AliThinks

How To Beat The Blues When Your Kids Return To France

1) Meet up with friends at a downtown bar.

2) Go next door to The Dame to see Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

3) Enjoy the music fully.

4) Say hello to Michael Been of The Call, father of Robert Levon Been of BRMC, and sound man for the band.

5) Resist singing "Ya ya ya ya ya ya ya" to him.

6) Sing it anyway, because it's a fucking great song. And then take a crappy cell phone picture with Michael Been. (Because HELLO, STARSTRUCK!) 

7) Go back to the bar next door and have another beer or two.

8) Flirt a little with Peter Hayes of BRMC while he plays darts. (Because HELLO, STARSTRUCK! And also, ADORABLE TINY ASS!)

9) Think about the fact that I gave Michael Been and Peter Hayes my MOO card(s).

10) Hope that they see this blog entry. Hello, fellas! Thanks so much for coming to Lexington!

11) Thank the Internet Gods for helping me find Radio Paradise five+ years ago, because that's where I first heard (of) BRMC.

12) Smile wistfully, because my kids are now safely back in France.

Sofa King Random

My favorite expression these past few months has been "sofa king." Anyway, I went to the grocery store to get a few things—shrimp, red bell pepper, garlic, and fresh ginger—for dinner, and on my way home I heard a song on First Wave that made me say "I have GOT to keep a running list of songs to play at our wedding reception." (No, there's no date set yet.)

I told this to Allan when I got home, and he said "You should blog about it."

Then his eyes got all twinkly, and he added "You know, to get some tongues wagging."

I'm pretty picky about music. There will be no "love ballads" played at our wedding. We will not dance to the "I like big butts" song (I don't even know the name of that song! But I was out of the country during the 90s, so I'm excused).  I'm not sure we can learn to dance to "Thriller" in time. (I'm not opposed to having that played at the reception, though.)

Anyway, if you have a cool song you want to share in the comments, I'll take note.

No promises that I'll let it be played at the reception, however.

Oh, and the song I heard on the radio? It's below the fold. Don't you judge me. I came of age in the 1980s.

C'est Grave

Internet radio is more threatened than ever.