Back at the shop, I had to scramble badly to get the CD finished. The only equipment I have in working condition is the computers set up over there. I downloaded most of the music and approximately every third Limewire tune has either a virus or a spyware attachment. Most common it the Zlob “downloader” virus. Here’s a cheery thought. I volunteer to be the first one to dance on Microsoft’s grave when they finally go under. It is hard to fathom what they get away with, and one of the worst contraptions is the dreaded “Media Player”. It keeps screwing around with “Playlists” which is fine if you know what they are and use them, but I don’t. I want it to play the one song I want. Of course, there are no directs of any kind how to operate this playlist. I know it is easy, but like easy women, I really don’t want to screw around with it.
Yes, I used my Win98 laptop. On such short notice, I could not get that damn Media Player to quit taking over. Even deleting it does not stop that piece of junk. It always was a annoying thing. I installed DVD player 5, but could not find the Win98 command to make it the default. Another dumb Win98 feature is how it opens new instances of folders whenever you navigate between those folders. I just left them alone and by gig’s end had four hundred open folders. I just pulled the plug. Where do MS people get so twisted? The good news is I pulled it off.
Great gig. Six and a half hours long, and it brought a few things to the surface. One good one is that although the juke box has a better sound (stereo vs my mono), it was only when I played they were packing the dance floor. I was disk jockey around half the time and yes, they did the conga and the limbo. Even the regulars had a particularly good time and you know, that is a credit because I’ve played the same venue so long and still can pull that off.
Wallace showed up to get hit on by a babe about thirty years younger. No kidding, and from up on stage I could see she was not necessisarily kidding. She was buying him drinks. During a break I showed Wallace the birthday cakes. (There were two birthdays.) One cake was a female upper and the other a male lower. Only Wallace would instantly ask, “Where’s the important part?”
I played until midnight. One thing about disk-jockeying is you never get a break. Back-to-back music all night. It was enlightening to note how much I could get away with when playing music I was not sure would fly over there. As long as it isn’t punk rock, it seems to work. I even played a lot of Neil Diamond. Everybody who is anybody was in for the show, including a babe who reminded me of what Crazy Liz would look like today. Let’s see, has it been 15 years? Yes. The full name is Elizabeth Jane Brookston, a Canadian girl from British Columbia, up in Canada.
Asking around, I discovered she [the lady today] was a) happily married, b) widowed 8 months ago, and c) a rich real estate lady with a twenty-something boyfriend. I would have moved, except she managed to completely ignore me while I was on stage and the twice she brushed past me at breaks she did not respond to my receptive mannerism. For rating me the “common entertainer”, she gets this week’s award for character judgment.
For the record (and it probably is a record), Wallace did a head count and we had 12 women to 14 men in the place at 8:00 P.M. All blonde women. Wallace mentioned he was the oldest person there, but that didn’t seem to stop the women from massaging his shoulders. Ahem. Maybe he does not realize what a catch he would be in South Florida. He has to quit hanging out at those family restaurants and donut shops.
I’m now flush with a pocket full of jingle-jangle It is not all gravy, for I have developed bass-player’s elbow and it was my fault. A week ago, I walked from the coffee shop all the way to Panera with arm load of heavy groceries. It was a little too heavy, now I have the after-effects.
