I was just congratulating myself on getting the first draft of the 2005 LSM brochure done, and remembering to print directions to the corps director’s house, since I’m carpooling up to Saginaw with him tomorrow (instead of my normal carpool buddy). Not quite 11:30, and I can go to bed in time to get a satisfactory amount of sleep before having to leave at 9:15am or so.
Then I remembered: I haven’t polished my horn yet.
Shit.
*trudges upstairs with silver polish and an old towel*
But I’m still planning to go to the LakeShoremen January Camp in Attica MI tomorrow. Leaving bright and early, before 8am, to get to Clawson (north of Detroit) by 10am, to carpool up to the Michigan Christian Youth Camp in Attica by 11:30 or noon. Rehearsal lasts from noon to 6pm, after which there’s an optional pizza party and some cleanup to be done. Then back to Clawson, and back home to Toledo.
This could suck.
Aaron and I usually do our laundry and shopping on Sundays, so we went out and tried to find an open laundromat tonight. Hit the ATM, topped off the gas tank, no luck finding anyplace to wash our damn clothes. Everyplace closed up early due to the FUCKING SHITTY WEATHER. So, Aaron’s going to just do everything tomorrow while I’m off drumcorps-ing. That’s awfully cool of him.
Plus, I’ve promised to turn around and come home if the road conditions suck, and to keep the phone on while I’m driving. (Quite opposite of what most people would say, true, but we rarely have the need or desire to have the cell phone on. It’s just good to know it’s there if I get in trouble, or if Aaron starts to worry.)
So… wish me luck! (I must be nuts.)
Now that’s a reality show I might get sucked into: Tommy Lee enrolled at the University of Nebraska, taking Chemistry classes and marching in the tenor line. Playing Malaguena. Now, I’m not a big Tommy Lee fan, but I can deal with watching a rocker take on marching band and The History Of Rock And Roll class.
For more drumcorps-related blogging weirdness, such as P.E.A.R.T: The Robotic Drum Machine, check out this site: They’re So Old, They Played On Stone Bugles. Heh.
As requested… I have delved into the drumcorps archives and dredged up the smuttiest and sleaziest drumcorps photos of the late 90’s! (And don’t forget… you asked for it!)
Here they are, in no particular order:
Here’s a teaser: just a little midriff.
Mmm, some more midriff. Check out that hot… um, chick. Yeah.
Chad shaved his head for Finals in ’95. That’s sort of “going topless”…
When I think of topless drumcorps, *this* is my fantasy. Mmm… tasty.
But these two fine specimens are more of the reality than the fantasy.
And finally: bottomless drumcorps. Or pantsless, if you prefer.
Last Sunday was the 2004 LakeShoremen Banquet. You may recall that I didn’t attend for a couple of reasons, not the least of which was the two-hour drive. Anyway, I had assumed—or, perhaps, just hoped—that someone would miss me. That I’d catch some flak from someone for not being there. That someone would tell me that I’d won some award or other, and that they’d have it for me at the first 2005 rehearsal.
But alas. Nothing.
My egotistic assumption that someone would miss me at the banquet reminded me of a poem my Mom taught me long ago, that I’d nearly forgotten (and Google managed to remind me):
Sometime when you feel that your going
Would leave an unfillable hole,
Just follow this simple instruction
And see how it humbles the soul.
Take a bucket and fill it with water.
Put your hand in up to the wrist.
Pull it out and the hole that’s remaining
Is the measure of how you’ll be missed.
You may splash all you like as you enter,
You may stir up the waters galore,
But stop, and you’ll find in a minute
It looks just the same as before.
The moral of this quaint example
Is to do just the best that you can.
Be proud of yourself, but remember,
There is no indispensible man.
—Anonymous