Well, I may have met my match.

Not in a love interest kind of way, just in case you're thinking that.

I was riding in the car with Katie, and though she is FAR more aggressive a driver than me, she's also at least as aware of everything and everyone on the road as I am... Usually I'm biting my tongue trying not to point out all the things I see. She's reacting to them faster than I could say anything, even if I wanted to. So then, we get to our destination, and she parallel parks her car with all the ease and accuracy I use.

But to top it off, she was singing in the car, and she's a lot better singer than I am, both lead and harmony.

Crap. I am going to have to kill her.

Anyway, I'll kill her later, because she's also a much better cook than I am, and has been cooking incredible meals for me the last few days. On my birthday, she made "Blackened Shrimp Fajitas" for me. Then I went over to George's, where he had made some sort of Curry sauce over rice, and Amy had made me a birthday cake.

I got cards from Kristen, George, Amy, and Vicki (all co-workers). Everybody from my family called, except my sister Tammy, who probably doesn't have my phone number. But she mailed me a card with a very sweet message. I heard from a couple of college friends, as well.

And then I got to go to work, which I love. And I realized what a damn lucky guy I am. Best. Birthday. Ever.

My step-dad Robbie decided, in lieu of a regular present, to spend a week of his vacation doing construction work and renovations on my apartment. Talk about a present! I love my family. I love my job. I love my friends. In fact, I love my life, and I'm not even drunk.

The former "Love of My Life" did indeed forget my birthday. She either remembered the next day, or read my blog. So she emailed me saying I probably hated her for missing my birthday, which I found rather amusing. After all the shit she put me through, a missed birthday is nothing. I only mentioned it before because she'd told me last year it was easy to remember, and she'd never forget it. Of course, at this time last year, there were a lot of "never"s and "always" that didn't quite make it to now. Not that I'm bitter.

Christine did not forget, though... She called, wished me a Happy Birthday. Is having a rough time, but she just got her first modeling gig at her new place, so things are starting to look up. Now if her life would just settle down long enough for her to be able to spend a day or two in New Orleans...

My dance teacher has quit teaching. I'm rather bummed about that. It's the one downside to my life right now. There are other teachers there, but none of them are as analytically minded, and capable of explaining the mechanics of everything as my last teacher. I just hope Katie gets really good really quickly, so I can take from her. But I'll still miss Ashley like hell.

I got a new refrigerator. The one I had could hold about two days worth of food, at best. And I couldn't keep all my liquor as cold as I like. The new one is HUGE. I spent two hundred dollars on food at Wal-Mart after I got it, and I didn't even fill it up. Some of that may be because I ate a lot of it as I was putting it up, but still... It's AWESOME. And very cold.

Well, on that note, I'm going to go make some more food. I'm hungry. Just want to say it again:

Best.
Birthday.
Ever.

Jester

So, here it is.

28.

27 is gone, never to return. I'm not just in my late 20s - I'm in my very late 20s.

On the one hand, I'm starting to accept that I'm no longer a teenager. I feel more confident about myself than I ever did in my teens, and I feel more in control of myself and my environment.

But late, late 20s? When the hell did that happen?

I wonder - is there a point where I'll actually feel like an adult? 'Cause I really don't, right now.

27 was by far and away the best year of my life, and not just because it's 3 to the 3rd power... I've been living in New Orleans for one year now. When I moved here, I had no idea what a change to my life it would be.

I'm accepted here in a way that I never was, and never could be in Texas. It's very, very rare that people ask me if I'm gay. And if they do, they seem to accept that I'm not. Now, it's much more common for them to assume I'm arrogant. And of the two, I much, much, much prefer to be assumed arrogant.

I'm considered attractive to women now. All my life, I've been the guy who watches all the other guys get dates. I've been the "friend" who listens as the girls bitch about their asshole boyfriends, and then tell me how they need a guy like me (right before they return to their asshole boyfriends). I never got the chance to be the asshole boyfriend. I think I could've done it well, but that's another matter. Now, I can get a date anytime I want one. Admittedly, it's with tourists, so there's no chance for a relationship.

But there's a certain appeal to that, as well.

During my 27th year, I got to be in love with a girl I thought was in love with me. I got shot down, of course. This is the life of Jess Mills, after all. But still, to have had it for a little while was a gift that I had given up on long before. Of course, I've gone from being "the most important man in her life" to an occasional "how are you," and I'll give you 20 to 1 odds she's forgotten my birthday. But still, as cynical as I sound about it, I'm okay with it. The fact that it didn't work out leaves me with my freedom, which I cherish more and more every day.

This is the year I became a good singer. I'm not a great singer. But people that I really respect and admire respect me as a vocalist now. That's a change. I'm mostly a good entertainer - I put on a great show. I think of myself as a great pianist (though George Rossi, my co-worker, is a better pianist than me). But a good singer? That's new. I always put up a front of being able to sing, and I always thought that I was adequate. But I wasn't, and I sucked, and deep down, I knew it. I'm still nothing special - but I'm good. And for now, I'm cool with that. If I'm no better when I hit thirty, I'm going to be pissed.

This is the year my sister graduated college. Talk about proud - nobody from my family was expected to go to college, except possibly my brother. Well, he did, and then I did, and then Amy did... And we all did well, in different ways. David was commencement speaker at his graduation, was a legend in his math department, went on to a full ride at the Air Force Institute of Technology, where he got his Master's degree on a thesis that I can't even spell. I did pretty well in college - I didn't flunk out, and I didn't burn out. Amy got a 4.0 - which is even MORE incredible when you consider she's raising four kids, and works full-time. And she graduated during my 27th year.

This is the year that I paid off my car, and most of my credit cards. I'm behind - I was supposed to be mostly out of debt by now. But I'm paying it off rapidly, and look forward to the day when I owe no money to anybody. That way I can rack up some more!

This is the year I became the life of the party. You come to see me at Pat O'Brien's, and I can almost guarantee that you're going to have a great time. I'm not up there in a supporting role anymore. I'm not hoping for a good crowd. I make it happen. And what a privileged position that is!

This is the year I learned to let go. When I'm frustrated, but can't change things, I can let it go now. When I'm mad, but can't express it in a constructive way, I can just let it go. When I want something (or occasionally someone), but I realize that I just can't have it, I can let it go. I let go of so many things to come here, and once I was here, I had to keep letting go of things. And I've learned that it's not bad to do that. That holding on to things can be unhealthy at times.

So now, whether I wanted to or not, I've got to let go of 27.

I'm not ready for my 30s. The 20s have been so good to me. But this was such an incredible year that I can't help but be hopeful about 28. If it's half as good as 27, I'm in for a helluva ride.

Happy Birthday to me!
Jester

P.S. No, I have no idea why I'm awake at 9:00 in the morning.

Well, I'm back from Texas.

Some of the things that I missed, man, I understand why I missed them. Texas skies at night are still the most beautiful. The Texas highways are wonders of modern engineering. I could talk to strangers on the street without them asking me for spare change. You still see guys in cowboy hats tipping their hats to girls as they walk by.

And the mexican food. The most divine culinary creation ever. Oh, do I miss that. I'm sure anybody who had to ride in the car with me wasn't as enthused, but...

They say you can never go home again. So in a way, I was expecting a huge change when I went back. Well, San Antonio hadn't changed. The grass was still brown. North Star Mall was still overcrowded. Pat O'Brien's San Antonio was still fun. The Blanco Cafe is still incredible.

Pleasanton? Well, the run-down Plestex 3 Theatre that I used to run is now the rather posh Plestex 4 Theatre, with great parking, new concession stands, a new Box Office, new bathrooms... It looks great. It doesn't feel quite like the place that consumed 9 years of my life. Still, I guess it's rather telling that I stopped by there before I did anything else. And other than that, Pleasanton is exactly the same as when I left.

My family is still much the same. My sister Amy still looks like a teenager. She's now a College Graduate (4.0, baby! You ROCK, Ames!), but she's the same bubbly girl that I've always looked up to. My brother David is now a father of two, but he was always the mature adult among us, anyway. My Dad is starting to look a little older, but he's also gotten really fit. So now he's got the suave older man thing going. Mom and Robbie look the same. June Hurley is still obsessed with Clay Aiken. Yeah, the family is changing, but they're still the same. My friends Caleb, Maggie, and Jacob haven't changed (though Maggie insists she's gotten fatter. Women).

So was it home? Yes, and no. I realized that it hadn't been completely home for a long time. I'd grown beyond Pleasanton years before, and I think everybody but me knew it. Not that it's hard to grow beyond Pleasanton, but still...

When I got back, I wondered, is New Orleans home now? Not Texas? And I had one of those moments where you realize something about yourself that is maybe obvious to everybody else, but not to you. I am never at home, and I am always at home, because for me, home is a state of mind, not a location. It's where you feel comfortable, and in place. And to a certain degree, I carry that wherever I am. On the other hand, I'll never have all my family with me, and all my friends with me, and it would take that to be completely at home. But wherever I am, whether it's in a hotel room, or my bedroom, or onstage, or walking down the street in a strange town, I'm at home, and I'm not. There is no Fortress of Solitude for me; what home I have, I carry with me.

And that's a very freeing thing. Now when I go visit someplace, it's not for the location (unless it's some location I've never been, like Ireland, or Brazil). It's just for the people. I don't have to go somewhere to remember my home. And when I'm there, I don't have to miss my home. If I go to St. Louis to see my Dad and Step-Mom, or Colorado Springs to see David, or Pleasanton to see Mom and Robbie - it's all home.

One thing I did love about the trip - my sister got to see me onstage for the first time since my Senior Recital in college. She got to see me play, sing, entertain, and just rock the crowd. And though my brother had seen me before, I'm much, much better now.

