Babe the blue ox is biting my ankle!

Ha! I kid my readers. He's actually nipping at me bum.

So. Band scramble was Saturday night. We had a few final run-throughs of our set Fridat night and Saturday afternoon, just so we all knew what the hell we were supposed to do come set time. Friday night' practice was, um, a bit shaky and maybe a tad sloppy. My end especially, I think, although maybe I'm being hard on myself. Maybe everyone else thinks that about their performance on any given night. I'll have to ask musician types if they always feel like they're messing up. But I digress. Cut to Saturday afternoon, for our final rehearsal. Whatever got into us Friday night was gone, and we had what was probably our best practice as a band (why didn't we tape it!?). All fears are gone. Once we got on stage and did our thing, I think we were almost as good as at practice. There were a few goofs, but nothing too serious. There were only five groups total, so it wasn't a terribly long affair. I thought our chance of placing high were really good. I knew we weren't going to take first, simply because the band I figured would win (and win they did) had, in the irony of all ironies, a dancer who actually danced, who then went on to play guitar on the next song, and then washboard for the final song, lovingly titles, "I Cheated on You With Your Mom." How is anyone going to compete with that? The group got a huge reception from the crowd, which, of course, is a big player in the judges' decision. Still, I figured we could take second.

No, we took fourth. Out of five. What gives? We had a good, tight set, good crowd reception, hell, we even threw ice cream in the crowd during our opener, "Ice Cream." Second place went to a band called Shit Sandwich, who, while not sucking, wasn't as good as us (and yes, I'm a bit biased). Third went to a band called Marrinol (sp?), and see the above statement.

Still, we played really well, so that's something to be proud of. I saw people grooving to our songs, including the dancer/washboardist of the winning band, and we had a number of people tell us we did well, which is nice. The drummer from S.S. told us we'd be great if we stayed togather, so I guess that counts for something. Plus, our one woman horn section got an honorary slot in first place, because she was quite quite good.

Also, our drummer was asked to contribute a song or two to a compilation CD of regular open mic'ers at Frederick's, so he asked the band to help him record the material in a couple weeks. So the Unnecessary Apostrophes live on for a bit longer.

While we were setting up our gear, our singer was introducing all of us, and when he got to himself, he said "and my name's unnecessary, so I guess these are the apostrophes." Heh.

Despite the stagelights being really freaking hot, it was loads of fun. Performing on stage is a blast, and I got a real good group for a band. I think being with the last group which, well, wasn't so hot in spots, made this band all the better. Pictures would be forthcoming, but we only got two taken before my camera battery died. I'll see about scoring some others, though.

Not much else happened this weekend. Four day weekend coming up. Huzzah!

What? Can't a guy look ahead to the end of the week?


Straight ice cream? That's so traditional!
Dave

Hit me! Groove!

I remember, back in the day, when the Urge released Receiving the Gift of Flavor, and it got pretty good airplay around here, especially on the Point. Also back in that particular day was dad's attempt at staying hip, cool, or whatever. All i can really remember is the listening to of whatever Steve and I wanted and maybe asking us every so often if we thought whatever he was doing was cool. It's been awhile, so the memory is a bit hazy. Anywho, one of the singles was "All Washed Up." Said song has the refrain "hey you're all washed up/would you please shut up/take a walk that way" followed by a mighty "HUUUUUHHH!" Your spelling may vary on that, of course. Dad decided that the guy was probably getting kicked in the crotch everytime he yelled, and continued to refer to the song in some manner as the "crotch-kicking song" everytime we heard it. He'd probably still call it that if I played it for him today.

I now have my new* computer at work, and it's very nice. Finally have Photoshop 7 after asking for it basically since I started. Of course, the two new-new computers the office got have Photoshop CS on them.** Anything else to be said about the computer is of interest only to me, so I'll save you from hearing my ramblings about Classic on these damn Macs. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

I start giving guitar lessons today. Not sure how that's going to work out, as most of what I know how to do is just sort of second-nature to me at this point. Trying to find a way to make it understandable to a beginner should prove interesting. Or agonizingly difficult for all parties involved. That would, of course, be followed by the smashing of guitars over each other's head. That, of course, is why I have three guitars.

I feel like I wanted to say more, but nothing springs to mind, so I guess I'm done.


