Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Lovehammers at Joe's, Feb 2, 2006. Recap by Moist Rub

I spent most of my workday the other Thursday checking my personal email box for a message from StivOO with the hopes of reading something like, “We’re blowing off Improv class tonight, I got us tickets to the show.” These were pretty high hopes, as StivOO has never been known to blow off his responsibilities. In college, he had the ability to attend class, actually do AND hand in his homework and study on his way to straight A’s, all the while being shitfaced with the best of them. The “best of them” being me, Sid and Captain Break-it, among others. I, on the other hand, had a reputation of being somewhat of a slacker. Classes, for me, were just somewhere to go to find some peace and quiet to work off a hangover. I wasn’t able to achieve the academic/drunken Karma that StivOO was able to do. The chances of him actually sending me a “blow off” email were slim, but since I was busy blowing off work, I had nothing better to do than check my email frequently.

The email never came, so I loaded up my shrunken Bill Murray head and made my way to class. Class proceeded as usual, but I could tell by the way StivOO spent the first half of it trying to figure out how to use his wife’s cell phone that he was a bit distracted. Eventually, after he had asked everybody in class what they thought his wife’s favorite color is and what bra size she wears (nobody in the class knows her), he figured out her voice mail password. There was a message from his brother that he had dropped off some Lovehammers tickets for us at the Second City front desk. Reminiscent of Dewey Finn at the end of his first day of substitute teaching in School of Rock, StivOO bolted out of Improv class as if the bell had just rung, telling us all he’d see us on the flip flop. I grabbed his coat and mine and politely excused myself to our instructor. She told me to get the hell out of there.

Joe’s is a mere two-minute cab ride down the street from The Second City, so we were able to get there in time to miss the first four songs.

The Lovehammers are notorious for starting out slow and boring, so we didn’t miss much. That is a lie, of course. I’m just trying to make myself feel better about it. Luckily, we got there in time to see the Lovehammers do their 90-minute xylophonic Peter, Paul and Mary medley. I fear that with their newfound fame, they may never perform it again. At the same time, I feel lucky to have seen it one last time.

Not surprisingly, the Lovehammers rocked the snot out of that place. StivOO and I had to stand in the back, because the place was packed to the rafters. And because every time we tried moving up, the mean Hammerheads pushed us down and kicked us in the head. As a favor to me, Marty talked the band into playing I'm Only Happy When It Rains by Garbage. Either that or he saw me standing in the back sweating my bag off and, from the looks of me, he thought it was raining outside which reminded him that they knew that song. (It was a little hot

inside Joe’s, and I’m an old lard ass.) For me, that was the highlight of the show, since that is my favorite cover they perform. They also played Here Comes the Rain Again, Rain (by Dragon), The Rain Song, Fool in the Rain, Purple Rain, A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall, Fire and Rain, Have You Ever Seen the Rain, Rainy Days and Mondays, Love Reign O’er Me, Rain Rain Go Away, Singing in the Rain, Rain It Black and Big Booty Hoes by Notorious B.I.G. It was a fabulous “rain” set.

They also played their standard songs off the new album, but let loose a little bit, since they were at Joe’s instead of warming up OBINXS fans and JDidiots. As expected, Marty took a tour of the ceiling to get a better view of the crowd. He baptized a few of us with his sweat as he hung by his legs from the rafters. Those people who received the sacrament were granted a continuous loop of the song Trees playing in their head until the day they die. And those standing next to those people received a voucher for a free crotch rub from one of the roadies.

As the main set diminished, StivOO suggested we try to get into the VIP section for the encore. The bouncer had other ideas. For some reason, he did not believe StivOO was the brother of the lead singer, so he pushed StivOO down the stairs. Even with the confirmation from Brandon, Jessica Robinson’s (from RockStar:INXS) husband, who was exiting when we were attempting to enter, he could not get in. So the bouncer pushed him down the stairs, again. He suggested StivOO check at the front counter to see if he was on “the list”. The bouncer looked at me and said, “Good evening, Mr. Rub,” and he let me in after I agreed to have dinner with him and his family next Sunday. We’re having a rib roast.