Well, as you can tell, I'm in a kinda serious mood, and I know all three of you who read this do so for the humor. So I'll leave you until I'm in a more entertaining mood. Talk to you soon, and keep writing!

Jester

I'm not a big fan of Playboy pictorials. As porn goes, it's incredibly lame. And as the for selection of women - it's usually fake blondes with fake tits staring blankly at the camera hoping someday they'll either have a thought or a sugardaddy to make sure they never need one. Their turn-offs are rudeness and bad breath, and they all love puppies. Who gives a shit? I sure don't. I've dated several girls who were prettier than 99% of those cookie-cutter clones. And I've never dated a girl as vacuous as most of them seem to be.

Having said that, a friend of mine just gave me the June 2004 Playboy, which is now my favorite edition of all time, for five reasons:

1) Charisma Carpenter naked (Cordelia, from "Buffy" and "Angel")
2) The Playmate of the Month was Asian (ever since falling for a Filipino girl last year, I'm totally entranced with asian girls. And Hiromi Oshima? Damn hot)
3) Charisma Carpenter naked
4) Playmate of the Year Carmella DeCesare - totally shaves. I'm all about the shave.
5) Did I mention Charisma Carpenter naked?

Of course, I tried to express how wonderful this edition was to Christine, and for some reason, she thought I was being a typical male pig. What gave her that impression?

In other news, I'm getting ready for my trip to Texas. Man, I'm so excited. Of course, I probably won't be getting any during the trip, and that sucks. But still, overall - it's going to be great. I get to see my family, and I've missed them a lot. Plus, some of them haven't seen the new short haired and clean-shaven Jess.

Well, I'll talk to you all soon (if you're not so disgusted by this rant that you never want to speak to me again)...

Jester

Well, it's been one helluva week.

I've gotten two job offers, and had two of my most lucrative nights at Pat O's ever. Which is good - expenses are running rather high right now.

My friend Mark came up for a last minute audition at Pat O's, and he did a great audition. He starts a two-week trial run Wednesday. Damn, but I hope he makes it.

Dance lessons are going real well again. Tango technique was kicking my ass, but now we've moved on to Rumba, which (at least at the level I'm at) is very simple. I've just got to get as good as I can before Katie gets here.

Speaking of which, she's coming in a week and a half... I'm looking forward to it, but there's a lot to do before she gets here. Most of which I'll probably do the night before she arrives. I'm the best at planned procrastination.

And then I'm off to see my sis graduate. Yay, Amy! You rock, girl.

I've been updating my website. Hadn't had a makeover in a year or so. So far I've done the front page and the Photos page. Nothing too drastic - I'm just trying to streamline everything, maybe make it a little more visually appealing.

Anyway, am in a big hurry (as always), so I just thought I'd drop a quick note. Will endeavor to be witty and amusing in the next day or two.

Jester

See, this is why I don't have a girlfriend - things get hectic, and I end up neglecting them for a couple of months.

Okay, a girlfriend might be more enticing than a blog, and that's not really the reason I don't have a girlfriend, but we won't go there.

It's been a rather hectic couple of months, which is cool. I'm now pretty well settled into my place on Bourbon St., and am fixing it up bit by bit. I've redone the phone wiring, replaced the door handles, replaced the bathroom fixtures, and am working on hinges and some minor electrical wiring. I'm still designing bookshelves; those could be simple, but I'd rather make them different and cool.

My sister is graduating college this semester. I have no idea how she did it - four kids, a husband, a full-time job, and somehow she just kicked ass. I take full credit for being her inspiration, though in fact, I had nothing to do with it. But I'm still taking full credit. And we won't mention my brother, who has gone much farther academically than me.

My co-worker Amy Trail just released her first CD. She's about the age I was when I did my first one. My first one was... Mediocre, at best. Hers is quite good. I'm quite jealous. I'm going to have to kill her. 'Cause that's the best way to get ahead, you know. Eliminate the competition.

Dance lessons are still going well - will let you all know when I'm Mr. Suave.

One former love interest pissed me off so much, I swore I was going to ignore her calls and emails. Unfortunately, she hasn't called or emailed since then. That kinda takes the satisfaction out of giving her the silent treatment. There's got to be a Country Song in there somewhere.

Have added pics of friends to my Photos page. Sent out an email to all my friends that I didn't have pictures of, with a long statement of how I'd like to have pictures of them, unless they didn't want to be included, in which case they should tell me. Most sent back replies saying "I'm doing fine, how are you?" Alas, communication is no longer my strong point. Wait, do I HAVE a strong point? Crap. I need to check Ebay and see if I can get one of those.

Well, I'll try to post more often. Good thing I've never said THAT before.

Jester

Well, Mardi Gras came, and saw, and drank... It was a fairly mild Mardi Gras for New Orleans, which meant it would've been considered utter chaos anywhere else.

When it was all over, Amy, Kristen and I all went drinking at a little hipster bar. 'Twas cool, and I drank massive amounts of all kinds of different alcohol. Then we went to Amy's house, where I proceeded to offer those same amounts of alcohol to the Porcelain God. After which, I slept on her (Amy, not the Porcelain God) spare bed for about six hours, got up, drove home, drank about two quarts of grapefruit juice, and slept another six hours. Then I went to work.

Ah, the glamorous life of a musician.

I ended up working ten days straight, which was pretty cool. I have tonight off, though, and that really sucks. I was supposed to have a date tonight, but it fell through (as always) which left me with no date, and nothing to do on Valentine's day. That makes 27 in a row with no Valentine. That's gotta be some kind of a record.

If I were to choose an archnemesis, it would be Leonardo Leonardo, not Valentine's Day. Of course, if you don't know who Leonardo Leonardo is, then you need to watch "Clerks; the Animated Series." If you don't know what Valentine's Day is, you're worse off than me.

On the plus side, I'm moving into my new apartment. It totally rocks. Life is good. After today.

Talk to you all soon,

Jester

P.S. Well played, Clerks. Well played...

Well, I made it through Lundi Gras - Mardi Gras is tomorrow (well, later today, to be precise).

I worked with Amy, who was a blast. It was cool - not only did we have a great time working together, but we went down to Frenchmen street afterwards, and had a great time.

In other thoughts... I've heard that hate is not the opposite of love, but rather apathy. I've realized how true that is. When I write to somebody I care about, and they get mad at me, it hurts much less than when I just get nothing but silence. That's the worst; feeling like they just don't care one way or the other what you think or feel.

Well, I'm about a month away from doing my first dance showcase with my teacher. Oh boy. White man dancing. Never a pretty thought.

I've gained twelved pounds since I started working out again. Another eighteen to go to reach my goal.

By the end of this week, I should start moving into my new place on Bourbon. Should be fun.

Well, I'm highly intoxicated right now, so I'll let you all go.

Happy Mardi Gras!

Jester

I wish I could budget like the Fed.

The new federal budget is being criticized as too "harsh" in its "cuts," and sometimes praised as "lean," and "fiscally responsible."

Point one - expenses will be (assuming it's passed as written, which is doubtful) approximately 124% of income. I'd love to spend that much over what I make, and be called fiscally responsible.

Point two - that doesn't count all the interest we're already paying on our current debt. Wouldn't it be nice if you had a huge debt, but you didn't have to figure it into your budget?

Point three - most of the "cuts" are actually increases. They're just smaller increases than previously expected. I'd love to make cuts like that.

Aarrgghh...

I was also reading a lot of viewpoints from the Arab world about the upcoming Palestinian/Israeli negotiations. They're thoroughly convinced we're the pawns of a vast Jewish conspiracy.

That might be nice, but no, I'm pretty sure we're our own independent idiots, answering to nobody but ourselves. It would be nice to be able to blame somebody else for our policy mistakes, though, wouldn't it?

Don't you love politics?

Jester

Today I was shopping in a grocery store. You know how they have little samples of products that they're trying to get you to buy? For some reason, in Texas, they always had little pieces of sausage. I never figured that out, but I digress.

The first one was a "crawfish pocket." My thought was "you know you're in Louisiana when..." But then - oh, and this is beautiful - they were giving out samples of Bacardi products, and there was a long line of college guys "trying them out." Only in New Orleans, I swear.

The stores are all confused around here - normally around this time, they'd be full of Super Bowl advertising, but for the first time ever, Super Bowl falls on Mardi Gras weekend. I saw one display where they had painted beads and Mardi Gras masks on opposing football players.

Of course, everybody here speaks a lingo that I don't quite follow, but I've gotten better at picking it up by context. "Well, I love the Endymion, but then, my favorite time is Lundi Gras, because that's even better than the day after, and besides, you've already seen most of the Krewes by then."

To which I say "Well, yeah!"

I've been flashed many times, but I haven't yet gotten any on camera. It's such a tough life I lead.

Well, I'll talk to you all soon.

Jester

Well, since my last post, I've seen two movies, and read two books.

The first movie was Jerry Bruckheimer's "King Arthur." What a waste of a movie. Predictable, boring, by the numbers. Just a retread of things we've all seen way, way, way too many times. The worst part is that it claims to be based on a true story, when it's at best based on an unproven theory concerning the origin of the King Arthur legend. If you're that bored, email me, and I'll give you a list of better movies to watch. Don't waste two hours of your life on this one.

The second movie was "Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow." I can't recommend this one enough. It was incredible in many ways. It felt like a cross between reading a 1940's comic book and a 1930's film noir, with a little bit of the "Tom Swift, Jr." novels of the 1950s thrown in. Stylish, elegant, and innovative, while nostalgic, at the same time. Oh, and it had Angelina Jolie in it. Does the earth contain a sexier woman? I think not. But anyway, I loved the movie. I watched it four times - the first time normal, then with the audio commentaries (there were two), and then normal again. It renewed my faith in cinema... I'd go on and on, but I'd doubtlessly bore you - just buy the movie, and write me, and we can talk about it then.

