THEY SHOOK ME ALL NIGHT LONG

I'd been excited since last Tuesday when I drove by Southport Hall and saw that the Molly Ringwalds were playing this past Saturday night. In case you don't know, the Mollys are the greatest 80s cover band of all the times. 

Usually when I go to these concerts, I get there as they start and find Kelly and her friends, who get there early for a good spot. I'm grateful for that, but Kelly's friends were no-gos this time around. And since Kelly didn't have the $12 in cash on her for the show, she told me Saturday night while I was at work that she was content on going to a movie (that's free because Paul works at the Palace) and calling it a night. I thought bullshit and started to lose hope. 

I called Paul and told him to convince Kelly to go to the concert while I finished my shift. He came through, though not until 11 p.m. By that time, I had given up. But when he called to say they were headed to the show, I darted out the building and made it to Southport about three songs into the show. Not bad. The rewards for making it there were abundant. 

This is a great profile shot of one of my favorite Six Beers ever. Paul, Kelly and I got there late, so we were relegated to the back of the joint. We immediately encountered this Six Beers. He gave me a high-five because of my Red Meat jersey (the first of four people to give me a high-five in regards to the jersey).

Six Beers: "Yeah, Reggie. We gonna tear that shit up tomorrow. Tear that shit up." (So what if he played poorly. I didn't know that Saturday night.) After the next song finished, Six Beers turns around and gives me a big hug. Six Beers: "I love this dude." And then he planted a big kiss on my right forehead. "Tear that shit up tomorrow. I love you." 

After he returned to his people, we found a hole in the crowd and moved closer to the stage. Kelly, at first, was sad because we were so far away from the stage. I told her that we just needed to be patient and keep inching forward. Me: "Kelly, before you know it, we'll be in the middle of the action." Look at this picture I took when we first got there.  

That's Devin Nooner. Excuse me. Sir Devin Nooner. He dresses like Adam Ant, though you can't tell because I'm so far away. Then, we got a little closer. 

All five members of the Ringwalds become the lead singer for multiple songs in their show. Here's Randi Wilde, who went to Rummel, singing Cory Hart's "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night." Part of his Devo costume is a pair of sunglasses. But you can't see that because we're still too far away.

I was right. Before you knew it, we were in the middle of the action. And son of a gun, we were just in time for an appearance by Lisa. I mean Prince. I believe that is Lord Phillip Wang, who usually is dressed as Madonna. For some reason, the Mollys thought it was Halloween. If you look to the right, Wilde has transformed into Angus Young of AC/DC. 

Also, Dickie English, who is normally Pee-wee Herman (you can sort of see him on the left) was Michael Jackson for a song. Did I complain? No. I just kept rocking. 

I always enjoy my time with the Mollys. I even have a picture of them performing before a Hornets playoff game as the background on my phone. But for one reason or another, they were even better than usual Saturday night. I talked to Anne (who was much closer than me to the stage Saturday) about this Monday, and she totally agreed. 

I don't remember the last time I was as happy as I was during that show. And that's with them playing "Don't Stop Believing" far too early and not playing "Living on a Prayer" at all.

Kelly is the perfect person for me to take to these shows. After all, she's the one that first introduced me to the Mollys. We especially rocked out "Take Me Home Tonight" and "Sweet Child of Mine" on Saturday. I went crazy by myself on "Under Pressure" and "Here I Go Again on My Own." I feel like the Mollys should be playing at Southport every Saturday. A boy can dream, can't he?

Giving the experience that extra special feeling, the Mollys came back after they first finished their set and played some more. I know. I know. Every band does that. But usually the Mollys don't. They play a big-time song, in this case "Sweet Child," and that's it. As they were starting to pick up, the crowd's chant grew louder and louder: "One more song. One more song." Before you knew it, here came the Mollys for not one, but two ("Let's Go" and "Jack and Diane") more songs. 

Why did I take a random picture of people dancing to rap music after the show ended? You see that young lady in the middle with her hands up in the air and her purse hanging off her shoulder? That is the famous Ashley from the last Molly Ringwalds concert. 

I saw her early on during the show when we were in the back, but then her group played the inching-closer-to-the-front game much more better than our trio. I then found her again after the show. In the same exact spot where I hit on her the last time. 

Seeing her in the same place made me realize one thing: It was most certainly not fate (as I talked about for four days last time) that I miraculously made it to the previous concert and happened to meet her. Not fate at all. Apparently, she goes to every damn concert there. And no. She did not bring her gay boyfriend with her. 

