Isn’t this supposed to be my day off? Wasn’t I supposed to stay at home making chicken soup and watching re-runs? Instead, it was busy all day but I also made a significantly better return as the caller at the Bingo game. Jimbos Beer and Bingo, kind of thing. A small crowd, but a happy crowd, it is a better format that most other games in town, including the too fast, too quiet calls at the Mickosuckee Casino. My new semi-classical music background was an instant hit.
I was four years old. I won $7.00. My mother took it, promising to pay it back. I never saw it again. I will reward $1,000 to anyone who can tell me where that was, and here are the clues: Of the wine and gold, it was the wine. The crowd was all Joseph and Mary, and boy, was it cold outside. Sorry, no family or friends and offer expires whenever I say it does. It turns out I like calling Bingo even more than playing; I hope the novelty doesn’t wear off. (And I said family or friends, not “and friends”.)
It was enough fun tonight I was reminded of Theresa, up in the Carolinas. This would have been an excellent outing for us, the kind of situation that beats dating any time. I never told her about the men gawking that time she wore her shorty-shorts into Jimbos. She does have a great pair of legs. Now that I’m making money, sometimes as much as a Friday music gig, I’m Bingo happy. If a big crowd ever shows up, this game will be legendary. That is not too far-fetched as the Power Ball Jackpot is getting up there.
Some women have a thing for Bingo callers. Must be the air of authority, ha! A few of them do stare, as if they’ve never noticed me before. Don’t get me wrong, it is not conceit because it is never the sort of women I'd consider. My musical equipment, turns out, is excellent for Bingo, overkill in fact. My PA system you know about, also the background music, same with wearing a tie. I guess I don’t know what creates the ambience, but it is there. Woe to anyone who tries to follow my act. The crowd is already spoiled and I have not yet begun to plan the perks.
Call me duh, that asinine Ford headlight alarm system got me again. I drive over there in a rainstorm and left my lights on, necessitating a later boost in the dark. Jackie and I walked up to Boston’s after and they had an excellent country band. Boston’s tends toward biker bands so country music was a surprise. The crowd reaction was great proof that I am right on the money with my theories about a country duo in this town. There were twelve women dancing and zero men. For all I’ve said about drummers, the one there tonight was the best I’ve heard in, seriously, 15 or 20 years. His name is Bruce Gross.
Speaking of music, I finally located Eddie, my mystery guitarist. As figurable, he has been working major overtime and his phone is disconnected. That explains the no-show last Sunday. Check in about tomorrow, since Eddie knows well enough we have a winner act in the making. His vocals tend toward higher notes, so we experimented with singing duets where I duplicate the melody two octaves lower. Ha, what a unique sound, like two Gomers from the toolies. The range is great enough that we don’t have to strictly do harmonies. I used to get away doing this with my ex, and have done similar backups to Karaoke music. Can Eddie and I turn this into money?
That’s another thing, the gang who say music is corrupted by those who do it for money. They are hypocrites, they gab about beauty and truth, yet every one I ever met dreams of being a recording star. Being naïve about it doesn’t make them anything less than money-grubbing capitalists. Or the other extreme, the cheapskates who don’t pay the other band members a fair share and cheap out on the A/C during rehearsal are money-hungry too. Musical ideals, my eye! Don’t give me any of that chandelier, you bozos with the $1,000 guitars. Never heard that before, chandelier? It's old Texan for bullshit.
Later. Eddie, I am sad to report, finally went to get his blood pressure looked at. He was running 188 over 140, far into the danger zone. I’m saying it has to be the environment or the diet or at least some external factor. Now, music has a soothing effect and it is too bad his doctor won’t prescribe it. There is some gravity to the theory that each hour spent playing music or on heavy exercise adds two hours to your lifespan. Goodie, by the time I’m 60, I’ll live to be 250.
(I was also surprised to learn riding a bicycle is considered heavy exercise.)
Return Home
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
