I'm sorry, but all summer I've been very busy not writing and not training for a triathlon.
Last night I was at a barbecue with a few of my oldest friends. I had lent one of them a book, King Dork, which I bought after it was relentlessly recommended by Michael Schaub of Bookslut blog. Since a lot of it has to do with constantly renaming your as-yet unrehearsed band, as well as the difficulty of finding a drummer, I thought J--who was not only in bands in high school but actually managed them professionally for a while after graduation--would get a kick out of it.
He did, and said he had it in the car to give back to me.
"Well, if R. (his wife and an even older friend) isn't interested, then I'd like M. (my friend who dated a drummer and gave me access to so many basement band practices with comic potential) to have it."
"Oh, R....she's so not rock and roll." (Said lovingly, I assure you).
"Oh, and I am," I scoffed.
"More than her. More than her."
So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Despite having recently turned 36, I am, like Donny Osmond, a little bit rock and roll.
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