Satanicide Rules!

Having heard three out of the four bands that my friend Griff plays drums in, I think that Satanicide is my favorite. The others, made up of virtually the same people, are very, very good. This was not an easy decision. Hair Supply, as you know, is the heavy metal/Air Supply band, all spandex and, well, hair. Heather has a sound that's like hearing your boyfriend's band playing in his garage on a summer evening. But Satanicide was the whole package. A little Spinal Tap, a little glam rock, a little punk, a lot of metal, they even supplied their own scantily clad video vixens and tottering gothic pillars. Any band where the lead singer not only stage dives successfully, but gets the crowd to carry him back to the bar for a shot of Jack Daniels is alright by me.

Special kudos to Phil because I promised him, and because he made me feel like a celebrity introducing me to friends who read my blog. And for those of you who are into live music, bassist D. is playing Saturday night with Jamie Rattner. I know nothing about this, but Drew is a great bassist. Or maybe I would say that of anyone who plays Duff in a Guns and Roses tribute band.

I am one hour away from my birthday. I don't like birthdays. Actually, that's not true. I like birthdays, I just don't like the numbers that go along with it. Is there any way to get them to slow down, or even in reverse for a few years? But now that the day is almost here, it doesn't feel half bad. In New York, you always feel young. I only feel ancient out in the suburbs, where my former high school friends are wheeling their four children around in SUV's. Actually, I don't exactly feel ancient; more like...baffled. Am I the one who missed the boat, or are they?

Primary Birthday Wish: Gorgeous New Book Deal, with Matching Publicity.
Secondary Birthday Wish: Private, But Clive Owen-Related.
Tertiary Birthday Wish: Really Good Absinthe, Imported Only.

Or at least a nice massage. Shiatsu.