Mad Libs Wednesday

Band member sightings: Oh, you know, too many to count, blah blah. As of yet I have not spoken to anyone but the ever-accessible Kevin, because of course I have nothing to say. And because it appears I SUCK at casual human-to-human interaction. If I could figure out some way to have my facade talk to their personas I’d be set, but when it comes to actually relating as a human being I’ve really got nothing here to give.

Wednesday we ate: conch that was still alive when it was being served to us. Better than it sounds.

The stingrays on Turks and Caicos were: velvety. The fine professional captain of the snorkeling boat floated a life preserver over to me when I began to panic when I couldn’t stand up in the four-foot-deep water. Everything on Turks and Caicos has been great, probably since it just opened for tourism two years ago.

UPDATE: We were in the crowd watching yesterday’s first BNL performance and who stands in front of us (yes, he should die) but the Mob Guy. Not Fin, but a man who looked almost exactly like Fin dressed in Evil. Gary didn’t even notice him, and I asked if that was the guy who’d denigrated BNL. “Yeah, that’s the guy.” So, genial Fin has an evil doppleganger who is talking trash about the band, drinking the free liquor at the Deck Party, and talking loudly to his Mob Pals instead of listening to the band. Oh, well. He’ll be sleeping with the fishes someday.

Another UPDATE: After singing his heart out for two solid days, Steven lost his voice. Well, he was a little froggy. So that means he sounded spectacular instead of breathtakingly spectacular. He sang a number of songs from his side project The Vanity Project I hadn’t heard before, so there might be another album out there someday. At any rate, he had to rely more heavily on his charisma and guitar skills. But the question of the morning is: Is he feeling better?

An ASIDE: A tipsy woman came up to Gary and I at the Deck party and said “Every time I see you two in the buffet I think, I want what they have.”
Damn girl, I puzzled, it’s a buffet. Just go get a plate.
Turns out that’s not what she meant. So now every time we start to squabble I remind Gary that we have a reputation as the Old Couple in Love to uphold.

And FINALLY: I laughed for half an hour solid yesterday when Guster came on stage and did a parody of all those Instrumental Cryptic Rock songs that go on for-freaking-ever, like Hotel California. They just played a lot of overwrought music, intermittently made arcane meaningless pronouncements, and it all ended with the BNL drummer coming out in a diaper and bludgeoning to death a giant chicken. The chicken wasn’t quite dead, because at one point he resurrected long enough to start the audience clap-along. Of this, I have photos.

Okay. Gotta go. No idea what I’m doing today yet. All I know is my ever-grumpy codger husband has said “This has been the best vacation ever” more than ten times in the last three days. Perhaps I’ll play the guitar I lugged halfway across the country.