Matt told me two days ago that we'd been invited to a suite at whatever-Conseco-Fieldhouse-is-called-now to see Van Halen. I stared blankly, looking for an escape hatch.
I said, "Oh, god, honey, it's just that I...it's just...oh, how do I say this...I hate them. I hate them so much." I told him I'd look for a sitter. Imagine my delight when all Brooks family members were unavailable! But, damn, our Australian friend said, "Yes, of course I'll watch the lad. I'm pissed that you didn't ask me first."
I told Matt that the only song I remember is Pour Some Sugar On Me.
Matt's response--OK, more like a snicker--was, "Jill, that wasn't Van Halen."
I like the friends we'll be joining, I happen to love making fun of big hair and Spandex, and Matt told me today that Kool and the Gang are opening. OK, I'm there. I'm so there.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Open That Bottle
The Wall Street Journal, in an attempt to encourage their wine-loving readers to drink the good stuff, began an Open That Bottle night program. Instead of hiding your prized wines (I have several from the early 1990s that I've been hoarding), you take them to a party of fellow wine enthusiasts and drink.
We participated Sunday night at the home of my editor friend who lives downtown in the old Block building. Although I've turned Matt into a wine snob over the years, we paled in comparison to most of the knowledgeable folks sharing bottles at this fest. There were Rochioli pinot noirs, Martinelli Zinfandels from Jackass Vineyard, plenty of Côtes du Rhône, Burgundy and Châteauneuf-du-Pape...and one of my old boyfriends. DRINK!
Just kidding, it was fine.
Matt and I met DJ for dinner at St. Elmo's afterward--more wine--and then flipped a coin for who drove home. Fun evening.
We participated Sunday night at the home of my editor friend who lives downtown in the old Block building. Although I've turned Matt into a wine snob over the years, we paled in comparison to most of the knowledgeable folks sharing bottles at this fest. There were Rochioli pinot noirs, Martinelli Zinfandels from Jackass Vineyard, plenty of Côtes du Rhône, Burgundy and Châteauneuf-du-Pape...and one of my old boyfriends. DRINK!
Just kidding, it was fine.
Matt and I met DJ for dinner at St. Elmo's afterward--more wine--and then flipped a coin for who drove home. Fun evening.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Quads 21st Birthday Bash
We celebrated the adorable quadruplets' birthday last Saturday night in Broad Ripple. We met at Union Jack's for some intensely yummy pizza, and Matt was sweet enough to stay home with Sam so that Deb--our favorite babysitter--could join us.
Deb returned home, but my dad stayed with us, and we felt that a ripening experience in Ripple would be a quick shot at the Alley Cat Lounge. I always loved the Cat. I maybe or maybe didn't play pool there with several bands over the years...
Saturday night, Whitney Houston had just been pronounced dead--no real surprise to us--and some big, loud, weepy girl at the Cat (also drunk and stupid) went up to my dad and asked if he was a Republican. My dad, meekly, answered, "Um, no, I'm not a Republican," (fibber) to which she said, "Good, because if you were I'd punch you in the face."
She continued walking around the bar crying, so I had to make fun of her, just a wee bit. I said, "Oh, are you all right?" to which she replied, "No. Ronald Regan killed Whitney Houston, and if I find any Republicans here tonight (shew, I was safe) I'll f*@#ing punch them in the face."
We left the Cat pretty quickly. It was getting weird earlier than I remember back in my days. We walked down the alley (you see the significance here) to the Vogue Nightclub. My favorite place on earth next to my very own family room.
Our entire bunch: Jason, Angie, Nick, Tyler, Lauren, my dad and I got jiggy with it for hours. We all knocked back some tasty beverages, and none of us were feeling any pain...until the next morning.
Chocolate milk definitely cures a hang-over.
Deb returned home, but my dad stayed with us, and we felt that a ripening experience in Ripple would be a quick shot at the Alley Cat Lounge. I always loved the Cat. I maybe or maybe didn't play pool there with several bands over the years...
Saturday night, Whitney Houston had just been pronounced dead--no real surprise to us--and some big, loud, weepy girl at the Cat (also drunk and stupid) went up to my dad and asked if he was a Republican. My dad, meekly, answered, "Um, no, I'm not a Republican," (fibber) to which she said, "Good, because if you were I'd punch you in the face."
She continued walking around the bar crying, so I had to make fun of her, just a wee bit. I said, "Oh, are you all right?" to which she replied, "No. Ronald Regan killed Whitney Houston, and if I find any Republicans here tonight (shew, I was safe) I'll f*@#ing punch them in the face."
We left the Cat pretty quickly. It was getting weird earlier than I remember back in my days. We walked down the alley (you see the significance here) to the Vogue Nightclub. My favorite place on earth next to my very own family room.
Our entire bunch: Jason, Angie, Nick, Tyler, Lauren, my dad and I got jiggy with it for hours. We all knocked back some tasty beverages, and none of us were feeling any pain...until the next morning.
Chocolate milk definitely cures a hang-over.
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