I also read "Coyote Blue" and "Lamb" by Christopher Moore. No man takes a more skewed look at life, and yet, his observations on human character are dead on. The beauty of his humor is that he's simply pointing out just how bizarre humanity really is.

Oh, and I also walked up and down Bourbon Street a lot, watching the girls flash people for beads. Mardi Gras - what a wonderful time.

Talk to you all soon,
Jester

I think "Highlander" has ruined most sword-fighting movies for me. Now, every time I see somebody's head get chopped off, I expect to see a quickening.

You know, I was just reading a Christopher Moore book (always an enjoyable pastime), when I came across a a few phrases describing a girl named Calliope -

"...Calliope was able to define everything in her world, accept the highs and lows of life with resolve, and never be burdened by the need to understand. Why understand when you can believe? For Calliope, every event was mystical and every moment magical..."

And it hit me - that's what bothers me about the way most people use religion. It's an excuse to not think.

I sent out an email at New Year's concerning all the changes that I'd faced over 2004. And I got a reply back from one girl, worried about the state of my soul because I hadn't given God credit. Well, if you believe God is the divine author of all events, then I don't need to mention Him, do I? And if you don't, then nothing I say is going to change your mind. But most of all, I can't imagine the omnipotent, omniscient creator of the entire universe sitting at His throne, worrying about the content of one of my emails.

Everybody around New Orleans seems to be totally into Astrology. And no matter what you do, they blame it on your sign. If I'm either happy or sad, it's because I'm a Gemini. People ask me for advice on what Geminis think, as if one in twelve people will react to all events the same, because of the tilt of the earth on the day I was born. (In fact, due to changes in the calendar, all astrological signs are about a month off... But that's another story). I've heard one person talking about manifesting a parking space for themself, by using good karma, or something like that.

I'm on a quest to understand everything. As a result, I tend to believe nothing - unless it can be proven, or the evidence very convincing and thorough. I use religion as a basis for my understanding of things spiritual, and am more philosophical about it than anything else. I can quote Scripture with the best of them, and consider myself a Christian, but I find that I have very little in common with most people who call themselves Christian.

And I find it sad that people have so little faith in their professed beliefs that they can't handle either being questioned, or entertaining the possibility that they might be wrong. The "Religious Right" is STILL fighting a battle to prove evolution wrong, when it's a moot point for virtually any scientist, or even open-minded rationalist - and has been, for decades!

I find it sad when people must place every event into a category of "Good vs. Evil." I'm sorry, but if I'm a good person, it may change a lot of things, but it won't prevent a flat tire. And if I get one, it's not Satan testing me. I remember being on a Youth Trip with a charismatic church about ten years ago. One of the cars broke down, so the elders of the church tried to cast the demon out of the carburetor. Ten guesses on whether it worked? And when it didn't, it was obviously because of the lack of faith amongst the youth.

Religion can be a great tool for understanding things spiritual. But when applied to things physical, it quickly becomes little more than a joke. But people are so determined to not have to think, to not use their intellect, to not strive for understanding of the physical world... And religion quickly goes from being a source of freedom and truth, to a set of shackles, preventing them from truly understanding the world we live in. And I find that sad. Very, very sad.

Okay, getting off my soapbox, now. Talk to you all later,

Jester

Well, it's been pretty busy the last couple of weeks for me. How about you?

My brother had his second kid. Despite my repeated assertions that the best name would be "Jess Tandy Mills Junior the Fifth," he went with "Matthew Jess Mills." Still, a pretty good name. Now, for his firstborn, I was told that my job was to
a) be the Godfather (I wore a double-breasted suit to the christening)
and
b) learn the moonwalk
I haven't found out my new assignments yet, but I'm waiting.

I'm about to move into the French Quarter - should be quite exciting. I'm a little worried about how noisy it'll be in the daytime, but other than that, I'm really pumped. No more driving in heavy traffic, no more looking for parking... I can practice during my breaks... Plus, I'll be living next door to George Rossi, an incredible pianist, so I'm going to be hitting him up for free lessons all the time.

I've been watching "Lord of the Rings" - the extended DVD editions, plus appendices. As you know, it was filmed in New Zealand. Where exactly is Old Zealand? Do any of you know?

Dance Lessons are going extremely well. My teacher is talking about taking me to competitions, which I'm a little nervous about. But still, I'm having a blast. Of course, I work every night I could possibly go dancing, but that's beside the point. Should there ever come a day when I need to get on the dance floor, I'm coming closer and closer to a point where I won't look like an idiot.

I'm starting to lose touch with a few of my Texas friends, which sucks. I either need to take a vacation, or fly them out here more often. What, me take a vacation? Shah! As if! Southwest Airlines, here we come!

Anyway, keep writing at me, and I'll keep trying to stay on top of all the emails.

Jester

Okay, I just don't understand women sometimes.

Not that this is really breaking news, but...

I've never really cared for the song "Your Body is a Wonderland." I thought it was stupid, cheesy, poorly written, and boring as hell. And that's saying a lot, in the world of pop music.

However, girl after girl after girl has told me it's just the most sexy, romantic song ever. And I invariably ask "Why? It's just about a guy getting a piece!" The uniform response has been that he just says it so perfectly, so sexy, that you can bet he'd get it.

Well, always wanting to increase my "getting some" skills, I looked at the song. Could't be the chords - it was a typical country music progression, I, V, IV, V. It couldn't be the melody, 'cause it's only four or five notes in typical step-wise fashion. No catchy rhythms.

Must be the lyrics. Let's see...

Is it the line about "One pair of candy lips and your bubblegum tongue."? I don't know about you, but nothing says "sexy" like bubblegum. Maybe it's "swimming a deep sea of blankets." There're few descriptions in life more poetic than that, right? Hmm... Maybe it's just the whole "Your body is a wonderland, your body is a wonder, I'll use my hands" line. Because you know, it's always good to mention using your hands.

Okay, I give up. I find nothing outstandingly sexy or unusually romantic about this song. I've learned it, and I'll undoubtedly sing it five times a week for the rest of my piano bar career, but I just don't get this one. Out of all the romantic songs, all the sexy songs, this one I would put at the bottom of my list. And all the girls reading this will be saying "he just doesn't get it." And they'll be right. But I'd love for you to explain it (without just telling me "it's the way he says it.")

Aaarrgghh....

Talk to you all later,

Jester

Happy New Year!

It was a wild night in New Orleans. I'm going to post some pics soon showing just how crowded it was - St. Peter's was standing room only - in the STREET!

I've sent out my annual "New Year's Rant." If you've ever emailed me, you probaby got a copy of it. If not, let me know, and I'll send you one.

Talk to you all soon!

Jester

Wonder of wonders; we had a white Christmas here in New Orleans. From what I hear, that's the first time in 40 or 50 years...

I got totally schnockered on Christmas Eve, then slept most of Christmas Day. 'Twas a good time.

Tonight I was watching "Stargate: SG-1." I realized what made it such a brilliant pilot. It had sarcasm, yes. It had decent special effects. It had a plot, and a nice Sci-Fi element. But it came through in the most important category of all; bare breasts.

So many shows these days are lacking in the ever-so-necessary female nipple viewing minimum requirement. Even R-rated movies these days often lack female nudity. They're more likely to show men's asses than women's. And I know I'm biased, but I think naked women are much more esthetically pleasing than men.

I think there should be a standard in every movie and TV show; at least four scenes of bare breasts, two of bare asses (female), and at least one of full frontal nude shot (female, of course, and preferable shaved).

I mean, there's no show that wouldn't be better off this way; imagine "Friends" if you'd gotten to see Phoebe in the bathtub, or "Alias" if Jennifer Garner were running from a scene all naked and jiggling, or "Angel" with Cordelia showing off those magnificent ta-tas! Name the show, and I will tell you how it would be better off with more female nudity.

Except "Golden Girls."

Also, Bin Laden wouldn't be able to air any of his messages, if he knew they'd keep throwing in nude shots of women. It goes against his screwed-up religious principles (killing and wounding thousands of innocents; God loves you. Eating bacon and seeing women naked? You're going to hell). So, as long as there's a lack of TV and Movie nudity, the terrorists have won.

Anyway, that's my contribution to the betterment of society, and world peace. Talk to you later!

Jester

I just watched the making of "Pirates of the Caribbean." I was struck by several things...

1) That a movie that cool came from a theme park ride that lame is quite incredible.

2) Johnny Depp is bad-ass. Not many men can pull off looking cool while wearing eyeliner.

3) I want to be Orlando Bloom. Nothing more to add to that.

4) Whoever came up with the phrase "Fire at Will!" must've hated Will. Just once on "Star Trek: the Next Generation" I wanted somebody to shoot Will Riker when Picard said that. Yeah, I'm weird.

5) Whoever wants to be a pirate obviously doesn't place dental hygiene in high priority.

6) I want to be Orlando Bloom. Okay, I already mentioned it. But it's still true.

7) Jerry Bruckheimer should've been put in charge of "Phantom of the Opera." Yes, technically speaking, the Phantom never makes anything explode, and there couldn't be too many cool car or boat chases... But it still would've been way cool.

Merry Christmas!

Damn, I hate the holidays.

I don't know if I'd mentioned that before. Just thought I'd let you know.

I've been pretty much out of food for a week, but I've been eating the dregs of my pantry to avoid going to the store. Finally, I had nothing left, so I went tonight. I thought if I went at 2:00 in the morning, I'd be safe from the crowds.

Nope. After fighting the crowds (and having the store be almost out of everything), I ended up waiting 45 minutes in the checkout line.

One thing I've noticed; I think I'm the only person in Louisiana who puts the shopping cart in the receptacle for it in the parking lot. There will be (literally) hundreds of carts scattered throughout the parking lot, and not one of them will be in the receptacle. It's very odd.

