One of the 3 BEST Pick up Lines...ok.

     I'm only giving you ONE of the three.  You want the OTHER two?  oh YEAH?  They're LOTS funnier.  Sorry.
     Here's a pitch I had the good fortune to be at the receiving end of.  There aren't that MANY that have true hilarity attached to them.  Most are fairly standard, and frought with unoriginality.    
     This delightful gem took place at the Philly Folk Festival. Why someone thought I'd be a GOOD thing to have at any FOLK festival remains a mystery. That reminds me of something. Older generation blues men seem to always have a valet with them.  I love that.  Where's my valet?  I've never had a valet.
      So, we're doing our thing at the folk festival, and the crowd is a little stunned by us at first...sort of felt like Bobby going electric there for a second,  but they danced and hollered for us just the same.  Bless their adventurous souls. 
     ALLRIGHTY....HOW COME I CAN'T STOP MENTIONG BOBBY IN JUST
ABOUT' EVERY SINGLE POST I WRITE?  IS THIS A COINCIDENCE?  It must be, because I  rarely THINK about Bob. Oh ok...maybe a LITTLE more than rarely.  Maybe about six times a year.  NOT THIS MUCH THOUGH.  I mean....he's great and all, but...HEY..know what?  I play harp a LOT better than Bobby....but that's really saying NOTHING isn't it?  Because not many folks can PLAY a harp as badly as poor Bob.
You can stop laughing at me now.
     Whatever happened to that Cambridge Harmonica Orchestra gang?  And WHAT THE LIVING HELL is THAT all about?  Don't think I'll ever forget the first....ok...the ONLY time I saw them.
I JUST DON'T HAVE THE WORDS Y'ALL.  HOW MANY HARP PLAYERS CAN YOU FIT ON A STAGE?  Lord have MERCY.  SIXTY?  I dunno.  How many on the head of a PIN? 
     It seemed as tho' EVERY SINGLE "here's my weird little trunk thingie..harp holder", PERSON that ever

 LIVED, was on that stage.  And the first thought that entered my pea brain was "WILL THEY ALL WANT TO SOLO?  Oh GOD. HELP me. PLEASE HELP ME. I don't think I can LIVE through this...no, no....i can't ABSORB THIS.  No guitar, and most importantly...no rythm section...no bass, no drum...JUST all those HARPS....I think I'm gonna FAINT."
    So we're talkin' maybe Sixty Little Walters SOLOING?.  Just how many notes do you guys think a harp HAS?  Just the one scale. Well...if you're a musician, you KNOW.  OHHHH....I don't care HOW MUCH you bend.  BEND away...fer crikey sake.  HOW MANY SOLOS can ya GET outa the little harp there? 
    It was amazing, I tell ya. More freakishly strange than a thousand Seventh Say Adventists sharing just the one podium. 

     WHAT WAS I TALKING ABOUT?  Can't seem to stop interrupting myself.  OH YES.  One of the three greatest attempts to climb Mt. Vardzie.  Which REMINDS me...do you know WHY the same eejits keep trying to climb that darned Mt. Everest EVERY YEAR?  I'm thinkin' they probably use up every single vacation day they HAVE (don't know why I'm assuming they're all workin' for the "man")...in order to be FROSTBITTEN, NAUSEATED, in PAIN, LOST, BLINDED by BLIZZARDS, GASPING for BREATH, and in extreme DANGER at all times of DROPPING DEAD....AND, not in a COMFY WAY.
      AND always facing the possibility of becoming DINNER for one's climbing mates.. a la the Donner Party.  Ohhh and let's not forget their dumb old NOSES running, and then the runnings FREEZING all over their eejit FACES....and my quiestion is...
"EXACTLY WHO...IS THINKING THIS IS A SWELL VACATION?  WHAT HALFWIT IS FEELING LIKE THIS IS A TREAT?  WHO?  WHO?"
doesn't
Fer gosh sake....let's just make a non-judgemental comparison of vacation spots, shall we?


     Ok. ok. We're basking on a beach in Martinique, or we're lollygagging about the poet's corner in Westminster Abbey, or we're sampling some mighty fine wine, and glorious vittles amongst the vinyards in Provence, or any other vinyardy place, or we're visiting Trenton NJ again, or...pretty much ANYTHING...or, or......
OR WE"RE CLIMBING THAT STOOPID EVEREST AGAIN THIS YEAR, HANGING PRECARIOUSLY FROM CABLES, WITH THE HEAVY BACKPACKS, AND OUR FU**IN' TOES SNAPPING OFF LIKE TWIGS.


     Why do these misbegotten folks REPEAT this horrible undertaking every year?  GOOD QUESTION. 
And helpful Vardz, happens to have the answer for ya.  YUP.  It's because EVERY TIME they climb the godforsaken darn mountain, they LOSE a HUGE amount of BRAIN CELLS, from lack of oxygen.
     WORK with me people....these EEJITS, are becoming dumber, and more brainless EVERY SINGLE year, and they can't seem to REMEMBER what an astoundingly bad vacation choice they're MAKING. They've in fact, most likely forgotten their LAST painful romp with the mountain.
      And what about that mountaineer who (when asked WHY he climbed the mountain) proudly proclaimed "Because it's THERE."??  Well, here's what I've got to say to  HIM.
     "I don't CARE if it's THERE. OKEY DOKEY?  NO ONE cares if the damned thing is THERE.  It mean ya gotta CLIMB it.  GEEEEEZ.  I spied the Florida PANTHER strolling through my backyard this morning.  Should I feel the need to PET IT, cause' it's THERE?   I DON"T THINK SO YOU DUMB A**.  Just LEAVE THE MOUNTAIN ALONE. OK?
 I said WALK AWAY FROM THE BAD MOUNTAIN."  


