we saw you on TV. Tell us what happened." And that would give me the wonderful opportunity to tell the play by play all over again. But, since I am NOT white, privileged, or male, and since I was NOT at that particular game sitting in a floor seat, I don't have the honor of that beautiful story. Oh well, guess those are the breaks sometimes.

As for your friend, I dare one of my friends to question my availability. Sometimes we just are busy. I have friends that I play phone tag with for months, but when we do catch up it's all the better. I mean sh%# get a life. If your friend was out there having a life of her own, she wouldn't be stressing about you having YOUR own life - she'd be having a damn good time herself. 'Sides . . .the call 'em friends for a reason . . .it's because they don't go away. I tell ya . . .please comfort your friend, let her know that of course you are her friend even if you don't talk to her regularly, and then gently tell her that her insecurity is embarrasing, especially since you aren't fucking her(you aren't are you?). And then a little less gently, tell her that you are a grown man and she ain't your momma, so you can do whatever you damn well PLEASE and if she doesn't stop nagging you YOU really WON'T be friends!

As for HR 57. You really need to hang out with me more often. That was my old hang out spot in DC. The reason why you can BOB is because they didn't have a liquor license at one point. Now they sell beer and some wines, but they still don't serve hard liquor. You should check them out Wednesdays and Thursdays. They have open mic night. It's really great. The food is pretty good, too. The collards and the fried chicken will take you back to your southern roots - 'cause you know we all have them - we didn't start here in the north. Glad you checked it out. And if you ever invest in that horn, you can always go there and blow a bit (;o) during open mic night. Just be sure to let me know . . .I wouldn't miss it for the world!