StivOO made his way to the front counter only to find that his name was nowhere near “the list”. Note to my brothers: if you ever become rock stars, put my damn name on any list for any show you do anywhere, just in case I show up. With Brandon’s help, and after spending about thirty minutes in Joe’s special pillow room with the bar manager, StivOO was given access to the VIP section. His hair was a little messed up and his glasses were crooked.

I waited for StivOO with the bouncer. He wanted to hear all about the magic of blogging. When we got upstairs, StivOO bee-lined to Jessica, who seemed genuinely happy to see him. And why wouldn’t she, he’s a great guy. It’s not his fault his rock star brother doesn’t want him at his shows. After standing there like a dumbshit watching StivOO and Jessica talk for about ten minutes, without StivOO introducing me (I think he thought the pillow room was my fault), I introduced myself to Jessica. She was very gracious and friendly. And she is much cuter in person than she is on that nasty television. She touched my left boob. We talked for a good twenty minutes. StivOO and I gave Jessica and Brandon parenting advice, although Jessica is not quite ready for a family. Brandon is, or maybe he’s just horny. Or both. Jessica made me promise that I’ll come out to one of her band’s shows (Covergurl). She agreed to send a limo for me. I agreed to pretend like we never met and to bring some young people with me, because potential record companies don’t like seeing codgers at their shows unless they’re dads of the real fans. That seems fair.

The Lovehammers finally finished up and made their way to their special room in the VIP section. Bobby tweaked my nipple. Yes, my left nipple, on the same boob Jessica touched. It was quite a night for my left breast. I haven’t washed it since (or prior to then, for that matter). StivOO scolded Bob for starting on time and causing us to miss the first four songs. In the past, the Lovehammers always started late. Bob claimed that they are no longer in charge and have to do what they’re told. So, I told him to get me a beer. I’m still waiting for it.

Marty turned invisible and slipped by us into the magic room. He never came out. Fearing that he was dead, and it probably was our fault, we returned to the main floor and tormented ourselves with the braying, heinous rap music that was playing loudly throughout Joe’s, while we talked to our friends Karen and Lisa. They eventually got bored with us and started doing that, “Okayyyyyy, it was nice to see you….” stuff, but I hadn’t yet finished my story of my recent pancreatic discomfort, and StivOO had just started spinning things on his elbow. They went to buy us beers and never came back.

Upon leaving, we met up with StivOO’s eldest brother, John, who was outside parking cars. He instructed us to go around the back to the tour bus and talk with Marty. Since he’s the oldest brother, we had to do what he said, even though we really wanted to go grab some soup.

As we approached the bus, we saw Marty surrounded by a few well wishers. Before we could interfere with his fans, StivOO’s aunt and cousin intercepted us. I stood there and watched them talk for a while. And then it happened. Out of the blue, who do you think grabbed my attention? That’s right, Heather Locklear, Pamela Anderson and Brooke Burke. They smothered me with kisses and hugs and apologies (just from Brooke for the way she had her bodyguards mutilate me out in LA). As it turns out, they can actually read and are big fans of Leper Pop. As they were rubbing parts of themselves on me, I could hear the faint sound of somebody say, “I’m one of the Snark girls” to StivOO’s aunt. I heard sounds of angelic horns as a white light blinded me. I threw the three hussies to the ground and slicked back my hair with some of their spit I scraped from my face. I approached the young woman that made the remark. I said, “Pleased to meet me, I am Moist Rub,” as I extended my hand. Then the girl screamed, “BLASPHEMER!” and jabbed me in the gut with her crutch and cracked me on the head with her elbow. After I showed her my ID, fingerprints and credit card, she believed me. So, we restarted the introduction, which was accompanied by screams of joy and hugs abound. That young lady was none other than Fabiansparkle. She now holds my Moist Rub introductory cherry, as I had never introduced myself as Moist Rub to anybody before. It was strange referring to myself by that name. But she hugged me and made me feel safe.