Fear not, townsfolk! Famine is no doubt right 'round the corner! And gross bugs and rats sleep in our beds! Isn't that great?
Dave







*By new, of course, I mean third-hand, but new to me. Almost all my stuff at work is used: computer, desk, chair, etc. The camera and scanner are new, which is fine, but considering how often they go buy new uselss crap (like Nickelback CDs), couldn't I at least get a new chair after two years?


**See? Even when I get upgraded I'm still behind the times.

Now this is something worth looking into in this country. Just think how nice our lives would be. The guy may be a few peas short in some other areas, but still, I can cut him a little bit of slack.

-Band scramble is Saturday. The Unnecessary Apostrophes are poised to rock the stage like no other. At 11:00 p.m. God forbid we have a normal set time.

-Mark "The Truth is Out There" Mulder is now 14-1/1.88 during night games and 1-7 during the day. Isn't that just a little bit weird?

-As per Ed Roland's request: I saw Collective Soul. Thank you.

-PatientlyPatientlyPatientlyPatientlyPaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatiently waiting on a new computer at work sitting right across the room from me.


I got your instant move
Dave

The baseball post

Atteneded last night's Cardinals/D-backs game sort of, but not really, for free. In the end, it probably doesn't mater. The Good Guys won 5-0, with mark "Don't Call me Agent" Mulder throwing a complete-game shutout. Nothing amazing, but he got about 47 ground ball outs, so I'm not complaining. At one point, 5 of 6 outs were ground balls to third base. Honestly, I think Abe Nuñez deserves about 1/5 or so of that win.

Being at a game, as opposed to watching on TV offers a lot more to take in than normal. Such as:

-seeing exactly where the pticher stands on the mound. I usually just assume they're standing on the middle of the rubber, but Mulder was standind way on theright side, and the D-backs starter was over on the left, as were the relievers.

-watching the defense realign themselves depending on who was batting. The D-backs' third basemen was playing in on just about everyone who batted, it seemed. "That's Just So" taguchi came up with two out and no one on at ne point, and he was playing in as if the Gooch might be bunting or something. He moved back after a couple pitches, but it was still weird. Concede nothing, I guess.

-hot dogs. I don't care what anyone says, but a hot dog cooked on those roller things at the ballpark is better than any other way of cooking them. Almost $11 for two of 'em and a soda, but it's one of those little things that make a trip down there better.

-new ballpark is looking mighty fine. I really hope they have a pitch count meter, along with the usual strike out board.

-I wonder if there are really intense fan keeping score in notebooks even when they're at home. I really like doing the scorecard thing when I'm at the game, but I never know what to do with the things when I get home.


No more Scott Rolen this season, apparently. Am I wrong for not being all that worried right now?


Get your head in the game, the Chort! The Cheat is wide open!
Dave

Dripping Yellow Madness

I wonder how long it took some of today's (and yesterday's) big bands to come up with a name for themselves. I know U2 went by 'Feedback,' 'the Hype,' and, of course, 'the Larry Mullen Band' before settling on U2, but how long did it take them to arrive at that decision? Were there hours of heated debates between larry, Bono, and Edge? Adam, of course, was too cool for any of that, He probably just sat around looking rather disinterested underneath his 'fro, maybe smoking a cigarette until it all blew over.

I only wonder this because my group for Son of Band Scramble came up with a name within an hour or so during our first practice Friday night. It all started with a discussion of our birthdays and what the traits were for each sign (or what is suppposed to be a trait). Virgos (me) are, apparently, more anal than most, to which I repliedI didn't think I was all that anal, except when it came to unnecessary apostrophes. I pointed out the case of "Autograph's Plus," the ill-fated store formerly of the Mills Mall, which closed a few months ago. I think it had everything to do with poor grammar. Anywho, the rest of the band decided that a.) my grammar obsession indeed made me anal, and b.) "Unnecessary Apostrophes" would be a good name for the band. So that's us. And we had the core of our three songs by the end of the first practice. By the end of practice two, the three were coming along quite nicely. It's a very good group, I must say. The lead singer(s) don't suck, and our "other" gal plays actual insturments--sax, bari sax, and flute. It's like having Jeff Coffin in the same room! And she plays them really well, so all the better. August 27th, friends, at Frederick's Music Lounge. You of the 21+ type have no reasons not to attend.*

Other quick hits:

-flat tire: I think 'flat' is too light a term. I backed over a raised sewer, and had a hole large enough to stick my hand through. Anyone with a better term for that is wlecome to suggest it.

