February 2001

So i got to go to another screening of Who Wants to be a Millionaire?, this time the "Rock & Roll" celebrity editions. The ten "rockers" were Lars Ulrich from METALLICA, one of the ladies from The DIXIE CHICKS, SISQO (who’s about 5’ 1"), the singer from SUGAR RAY who always does so well on Rock & Roll Jeopardy, Gene Simmons from KISS, two (2) of the BACKSTREET BOYS, CHAKA KAHN (!), GLADYS KNIGHT and that famous rock & roller AMY GRANT. Two of the other BACKSTREET BOYS were in the audience, which had all the teenage girls shaking and crying (i’m serious!). Two shows were taped, and in between the two, i got to go to the "VIP" area, which didn’t include really any VIP’s, or much of anyone, but *did* have a nice selection of sandwiches.

Also, during commercial breaks, they have an emcee come out to give away prizes. The schtick this time was to get a prize (in all cases, a CD from one of the artists that were playing that day) was having to sing karaoke in front of the whole audience. This, needless to say, got downright dismal after hearing people sing limply for the 30th or 40th time. So, toward the end of the night, i’m sitting staring wearily at the mirrored floor, when i see this microphone get shoved in my face. "What’s your name?" the emcee, named Q, asks me.

"Ubah, uh er..."

"And where ya from?"

"BROOKLYN!" This didn’t get the enthusiastic response i had hoped.

"Well, i wanna give you this SUGAR RAY CD..." Q says.

"And i want you to give it to me!" Which wasn’t really the truth, but i was felling a little more brassy by that point.

Q looks at his list of songs. "But first, i need you to sing a TONE LOC song for me..."

"Okay..." Why not, right? Even though i’d vowed once to never sing karaoke, it didn’t look like i was getting out of this one. Why a TONE LOC, song, though, i don't know...

Q shook his head while still reading off his song list. "Oh, i can’t do this to ya..."

"Sure you can! What is it ‘Funky Cold Medina?’" Which it was.

"Yes, ‘Funky Cold Medina!’ You remember that one, right? Well, i need you to step out on stage so you can read the lyrics off the monitor."

My workmate who had been taking notes up to this point looked up and was quite startled to see me standing in the middle of the stage, holding a microphone. "This one’s for you..." i said, pointing to her as the lyrics started coming up on the big screen behind our section. "Sittin’ in a bar/etc. etc." I just tried to sing it how Tone Loc, the master himself, sang it. The audience started clapping along. I even busted a couple of modest moves and pointed to random sections of the audience, ya know, to get 'em worked up and stuff. As i got to the end of the 1st chorus (and the end of my karaoke chores), the crowd applauded loudly. I shrugged and returned to my seat with a Sugar Ray CD. The strangest part was people i didn’t know came up to me afterward, saying stuff like "great singing!" Aw, shucks. One of the cameramen even offered me a mock development deal.

Still, after all that, my personal highlight was seeing one of the Backstreet Boys get hit in the head with a promotional t-shirt.

Dateline, February 10, 2001: After about 10 days of being completely deaf in one ear due to waxy buildup of staggering proportions, i finally made an appointment to go to the doctor’s office. I was wise, and made the appointment during a work day. I also found out that day Blue Öyster Cult was playing a show at some place on 42nd Street, and it was only $5! Even though Mike Hollistcher rightly pointed out BÖC haven't been the same since they sacked the Bouchard brothers, it was still a pretty hard deal to pass up. They're cheaper than us!

Of course, i was still pretty deaf, and so off to the doctor's office. While there i decided to get a check up, needles and urine samples and breathing into tubes. You'll all be relieved to know that i'm in fine health, and those hepatitis shots i got 7 or 8 years ago for Syncor are holding up just fine. However, i found out i’d need to go to an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist about my earwax problem. The doctor asked me how soon i’d need an appointment, and i said “Today if possible. I’m supposed to go see Blue Öyster Cult tonight...”