Fabiansparkle had a few Snark friends with her, and we had a very nice conversation as she showed me some pictures of her with INXS back in the eighties. I never realized Tim Farriss had such hair issues back then. Maybe it was because I was preoccupied measuring my own mullet at the time. Don’t worry, Fabian, I won’t bring up those huge eighties glasses and that chromatic threatening long sweater you were wearing in that one picture.

I learned something very important in my brief encounter with the Snark Girls. Something that will help remind me that, no matter how crazy and horrible the world can be at times, life is all good. And that is because Snark Girls like to rock and are cool, fun chicks. It’s one of those experiences I wish I could share with everybody I know, and I hope my loved ones can have the same opportunity someday.

Like I said, we had a nice, heart-felt chat, albeit shorter than expected. As we shared our thoughts, hopes and dreams, StivOO and I were accosted by a brazen hand on each of our shoulders, as we heard a rock star voice singing, “Alan, what has happened to Alan…”. It was Marty, of course. This is how StivOO and I had instructed Marty to approach us in public – singing our hit single, Alan. One time, at Cannes, he failed to do so while we were swapping gravy recipes with Roger Ebert. Marty is still ruing that day. He is a smart boy and has learned from that mistake.

I let Marty catch up with StivOO while I went back to being dazzled by the Snark girls. Before too long, Marty demanded, “Let’s go on the bus”. So, StivOO and I went on the bus. Although, I wouldn’t jump off a cliff if Marty told me to, or play chicken with him, I will accept his invitation to go on a tour bus. I excused myself from the lovely and boobalicious Snark girls, dreaming of the day we can meet again, and I got on the bus.

The tour bus was more than I imagined it ever could be. As I walked up the stairs, I could hear the sweet sounds of Christopher Cross playing at a conservative level in the background. I was met by a group of rock and roll enthusiasts, including Jessica and her husband, who were sitting around on the bus having a civilized discussion about education fiscal issues. They welcomed StivOO and me into their conversation. Marty disappeared into the back of the bus. While we waited for his return, we enjoyed some lemonade and fresh baked cookies made by one of the roadies. Before too long, Marty returned shouting, “It’s Parcheesi time!” After our third game, of which I won one, and took second in another, I was pretty wiped out. I can’t imagine how those boys can manage this kind of partying every night. Marty pleaded with me to stay for the rest of the Parcheesi tournament. I declined. The entire group understood and sang For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow to me. I bowed to them all and exited the bus.

What a night. I chose to walk back to The Second City to pick up my car, instead of taking a cab. It was more like drifting in a dream than walking, as I reflected on the events of that night. As if brought about by the Lovehammers’ “rain” set, it began to drizzle, and I felt reborn as I floated to my car nestled safely in the parking garage. Those Lovehammers. What a show. What a group of Snark girls. What a bus. What a challenging Parcheesi match. What a crock of shit, fourteen dollars for parking!?!?! Reverie time is over, back to life in the real world.


keysunset said...

Oh, mmmmmmmmmMoist! Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful Lovehammers experience. I could almost imagine I was there. Especially affer I started Alan playing to provide the background music ...

Parcheesi! Lemonade & cookies! Party time, excellent!

I think you should get several marriage proposals for your efforts on this blog ....

Moist Rub said...

Marriage proposals????

Was it that bad?

keysunset said...

OH, I'm sorry, not marriage proposals then ... how about hot chicks lining up to get on your freebie list (might get Patrick Duffy bumped off of there ...)

Sid F'er said...

Should have stowed away on the bus when you had the chance....

Andrea said...

Moist! You forgot me already?!? I'm totally hurt and disheartened!
I drive Karen and Lisa to the show, tweak your right breast and not even a mention of me!
I don't know if I'll ever recover!

monkeyhq said...

You forgot "It's Raining Men". LOL

Fabiansparkle said...

Even though I think you could still take StivOO in a game of chicken, thanks for the shoutout. Really, I will get you those pictures..really, I mean, why wouldn't I..hmmm..after the big glasses/chromatic sweater comment...hmmm...I'm sure the adorning public would love for those to surface on your site. I will send them, but it will cost time you see Mr. Rudypants, you both owe me a game of Chutes and Ladders. Think Monopoly may be a bit taxing on the rockstar brain.

