I’m not yet sure where I’m going to find the energy in my rapidly aging body, but I’m set to check out another contender in my search for a new hippie band deserving of my attention. If I survive three straight late-night shifts at work — my regular Sunday and Monday night gigs, plus election-night… Read More biscuits.
Waitwaitwaitwait. Wendy Bell — WTAE’s endlessly perky anchor — has a Grateful Dead tattoo? Bong sessions and dreadlocks? Searching for that killer 1979 Stanley Theater soundboard? Buying patchouli by the gallon at Telaropa? Um, Wendy? We’re going to need some more information about this.
I need a vacation. Uncle Crappy and The Wife returned home from the Gathering of the Vibes late Sunday, a bit crispy, a bit soggy, a lot tired and a lot happy. After a short wait at the entrance, we set up in Quieter Camping — which mostly was — right next to Meg and… Read More gold medicated butt powder.
When I pick up my guitarThis is the song that always comesDon’t know what I’m singing ’bout andDon’t know what forI think about youAnd I think about Rosebud Wish there was a song to singTo bring you backBut you can’t get here from nowhere I guessRosebud’s shipwrecked up on the OhioBehind a wall of glassTelling… Read More rosebud.
When I arrived home from work this evening, I gingerly exited the air-conditioned car, walked through the steaming 88-degree air … and into an air-conditioned house, a blissful 72 degrees inside. The Wife walked up, gave me a hug and thanked me for insisting on the AC. And though he isn’t sure why, Miles is… Read More thankyouthankyouthankyouthanky…
Phil was hot. Our apartment, as of today, is not. An exceptional weekend in Columbus was highlighted by two things: the Phil and Friends show at Lifestyle Communities Pavilion in the Arena District, and a full day of hanging out with our nephews and niece at the original Uncle Crappy homestead. I’ve said this before:… Read More hot. damn hot.
Uncle Crappy 