Also, I'm not sure if people are more charitable, or just more needy, but I had nine phone calls from charities yesterday morning. I was keeping the ringer on because I was expecting a phone call from a friend that I really wanted to talk to, but finally I just had to turn the ringer off.

But a few more days, and the shitty christmas music season will be over! I won't have anybody asking me to play "Grandma got run over by a reindeer" for eleven months! You know, that song was funny the first few hundred times I heard it. Then again, I also used to like "Piano Man," "Sweet Home Alabama," "Walking in Memphis," "Tiny Dancer" and "Brown-Eyed Girl." But after playing them each four or five times a night for two years, I'm ready to not ever hear them again.

It's gotten cold. I think the proper meteorological term is "bitch-cold." It's 35 right now, and heading down towards the 20s. Of course, the person I talk to the most is way up in the Northern part of the states, so I won't get any sympathy from her.

Almost a year ago, I was talking a lot to Anna, and she was snowed into her house a lot. That's just a bizarre concept to me. Of course, I don't really have any experience with snow, and that's not likely to change.

"Phantom of the Opera" is out now. I'll probably go see it Christmas Eve, if any Theatres are open during the day. After listening to the CDs extensively, I've decided that Schumacher is a total dumbass. I mean, I knew that before, but it's been thoroughly reinforced. He took the elements that made that my favorite musical of all time, and just tossed them out the window. I guess it's hard to see what you're doing when your head is that far up your ass, though.

But soon It'll be New Year's Eve. Last New Year's Eve, I was working at "Howl at the Moon" in San Antonio, and I thought life couldn't get any better. Man, was I wrong! 2004 has been by far the best year of my life, and I have hopes that 2005 will top it.

I'll be sending out my twice yearly State of the Union (or Jess's Life) email in a week or so. If you've ever emailed me, you'll probably get a copy of it (unless I really don't like you...). Look forward with glee, or foreboding, whichever you find more appropriate.

Talk to you all soon!

Jester

It's something that just needs to be said...

Mothers; when you're naming your son, think about whether you want grandkids someday. If you do, there are certain things you should NOT name your son. It will ruin any chance he has of procreating if you name him something like:

Alfred
Buford
Darrell
Elwood
Gunther
Leonard
Marvin
Randall

I mean, to get anywhere, he'll have to be good-looking, charming, and already have given the girl multiple orgasms before he tells her his name. No girl wants to scream "Marvin" in the throes of passion.

Of course, no mother wants to think about her son having sex. But hopefully, he's going to. And you should have some consideration here.

I've left a whole lot of bad names off that list. I'm sure some of you all will email me with several I didn't mention, and I'll probably devote a later blog to them. But that's a good start, and if I've helped the world in any way, I'll be glad.

Jester

O, happy day! O, Frabjuos, wondrous fervolity!

As many of you know, I have had a thoroughly unhealthy obsession with Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Phantom of the Opera" since I was a teenager. Within weeks of hearing it for the first time, I had bought and memorized the original score. I sang every male role in it at my house and at the movie theater I managed. My best friend from those days, Jonathan Fernandez, shared my love of the musical, and we would sing it over and over again, sometimes recording ourselves, just to hear how bad we were. He couldn't hit the low notes back then, and I couldn't hit the high ones. I've listened to it beginning to end several thousand times, I imagine.

Fast forward to a couple of years ago, when the effort to make the movie took off again. First was the dread because it looked like Antonio Banderas would get the role of the Phantom. Although he turned in a masterful performance as Che in the movie version of "Evita," his voice could hardly be more wrong for the role of the Phantom.

Then I heard Joel Schumacher would direct. Now I'll admit, I loved "Lost Boys." But I've hated pretty much everything he's directed since then, and several of my top five worst movies of all time were directed by him (#2 being "Batman Forever"). So I was thinking that my favorite musical of all time was going to become total shit.

The momentary sigh of relief from hearing that Antonio was not getting the role was overshadowed by hearing that it would go to Gerard Butler, who had never sung before. Why? Because he was, and I quote Schumacher here, "Young and sexy, which is what the role needed." Which just goes to show how little he understands the story. The curse of the Phantom in this story is that he's old and ugly.

The pictures I saw of the production looked like I had always imagined it, though. So I figured that visually, it would be a masterpiece. Just not musically.

But I just got in the soundtrack to the movie, and you know what? It's not bad. I mean, Butler is no Michael Crawford, but he gives a very passionate performance, if not as trained and smooth as the Phantom is supposed to be. I have not had time to thoroughly examine every song, but so far, I'm pleasantly suprised.

I still think if they were going for someone young and incredibly sexy, they should have picked me. I can sing the hell out of that role, now. But maybe they just figured I was above such things.

Anyway, now I can't wait to see the movie. I am once again excited about it.

How do you feel? Or do you even care about it? Let me know!

pianoman@jessmills.com


Talk to you later,
Jester

In case any of you ought there are unaware, the world has changed, and there are great times ahead. No longer will we have to suffer the way we did, and the easy life has gotten easier.

That's right, you know what I'm referring to. Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper is now available in cans.

For years and years, if you had a craving for this divine concoction, the only possible improvement upon that sweet nectar of the gods we call Dr. Pepper, the only way to satisfy that craving was to go to your local Sonic and order it. But of course, then you had to brave the hordes of high school kids who thought the ultimate of cool was to hang out for awhile at the Sonic Drive-In, before going to "cruise the loop" (drive in circles around town for a few hours, in other words). And nothing can spoil an appetite like being around high school kids.

But all that is behind us, for we can go to the store and buy 12 packs, or even 20 packs! Or, if you're counting calories (as opposed to counting crows, which I'm all in favor of), you can get Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper, which is probably the only soda that needs five words for its name. They had to work to cram all that in on the can.

Let us rejoice!

Jester

Call me a grinch, but I really don't like the holidays.

For one, the music is terrible. At most, there's about 50 Christmas songs that they play over and over and over and over and over again. And most of them are badly written, and badly performed. And no matter where you go, they're playing there. I thought I could at least escape it at work, but my coworkers all seem to love Christmas songs, and keep asking the audience to request their favorites. And vomiting onstage is frowned upon, for some reason.

Second of all, I don't like being in crowds. Well, that means I can't go anywhere from Thanksgiving to New Year's. Everybody's shopping, and eating out, and in a really big hurry, and usually in a surly mood. Rudeness abounds while they tell you about holiday cheer.

Third, it's just so commercial. What do I buy this person? How much into debt can I go to pay for all the gifts? Have I included a card for every single person I've ever met? My dad once told me that your family is the people you're related to by love, not blood. But that certainly doesn't seem to be the case during the holiday. You're expected to treat total strangers like they're you're best friends, simply because you share some genetic material.

For that matter, the holidays are way too secular. And those that participate in the religious aspect often do so because they ignore their "beliefs" the rest of the year. As a former church musician, I always knew we'd have a packed house at Christmas and Easter. The rest of the time, the front rows were always empty.

But Santa Claus, and Rudolf, and Jingle Bells, and all that bull - that's what's more prevalent. And I'll tell you why; it's easier to sell stuff with them. When people feel guilty about God and Jesus, they give money to the church to soothe their conscience. When they feel guilty about other people, they buy them gifts. Well, your average business owner is more concerned with turning a profit than seeing how the Sunday Contributions are going.

But the worst part? You're expected to have a lover during the holidays. If you're single, people spend so much time telling you how bad they feel for you that even if you felt great before, you sure won't afterwards! Every activity is geared towards couples and families. Every movie and song is about couples and families. There's no time that you'll feel more alone than during the holidays.

No wonder depression and alcohol abuse are so rampant at this time of year!

When I was a kid, there was one good thing about the holidays. My grandmother would have a feast (usually Mexican food), and my extended family would get together. And though there were some people I didn't really know in that mix, it was usually a fun time, with lots of food, and laughter... I'd often end up playing her Steinway, and we'd just have a good time. She'd buy a lot of crap gifts, and we'd end up with bags of junk to take home... But it wasn't about the gifts.

She passed away a few years ago. Various members of the family have tried to revive the tradition, but it just hasn't worked. And that's okay - times change. But I hate the artificial nature of how the holidays are celebrated.

So yeah, I'm a grinch. But you know what? I'm okay with that. Even if I didn't like the movie with Jim Carrey.

Talk to ya later!

Jester

(to the tune of "Sounds of Silence")

Hello, weblog my old friend
I've come to write in you again
Though I'll admit that I've neglected you
Please don't think that I've rejected you
I've simply had other things to do
I hope you knew
That I still love my weblog...

Anyway, it's been a fun and interesting time the last few weeks. I've had a succession of friends come and visit.

First there was Janelle, who I don't think was overly impressed with New Orleans, but we had a good time anyway. We played pool, and she let me win. I can't argue with that. She liked all the gay guys in interesting outfits for Halloween. I liked all the girls wearing virtually nothing as their costumes. But that's just me.

Then Caleb came over, and despite our grandiose plans, we basically just watched "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" all weekend long. That is such an incredibly good show. Is there anyone out there who reads this blog that is not totally hooked on that show? Please let me know; I'll loan you the Season One DVDs.

Then my friend Monica came over for a visit. We had a good time, though many of the things that had previously driven us apart were still in evidence. But we saw a lot of sights, went out a few times, and just generally had a relaxing time. It was only the second time we'd ever been anywhere without her son with us, and that made things a lot easier to plan. She didn't care too much for the Hurricanes, but she LOVED the Hand Grenades.

While she was here, she danced a couple of times at the Hustler Barely Legal club. I went to pick her up one night, and it was a real revelation to me. The previous times I'd been to strip clubs, they seemed to be a strange combination of frustration and enticement. This time, I was just thoroughly bored. The girls I date now are way hotter than any girls that strip, and a lot more classy. And for that matter, the thought of having to pay a girl to act interested in me just seems pathetic. I've definitely moved far beyond my former days of dating strippers. Which is a good thing; they're expensive girls to date.