Sid F'er said...

It took me a while to recover after I tweaked his right breast, too.

HillMama said...

I am so glad you got to meet some Snarkers and that they didn't scare you or try to tattoo a peach on any of your body parts. When Fabs told me that she met you I had a Moist Rub squee moment. It was special.

I would go on and on about what a wonderful blog this was and how much I laughed, loved and learned simply by reading it but alas I can not. JDIdiots? If you would only dream the dream your world would become brighter. When you practice Jasonology your every wish is fulfilled. It's kind of like Scientology, but you don't have to believe in aliens or Tom Cruise.

Moist Rub said...

Andrea, I didn't forget about you. It's those damn editors (Sid). I wrote you in! I WROTE YOU IN!!!! It wasn't my fault; I SWEARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!

Sid F'er said...

I never did like Andrea.

I hope you have learned your lesson and actually buy the poor boy a beer next time.

He does and he does and he does for you kids, and this is the thanks he gets.

slurred said...

Snark girls dig Moist Rub!!!

L A Ray said...

Moist your breasts are huge, so they goota be fun to tweak!

chimon said...

You told me you were sid'fer. What's up with that?
Fabs hasn't been the same since she met you. But if I hear one more time how Mr. Rudypants interupted her moment of bliss conversing with you I may have to sabotage her crutches. But now I find out it was all for a stinkin game of parcheesi... it may be too much for her. Remember, we have to give her the will to walk again, a la Pollyanna. Anyways, you are a beautiful person, even on the inside. This is because you caled us snark girls "boobalicious". BTW I prefer snark chicks, or the formal snark chiquita bananas.

del901 said...

Thanks for the shout out!! Meeting you was the highlight of our night at Joe's, right after seeing the Lovehammers, Blackmaker, meeting up with our fellow snarkgirls (or as Chimon points out, snarkchicks)and being hit on by the drunk in the Boys to Men t-shirt!

Andrea said...

Ok, Moist. I forgive you! I shoulda known it was Sid's fault. Karen has told me about him!

del901 said...

BTW, I forgot to mention I was also fabiansparkle's official "coat carrier" the night at Joe's. Actually, I was just being "nice" getting her coat (I was afraid of her crutches) when I lost her... then, outside Joe's someone said, "Hey, the bus is around the corner"... so I thought, "She's on her own.. it isn't that cold tonite" and went in search of the bus with my good friend chimon.

Imagine our surprise when we met the guys from leperpop...not that we were initial believers... I image lots of guys like to say, "hi, I'm Moist" to strange girls in dark parking lots late at night!!!

(And, oh ya, fabian was there too...which was good because we could pretend we were just there to deliver her coat... also there was that blond guy who had been hanging from the rafters back in Joe's... I really think they have to be caseful how much alcohol they serve... we were trying to watch the band... he was a huge distraction!)

Unfortunately, the darned parcheesi tournament interupted what would surely have been a truly memorable discussion of the subtleties of something profound..... at least I am sure it would have been profound, if I could remember what it was we were discussing (note, this memory lapse has nothing to do with the amount of alchol consumed during the evening.)

BTW, I am glad to hear it was parcheesi, I was initially offended that you had abandoned us in a deserted parking lot for something as unimportant as rockstars and groupies!

Sid F'er said...

I think del meant Boys II Men shirt... not that it was me, but I love that fashion statement. I might have to start cruising the clubs in my old Kris Kross t-shirt.

del901 said...

Quote: "I think del meant Boys II Men shirt... not that it was me, but I love that fashion statement. I might have to start cruising the clubs in my old Kris Kross t-shirt."

Sid... I told Moist that I thought it was mispelled, but he insisted that the t-shirt was a statement of intent and not a reference to the boy-band.

And I'll keep an eye out for the Kriss Kross t-shirt... just make sure you don't wear a Christopher Cross t-shirt, because if you start humming Arthur's theme I won't be responsible for my actions!