After a decent turkey burger at a surprisingly scuzzy Upper East Side diner, i walked a circuitous path (which featured a stop to the Hunter College bookstore, for no real reason) to the ENT to get the deed done. When hearing about other's earwax experiences, i kept hearing about peroxide and water flushes, but what i got instead was essentially a little vacuum cleaner crammed into my ear to suck all the earwax out. It was really, really loud, too, like a drill going into my head. She started on my “good” ear first, and out came big black chunks of crap. Geez, i hope you’ve eaten before you read this. Anyway, she goes to work on the problem ear, and she’s literally going at it for five minutes before she gets through to my eardrum. At that point though, it was starting to hurt and i was starting to flinch and grimace. The doctor very understandingly offered to finish the job the following week, but at least i can hear again. In fact, i can hear too well. Even Cover Me Badd gigs seem too loud now.

I hadn’t succeeded in drawing out my visits quite long enough to completely skip out on work, though. It was only 3:45 when i left the doctor’s office, and i’d already eaten. I couldn’t decide whether to ditch work altoghether, or go back and hang out until quittin’ time. I decided it best to just take a scenic walk back; a stroll through Times Square seemed like fun. I got to around 50th street and i thought of Siberia Bar, one of my favorite bars, located downstairs in the 1/9 subway station. It was rumored to be closed, so i went down to the station to see. A big pink posterboard sign scrawled with black marker read “Still Open”, so i decided to stroll into get a beer. If you live in the city and you haven’t been to Siberia bar, you should probably go before it’s too late. It’s very much a dumpy “dad’s basement” bar, with fading Russian propaganda posters on the walls, a coupla banged up couches and nothing coming close to anything resembling light anywhere - all the windows were painted black. When i arrived, only the bartender, who was putting red candles on all the tables, and one of his friends were there. I got a beer, and sat and listened to Magnetic Fields 69 Love Songs, which the bartender was playing on the stereo. Beer tastes kinda funny at 4 in the afternoon when you're supposed to be at work. I noticed that Siberia has a website (SiberiaBar.com). Mostly, though, i sat and looked around, and thought of my plans that evening, the Tris show at that terrible Williamsburg venue Siné, and then i would come back to 42nd Street to see BÖC, and then i would return to Siberia for another go.

Sadly, inertia took over, like it often does when one gets back into Brooklyn, and i never made it to the concert (which i’m still immensely disappointed in myself for) or back to Siberia. I hope it’s still open.

Me and Martin went to the Guitar Center in Queens one weekend so i could pick up a new cheap bass and an amp, and so he could get a new guitar. I picked up a $270 "Midnight Blue" (purple) Mexican Fender Jazz bass and a 120-watt "Working Man's" combo amp; Martin got a maroon Tele for under $300. Pretty snappy looking set-ups. Of course, you'll have to take my word for it, as there are no pictures of them yet. I did, however, take this picture while waiting for a bus underneath the tracks of the 7 train in Queens...

Our hero, outside Arlene's, unaware of the explosive bout of food poisoning that will occur a mere 6 hours later.

We got to use our new guitars at the always-terrible Arlene's Grocery club in the Lower East Side, with the Tris McCall group. Even though me and Martin wore nice maroon and "midnight blue" polyester shirts to match our new gear, we were still a nervous bunch, as Tris was struggling to overcome laryngitis, and the crummy staff of Arlene's can put anybody on edge. Nonetheless, we managed to "rock the house", before going out w/Mishka to celebrate his birthday by drinking too much and eating too much. About 1 am, RV and i decided to get a late late dinner at our favorite sketchy Mexican restaurant (in this city, anyway), El Sombrero. This turned out to be an ill-fated decision, or, more accurately, our fate was to be ill - i woke up about 7:30 am with one of the worst cases of food poisoning i've ever had. Robin was stricken about noon. We recovered, obviously, and got to watch a lot of TV in the process, but it'll be a long time before i can eat at The Hat again. Damn you, Lower East Side!

In TRIS-related news, there was his 11th annual "Critics Poll", which took place at a very nice cafe in Greenwich Village. Me and RV thought it’d be sit in on the proceedings, even though the last new music i bought was the Yo La Tengo record *before* their most recent one.

Sure enough we get to the place and there they are, sitting at a dark table, pouring over lists, with about 200 CDs stacked on the table. Me and RV got a big pitcher of sangria and a coupla sandwiches and buckled down for the reading of all 50-something categories. Apparently, according to those who voted, OUTKAST and the new SCRITTI POLITTI (!!) were finest releases of 2000. Eek. I think i’ll stick to the Hawaiian music.

Tris reprises his robot costume from the Maxwell’s show