That was my thought as well. I think they figure my husband’s in law school, so that means we’re filthy rich, right? If only they knew about ramen rationing. And makeup rationing, for that matter.
Husband’s last band had a millionaire as well. He was always in all the way. Really stellar dude, even though he sports a mullet.
Earliest and tribute rockabilly often didn’t/doesn’t have drums either. Elvis’ legendary Sun Sessions were just him, lead guitarist Scotty Moore, and the upright bass player whose name I’ve forgotten. The way the bass player worked, it often sounds as if someone was playing a small drumset. Awesome…I think I’ll go listen to it in RealPlayer right now.
Band name !
Die, Charles Mingus, Die.
How exactly does one suck a bag of dicks? Do you suck the entire bag? Do you suck them individually? For what period of time do you suck each one? This saying always puzzles me.
(with regards to Dane Cook)
Well let the grovelling commence. Dipshit called just now - I didn’t answer it but he left a 3 minute long voicemail. As usual half of the voicemail was composed of “bro”. Whatever.
“I hope you’re not like, self-conscious about your vocals or anything bro…” “…I really hope you like, do those other shows, just as a favor you know bro…we don’t hate you or anything…” “…you were so good, man, we’ve never had sound that good, bro…” on and on, I spent the whole time giggling to it. I don’t know what would be worse: that he thinks we’re dumb enough to believe this shit, or that he really is this fucking clueless.
I wonder what husband will think of it once he gets out of class.
Well, none of this applies to jazz players - they usually show up to gigs because they actually know how to play (and also because they need the money). Plus, in a jazz combo, everybody’s on smack, so they’re all equally (un)reliable.