Anonymous said...

And Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying, "O Lord, bless this thy hand grenade, that with it thou mayst blow thine enemies to tiny bits, in thy mercy." And the Lord did grin. And the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths, and carp and anchovies, and orangutans and breakfast cereals, and fruit-bats ... And the Lord spake, saying, "First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it.

Sid F'er said...

I appreciate the monologue, but the Leper Pop Entertainment production of Spamalot has already been cast.

Perhaps you might find solace in the Movie Commentary thread on the message board.

del901 said...

A "Leper Pop Entertainment production of Spamalot" OMG!!!

I can't wait. Where's it going to be playing? Who's going to take the role of...... oh, wait a minute... that was sarcasm, right? Ooohhh. Nevermind.

keysunset said...

del901, you have to watch yourself around here. I myself have awakened in the middle of the night to the realization that I had been a victim of the subtle sarcasm.

OK, maybe I lied on the waking up in the night part ....

del901 said...

Tell me it ain't so, keysunset! Leper and Pop,,,, I mean Sid and Moist, are not always TELLING US THE TRUTH! Surely you jest!!! After reading their outstandingly accurate description of the snarkgirls they met after Joe's, I have to believe that every word they type is the unvarnished, unsarcastic truth!

Moist Rub said...

Fear not, lovely Snark chicks. We make up a lot of shit on this blog, but some things, like Snark Chicks and choo choo trains, we hold sacred and would never contaminate with a sarcastic pen.

del901 said...

Phew..... thank goodness! My faith in the world is restored. For a minute I was starting to question the very foundation of my existence.... I mean if you can't trust 2 complete strangers who post a blog on the internet, who can you trust?

(OK... was that too much??? Not that I am prone to exaggeration or anything....)

Anonymous said...

Leper Pop Reviews

Genuinely daring in its self-exposure...
Surely the greatest hymn to the transcendent
powers of sodomy since the Marquis de Sade."
-- Village Voice

"Moist Rub has done nearly the unimaginable:
he has written about a profane act in a sacred manner,
which is the hallmark of any great writer."
-- Tom Alberts (aka "Da Rat")

"Arousing, fascinating, and beautifully written, Sid F'er is a unique testimonial to one man’s
passion and intellect. Think The Story of O with a high IQ
and a sense of humor ... Sid is
shameless, brazen, and hot.”
-- Gerald Marshall

"The art of talking dirty has come late to
women, but when we get it - and Sid
has - the pages burst into flames."
-- Nancy Friday

"Mr. Rub's laser-sharp prose, dead-on economy, and mastery of the
salient detail make it a master class in erotica writing as well...
A tribute to virtuoso sex as worthy in itself, liberated from
all the moralistic values that try to tie it down,
Leper Pop is so much more than a blog. It's a revolution."
-- Rik Rohr

"What Moist Rub has achieved in these pages
is something rare and unexpected. His is an erotic
journey neither prurient nor grandiose, resulting in
a work of high literary ambition rendered
unforgettable by its unflinching candor.";
-- T. L Puddin' Head

"Sid F'er has gone into territory other writers are
afraid of, and that has been considered male
journey neither prurient nor grandiose, resulting in
a work of high literary ambition rendered
territory at that, and done so bravely and sexily."
-- Rich Morrison

Sid F'er said...

Who the hell is Nancy Friday?

del901 said...

Sid, relax, soak up the love...ok, this Nancy Friday person called you a woman.. but is that such a bad thing? Just square your shoulders, raise you head up high and fix your lipstick!

Anonymous said...

Nancy Friday (born August 27, 1933) is an author who has written on the topics of female sexuality and liberation (with a small "l").

Her writings argue that women have often been reared under an ideal of womanhood which was outdated and restrictive, and largely unrepresentative of many women's true inner lives, and that openness about women's hidden lives could help free women to truly feel able to enjoy being themselves. She asserts that this is not due to deliberate malice, but due to social expectation, and that for women's and men's benefit alike it is healthier that both be able to be equally open, participatory and free to be accepted for who and what they are.