In other news, a few months ago I mentioned how most of my female friends were hooking back up with their loser boyfriends/fiancees/husbands, and swearing that they were completely changed. Well, with one exception they've all now broken up with those guys, realizing that the changes were cosmetic, at best. As I've said before, people rarely, rarely change. I have to see it, and see it last, before I believe it for a second.

The one exception is Anna, who is still with her husband, and apparently happy. She doesn't claim so much that he's changed, though, she's just changed what she's looking for, I think. I'm not completely sure, since we're apparently not on speaking terms anymore. Which is mostly my fault. I was not always the most tactful of people in talking to her. Honesty is always a bad habit of mine. I do miss her, though; she was very insightful in analyzing my psyche. Plus, she has one helluva singing voice.

Speaking of which, my singing is getting much, much better. My friends have all noticed. I guess doing something for a living five or six nights a week will do that to you. I've got a long way to go, but I'm moving closer to being ready to really front my own band.

I've made a new friend on the internet, something I don't do too often. Her name is Christine, and she's a fascinating individual who lives in New York, and used to be a model in Hawaii... She's a mother of two, and I don't get to talk to her anywhere near as much as I'd like, but she's way cool.

I'm also starting to get to know my co-worker Amy Trail better. She's got a great sense of humor, and manages to slip the naughtiest little comments onstage while looking completely innocent. Plus, she has probably the best voice at Pat O' Brien's. And I've also been hanging out with George Rossi and Kristen Cady, two of the other entertainers there. Musicians; weird, quirky habits, but a lot of fun.

Well, I'll try to keep things posted a lot more. Later!

Jester

Well, I realized something last night. You know those cheap pink or purple wigs girls sometimes wear? About shoulder-length, with bangs?

I'm totally turned on by girls wearing them. Weird, huh?

Now, I have a lot of turn-ons, it's true. But all the others, I can say "I like this because of that, or it makes me think of this..." or whatever. They make sense. But the wig thing? I don't get that. But if a girl is a 6 or a 7 before, she puts on one of those and becomes an 8 or a 9 in my book. And if she's already an 8 or 9, then... Whew.

And it's not like I've ever dated a girl that wore one (though I may try to change that in the near future). So I don't really have any memories attached to them.

I'm going to have to think about this one. But for all you thousands of girls out there vying for my attention, now you have a little inside tip from the man himself.

Talk to you all soon,

Jester

You know, I'm just going to vent about something private, and probably not that humorous, so feel free to skip this one.

I don't fall for girls. I have a long history of not falling for girls. I like girls, I date them, I love their company. I'm as heterosexual as a man can get. But I don't get attached, and I don't fall in love.

When people hear this, or when they notice it, they talk to me about how I have to let go. How I have to risk my heart. Or how there's such a shell of protective armor around my deepest emotions. How someday some girl will overcome it, if only I let her. How I can't be afraid to fall in love.

And it's all bullshit. I have no protective armor. There's no wall to my emotions. Either I'm different, because I simply don't fall in love, or I'm the same as everybody, but simply more honest with myself. I don't know which, all I know is that I don't create emotions or attachments where there aren't any.

This last year, I fell in love. It didn't take effort. There was no letting go. There was no fear. I met the girl for me, and I fell in love. Hadn't felt that way about a girl in years, and years.

It ended badly. It happens. That's life. We're currently not speaking. We may change that someday, we may not. Who knows.

But when I try to talk to my friends about it, all they want to do is talk about protective armor, and taking a chance on love, and not letting this one scare me away from future love. And I want to scream "DON'T PUT ME IN A BOX!!! LISTEN TO ME, TO WHAT I'M SAYING, NOT WHAT EVERYBODY ELSE HAS SAID IN THE PAST!!!!" But I can't, because they mean well. They're just putting themselves where they think I am, instead of thinking about me being where I am.

Ironically, there's one girl that understood me well enough not to do that. To actually listen to me, and think about what I'm saying, not just what everybody else would do. Of course, it's the girl I fell for, and am not speaking to. And even if we were speaking, I don't think that would be a good topic.

I just wish that I could talk to someone without them immediately saying "We all go through that" or "I've been there" and proceeding to show that no, they really haven't. I wish I could tell someone I'm happy it happened just so I could feel what it was like to be in love, without them proceeding to talk about how it's great I've learned to tear down those walls, yada yada yada, and how now I'm ready to find the right person, and fall in love, and live happily ever after.

I DID find the right person! Why don't they listen? I'm not out to replace her. I'm not out to fall in love again. And if I grow old by myself, that's GREAT by me. I've lived by myself for years now, and I gotta say, it's the way to go.

Being alone doesn't scare me. Never falling in love again doesn't scare me. Spending the rest of my life without a spouse doesn't scare me. If I had a choice, I'd rather spend it with her. But not because I want somebody to love. Not because I need somebody there for me. Not because of any fears, or gaps, or incompleteness, or anything like that. Just because of who she is.

So, if you've actually read this... If you tell me that I'm going to make some girl really happy someday, or that there's a beautiful heart under my cynical exterior, or that I'll fall in love again if I just have faith...

I WILL BEAT YOU!!! I WILL SMACK YOU INTO THE NEXT WEEK!!! I WILL OPEN AN ENTIRE CASE OF WHOOP-ASS ON YOU!!!

Thank you, and have a nice day.

So I went and had supper at my friend Kristen's house in Slidell tonight. We had sushi and sake, and I discovered a few things.

Sake - tastes halfway between tequila and vodka. No effect on me. Drank half a bottle, didn't get even a slight buzz.

Louisiana people - no clue what a long drive is. People have been telling me for months that Kristen just lives so far away, and how it's this huge drive. It's 45 minutes from her door to mine, going the speed limit.

Also, there's a strip club in Slidell I saw a billboard for: it's called "Scuttlebutt."

I haven't decided whether that's a horrible name for a strip club, or sheer genius.

Jester

You know, when I was in college, there was always the "old man" at the party. Somebody who was too old to fit in, but didn't want to admit it. Some guy who was living way in the past, and didn't realize that it wasn't the 80s anymore, and he wasn't cool. We always felt sorry for him, and cracked jokes. It wasn't even the same guy, usually.

My friends have all been complaining about how old they are, and feel. To a small extent, I can understand. It's hard to believe that kids who weren't even born when "Top Gun" and "Back to the Future" came out are old enough to vote.

But I don't feel any older. I'm 27 now, and it feels very young. I know what's on the radio, and what shows are on TV. I'm as comfortable with today's pop culture as I am of the 80s and 90s. I'm up on stage making music for the college kids on the weekend. The majority of the girls I date are indeed the college-age girls. I don't dress in the most current fashions, but then again, I never did.

So I can't help but wonder - am I the "old man" at the party now?

None of us is perfect. Somewhere, in some way, each of us has flaws, and problems. Some of us have fewer than others, true, but still...

I have decided to come face to face with one of my flaws. They say that the first step towards fighting a problem is admitting you have one. Well, I admit it, though I have denied the truth to myself for years, it's time to face the facts.

I have dandruff.

For years, I blamed the hairspray and the gel for flaking off, and to some extent, this was true, But I haven't worn any gel for a few days, and still, the flaking is there.

I don't blame myself; I blame my father. He had dandruff, too, and not being content to suffer alone, passed it along to me. What vicious cycles we perpetrate, handing these problems down to our children.

Well, I'm making a stand. I'm using anti-dandruff shampoo. I'm not going to just accept flaking, oh no! I'm going to face my flaws with courage, integrity, determination, and an active ingredient of 1% selenium sulfide.

Pray for me, my friends. With strength, I will overcome.

Jester

Well, the hurricane that was going to wash away New Orleans didn't. Here in Metairie (the suburb of N.O. that I live in), we didn't even get a drop of rain. And all the people that told me I was ten kinds of idiot for staying, well... I hate to say I told you so, but - I told you so.

Not that hurricanes aren't something to fear, something to reckon with, and something to take seriously. I just knew this one wasn't going to affect me.

What was cool was that almost every friend I have called or emailed to check on me, and see how I was. That was pretty cool. It let me know which of my friends really care. Of course, they all thought I was a fool for staying, but that's okay.

Did you know that there's a breed of penguin called Macaroni? Neither did I. But there is. And now we both know.

I'm going to spend today learning college fight songs. I really, really hate college fight songs. But I get paid money to play them, and I'm a... What's the word... Whore. Yeah, that's it. I'm a musical whore.

Well, I'm going to practice for my whoredom now. I may post again later. Then again, I might just keep reading some more David Gemmel books.

Remember - Gravity; it's not just a good idea, it's the law.

Jester

Okay, so I’m ignoring the evacuation warnings, and staying here in New Orleans. Why? Several reasons, the first probably being that I’m stupid at times, and still have my naive youthful belief in my own invulnerability. Also, I haven’t heard any good reasons to leave.

I’ve been bored and cooped up in my house. Not that I’m locked in, but every place that I could go is closed down in anticipation of Ivan. So I’ve been reading, practicing, and the last few hours, experimenting with drinks. I found a great one; “Silk Stockings.”

1.5 ounces tequila (I use "Tres Generaciones" - very smooth)
1.5 ounces creme de cacao
1 ounce light cream
1 dash grenadine

shake real well with ice, serve in prechilled cocktail glass with a dash of cinammon on top. Most, most excellent.

My friend Mark and his wife are coming up at the beginning of October. I am looking forward to that, should be a blast. Also, I think I’m getting closer to persuading Lynnette and Janelle to come here some weekend.

