"Dizzy In My Head"

Hair Band Friday is here and, as usual, the office is a mad house (not to be confused with the John Larroquette-Kirstie Alley vehicle Madhouse). Candi is all coked up, completely naked, and crying while finger painting some sort of rudimentary tornado destruction scene on the wall. Meanwhile, I'm drunker than John Bonham, writing an answer and counterclaim while some chick named Suzette is begging me to go back to Monaco with her. I would, but she doesn't seem to understand that I women like her are a dime a dozen to me, and I'd rather spare the trip. Why buy the hooker when you get the sex for free? "Mista Bone" by Great White, "In My Dreams" by Dokken, and The Scorprions' cover of The Who's "I Can't Explain" were the last three songs blaring from my speakers, which was enough to make Carly (who I think was freebasing) totally go down on Jim while he was doing some wicked Lexis research. All in a (Hair Band Fri)day's work.

I went to the Sox game last night, and it's apparent that my catharsis after last Thursday night's unnecessary drink-a-thon has faded. We did the patio deal, which for $49 got us a ticket to the game and 2 hours of all you can drink beer and all you can eat stadium fare (an hour and a half before the game up to a half hour into the game). The Patio, as it's called, is right next to the opponent's bullpen, so I got a nice picture of Kenny Rogers (and no, he did not try to break my camera), which I am for some reason unable to currently upload.

It was apparently middle-aged cover band night outside Comiskey before the game. As I was walking around the stadium, I came across a band performing some song by Wings on a stage in front of 2 people. The large sign behind said stage informed me that this wasn't just some two-bit band playing a Wings song. No no, this was Band on the Run, a fucking Wings tribute band. Aside from an arguable sonic resemblance, the only thing that Band on the Run has in common with Wings is that both are (or were, in the case of Wings) comprised of humans. In Wings, the lead singer was Paul McCartney, a former Beatle who plays the guitar and bass left-handed. In Band on the Run, the lead singer was a husky, Italian-looking guy who played the bass right-handed, had a haircut that looked like something Paul might have had in the '70s (but it may also be this dego's regular haircut -- and yes, I am allowed to call him a dego because I myself am significantly comprised of Italian blood and vigor), and it is unlikely that he was formerly a member of a Beatles tribute band, although quite possible that he played the role of Ace in Rock Soldiers, Tinley Park's most successful Frehley's Comet tribute band. In Wings, the keyboard was played by Linda McCartney, Paul's now-deceased wife who had long blond hair and, for one reason or another, made a conscious decision to never wear a White Sox jersey on stage. In Band on the Run, the keyboard was played by a living woman with long blond hair wearing a Sox jersey. Nice try guys. I didn't even bother to pay attention to the guitar player and drummer in Band on the Run, which is directly related to my discernible lack of desire to learn who played the guitar or drums in Wings.

The sheer horror of my encounter with Band on the Run soon turned into outright jubilation as I continued around the ballpark to see yet another band -- this one comprised of mild-mannered and seemingly fun-loving fiftysomething men called The Incognitos -- which was in the process of covering "Build Me Up Buttercup." From my brief, yet satisfying, dealings with The Incognitos, I am almost certain that they are not a Foundations tribute band.