Born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Friday grew up in Charleston, South Carolina and was educated at Wellesley College in Massachusetts. She worked briefly as a reporter for the San Juan Island Times and subsequently established herself as a magazine journalist in New York, England, Italy and France before turning to writing full time and publishing her first book, My Secret Garden, in 1973. This book, which compiled interviews of women discussing their sexuality and fantasies, became a bestseller; Friday has regularly returned to the interview format in her subsequent books on themes ranging from mothers and daughters to sexual fantasies, relationships, jealousy, envy, feminism and beauty.

A frequent guest on television and radio programs such as Politically Incorrect, Oprah, Larry King Live, Good Morning America and NPR’s Talk of the Nation, Friday also maintains a web site, which acts as a forum for development of new work and interaction with her diverse audience. As of 2005, Friday is currently working on her first novel.

She was divorced from her second husband, Norman Pearlstine (Editor in Chief of Time Inc.), in 2005 and she now resides in Key West and New York City. Despite the judgment of Ms. magazine ("This woman is not a feminist”) she has predicated her career on the belief that feminism and appreciation of men are not mutually exclusive concepts.

My Secret Garden: Women’s Sexual Fantasies, Simon & Schuster, 1973
Forbidden Flowers: More Women’s Sexual Fantasies, Simon & Schuster, 1975
My Mother, Myself: The Daughter’s Search for Identity, Delacorte Press, 1977
Men in Love, Men’s Sexual Fantasies: The Triumph of Love Over Rage, Dell Publishing, 1980
Jealousy, M. Evans & Co., 1985
Women on Top: How Real Life Has Changed Women’s Sexual Fantasies, Simon & Schuster, 1991
The Power of Beauty, HarperCollins Publishers, 1996
Our Looks, Our Lives: Sex, Beauty, Power and the Need to be Seen, HarperCollins Publishers, 1999

Sid F'er said...

In that case, I'm honored.

del901 said...

Go Sid! Hopefully Moist won't be jealous of the kudos! If he is, just send him a copy of Nancy's book, The Secret Garden.. that should keep him occupied for a while.

L A Ray said...

Or her other book, Grow A Package Bitch!

del901 said...

Oooh l a ray. Do I detect a hint of, dare I type it, jealousy that Nancy has singled out Sid for praise?

We all know Sid and Moist are the bestest ever and not just because of the high esteem in which they hold the snark chicks... although that helps... and not because I am back in Chicago late next week and hoping to get the snark chicks another mention in the blog that we all worship, but because... hmmm... sorry, it is because of their esteem for the snark chicks. Nevermind!

keysunset said...

uh-oh, I think I walked into the wrong chat room ...

I think I'm afraid of the snark chicks again.

del901 said...

Oh please come back keysunset.. remember the snark motto... "we snark because we love"!! (And it's a lot of fun!)

del901 said...

....and I'll shut up now and turn you back over to our genial hosts, Sid and Moist

keysunset said...

del901 said "we snark because we love"!! (And it's a lot of fun!)
True, too true.

So don't shut up del! I don't want to be the only one talking here ...

del901 said...

keysunset... I really should work occassionally! Otherwise, I won't have work as an excuse to fly to Chicago periodically and charge the company for it!!

But don't worry, I won't leave you here in the big scarey message board all alone!!! I think I am addicted and will only be able to go cold turkey for short periods of time, work or no work!

del901 said...

Have we scared away Sid and Moist? :-(

Sorry guys, I know it is your board... but it was only a teeny tiny little bit of snark... Sid, I know you really don't wear lipstick. Right?

Moist Rub said...

I was scared away, but not by you, del. There was a spider on my monitor, and I thought it was on the blog.

It went away, so I'm back.

del901 said...

If you have another spider incident, let me know. I'll be in Chicago next weekend... I can come over and scream real loud until someone comes and kills it!

Sid F'er said...

Remember, it's not our blog, it's yours.
We just work here.

del901 said...

And that makes all your readers very happy!

Seriously, I love this blog, guys!