Saturday, May 30, 2009

The Toughest Girl Alive is also a Super Hero.


I was first introduced do Candye Kane in 2002 back when Kansas City had an amazing historic blues venue called The Grand Emporium.

Had no idea who she was before that night, had no idea who I was there to see. Her band started playing and from behind the crowd this devastatingly gorgeous woman comes forward and onto the stage. Then out of her mouth comes a VOICE. A powerful, feminine incredible voice all full of soul, wisdom and sweetness.

And that's when I knew there was a new favorite in my music collection.

There's more to it than that though.

Not only is Candye blessed with a musical talent I can't help but envy - chick is hawt, ohkay. Slammin hot and like fully aware of it without apology. Same as me, she's a chunky monkey and she soooo gets it. She's been there - in this world where thin is perpetually in. Makes no difference to her. Same as me again, she loves herself for who she is and she appreciates the fact that she's beautiful. Hollywood whippets can go screw themselves. Starving to be skinny is for losers. Curves are beautiful. Curves and appreciating oneself is something to sing about! And she does and it's really neato!

Since that night at the Grand Emporium, I've had the good fortune to see her perform buches. I try to never miss her show when she's in town, or even near town.

Last night, I got lucky again, seeing her at Knuckleheads. Her current line-up (and my favorite thus far) includes adorable son Evan on drums (talented, just like his momma), Laura Chavez on guitar (another new favorite of mine), and Paul Loranger on bass (he was a perfect fit with the rest of them, awesome)!

Sadly, The Grand Emporium closed a couple years ago. (Big bummer.) For reasons I don't know. Knuckleheads has become a most suitable substitute though. The joint has a casual cool biker-y atmosphere. Crowds tend to be mature, relaxed, there for a good time. Not a shred of that icky meat-market-ness to the place at all.

So last night (and I had been looking forward to it for months) was a triple-hitter blues show with this keyboard player guy's band, a local band, and CANDYE!

Now if I may be less than complimentary for a moment, or several moments...

The show started nearly an hour late. I'm not sure, but I think the first band may have been being a bit diva-ish with the sound/stage set up. Not real certain why, but they took their sweet time getting started. Had it been a Saturday night, I don't think I would have cared, but dammit, it was Friday. I was up early that morning for work and a super late night was going to take more energy than I really had if they were going to drag ass like that.

That band was alright. Bleh. I equally have nothing horrible or fantastic to say about them. The keyboard guy and his guitarist both made pretty bizarre faces though. Kinda skeeved me out. Picture John Mayer's guitar faces except if John Mayer looked like either a Ramone or a miniature Steve Perry. Either way - gross.

Then bit by bit, a local band started to join the first band on stage. Some dear friends have been telling me for weeks what a super group this local one is. So it might have been a bit unfair, but I had high expectations. Much. Too. High.

The local guitar player first joined the first band for a song. Competent player, but zero charm. A fully pedestrian performance. Then comes the singer, who is also sister to the guitar player. Competent singer, but zero charm. (Starting to notice a pattern?)

Now I realize style has no bearing on musical ability, and Candye Kane is not only a tough act to follow, but a very difficult act to precede as she has style for miles... and miles and miles and miles. Her fabulous style is only outdone by her tremendous talent.

The glaring lack of X-factor by both the first band and the local one made the wait to see Candye ugh so tiresome.

Once the locals were on the stage just the three of them, things went from tedious to nerve-grating in a hurry. They seemed to think they were headlining. Some of their fans were also INSANELY RUDE. Almost all the front row tables were reserved for their family and friends. That's bullshit, yo. They are /local/. Their family and friends can see them anytime, any night, anywhere around Kansas City. They don't need to reserve the entire front row all the way around the stage. That space should have been for Candye fans or at the very least first-come-first-served.

The local band had special guest washboard lady join them for a number of songs. I saw washboard lady jam with Candye once a couple years ago. Cute little chick can really whip that washboard but in total honesty, I'd rather hear her play bongos or something.

