Gone Fishin'

June is turning out to be a very busy month, so I wanted to do a quick post to make sure you don’t worry if you don’t hear from us over the next few weeks. Given that we post every time we change our underwear, I’m sure a brief hiatus would no doubt spark a panic amongst our loyal and dedicated fan base and end up with our images plastered on milk cartons throughout the lower 48 and perhaps even Canada. Do they drink milk in Canada? Is it even possible to milk a moose? Milk-a-Moose sounds like an indie band playing at Pitchfork… I’ll have to find someone in skinny jeans and ask. It also reminds me of Pomplamoose. But I digress.

Next week I leave on vacation. Worst planning ever. If the Stanley Cup goes to a Game 7, I will be on the road while it is being played, instead of my usual place in the Ab-Rocker wearing my overly flammable Scrappy-Doo pajamas purchased at the Dollar Store. Pass the saganaki, please. Opa!

Then on my second day of vacation, Concrete Blonde brings their reunion tour to town on the day when I’ll be 1,016 miles away. Thanks a lot, Johnette. I’ve supported you for 24 years, which is longer than any other band except for Pure Prairie League, and this is the goddam thanks I get. And then, as if to twist that rusty tracheotomy knife in my throat even more, you decide to schedule a concert stop at my vacation destination the very day after I leave.

And as if it couldn’t get any worse, we will also miss Chicago Tap Theatre’s one night only summer show. How will that look to the Chicago tap community for me to miss one of the premier shows of the season? Clearly, it will tarnish my up and coming status as a top patron of the pedary percussive arts.

Finally, I also failed to check the summer festival calendar and will be absent for Ribfest. And I was really hoping to make the fest this year to have my lower ribs removed to enhance my girlish figure.

It’s okay Johnette, my tap heroes and fellow rib eaters… we’ll always have Paris.