Everyone told Bobby that it was unnecessary, but he showered with the players anyway.
OR
Hair, Weir, Nair.
OR
Phil took his eyes off Bobby for just a second and Bobby stole a full tray from a beer vendor and poured most of it down his gullet in one greedy glub and then he picked a fight with the Batboy and Billy, who had been snorkeling in McCovey Cove looking for a harbor seal named Rudy who owed him money, joined in the fracas and the umpires threw the entire Grateful Dead out of the game.
OR
Look how excited Phil is to be out of that fucking restaurant. Doing Pink Floyd covers in Queens? Vegas residency? Just one single solitary night with my old pal and the bald guy? It’s the playoffs, for Christ’s sake, and if Phil doesn’t get away from that kitchen and those conversations he doesn’t understand about “seafood purveyors” and “linen costs.” Phil will play Bar Mitzvahs in Oakland to get away from those horrible busboys, whom he is quite certain are mocking him in Spanish.
OR
“YAAAAAAY!”
I read a headline that says “Bob Weir and Phil Lesh sing Anthem at Ballgame,” and I thought, “Damn, did I just get cheated? All I heard was the Star Spangled Banner, I would’ve loved to hear Cryptical.”
The Lady Who Also Lives Here asked recently if I’d like to go to Terrapin Crossroads and I think was taken aback by just how much I would not fucking like to go to Terrapin Crossroads.
Yeah, but I might make an exception for one of the Stanley Jordan nights.
Good call. It’s probably a good idea and/or pretty cool in reality, but my dickitude gets in the way of enjoying stuff like this. I mean, I realize it’s not The Grateful Dead Restaurant exactly, but it’s at least a toe dipped into the Sammy Hagar pool, isn’t it? Terrapin and fried shrimp? Fuck that with a broom handle.
I’d suggest that Jer wouldn’t have stood for it, but he was selling neckties by the end of his run. Maybe it’s just me.
It is completely you, but I see where you’re coming from.
Now call us different souls, but were I in Cabo, I would be at Sammy Hagar’s place first night. Scope out the action.
HA!
Yeah, it’s a little TGIPh, but, then again, I saw Buddy Guy at his club and I didn’t feel dirty. IDK about Sammy, maybe if he did the first Montrose record. I love that record.
I can’t believe I didn’t think to reference Stevie Nicks’ Fajita Roundup.
Oh, how I wish that was a thing. Just bring your own straws.
Well, at least this explains the “short” shorts.