I recently got the whole “All I want is your friendship” speech. Why do we say that, when what we really mean is “I’m not going to really talk to you much any more, and when I do, it will probably be brief, awkward, and trivial. But I hope you think fondly of me!”? I have often complained that virtually no relationships are based on true honesty. But virtually no brush-offs are, either.

Maybe I’m callused. But brush-offs don’t really bother me. God knows I’ve had enough of them, and I will in the future. But I hate it when they give mixed signals for long periods of time, because they’re “trying to let you down gently.” I’m cynical enough that as soon as I get mixed signals, I assume the worst (and it’s been true every time so far). But dishonesty just pisses me off, no matter what the motive is. I understand Billy Joel’s song “Honesty” more and more, the older I get.

I do kinda wonder, though. I thought last year that I could not get any more cynical than I already was. And now I am. Is there a limit to cynicism? If so, call me a Brave New Explorer, Going Where No One Has Gone Before.

Am I the only one that noticed that the Enterprise almost NEVER went where no man had gone before?

I unpacked some tapes of my first few months at “Howl at the Moon.” I sucked back then. I mean really, really sucked. I’m not great now, but damn... I threw the tapes away, of course.

I got tired of my haircut, so I grew my goatee again, and gave myself a buzzcut. I may post a few pictures of it.

I don’t know what to do with all this spare time. I’ve practiced 8 hours today. It’s the middle of the week, so all my normal friends are at work, and most of my non-normal friends are busy evacuating. Hmm... I think more alcohol is in order.

Remember, in Idaho, it’s against the law to fish for trout while sitting on the back of a giraffe.

Jester

I think if you took James Taylor, and kept him drunk on Rum for a few years, he'd be Jimmy Buffet.

Just thought I'd share that with you.

Jester

Had "Highlander" been written by Joss Whedon, I think it would have been the ultimate show. After all, it had gorgeous girls, frequent sword-fighting, cool cars, and immortality. Other than bare breasts, I can't think of anything lacking.

Anyway, I'm back from my Texas trip (obviously). For the most part, it went well. My house was seriously dirty, so I spent more time cleaning than packing, but through massive lack of sleep, I managed to get everything done in time. Now if only there'd been more bare breasts.

My friends Jacob and Maggie loaned me their truck to haul everything to Nawlins, and Maggie came with me to help unload, then drive the truck back. I think she enjoyed it here, but she was here less than two days, so I didn't have time to take her to see most of the sites. Oh well, maybe next time.

Friday night the crowds LOVED me. Saturday, they let out a collective "Meh." Tonight they were really into my show. It's like "Pat O'Brien's; the Roller Coaster." Of course, on none of those nights did I see any bare breasts. I think I'm suffering from withdrawals. If there are any ladies out there willing to help me with this, please let me know.

Since I've been back, I've been watching mainly "Sliders" and "Highlander." I think "Sliders" would have been better if John Rhys-Davies' character had been like his portrayal of "Gimli" in "Lord of the Rings." After all, what show isn't better off with a dwarf carrying an axe?

One of my friends just got a job as a nurse. While I applaud her drive, she's quit paying quite so much attention to me. I'm not happy about that. After all, am I not the center of everyone's universe? If not, why not? That's just how it should be. Well, maybe when I take over the world. And there'll be a lot more bare breasts, too, I'll tell you that much.

Well, I'm trying to think of news here. Still fixing up the apartment. Still spending most of my days trying to learn more songs. I'm not getting too much action on the women front here, but considering I've been working pretty much every night since I've been back, I guess that's to be expected.

As far as my female friends, they've all gone back to their loser boyfriends/husbands. And in most cases, the guys have done a "complete change, like he's a new person!!!" Meh. In a few months, they'll be complaining to me again. It's always bothered me how women keep falling for the same acts over and over. But then again, we're no better. Men manipulate women, women manipulate men, and all the while, both keep saying "I want somebody who won't play games!"

Not that I've grown even more cynical after my recent experiences, or anything.

But that's okay, 'cause I'm a musician. And what cooler job can there be than that? Other than Movie star. Or professional athlete. Or porn star. Yeah, other than those.

On that note, I'll try to keep this thing a little more updated. Keep writing to me at
pianoman@jessmills.com

And remember; panties aren't the best thing in the whole world. But they're right next to it.

Jester

Well, I'm here in Pleasanton. I'd tell you how exciting it is to be back, but I'd be lying. Excitement in Pleasanton is a trip to the Super Wal-Mart.

It happened again - I wrote a long blog entry (while typing away at a computer at the Public Library), and it didn't publish. And I hadn't saved it, 'cause it wasn't my computer.

Anna called me yesterday to apologize. With all the stress she's under right now, I probably should have been more understanding. But no matter how much stress she's under, she is cool enough to admit when she's wrong, which is more than most people can do under the best of circumstances. Every time I think she can't be any cooler, she proves me wrong. Why can't she be single, and living in New Orleans?

One nice thing about being back for alittle while is that I'm really popular. Everybody is coming to see me. Last night I got to see Jacob, and Caleb, and Maggie, and Shauna, and Lisa. And a guy I didn't know, who was with them. Today I got to see my sis Amy, and tonight I'm eating steaks with my mom and step-dad, and then my friend Sherri may be coming by.

My friends are awesome - Caleb and I were supposed to make the trip back, but his truck is in the shop. So Maggie and Jacob are seeing if they can take me back. It's a true friend who offers to make a 10 hour road trip with you, then drive 10 hours back.

Well, I'm going to try publishing this, and see what happens.

P.S. Anna - if you're reading this, you rock. If you're not reading this, then I'm hurt that you're not devouring my every written word... :(

Well, I had just written a long entry for the blog. I went to publish it, and two firsts happened:

1) I didn't save it first
2) it didn't publish, and reported an error instead (like I know what to do with that)

So anyway... Quick rundown...

Had a big fight with Anna. But for once, I'm not backing down on, 'cause for a change, I wasn't wrong. She thinks I'm playing games. I think she's using a double standard, and I feel like you shouldn't accuse somebody unless you're certain. So we'll see where things go. I've never believed in apologizing unless you mean it. And I certainly couldn't mean it right now.

Heard from my friend Caroline yesterday. We were buddies all during college at SFA, but slowly lost touch afterwards. It was great to hear from her, and now I'm trying to get her to plan a road trip to Nawlin's. It's looking like December is a distinct possibility.

Had a date after work last night. Which was a pretty cool concept in and of itself. Went out to eat a cool little cafe in the French Quarter (our waiter had blue hair - I LOVE New Orleans!). After that we hit a few bars, heard a couple of live bands. Ended up at the Maple Leaf Bar listening to Tony Hall jam with a local band. If you don't know who that is (which I didn't before last night), he's the bass player for the Dave Matthews band.

But they laid down a funky groove so tight that I actually got out on the dance floor. And didn't look too terribly white, either. Now that's a good groove.

It was the first band I've heard since I've been here that was so good that I don't know if I could hang with them. They were just incredible.

Anyway, the day started out in suck, and ended in incredible. Much better than the opposite.

Now I'm off to Texas! Yee-Haw!!!

I want to have super powers. I really, really want to.

But I don’t want to be a superhero, or an archnemesis of one.

First of all, there’s the whole cape issue. Everybody knows that capes are cool. But none of us get to wear them! I want to walk down the street with my cape billowing out behind me. I want people to see the cape, and immediately know I have super powers of one variety or another. But no, if I were to wear a cape, people would think I was a gay musician, or a circus performer. Not that there’s anything wrong with those lifestyles, of course. But they’re not me.

On the other hand, I don’t want to wear spandex. That only looks good on... Okay, I can’t actually think of any guys it looks good on. There are a few chicks I know that look good in spandex, but crime-fighting isn’t what I’d be thinking about if I saw them...

And what’s with wearing underwear on the outside? Is it just everybody following Superman’s trend? Come on, he has an excuse; he got his fashion sense from an alien planet. What about all the others? And where do they put the car keys? Do I even want to know

Having said that, most of the superpowers are really cool (except phlegm-man... But he was short-lived anyway). I mean, looking through walls, superspeed, melting things with your eyesight... But I’d have to say my top five would be

5) Teleportation. It would save so much money on the gas. Be great for the environment. And you’d always be where you wanted to be. Plus, you could confound Mr. Scott.

4) Superstrength. If you’re a scrawny guy like me, you’ve always had the dream of being stronger than all the guys who spend five hours a day in the gym. And if Buffy Summers can have superstrength whilst she’s looking all anorexic in seasons five through seven (yes, I’m that much of a nerd), then I could too.

3) Flying. ‘Cause... I mean, do I have to explain this one? Flying!!!

2) Mind-reading. First of all, you’d be the ultimate businessman. You could always get the best deal possible. You could figure out how to sweet-talk any deal. And man, you’d be the ultimate playa. The second you start talking to a girl, you’d know your chances. No wasted time. And you’d always know the right thing to say and/or do. Yeah, money and women. What more do you need?

1) Immortality. Because hey, why be in a rush? Go to college for a few hundred years, get a masters in everything! Travel the world, see it all. And I do mean it all. And by that time, there’ll probably be other worlds to travel to. I know, the immortals in fiction are always whining because their loved ones grow old and die, and they have to say goodbye. Well, so what? We mortals will all have the same problem!

But superheroes are always too arrogant. I know, you’re thinking that not all of them are. But they are. Look at their relationships. Every one of them won’t tell their significant other their true identity (unless they’re dating another superhero), because they “won’t risk” the person they love. How condescending can you get? I love you, but I’m not going to let you make up your mind about how much loving me is worth risking? What does that say about my respect for you? Not a whole lot. I’d be like, “hey, here’s the deal. Here’s the risks, here’s the benefits, make up your own mind... But keep in mind that ‘man of steel’ has many different interpretations, baby...” Yeah, I'm arrogant, too. But at least I know it, and don't try to make up everybody else's mind for them.

