Does Duct Tape work in Space?

We just passed New Years day. For the somewhat impaired, this means we passed New Years eve.

We were invited to the normal place for NYE. Have you ever had to go somewhere and while getting ready, realized you'd be much happier not going? Maybe boiling your hands in some water or shaving your own ass? That didn't happen to us. Instead, we just sat there and stared, realizing that to go to the party, we'd actually have to get off the couch and move. This is easier said than done. We knew we'd have a good time, but staying seated seemed like a lovely idea.

Mrs. lefty, not a girly girl, said she'd be ready shortly. Apparently Mrs. lefty had transitioned into a girly girl,  because shortly turned out to be 45 minutes. I kept wanting to point out that we were already 2 hours late, but I like my reproductive bits.

Finally on the road, we began our game of pissing off every other driver on the highway, by only doing 20mph over the speed limit. There was honking, there were fingers raised in salute, there was laughing. We noticed that there was little traffic, both ways. Like everything else, people were probably celebrating online, maybe over at Amazon. Or we hadn't driven close to any bars.

At the party, the poor host probably got tired of people asking, "What's THAT?" after I walked away. The food was smashing: we bought Death by Chocolate cake, and most of the rest of people bought cannolis. What are the odds that most of the guests would bring the same thing, no less the same thing being cannolis. When does 'cannoli' pop into your head? Was there a sale on cannolis at every store? I'm not complaining - I like cannolis. It's one of the few cheeses I eat, probably due to sugar content. Everything I eat is due to sugar content, especially drinks. I drink like a girl when I drink. Get me a frozen strawberry margarita and I'm happy as a Biden after a nappy.

While we contemplated cannolis and the imminent fall of the ball, I asked Wife about the traditional Midnight Kiss. She said yes. I asked where. She said lips. I asked which. She said northern. So it was going to be that kind of new year. And, true to form, the lefty Show was off on its New Year's day. My first 3 transactions failed: I couldn't get a receipt for gas, couldn't get an advertised milkshake at a convenience store, then couldn't replace it with the candy bar I wanted. Seems like I was starting things off right.

Happy New Year, dear folks.

Resolutions are a sticky subject, as no one in the history of the world has ever kept one, especially the ones with 'weight' in the title. I don't even bother making them, because I'm just setting myself up for failure and I do enough of that already. OK, the truth is that I won't remember making them on January 2. I might not even remember them next December. So why bother? But since this is my blog, it is incumbent on me to come up with a few, off the top of my balding pate...

• grow my hair back, everywhere except the ears
• continue to not see the dentist, with no ill effects, in spite of their pleading text messages and calls
• keep everybody well, including the 4 legged one
• spur world peace
• get work to stop with the constant meetings
• get companies to stop with the constant billing me
• grow a few inches (vertically, at first)
• stop the use of 'super' (that was super cool)
• replace Jeff Beck as World Guitar God

I don't find a single one of them ridiculous or unattainable, provided I can remember I made them.

2024 will, by virtue of being a new year, have to be better than 2023. Yes, I'll have to spend a few months getting used to writing 2024. 2023 was just shit. Losing Jeff Beck is still a shock to me. He's been my idol since the 80s... we were deprived of further joy by bacterial meningitis. His musical legend will never die.

Oh yeah, my mom died also (cue wise remarks about my priorities). I am deprived of further joy by Alzheimer's.

I spent the great majority of my life trying to be independent, starting as a child. The other day I watched a child go to his mother for comfort.  I'd love to have that chance again. Bring independent, I'd never take it, but knowing it was available would be comforting.

As forced vacations go, this was the least horrific of them. In fact, I have to go back to work, like the rest of you. Yes, I could take more vacation days, but I'm told it doesn't look good taking January off. So I sat there, watching each hour go by, thinking of what I failed to accomplish on said vacation, and thinking of the joys awaiting me upon returning to work.

• BATMAN - Men in Tights

Reindeer can sleep while they chew

So can Congress, if you can catch them in office.

