It’s raining right now, and this is the time I love having a tin roof. There are very few things in life I find more relaxing than the sound of rain on a tin roof.

Well, everything seems to be working out at Pat O’Brien’s. I didn’t blow them away on my opening weekend, but I didn’t embarass myself, either. They’re flying me out to New Orleans this weekend, and I am so incredibly excited. I’ve always wanted to go, and not only am I going, but I’m playing on Bourbon Street! And I’m getting paid to do this!

I wish that I was going with at least one friend, though. It won’t be quite as much fun by myself. But I’m hoping that if things work out as well as I think they could, that I can make another trip somewhere down the road.

I’ve lost another friend to Windows XP. Just when I was finally starting to convince all my friends of the innate superiority of Apple Computers, Windows came out with their first stable operating system since DOS (which I still think was a fabulous program). I still think Apple Computers are better (though I’ll be the first to admit they’re a lot more expensive), but without all the bugs of Windows to point out, it’s going to be harder to preach the Gospel according to Macintosh.

I’d sworn off dating strippers, since my last experience with one was so disastrous and painful. But now I’m remembering why I started in the first place; when you work at night, it’s really, really hard to find someone with a compatible schedule. And strippers keep pretty much the same hours as I do. Of course, they all have kids, and that can be tough. And right now, I’m too poor to be dating anybody, and dating strippers is expensive. But still, the prospect is starting to look enticing once again.

I want to build a castle. No, make that a Castle, with a capital “C.” And I want to build it on the top of a hill in the Hill Country of Texas, close enough to Austin and San Antonio that I can still gig there. Most people want their own house, but I want a castle. With secret passageways, and possibly an underground lake (a pond would probably do) where I could play “Phantom of the Opera.” Not that there would be that much opera going on. No moats, though. They stink. And if my castle ever becomes haunted, then I can call in the Scooby-Doo gang to reveal that it’s just Old Man Withers scaring everybody. More on this at a later date.

Well, I’m going back to practicing now. Talk to you all soon,

Jess