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| Front stoop. Gonna do me plenty of sitting here. Already have, actually. And, of course, my baby Blue.. |
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| I don't think "plastic" and "white picket fence" went together in the 50's or whenever the hell white picket fences were in style, but we've got a classy plastic one close by. Plus a towering view of the ocean and the island of Moloka'i. It's more impressive in person. It always is.. |
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| My lair. I offered the master to Louis to be a nice guy. He, in turn, offered it back to me. So, I, in turn, took it. Swell quarters and my own shitter: I really can't ask for much more. |
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In other news I was on Wiki last night looking up random bits of information (if you're ever bored just go to Wiki, pick something to search for, then start reading and click on links that seem interesting within whatever page you're reading. You can do this for hours. Well, at least I can..) and ended up learning more about The Black Crowes' The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion, the same album I brought up a week or so ago. Anyways, did you know this album was the first album in Billboard history to have four (4!!!!) #1 Mainstream Rock hits on it. Out of ten songs. Strong? Nah, quite strong.
And as I do a bit more research now, The Black Crowes are one of two artists to have consecutive #1 songs, and it occurred with two songs from this album. First "Sting Me," followed immediately by "Remedy." STP is the other with two songs of of the extra-tasty album Purple, "Vasoline" and "Interstate Love Song," respectively. Pretty neat, right?
But back to what I found out last night:
The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion was #1 on the Billboard 200 back in '92, and guess what album preceded AND followed it? A little group known as Kris Kross, with their album Totally Krossed Out. Yep, "Jump," "Warm It Up," "I Missed The Bus." This was the first "real" cassette I had ever gotten. By real, I mean not Raffi or Rick Charette or Disney or that sort of stuff. It was a Christmas gift from an Aunt. Auntie got skillz.
I'm pretty hard, right? Getting a Jermaine Dupri-produced gem ups my "badass quotient" to the n'th degree, if I do say so myself.
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| The mex-stache comes in handy when you decide to be, well, Mexican for Halloween. ES ZORRO! |
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| This could explain why I lost time for a couple of hours later on in the evening. How sick is the Z sash to conceal my fanny pack, though?! |
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| This was more or less the scene down town. This is inside The Wharf, a place with shops and bars. There were titties out in here. I, however, do not remember said titties nor did I get pictures. Saw my favorite costume of the night in here and it was some sweet, little thing dressed up as Leeloo from The Fifth Element, complete with orange wig and scant, stripped cloth wrapped around said sweet, little thing. There are worse places to live, I suppose.. Next year the town has decided to shut down Front St. like the old days so people can just walk up and down the street, beers out, a'la Bourbon St. If I'm still kicking it here I'm telling you it's 100% fact Lt. Dan will be revived. Watch out, Lahaina town.. |
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| Pocahontas was impressed.. |
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| I didn't pass out here, but I was close. I had a burrito about 5 minutes later from a street vendor that was UN-BE-LIEVABLE. I waited another week to sleep outside in a parking lot like a vagrant. It's pretty easy to do out here, and I figured it was safer than operating my two-wheeler under the influence. Responsibility Matters, people.. |
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O, when I was back in Maine I happened to run into Rick Charette's son. We have a mutual friend. He seemed like a piece of shit. But I guess when your pops is this famous you grow up with a silver spoon in your mouth and don't know how to handle being out on your own:
This guy's still the man. I watched that and felt three years old again. Maybe his son acted like a piece of shit because he's grown tired of talking about his dad's twenty-plus years of creating childhood memories through music, as I waxed poetic about seeing Mr. Charette multiple times in my formative, bed-wetting years. Still, the asshole should be able to take a joke. Grow up, Peter Pan. You're not mad at me, your mad at your dad for his 350 days of touring northern New England while you were trying to learn long division on your own. Life is hard, man; get over it.
Rick needs to do something about that backing band, though. Put them in costumes or something. Big furry mascot suits or something crazy. That would be a treat for all the little kids pissing themselves in the audience. All as alligators in elevators! Write that shit down. Call me, Rick: I'll bring your career into the 2010's ASAP. Cheers.
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