The Reunion Show!

Last night I had the opportunity to attend a reunion show of my favorite swing band from ten years ago. I was super excited about hearing the music, dancing, and most of all seeing all my old swing buddies. I had no idea what I was in for!

I read the facebook invite and it read that the reunion show was in Ofallon, Il. Bad because it's a thirty minute drive. Worse, because it's a thirty minute drive to a town next to my hometown! I finally arrive at the conference center and am amazed at the idea that I almost made it through an entire album on the ipod! As I walk in, I see a sea of high school kids in black wandering around. I ask the man at the desk where the Swing band show is, and he looks very puzzled.

"This is the O'fallon High School Jazz Band fundraiser concert."

I must have had a look on my face that represented someone facing a sentencing, because we both just stared at each other. I wandered around the hotel looking for a sign of another concert going on, alas there was none. I grabbed the mobile phone and called a friend and asked her to look at facebook and confirm the address. I explained that I was at some kind of high school concert. She crackberrys the website and laughs out the words,

"Your at the right place."

I then see warming up in a room my best friend, and trumpet player of the band. She ran out to greet me.

"Hey! Am I at the right place?"

She laughed and explained that this was a fundraiser and the high school jazz band was opening for them. It also was an auction with a collection of many autographed items. Including a guitar signed by Taylor Swift, that eventually made a home with a 13 year old boy, who's future is most certainly to be a server in Chelsea. I walked in and immediately found my old buddies. They stood out as bad as I did. Among the sea of Dockers, sequined blazers, and white zinfandel's was our table. Two toned shoes, low cut dresses, and whiskey.

The jazz band wasn't all that bad, and they better not be. Seeing as how their parents had all spent tremendous amounts of money on their instruments. It had it everything you'd expect. Timing issues, nervous solos, bad bassist, and flashbacks. I was sitting next to my old friend Tiffany who's jokes kept my shoulders rocking up and down all night. She is like a red headed George Carlin.

The barry sax player was the best. A fat kid of course. Tiffany leans over to me and says something along the lines of sax practice and masturbation, and i spit my drink out a little. His parents of course were sitting at the table in front of us. They didn't hear what we were saying but we were very unwelcome.

Trying to fit in and not be gawked at like the townie whores we looked like, we got involved in the auction. Of course dropping out every time an item went over $25.00. Finally, the band started!

We hooped and hollered, sang along with every song. Remembered all the audience cues, and were even asked by the band to do some dancing. The rest of the audience glared, glared and, oh yeah, glared at us. The bartender was atrocious! Which I can understand, when all you do is open bud select and pour white zin, but she told me she had no scotch. When I told her she had Dewars, she said "Oh that's whiskey."

When the show ended my friends told me that in a weird coinsidence that the other swing band we used to go to was playing 5 miles away in my hometown. They asked me if I knew where it was, and unlike my sister who has the navigational skills of a GPS, I do not, and did not. Still they asked me to lead the caravan. I of course, drove them to my high school, because that is the only way I could remember to get to Belleville from Ofallon. It was a disaster.

We finally arrived at the right place, and i was attacked by a gentleman (and I use that term loosely) named Roger. Roger was easily 74 years young, and had the breath of a hunter 3 days in the tree stand. He was quite the little dancer, and advancer. We danced many...many songs. My friends and I had a great time, but were getting too sauced to continue our east side adventure and still drive home. It was time to call it a night. I awoke this morning with a fever blister, and can't help thinking that Roger had something to do with it.

The show was a blast, and I hope in another ten years they do another reunion show! Maybe this time they can have a polka group warm up for them, that's the only way they can top all the comedy material we indulged in.

ROCKER TED!

Jesus Healed My TV

One of the hurdles in my marriage and relationship with my husband has been the differences in faith. My husband claims to be an atheist and I am a christian. We for the most part have been able to keep this difference from forcing any wedges between us, but it is sometimes I can't help but giggle when God shows up.

Let me clarify that my husband is very supportive of my faith. He will even give me a little grief if I don't go to church. He encourages my prayer and bible time, and has even made jokes that if God does exsist that my family has a direct line. We are prayers. Prayer warriors. We like to get stuff done. If someone needs a job, a baby, a raise, a healing, we pray and God usually answers. It's not magic, it's just faith.