Oh, you want to know if I talked to her. Um, no. That game ended when she didn't respond to my facebook message. I did smile in her general direction, but she looked right past me. Yawn.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

As soon as I walk into the living room, my mom stops me. "You got to listen to this message. It's so fucking hilarious." Mom got a text message and voice mail from a chick in Baton Rouge. The chick is blaming mom for wrecking her household. 

She thinks mom is the other woman. Excerpt from the text message: "I kicked Wade out of the house. He can live with you now. I wish you could see the look on my little boy's face when his daddy leaves for good. Whore." (I then listened to the hyper voicemail. Couldn't make out half the words.)

Mom: "It's so funny to play these fucking games at 50-years-old. It's unbelievable. Does she know she's leaving that shit on the wrong fucking phone?" 

Just before I leave for work, the phone rings. It's the chick. I tell mom not to answer. But she insists that she needs to tell the girl she has the wrong number. Mom's plan doesn't work because the chick thinks she's lying. The conversation doesn't end pleasantly because mom got upset that the chick didn't believe her. 

Mom hangs up. "She's probably in her fucking 20s. I don't even know a fucking Wade."

My theory: I think Wade wrong-numbered the chick. He just made up some number (which happened to be mom's number) and told the chick it was the other woman. 

Moving on, mom and I walk into my room to get to the attic where the Christmas decorations are kept. The light switch is messed up, and the light doesn't come on right away.

Mom: We need to get that fixed.

Me: I'm not that worried about it.

Mom: Well, I am. Because it can cause a fucking fire. An electrical fire.

Me: Then, I guess we should fix it.

Mom: Yeah. Of course, you don't give a fuck.

Mom is about to hand me some big boxes of decorations. "All right, Gene. Get ready and get your hands off your fucking hips."

This shot is taken from my doorstep. Isn't our street beautiful? After Katrina, we got a new pole (as you can see) because the other one (now broken into two pieces) was ruined in the storm. Except they never came to take down the old pole. So it sat there in the yard until Monday. 

Mom is happy because she's been calling to get it taken down for years. "They finally taking down the fucking pole. I had to move my car. But someone (pointing at me) used up the whole fucking driveway, so I had to park up on the fucking grass."

Mom hears this dude in the picture taking down the old pole. "Is he using a saw? (She opens the door to see.) He fucking is. Hunny, you gonna be here all day with that little bitty fucking thing."

DID YOU KNOW?

Did you know that we are nearing Christmas? Yup, it's that time of year again. Oh, you already knew that? I don't go anywhere near a shopping area in December, and I'm hardly ever in any type of store. So, I don't see all the Christmas stuff hung up and whatnot.

But it's still practically impossible not to grow a little sick of all the Christmas hoopla. Songs on the radio. Mom putting something Christmasy in every room of the house. Watching workers put up all kind of Christmas paraphernalia at work Monday night. It's everywhere. 

Not that I don't like Christmas. It's the most wonderful time of the year. I like seeing people in a good mood around the holidays. I like no traffic and short shifts. I like Christmas specials and Christmas-themed movies. I'm not big on presents, though. In fact, I started and finished my holiday shopping today when I bought the T-P cookbook at work for mom. 

PARTING SHOTS

Penn State's mascot was arrested for a DUI. Phil tells us that that student gets a scholarship.

Jelly: Does it count against their football scholarships?

Doug: Was he wearing his costume?

(Laughter.)

Phil: His Rose Bowl status is in doubt.

Bake: They ought to leave it up to the BCS.

The creepy photo guy (CPG) comes over to talk to Jelly.

CPG (trying to make small talk): You hear that sound? It sounds like an airplane.

Jelly: No. I don't know what that is.

CPG (incredulous): You've never been on an airplane before?

Jelly: Yes. I've been on an airplane before. I just don't know what that sound is.

(Awkward silence. ... Photo guy ducks his head and walks away.)

THE DAILY TOP LIST

Since Brad Pitt was at the Palace today for a film premiere and Paul snuck into a photo with Palace big wigs and Pitt, here are my top five Brad Pitt films.

5) The Mexican. 2001.

A fun little adventure. And you can't go wrong with Julia Roberts.

4) Twelve Monkeys. 1995.

I was confused by the ending.

3) Fight Club. 1999.

Oops, I've already broken the first two rules of Fight Club. 

2) Ocean's Eleven. 2001.

Thought Matt Damon's character should have ended up with all the money. Sequel sucks.

1) Se7en. 1995.

A thrill ride for the whole family. Well, maybe not the whole family.