     I'm so very sorry.  Are you in a coma now?  Was I going to fork over a funny pick up line for you?
Well, here it bloody well is....


    Where WERE we?  AHHHH yes,  At the "could have gone downhill fast" Philly Folk Festival booking.
We did the deed, and as we're getting our usual disarray together after our stint, a man wanders near me and he says...
     "Oh girl....gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta get me some o' that"
     He said the word "gotta " so many times, I was expecting him to break into a James Brown medely.
      Ok..., I got that brother, but I'm not sure if you're speaking to me SPECIFICALLY, or are you just doing your own personal RIFF there?
     Are you expecting some kind of response here?  Or am I to admire your great J.B. imitation?  WHAT.
     And just who are you?  Are you the promoter of this entire event?  Are you selling peanuts?  Drugs?  You a fan?  You having a medical emergency with the  "get me some" thing?  Can I help you?  WHAT.


     I have to explain to you...it's a FUNNY feeling sort of thing...I mean, being a performer sometimes IS.  It mixes you up a bit.  It's a little odd, being around lots of strangers much of the time...and you being the most looked at people/person in any given area you might be performing in,  or near.
     And, YOU....I don't know how to explain this....a lot of times,  you don't understand exactly WHO is saying what to WHOM,  and are you involved in any way?   or NOT?
     And exactly WHAT is the meaning of what's being said,  by you don't know WHO..., and to WHOM anyway.  You get used to this,  but even after years, it can be disconcerting.
   AM I MAKING ANY SENSE?  HELP ME HERE.


     Now the man comes closer,  and declares  "YOU heard me sistah.  I want me some of what you GOT"
     Ahhhh...now, I'm zeroing in on it.  He's talking to ME,  and he's gotta have him some.  Of ME I mean.
     I THINK.


     My comeback to this kind of graceful entree' into my life,  is usually one of good cheer.  I simply say "Why thank you",  and off they go.
     If they are complimenting something musical,  then I feel a great deal MORE cheerful toward them,  and announce "THANK you.  You're very nice".   If there's time, I'll chat.
     I said to this gentleman,  "Nice of you to say so.  Thank you."  Hey, I'm nothing if not polite.  I was brought up right, darn it.
     Unfortunately,  Mr. gotta gotta gotta is not HAVING it.  Won't let it go.  Says the same things again,  with even MORE gottas, if that's possible, and apparently it WAS.
     Now, he's becoming downright bothersome,  and I'm doing my level best to ignore him.  And he ain't having that EITHER, sistah.


     And that's when he comes out with it.  Yes sireee,  he comes out with the line that freezes my feet to the very ground we were standing on.
"YOU gotta come on home with ME lil' sistah,  because I PUTS LOTION ON IT."


     Lotion.  Lotion.  LOTION??  My oh MY,  I just couldn't help myself.  Just could not keep my mouth shut.  I had to ask.


     "Exactly where are you aiming to put this LOTION sonny?  On ME?  On YOU?  WHERE IS THE LOTION GOING?   WHERE?"


     "Right on my THANG girl.  Oh you're gonna like it.  Makes it nice and soft."
     Lord have mercy,  did I hear this right?  DID I?  Could anyone be so WRONG HEADED?  I HAD to ask?   I shouldn't have asked.
     Too late.  By now, I'm laughing so hard, I'm literally banging my head against the side of the stage,  and most likely dislodging the performers who followed us.  Almost falling to the ground with mirth,  I was.  The band is pulling me away,  and I'm laughing so much, I can barely walk.  I finally sputtered...almost SCREAMED at the poor guy...


     "Don't EVER say that again.  YOU HEAR ME?  Never again!  THAT'S NOT THE EFFECT WE SISTAHS IS LOOKIN' FOR!!!"


     For YEARS, it would only take a band member leaning down and whispering in my ear  "I puts lotion on it Vardzie",  for me to completely blow a song.  Sometimes two songs.  The laughter would bubble up,  and once started, was almost impossible to stop.  Oh fer the love of Yahwee.  LOTION. 


    That's ok.  Onstage revenge is sweet. I've been known to get violent.  I WILL climb on their backs.  Put a finger or three up a nose, or when I MESS UP,  I'm capable of pulling that age old Mamma Thornton routine.  I'll audibly deliver something akin to " What's WRONG with you?  Yer a pretty cute little bunch there, but ya can't play your way out of a paper BAG. Oh NO you can't. Where's the BUILD, boys?  Come on....keep UP.  Why dontcha think of me as your very own Chuck?"
     I think they all enjoy that.  DON'T THEY??