On the other hand, supervillains are all really stupid. No matter how intelligent they are, they’ll throw away all their plans just to try to kill a superhero, even if he/she isn’t interfering with the plans for world domination! They end up playing “Dr. Evil” with their overly-elaborate death traps.

None of that for me. Let me pull a Methos, and just hang around for a long, long time, getting the lay of the land, and living it up. Rule the world? Tomorrow, maybe. Money and women is all I need right now.

But most of all, I’d like to jam music with Willie Nelson. And if I had superpowers, I bet he’d be all for it.

Anyway, them there are my thoughts. I’m going to go put on a cape, and go fight for truth, justice, and poontang!

To the Jestermobile!!!!

Well, I got griped at enough that I figured I should go ahead and update. Now that I think about it, though, I kinda like the griping; it lets me know that people are actually reading this. Why, I don't know. I haven't written anything interesting in about four or five months.

My friend Katie is here, and has been here for a couple of days. We've been having a blast. Last night we went on a Jazz cruise, which was beautiful, and we've just done a lot of relaxing and hanging out and talking. We also went shopping yesterday; I wanted to get her the most scandalous outfits I could talk her into wearing (she's a ballerina, and has the body for it), and she wanted to dress nicely. A good time was had by all. But she wouldn't wear the stripper outfits. Go figure. You'd think she had class, or dignity. In which case, you've got to wonder why she's hanging out with me!

Lynnette probably isn't going to be able to make it out here this month. Which is a total bummer - I was looking forward to it. Haven't seen her in awhile. But there have been a lot of cancellations in people's travel plans for here; Anna isn't going to be able to make it, either.

Yesterday Katie and I walked pretty much the entire French Quarter. It was awesome. I've never been around someone who could walk all day long like I can. Anna says that she can, but I'll believe it when I see it. Which I probably won't anytime soon, but that's another story. I've also discovered that Katie can drink me under the table. Which is a first. I've never had anyone outdrink me before. But oh, can she.

My friend that thought she was pregnant wasn't. A good thing. She's already got a kid she can't really take care of.

I need to post some more of my life philosophies, I think. But right now I'm going through a very cynical period, so I need to let things settle a bit. People always mistake my cynicism for bitterness, and there's a big difference.

Well, Katie's out of the shower, so I'm going to be all social and stuff. Talk atchall later...

I was hanging out with a girl tonight, dressed all nice and casual, since it's my day off. She told me I ought to take some pics for my website dressed like I was, with (and I quote) "all those muscles bulging everywhere." No, I really don't know what she was talking about, but I was willing to go with it.

I don't think she was looking at my pants, so I assumed she was talking about my sleeveless shirt. As you know, flattery will get you everywhere with me, so I posted a couple more pics in the photos section of the website. I didn't shave for it, but I did just get a haircut. Not that it makes too much of a difference.

When I was getting the haircut, the lady kept asking me if I wanted to trim or wax my eyebrows. Now, I don't get haircuts too often (or I didn't use to, at least), but that seemed like a really odd question. Especially by the third time she brought it up. Now I'm going to be paranoid about having bushy eyebrows.

Today was my friend Alvin's Birthday. If you're reading this, Happy Birthday, Alvin! Yeah, I'm too cheap to buy you a freakin' card. Tell you what, next time I see you, I'll spring for a Heineken.

I just read Terry Pratchett's "Monstrous Regiment." I was rather disappointed. As a comedy, it wasn't all that funny. As social commentary, it wasn't that on target. And story wise, it was very, very predictable. Maybe I've been reading too much of his stuff. Oh well, it could be worse; he could be Nicholas Sparks.

Well, that's the news from this front. How go things in your neck of the woods?

Well, I finally took some pics with my digital camera, so that everybody can see my short hair. And I found out I'm even less photogenic than I had thought I was. For such an incredibly good looking guy, I always look like such a goober in photos.

I thought Anna was giving me the silent treatment. Turns out she had extenuating circumstances. For the record, I am in favor of extenuating circumstances, and against getting the silent treatment. And you can quote me on that, should you ever so desire.

I still have hopes she'll be coming up to visit next week. Not expectations, necessarily, but hopes.

My friend Sherri may come up in a few months. I talked to her tonight. 'Twould be most cool.

More people read my blog than I thought. When I don't update, people start emailing, or calling me, or asking about it. Go figure. It's not like I have anything to say. Of course, I check my friend's blogs several times a day. But we know I have no life.

Anyway, if you want to see my new short hair/clean cut look, either email me, and I'll send you pics, or check back onto my website home page every once in awhile. I'm going to try to change them out on a regular basis.

Some old ladies were flashing everybody at work tonight. It wasn't arousing to anybody (at least, any guys under 60, and I question that), but I thought it was pretty cool, anyway. I mean, these old ladies were still confident in themselves, and out to have a good time. When I'm that age, I won't be flashing anybody (hell, I wouldn't do that to anybody NOW!), but I hope I have that lack of dignity. It would suck for me to acquire dignity along the way.

Well, talk to you all soon.

Well, it's nice to be able to post again. They redesigned everything at blogger, and it won't work with Netscape now. So I've been unable to blog for awhile.

It works with Internet Explorer, which is good, I suppose. But it means I have to use a Microsoft product, and I have a deep and abiding hatred for all things Microsoft.

Oh well, not much in the news here; other than my microphone getting stolen, and the top of my car getting slashed. That's the problem with working around drunk people; sometimes they do stupid things. But it's always something.

Katie's visit is getting closer; I'm really looking forward to it. She wants to bring along her younger sister, though, which would interfere with my nefarious seduction schemes (and no, I'm not smooth enough to seduce sisters, not since I was 16). Oh well, I'm sure her boyfriend would've objected anyway. By the way, Katie, if you're reading this, I'm just kidding.

I've got one friend who has sworn off drinking, smoking, and sex. The smoking I understand. The rest? Why live?

I've got one friend who's finally ready to leave her husband. I'm not usually much for cheering on the breakup of marriages, but in this case, it's about damn time. Of course, she's not leaving until Friday, so we'll see whether she can keep her resolve that long. I sure hope so. Once she gets out of the situation she's in, she's never going to believe she stayed as long as she did.

Another friend thinks she might be pregnant (no, it's NOT mine, not a chance, you don't even need to ask). Protection, people! It's a great concept!

It's about time we have a black president. Not for racial reasons (well, normal ones, that is). But I realized that every president since Lincoln has no sense of style. We need a black man with some pimpin' style to be in the Oval Office. Just not Snoop Dogg. He's scrawnier than I am. But all these white guys with the dark suits... It's boring as hell. White guys (straight ones, at least) just have no since of style. It's not our fault; it's like dancing. We can't do it. Why not just admit it? I don't think whites are superior to blacks, or asians are smarter, or hispanics don't work, or any of those incredibly lame stereotypes. They're ridiculous.

But I've never seen a white boy dance well, and I've never seen one with any real fashion sense.

I'd vote for Andre3000 and Big Boi in a heartbeat. And I don't care what their political views are; I'd respect them more than Bush and Kerry.

Well, that's enough for now. Stay in touch!

Jess

pianoman@jessmills.com

Well, everybody's talking about the whole "gay marriage" issue. What I don't hear anybody doing is actually looking at the root issue; what business does the government have with marriage?

I know, I know, some people will point out the obvious issues of property and children, and say marriage is what protects and defines your rights concerning those issues. But that's somewhat misleading. People live with each other and have children outside of marriage on a fairly regular basis. Perhaps this was shocking fifty years ago, but it's not even yawn-worthy now.

I say there ought to be contracts available through the government concerning property rights of couples (or groups of three or more, if they so desire). Let them be called "civil unions" or "life-partner contracts" or even "legal shackles" if they so desire. Let them be binding legal contracts. Hell, we could even make some non-permanent ones, for those who don't want to deal with permanence.

Let there be laws concerning the rights of children, and the obligations of those who create them and those who raise them.

Then, let marriage be a completely religious thing. If you're a Baptist, and you think homosexuals and polygamists shouldn't be allowed to marry - then make sure your church won't marry them! Your church will remain devout towards its beliefs, and nobody's rights are trampled.

Seriously; what concern does the government have towards marriage? If I want to marry another consenting adult, it's no business of the government's whether it's a she, a he, or even a they. For those who are concerned with my mortal soul, let them deal with it in a religious fashion, not a legal one.

"Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's, and render unto God what is God's"

In every aspect of life, we should examine whether it really is the government's business, or whether it should be dealt with in another way. The easy way out is to say "there ought to be a law" about whatever. But is that really a good thing?

I also hear a lot of people saying "there ought to be universal health care, because we have a right to it." Since when?

I do believe in universal health care for children, as I believe in a free education (although my thoughts on education are a rant for another time).

But everybody? I don't want to pay for the people who refuse to exercise, who eat poorly, who smoke, who in many, many ways don't take care of their health. And if I choose not to take care of my health, you shouldn't be obliged to pay the price, either. But that's what a universal health care system will cause. And it has bankrupted every country that's tried it. Before we think about experimenting with such a thing, howzabout we try paying off our multi-TRILLION dollar debt?

Yes, I'm obviously a libertarian. But along with freedom comes the responsibility for your actions. And it seems fewer and fewer people desire either, except in patriotic songs.

*Sigh* Bush vs. Kerry. What a joke.

Jess

Had to stop to get gas at 3:00 am right outside the French Quarter. 'Twas one of the first times I've actually been frightened in years. When a whole bunch of big scary guys are telling you you're going to give them a ride... But no, I didn't. I actually made friends with some of them; they said they're going to come check me out at Pat O'Brien's.

Work on the apartment is going slowly, but surely. I'm in the phase where I'm ripping out things. Always fun.