Because our locals were having such a good little time with themselves and their washboard friend, they decided to do EXTRA SONGS. Isn't that nice? Since the show started late and all, and since the entire front row (who also arrived an hour late) was there to see the local kids, and since the kids seemed to think they were final act of the evening, let's just do 3 or 4 extra songs since none of the rest of the crowd had to get up early that morning or anything and obviously no one came to see Candye anyway................................. not.

I was really disappointed. I wanted to like them. I truly did. They came so highly recommended by some very good friends and now I'm going to hope for the next two or three weeks that said friends don't ask my opinion... because I don't want to say anything bad.

The most complimentary way I can describe them is - If Donny and Marie Osmond cloned Donny to make a trio, then took away that Osmond sincerity but kept the capable musicianship - add some rude fans (who didn't have enough space in their front-row reserved area and seemed to think the laps of myself and my friend made suitable seats) and you've got our local group. See what I mean? If you can't say anything nice... well... then you just can't say anything nice even when you try to say something nice.

Perhaps had I not been there to see Candye and perhaps if it hadn't been dragging on for so miserably long and perhaps if I hadn't been expecting so much more and perhaps if it had been a different venue where the family-reunion-talent-show schtick fit better... I don't know. Sometimes people just don't dig something. Doesn't mean there's anything wrong with it. Just not a certain person's flavr. That band is not mai flavr.

The family band thing is cute, but it's maybe a little too cutesy (their version anyway) for blues. When you do blues, you need to exude a genuineness and they just didn't to me. It was like reading a book on blues how-to then saying "oh, I can do that." Blues comes from the soul, their blues seemed to come from ... a book. Sigh. (Will refrain from further discussing them or their cutesy "let's all do a shot and recite a little gimmick saying" ritual or their obnoxious front-row peeps. Popularity doesn't mean shit. The Jonas Brothers are hella popular, but that doesn't equate to a person having to like the Jonas Brothers based on the sole fact that they're popular.)

Finally, three and a half hours later, I got to see Candye. It was completely worth the wait, completely worth suffering through the first two bands, completely worth having two ding-bat women sitting in front of me, inching ever closer through the night and bumping (at some points slamming) into my friend and me countless times.

Candye is back and more badass than ever after kicking the shit out of cancer last year. Some people have talked BS and junk on her for losing weight but so the fuck what?! Hey assholes, Candye Kane is MORE than a number on a scale. I don't care how big or small she is, she will always be a sincere and generous bringer of good vibes and a bearer of all that is inspiring about the blues - songs that touch you emotionally, songs that come right out of her soul and through to my happy little ears by way of her most awesome voice and righteous band.

This new guitar player of hers, Laura Chavez... hot damn what chops! The kind of chops that could make someone become really arrogant because they're so good there's no way they can't know how fucking good they are. Not a gram of arrogance in her. She is, to me, like... if Stevie Ray Vaughan came back to life as a cute chick from California. Yeah, I said Stevie Ray Vaughan. Because she's /that/ good.

Evan, Candye's son/drummer, he started great and he gets better every time. Sometimes I wonder if talent is genetic. In his case, it must be.

Her bass player is apparently no stranger to music from what I've read, but this was the first time I've seen him. Paul Loranger. Not only did he look adorable in his bowling shirt, he did what all the greatest bass players do - fit in with the rest of the band to make most excellent music type noises. Holla!

Did I mention this is my favorite Candye line-up yet? I think I did. But it's tooootally worth saying again.

I wish I could have stayed for the entire show but I was so thoroughly worn out. It had been a very long day. My dear patient friend who had never experienced Candye was a super trooper, sticking with me through the late start of the first band and the stage-hogging of the second act and the bugs! I forgot to mention the bugs and the cotton fuzzies everywhere. Ewww!!!

One fuzzy even went up my nose. Aaak!

After enjoying Candye for shamefully too short of a time, we did have to go though. My friend is a jewel for driving me there and I didn't want her to be completely dog ass tired driving us home through the onslaught of drunk drivers.