-branch on the roof!


Eh....I lost interest. Now I'm too lazy to even wrap this up properly.


Cool tapes are cool, and we like it like that!
Dave





*In case you've missed the other plugs for the show. I never claimed to be subtle.

Ground control to Major Tom, come in Major Tom

So I woke up this morning, and for some reason I couldn't place, I felt like a little piece of me was missing. Something didn't feel quite right.

Then I looked down at my leg and remembered the huge chunks of skin missing from diving all around during soccer last night. Playing goalie will do that to you, you know. Hopefully, the quality of my game isn't directly proportional to the amount of my body I sacrifice to the turf. I'm not willing to suffer skin grafts just for a shut out. AS it is, I was on the ground a lot last night, and we lot 7-2, so I'm thinking it's just the opposite. Oh well, live and learn.

Band practice numero uno is tomorrow night. Our bassist's name is Ozze, so I think we're in good shape, eh? Also: we have another 'other' gal this time, but much to my delight, she plays an actual instrument or three. One of them happens to me sax, so if we take advantage of that, I see no reason why sweet victory can't be ours. Hopefully no one recognizes me as "The Guy from the band with the crappy lead singer."

What else to say...


Canoes are your friend, as is Janice's grandma's roast beüf. Yum.


NOIBN,
Dave

Big hits from small guys

Here's how to make a Cardinals fan extrmely happy:




You might also try this:




What more could you ask for?

Just Do It.

Really.

Go here, poke around a bit, and let me know what you come up with.

A few for me:

Dave Moore - Your personal entertainer.
Don't play with fire, play with Dave Moore.
Don't forget your Dave.
World's finest Dave.

Routine 27 - Yabba Dabba Duh!
Routine 27 is your safe place in an unsafe world!
Routine 27, pure lust.
I'd walk a mile for Routine 27.

Wouldn't we all?

Good friend Tom has this poster in his basement. I think it may be one of the collest posters around. I imagine the rest of the band would feature Peter on bass and Thomas on drums.

I confess to not knowing any of the other apostles off the top of my head at the moment, save for Judas, and would you really want a guy like that in your band? Especially in a crucial slot like the rhythm section.

What if you had to open for that band?

Speaking of bands, the next Band Scramble is August 27. You of the +21 crowd can come watch. I may have mentioned that a few posts ago, but I'm mentioning it again, since I've gone and signed up and the bands will be drawn this week. It's safe to say I'll be mentioning it again, so be prepared.

I don't really have much to say now, but I hate not posting, because it seems like a waste of valuable web space.

So why doesn't he go update his website?

Well, that would take more time than I care to use up right now. But update I shall, someday. Really.

And I could go on about sleeping in twice last week (8:38 and 8:18, thank you very much). or the ants in my kitchen last Wednesday (Operation: Kill the Six-Legged Bastards was a total success), or locking my keys in my car yesterday (but I got to work 10 minutes early, thank you), but anyone who needs to know alreayd knows. And, really, I just told you all anyways. Just not in great detail.

It is interesting though: I generally will not kill anything. I'll go out of my way to get a bug out of the kitchen and back outside. I don't run over already dead critters because it seems a bit of an, um, overkill. But those ants in my kitchen? Dead like no one's business. Sprayed like no tomorrow. Ex-ants, if you will. Something in me snapped, I guess. Maybe I don't take kindly to invasions. One or two, no problem, but this was an entire squadron.

Also interesting: I have no qualms about letting the cats do their thing with bugs. I guess it's "what they do," so it's fine. They get some exercise, too.

Also also interesting: I have no qualms about eating a cheeseburger or some chicken. I don't try to rationalize it. It's just how it is.

Speaking of cats...




That would be George. I apparently don't have a picture of Chip on my computer at work, so you all have to wait. For now, bask in the glory that is Morris redux.



What does a redneck man call a dead possum, lyin' in the middle of the road? Ba-ha-ha-haa! Probably sushi!
Dave