One friend had to cancel her trip out here, but Katie is still planning on making it out. I'm looking forward to that; she was a blast the one chance I've had to really hang out with her. And this time, there will be alcohol involved. But that's a month away from now, so I'll have to be patient.

And of course I'm trying to get Anna out here again. But her schedule's still in limbo.

Well, I'm going to go to bed. If you want to, write me - I'm actually staying in touch with some of my friends more now that I'm farther away! Figure that one out!

Jess

Well, life continues its merry twists and turns. I thought I was going to get ahead this paycheck. Then I went to get my Louisiana license plates, and they said (after waiting 3 hours in line) "That'll be $403.05. Cash or check?"

I've been hearing some great pick-up lines since I've been here. Lines like:
"Excuse me, do you have the time?" "Do you have the energy?"
"Are you free tonight or will it cost me?"
"Excuse me, ma'am, is that dress felt? Would you like it to be?"

The scariest thing is that I've seen some of them work. And I need to double check, but I think they're all from a pick-up lines website, www.linesthataregood.com - go figure. Even bad taste is online. Wait, that's why I've got a website!

"I think I could fall madly in bed with you."

I found a little apartment in the Vieux Carre. It's a fixer-upper. And I really enjoy doing that. I'll be spending today crawling around in the attic, checking out the insulation possibilities. It's only a block from Pat O'Brien's, so the location is ideal.

"If your right leg was Christmas and your left leg was Easter, would you let me spend some time up between the holidays?"

Well, Monica is in love with an Air Force guy (this week, at least), Katie's got a new boyfriend (one that's worried about me - hah! He obviously hasn't met me), Anna's husband is actually showing signs of removing his cranium from his rectal orifice, and I haven't heard from Lynnette for a little while, which usually means she's happy with her man. It's all good; I'm just glad it's not me, 'cause I'm too poor to be falling in love. Say what you will, if you're a guy, women are expensive.

"That's a nice shirt. Can I talk you out of it?"

Well, I'm off to play handy-man. Yup, that's good old studly carpenterman Jess hisself.

Talk atcha soon (sooner if you write to me)

Jester

pianoman@jessmills.com

Well, my friend Julie is about to head on out of town. 'Twas fun, and we'll have to have a repeat visit sometime.

My website is STILL down, and they keep telling me "it will be back up in 24 hours." I guess they didn't specify WHICH 24 hours, so I can't call them liars...

I learned today that talking on your cell phone in the rain just isn't cool. I'm going to have to take it into the shop tomorrow. Oh well. I needed to get a New Orleans area code, anyway...

Well, I'm going to take a quick nap before I drop Julie off at the airport. Keep writing to me, and I'll keep writing back with ever-so-clever responses. Or maybe form letters, depending on whether or not I actually like you...

Jester

A friend just called me up and said she couldn't sleep until she knew whether I was still doing my blog.

It's sad when the drugs start doing that to you.

I was online looking at Toyota Tundras. You know, you can really stack the list of options on those. For fun, I added everything I could think of, and it came out to be a $40,000 truck. Which is impressive, considering they start at 16something.

Pat O'Brien's is going incredibly well. All the other players seem to enjoy working with me, and I'm learning songs really, really fast. I'm mainly worried about football season, when I'll be expected to know every college fight song ever written (I know about 3 and a half).

But the last couple of weeks I've been working six days a week. If that holds out for any length of time, my bills are so going to be paid off soon.

I'm still trying to get a new pic made so I can put it on my website. I'm not very good at taking my pic in the mirror. As you can tell if you look at the pic on the front of my website.

My friend Anna came and spent a couple of days here. 'Twas fun. She had to leave way too soon, though. I would love to teach her how to do the piano bar gig. With her voice and looks, she'd make twice what I do. Of course, convincing her to move to New Orleans wouldn't be easy. But I can dream.

My friend Julie is coming up next week. The guys at Pat O's are so going to think I'm the ultimate playa. But I'm looking forward to hanging out with Julie. We haven't spent more than a day or two together in years.

Also, my friend Katie Parr may be coming up later this summer. I haven't seen her since I had just quit teaching school. So it's been about three years. I'm hoping she doesn't run in horror when she sees me all clean-shaven and short haired.

Frank and Jonathan are supposed to start recording the drums for my rock album next month. I can't wait to hear what they come up with. They are both so awesome, I'm just lucky to have them on board with this project.

Well, that's the news from Lake Woebegone.

Jess

Terry Pratchett is a genius.

During my breaks at work, I usually read a book or two. I had read a bit of Terry Pratchett's Discworld series, but since moving to New Orleans, I have become truly addicted.

Each book satirizes a different topic (or two or three). Last night I read "Maskerade," which makes fun of Opera and musicals (namely "The Phantom of the Opera" by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber).

Normally I hate when authors write about music, since I rarely read anything that's accurate. Usually any attempts to write about music are painfully misconceived. But every subject that Mr. Pratchett tackles, he manages to sound like an insider writing to the uninitiated.

He manages to sum up so many absurdities so succintly that I often have to stop reading to laugh. Let me quote one passage from "Maskerade":

"Out in front the orchestra was already tuning up. The chorus was filing on to be A Busy Marketplace, in which various jugglers, gypsies, sword swallowers and gaily dressed yokels would be entirely unsurprised at an apparently drunken baritone strolling along to sing an enormous amount of plot at a passing tenor."

Can you count how many operas begin that way? I sure can't.

Anyway, I'm putting him right up there with Asimov, Brust, and Tolkien as my favorites.

Man, everybody's life is a soap opera, but mine. (Not that I'm complaining about mine)

I've got one friend trying to decide between her husband (a doctor) who has pretty much ignored her for the last five years, her ex-boyfriend (a dentist) who treated her like shit, and a new guy (a musician) that's... Well, he's a musician. What sane woman would go with that?

Then I've got one friend who's been breaking up with her boyfriend for several months now. And she's pining for her former boyfriend, who was also her college professor.

I've got one friend whose mother is having an affair with her ex-husband (the friend's ex, not the mother's... Can you say Eeeeuuuugggghhh?!?!?!?)

Meanwhile, I'm just working here at Pat O'Brien's.

It's awesome, the pay is great, the tips are great, the crowds are great... And it's on Bourbon St.

My mojo hasn't caught up with me yet; I haven't gone on a single date here in Louisiana yet. But that always happens when I move somewhere, and the girls here are starting to flirt, so I have hopes for the future.

Frank Favacho (the drummer guy) and Jonathan Fernandez (the everything else guy) met for the first time to work on some of the tunes for my CD. I can't wait to hear what they come up with. But I'm going to have a lot to live up to vocally speaking...

Anyway, more soon.

Remember, you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't wipe your friends on the back of the couch.

Jess

Haha! I'm back!

Okay, for those who read this blog, but didn't know (if there are any such), I've moved to New Orleans. I'm the newest Piano Entertainer at Pat O'Brien's on Bourbon St. Also, I've been without Internet for almost a month. I had the shakes bad, man. Anyway, I'll be posting more soon, but the important thing is JESTER'S BACK!!!!!

How can a house burn up while it burns down? And why do "slow down" and "slow up" mean the exact same thing?

And why is it that in every email system, if you empty a folder, it automatically takes you to that folder, and then informs you that it's empty?

Oh well. Got another song close to done on the Rock CD. I'm really going to have to bust my butt to get the vocals up to the quality of everything else. Jonathan is doing a better job than I thought possible, and I expected a lot from him.

Before drawing boards, what did they go back to? And what was the best thing before sliced bread? Actually, I don't think sliced bred is really that great a thing.

Busy, busy, busy week ahead. So if I don't update too much this week, please forgive me.

Coming soon to the website, though... New pics, new essays, and possibly some short film clips.

Keep in touch, and write me at pianoman@jessmills.com - I might even write back (wouldn't that make you feel oh so special?)!

Got another (rough mix of a) song pretty much done last night. Jonathan is amazing. On this rock CD, it's just going to be him, me, and Frank. Anything else would be completely superfluous.

I still haven't named any of my songs yet. Or the albums. Or whether or not to come up with a name for my group. Hmm...

I'm thinking "Jock Itch and the Flip-Top Weasels" would give us that respect and edge we so desperately crave.

On another note, Monica is recovering from her drinking experience. Note to self; never let Monica have more than one shot of tequila, ever, ever again.

Jess

I have learned an important lesson in life: never go drinking with Monica. Some people can handle their liquor, others are Monica.

Anyway, I'm going to go recover.

Jess

Well, there...

Why isn't there mouse-flavored cat food?

Final Four has come and gone. My voice definitely can use the rest. Singing hard for six nights in a row... The good news is that it's not anywhere near as rough as it used to get. But I'm still looking forward to taking a break.

Shouldn't "monosyllabic" have only one syllable?

But I think Pat O'Brien's is definitely going to be a great memory for a lot of people.

Have you ever noticed that "dyslexic" is rather hard to spell?

In other news, Billy Mata wants me to audition for his band. Should prove to be highly interesting.

Why do they call them "stands," when they're made for sitting? And have you ever thought about the fact that you drive on a parkway, but park on a driveway?

Also, Monica and I are supposed to go out tonight. So far, she's 0 for 32 (since I've been counting), but who knows? I didn't bother to make other plans; when she bails on me, I'll just practice.

If it is transported by ship, it's cargo. If it's transported by car, it's a shipment. Does that seem wrong to you?

"The Last Resort Combo" played at the Three Rivers Salsa Festival this last weekend. While we didn't bring home any Grammys, we didn't do badly at all. Especially since we were missing Bob Hurley, and most of our arrangements depend on him rather heavily.

You know, "verb" is a noun.

Alas, our gig at the Hanley B-Day Bash had to be cancelled, due to the weather.

Shouldn't a "building" be called a "built"?

Anyway, that's the news in these here parts.

Jess