Candye is playing again soon in Omaha and Chicago. Maybe if I'm super nice to Mr. Buffie....


YOU - GO SEE A CANDYE SHOW.


Tuesday, May 19, 2009

The glass is half empty? The glass is half full? Doesn't matter, I just need enough to swallow this pill...


So things can't be as bad as we think or hear about on the news, right?

No.  They can't.

Why?  Because we live in a world where Beavis (*the* Beavis) has a Wiki page.  True story.

Speaking of Beavis... now stay with me, because this is a winding path... I was forced, no - I was tortured into watching Barrett-Jackson again tonight.  The noises, I hear them in my sleep.  Heeebiitttdy hebitty heb heb heb Thirty Three ammaw maw maw maw Forty Three four five five five awtibbity tibitty bitty bitty bitty Hum Hum Hummmmmmm SOLD!

*hork*

I ~heart~ cars.  I la la la loathe Barrett-Jackson.  

It's the most unwatchable thing in the history of TeeVee and it is a big shiny symbol of the impending ruination of the muscle car hobby at the hands of rich assholes who buy them up and turn them into museum pieces.  That is NOT where muscle cars belong.  Nor do they belong on trailers.  If they run, if they have good rubber then _drive_ the son of a bitch.  That's why it's cool.

Anyway, Beavis is prone to kicking Butthead in the nads unprovoked.  So I Twitter-Vowed to kick the auction jerkwad in the jewels if I ever meet him.  Not only because I hear his obnoxious chattering in my sleep, but also because I completely dislike his role in taking my dreams of owning a Panther Pink Hemi 'Cuda away from me.

Which brings me to jewels and having a healthy sense of entitlement...  Some chick was on the news tonight bitching and crying because Medicaid wouldn't pay $200 to have her abscessed tooth removed.  So she ended up with all these problems.  Wah wah wah.  She says this and she's sitting in a nice home, and wearing gold rings and a gold necklace and nice clothes.  She can afford bling-bling but she needs $200 of tax dollars to pay for her tooth???  Honey, get your priorities in order.  You don't look physically or mentally challenged to me, get a job.

I shouldn't watch the news.

I shouldn't watch Barrett-Jackson either.  Unfortunately, it was Mr. Buffie's turn to use the remote tonight.  ...sigh...

Useful stuff folks.  You'll be glad to know these things should you ever find yourself on Wheel of Fortune or COPS.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Is she really going /there/? Oh yes. I am SO going there.


I came across this Gallup article and my hide is so totally chapped.

Apparently now more Americans are "pro life" than "pro choice" for the first time. My question is WHY????
http://www.gallup.com/poll/118399/More-Americans-Pro-Life-Than-Pro-Choice-First-Time.aspx


Why are our choices being diminished so much? (Not that Roe v. Wade has been overturned yet, but I fear it could be within my lifetime and a shame that will be if it does happen.) What the hell is wrong with people? Why do they think they should be allowed to make certain decisions for OTHER people? That just pisses me off. Consenting adults, as long as ALL parties with whom they choose to involve themselves are consenting adults, should be allowed to do with their bodies as they please.

Some would say, "oh, it's ohkay if she was raped or if it was incest." So a woman can cross those dirty rotten pro-life picket lines and say "I was raped" and they'll leave her alone? Really? Will she have to /prove/ she was raped? What if she doesn't WANT to press charges? What if she doesn't want to admit to incest? Why make her go through that to terminate an unwanted pregnancy?

How about the pro-life picketers mind their own business? How about the pro-life picketers line up at the orphanage to take care of those children? I mean, if it is really all about the children, then that would be very effective, wouldn't it? For the pro-life zealots to go take care of kids who NEED a parent... Oh... but that would mean putting up or shutting up and that is just not the zealot way.

Dear Governmental control freaks and Religious Right assholes, stay out of my business and I'll refrain from kicking you in the shins.

Best wishes,
~Buffie

PS... I am soooo tagging this as advice because if any zealot happens to read this, I want them to take mine!