A couple weeks ago the unthinkable happened. The TV broke! I know that our culture as a whole has a serious addiction to technology, heck I saw a nun on Oprah with a blackberry. I was so upset. I had just paid the cable bill for one, and my favorite show was saved on the DVR. My husband and I did all we could but the thing just wouldn't turn on. Unplugged it and plugged it back in. We took a screwdriver to the switch, and nothing. We tried to fix it for 20 minutes. Deflated and defeated we gave up.

My husband went to the kitchen and started cooking dinner, I sat down at the laptop in the dining room and began to price televisions online. Then we had a discussion that if we are going to buy a new TV it should be the nice flat screen we were planning to buy with the tax return money. Those are very expensive, and we are still recovering from the wedding and have little of the proverbial pot to Tivo in. So I said a little prayer, well whined a little prayer out loud.
"Jesus, please fix the TV."

About three minutes later the TV came on! Yes all by it's self. My husband looked at me and I looked at him. I said "Thank you Jesus!" My husband laughed at me and said, "Jesus doesn't care about the TV." And I think he's right. Jesus doesn't care about my TV, but he'll take any opportunity to prove my husband wrong. Or at least mess with him a little.

What's In a Name?

When I married my husband I had every intention of taking his name. Now, I will be the first to admit that I played around with the idea of hyphenating my name to his for a couple of reasons. First, I am the last of the girls in my family with this last name. And second, well, my last name rocks!

But after thinking about the idea of marriage really being a union between two people, two into one person, I wanted to acknowledge that. Besides if I was to hyphenate my last name would be seventeen letters, and well that's just stupid.

I'm not a person with whom a name is attached to my career. I'm not a partner at a major law firm, or an award winning actress. There is really no need to keep my name except for the idea that the girl who was on her own all through her twenties is now gone. This is okay. That girl wanted to get married.

So after the honeymoon ended and the holidays were over, I began the process to change my last name. First I was to go to City hall to acquire a "certified" marriage license. Apparently the one the state mailed me from the capitol city wasn't good enough. Or at least not going to help them make any money off me. You will see this trend continue through my story. I wait in line and stand at the counter and the same woman who issued the first license to us a week before is the one helping us. She of course didn't remember and couldn't care less. She did however give me a piece of advise and told me wherever I go to ask for this copy back or I'll have to come and pay another twenty dollars plus parking for each copy. Okay! She points me down the hall to the DMV where I can get my drivers license.

Down the hall I go, I pick another number and sit and wait. They call my number, and I jump up. Eager to get away from whatever that insane smell is coming from the woman in front of me! I go up to the counter and the woman is unpleasant at best. She tells me that all my waiting was for no reason that I could not be issued a drivers license with the new name until I change I name on my social security card. Okay, where the hell do I do that? She tells me of a place across town.

I arrive at the social security office and take another number. My husband and I quietly laugh at a person that we can't decide is a man or a woman, helps themselves to a desk telephone, and calls someone to ask for money for an apartment. This person is on the phone for ten minutes before a security guard catches them, and asks this person to "please not use our phones". The person says to the security guard, "Okay my bad, just a minute." Just a minute what? I was amused!

"99" Ooh goody that's me! I approach the counter and it seems that this woman has some sort of bird flu. She is coughing all over the place and wiping her nose as she takes my documents. I am charged another twenty dollars. Other than that, it is pretty quick and painless. I ask her if i can now go get my drivers license and she says yes.

Back into the car. We drive to the DMV and I pick.... you guessed it! Another number! I sit patiently and watch Judge Joe Brown and wait. Can I just say that everywhere I go the offices seem to have flat screen televisions! Well, I suppose if you charge everyone twenty dollars for every little frickin thing eventually the state has a little cash to throw around! When my number is called the woman at the counter tells me that I have to have a certified copy of my Birth Certificate from the county clerks office, they will not take the hospital copy, which of course is the one I have!

I call my Dad. Ask him if he has a copy of my original birth certificate, he says he does and he'll mail it to me and I should have it in a few days.

Finally I have all the necessary documents and go to change my name! The picture of me is awful. But I suppose everyone's is. Anyhow! Two weeks and $78.00 plus shipping later, I am Mrs. Newlywed! The lesson here is that no matter what anyone tells you, it does feel good to take his name. But it will cost you....at least your time. So make sure you really want it. I now longer judge the women out there that don't take their maiden name back after their marriage falls apart. After all, who has the time or the cash to do this more than once! And I'm sure it will take another series of twenty dollars and a certified copy of your vagina.