R-Rated Rascals

I'm way late. Like about a half decade late.  Still...

Not a video guy really.  Don't watch them at all, but while I was searching around the web for the new Rascal Flatts song I came across the video to "Melt".

Good gracious Laverne people!  Did that like play that after 10pm and only on the weekends or something?  

Two things: How did they get away with that and why did no one tell me???

Kidding.  Just kidding.  Not really.  No, I'm kidding.  Seriously.

On the Sligh

OK, so how many of you like Rascal Flatts?  No, not live.  The studio stuff, that's what I'm referring to.  Yes, I thought so.  I see about 18.5 million hands in the air.

Just heard the upcoming single "Here Comes Goodbye".  I'm no expert, but I'm guessing it'll do just fine on the charts.  Seriously, I'm such a wanna-be snot, as I listened through it my first thought was I think I've heard the music before, sort of.  Then I got over my uncut, unpublished self and listened again.  Then again. It's really pretty darn good. 

I dig it when a melody pays off great in the verse and you're thinking no way they top it in the chorus. Then, just to prove there's a reason why I'm unpublished and uncut, the go right on and kick it's fat fanny. Great way to treat a hook too. Jealousy abounds gentle readers.  

Chris Sligh is one of the co-writers.  His story behind the song can be found here:

http://frommymindtoyoureyes.blogspot.com/2009/01/story-behind-music-here-comes-goodbye.html. (Copy and paste link into your browser.  For some reason HTML and I are not getting along tonight.)

Funny and encouraging to learn that their process and ours isn't all that different-less some notable exceptions: writing a probable number one hit, having a publisher, getting Jo Don to listen to something, having Dan Huff like it, etc.

Other than that it's almost identical. Really.  Shut up all of you.

Home

Home at last people. 

I'm not better than anyone else.  Don't feel superior in any way.  Big proponent of the "Those in Glass Houses" philosophy. But....

Norman Rockwell's nuclear family was waiting for the rental car shuttle to take them back to the airport there in Vegas when I came up.  Dad, or grandpa, not really sure, was enjoying a Bud Light tall boy in the traditional brown paper bag.  First off, how yesterday.  Everyone knows that today you wrap your mid-day alcoholic beverages for public consumption in the latest Dale Jr. coolie, or have the decency to at least put it in a wrap that has Calvin peeing on a Ford logo, but I digress. 

Mom, or grandma, not quite sure, was, and I kid you not, working her dentures around.

There was a little girl, maybe 10, cute as a button, who I wanted to scoop up and take home since, no doubt, my tax dollars are already hard at work funding her room and board anyway. There could be an outside chance, given her age, that she might not be aware that she's starring down the barrel of a slow death by red neck and has yet to totally succumb to the urge to simply give in like the rest of her family has, but again, I digress.

The coup de grace, the cherry atop the Jerry Springer sunday, the reason why if I could go back in time I'd visit the framers of the constitution bringing them a photo of this "human"and imploring them to narrow the scope of this so called life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness thing, was the elder sister.  As in the case with some girls, this teen's age was indeterminable what with her sleazy clothes, make up, long hair, sailor on leave vocabulary, and obvious middle school mentality.  I'd put her at 16 tops.  That's generous, but my mind refuses to go to the age where I think she actually is.  

As she stood there puffing away on a cigarette I heard her tell the bus driver the following: "You'll have to get my bag.  I can't lift anything heavy.  I'm pregnant."

Judge me, oh ye fair and gentle readers.  I deserve it.  But I stand (you can't see me so go with it) before you able to say I've never hit a woman, but I clearly envisioned my fist touching the back of her throat through her mouth then reaching up and coarsely massaging her cerebellum until there were enough synaptic reactions available for her to get me as I look her right in the eyes and say "It's not OK. You and this. It's just not OK".  

People, we should have a right to demand more from those about about to breed, but, yet again, I digress.  

It is good to be home. Vegas was 65.  Harrisonville was 10. Awesome 

Leaving You Haiku

Vegas, Oh Vegas

Tables, dice, restaurants, vice

Half clad vampire chick

Vegas, Oh Vegas

I shall miss your temptation

Like dysentery

Thank you.  That is all.

Leaving Vegas

Almost done. One day and a wake up.

Pai Gow is not a cute little poker variant that's fun to play. No-No.

Pai Gow is Thai for "need cover story for wife and second job to cover losses."

Just FYI.

Massaging Vegas

Day three in Vegas.  Wow I'm so over this.  Ready to go home now.

I saw Ed Bagley Jr. today. Speaking of brushes with fame, or a close proximity to fame anyway, we stood shoulder to shoulder in a convention center bathroom.  I can only assume he was there to speak on his green activities and his show.  Not in the bathroom mind you, but at the convention somewhere.  So, anyway, I've got that going for me.   

My feet are killing me from standing on the show floor all day.  Could use a good massage. Easy right?  Heck, you can't swing a dead cat in Vegas without hitting a massage parlor.  Surely with all these massage parlors about a guy could find someone qualified and licensed to deal with my problem.  Vegas, by the way, has more massage "therapists" per capita than anywhere else in the world.  Every strip mall on every corner boasts at least one fine upstanding massage establishment.  Why between the convention center and my hotel, a drive of less than two miles, I counted 17, and that's just by casual observation.   As an aside, the Coalition of Asian Chambers of Commerce send a hearty thank you to the fine people of Las Vegas for single handedly finding a source of employment for half the expat female population of from Jakarta, Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur, and Ho Chi Mihn City.  Matter of fact, I'm not sure you can own an establishment if you're not of Asian lineage or at least put the word Asian somewhere on the marquee, but I digress.  Relax people.  I did not seek remedy from my podiatry predicament in any such place.  I choose life thank you.

This morning I saw three what I'll term "orthodox" Jews, with the black suits and shoes, yamakas, curly-ques hanging from their temples, white linen sashes with tassels around their wastes, playing the slots.  I keep waiting to see a southern Baptist and Mormon whooping it up at the no limit poker table swilling Jack black label and then I will have officially seen everything.

Did I tell you there's half naked vampire chicks at our hotel?  Not even kidding. Saturday can't come soon enough gentle readers.

Lost Wages Nevada

Hey sports fans...in Vegas this week.  Been a little while since the last entry.  

Ah Vegas.  There was Prime Rib on the breakfast buffet and drunks still at the slots at 6:30 this morning. Who says the economy is bad.  Seeing a cocktail waitress with a skirt cut so high and a top plunging so low that they both almost meet as you head to breakfast is different.  I'm more of a oatmeal and paper kind of guy in the morning-not really ready for cleavage and a highball.  You know....

Anyone going to the inauguration?  I know this is an historic one and it should be celebrated, but have you heard the price tag for this thing?  Unbelievable.  Obama wants change.  Maybe he should start before actually taking office.  BTW, since we're all paying for it, shouldn't we get an invitation?    

Wrote last week for the first time in ages.  Felt good too.  Chris' single is getting some airplay around the country.  That's big fun.  We've started writing for the next project already.  Good times.  

More from Vegas to follow no doubt.  Be well kids.  I'm off to practice a little risk management.