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Nice Chevelle.



Mr. Buffie says - Our garage is full, you can't keep them all and something has to go.

So I stand in the door and admire my little collection.

There's Billy Idol, my badass white Z28.
There's Bart, Mr. Buffie's '62 Dart.
There's the Yeti, our junky truck.
There's a RX7 that's a project car we don't plan to keep.
There's Hubert Cumberdale, my Jaguar XJR.
and there's Josie, my most awesome of all, the '69 Olds Cutlass.

I've been struggling with this decision since last month, when he asked me if I wanted another Jag.  (Like, hello!  Who says no to that?!?!)  So I've known for a while I was going to be making a choice between Billy Idol and Josie.

Unfortunately, I picked Josie.  ~cry~

She's awesome, so very awesome.  But Billy does get somewhat better gas mileage and let's face it, fuel injection is boss.  But Josie has more soul.  You can't put a value on that. 

However, Billy Idol has airbags and shoulder seat belts, plus he's got a bitchin sound system (that I use responsibly because disturbing the peace is fucking rude, yo)...  so there are advantages.   Besides, almost every time I drive Josie, it never fails someone comes up to me and says "I like your Chevelle".  

Gah!  Chevelle???  Are you serious?

Oh, tonight even... Mr. Buffie took Josie to a local car show to see if any of our friends would be interested in buying her (a few are so I think she will go to a good home).  And he came back and said some fellow walked up and asked him "what year is your Chevelle?"

At a car show.

A CAR SHOW!!!!

Normally, the "nice Chevelle" comments happen at the bank or the gas station where random vehicularly-challenged people are.  You don't expect those people to be at a car show.

Moses.

Have I mentioned how glad I am that Friday is over.  My Friday sucked so bad.  Ugh.  Thursday was pretty awesome.  Had a delicious Thai dinner with a good friend I haven't seen in almost a year.  Love her ten tons and we laughed so hard all night I went home sore.

Friday on the other hand, blah.  Started off wonky because I have damaged yet another toe.  In the middle of the night, as usual, get up to go pee and tripped over the ottoman at the foot of my bed.

The next morning, Mr. Buffie - ever the nurturer (not) - says "I read a statistic a couple years ago that most home injuries happen because of furniture at the base of the bed and that it's the worst place to put furniture..."  Oh.  Nice.  Thanks.  So helpful.  That ottoman has been there for 8 or 9 years and he's telling me this just now.  MEN!

So I limped around all day at the office.  My toe is purple and puffed up and it still hurts but it's getting better.  

The day was busy which usually doesn't bother me, but I had constant interruptions which really makes me crazy in my head.  I felt like I couldn't get any one thing accomplished and having 14 half-finished projects going on all day made me feel like the wheels were spinning but I wasn't getting anywhere.  Even stayed at work until almost 7 p.m. and took paperwork home just trying to wrap up the last of the tasks because who wants to walk in on Monday to a bunch of shit waiting for you?  Not me.

Worst part of Friday?  Someone tried to tell me they knew me better than I know myself.  Locked my gears clean up.  Kinda hurt, if I'm being honest.  Over it now, but at the time it was like - ouch, that came outta nowhere.

Bygones!  It's Saturday and life is goooood.  I have a nice Chevelle (ha), kitty cats, Mr. Buffie, delicious tacos for lunch-slash-dinner (I ate at 4, what do you call a meal at that hour when you're under the age of 63?).

I just did Versa Spa at the tanning salon.  It's the kickass spray tan shit that moisturizes you, bronzes you, then blows you dry!  WIN!

Bleached my teeth, painted my toenails, did several mundane domestic things, took some pills for my ouchie toe and now I'm looking forward to tomorrow because I am going to go get my nails done, maybe touch up my hair, brush the cats, work on my website and place a Mary Kay order.  Yay fun!  Don't I sound super exciting???  -poke poke-  WAKE UP, hellllooooooo...

Don'tcha wish yer Chevelle was hot like mine?