 

Many Happys 2016-2017

Happy New Year to my treasured readers.
You will be required to have a very happy, safe, and healthy new year.

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Speaking of New Years, I occasionally performed on New Years Eve, both with my band and my musical comedy act.

I remember one year we played deep in the bowels of Philadelphia. It was so deep I could never find it again, nor would I have any reason to. Mrs lefty was there, long before she took the dive. I remember her particularly hot leather skirt. It was accompanied by a particular cold. The cold came with the Cough of Death. The poor girl sounded like she was coughing up a lung, at one minute intervals. As she was a nurse, she didn't have the good sense to stay home when she was quite ill and quite contagious. Plus she wanted to be with her sweetheart, for which I can forgive her. 

I remember doing reasonably well and jiggering the set around to ring in the Happy New Year at midnight. Cough couch. And at four in the morning, Mrs lefty called a doc she knew, who met her at the office and prescribed Strong Antibiotics for her constant hacking. I think she got half the neighborhood and their pets sick.

I'm certain we did a few more celebrations over the years but we are talking quite a time ago so I can't be relied upon to remember stuff. Especially if it happened yesterday. We played in a place called King of Prussia, which is apparently hysterical if you're from anywhere that isn't Philly. There was a small chain of motor lodges off the Turnpike, and when I say motor lodge, I mean really run down motel with a weird layout, featuring some extremely low-rent restaurant-type place, perhaps for truckers (but definitely not regular people).

We were opening for a national act, whose name I could make up but let's agree that I don't remember. We were pretty excited, as we should have been. Nice money, nice exposure, nice equipment. Or so we thought.

The room had all the acoustical properties of a concrete gymnasium, largely because it was constructed exactly like a concrete gymnasium, out of cinderblocks. We hit the stage running, full of energy, and the crowd immediately took a dislike to us. We weren't always strangers to this phenomenon, but realized it wasn't our fault this time.  When you point large speaker stacks at a concrete wall, the sound shoots out, hits the wall, and rubber bands right back at you. So you sing a note and it comes back to you, almost a second later, completely confusing you as to what you're doing. It's like a bad cell phone call, where you can hear what you already said in the background. 

Somehow this got cleared up, although I don't know how, but it didn't involve tearing down the cinderblock walls or throwing paying guests against them. We did really well... so well that the national headliner couldn't follow us. This is the reason a lot of comics don't want to follow musical comedy acts.

We weren't too far from home but we got rooms so we decided to stay. This was before Mrs lefty (no, really), so the adventurous lady and I decided to head to the room. Picture many rows of rooms, with about ten per row, all laid out at strange angles to each other. The door key was one degree off skeleton key, and I got a really weird feeling as we opened the door. It was right out of a horror movie, when the innocent couple inherits a large, dark castle and goes to see it for the first time. I expected cobwebs, everything covered in sheets, dust, and perhaps a dead body. Fortunately we escaped those tragedies, although we both avoided checking the bathroom just in case.

After the Mad Celebratory Sex (that I don't remember), we drifted off. Or tried to drift off. This was made somewhat difficult by the creaking dripping sound emanating from the bathroom. The one we were terrified to check for bodies. Being by far the braver of us two, She got up to check on things. The area was completely free of (human) bodies but the plumbing was similar to the plumbing in the large, dark castle; held together with string and spit. Several minutes later, we were safely in the car, on our way home. We decided it wasn't all that interesting to stay in a different bed for the night. 

I would like to repeat some of my successes but don't have a band currently. I thought the Mad Celebratory Sex thing would be fine but she's in the bedroom, having a call and response snoring chat with the dog. Just to clarify, we're talking about Mrs lefty, not any of the previous ones, girlfriends, or blow up dolls.

Please be safe. If you're going to drink, stay where you are, take a cab, or use a Designated Driver. It's not worth the other lives you may ruin.  Also - this time of year is particularly bad for sufferers of depression. If you need help, please talk to someone.

Dr Teeth and the Electric Mayhem