So I am in Cape May on the coast of New Jersey at this elegant old, old, OLD hotel with wonky crooked-ass floors. Cape May is one of those tiny, charming eastern seaboard enclaves. (I love saying “Eastern seaboard” and I hadn’t had an oppurtunity to say “enclave” in a long while.)
Why am I here? Because I am stalking the Diva Etta James. We saw her last night at the House of Blues in Atlantic City. Christine’s seat was simply unacceptable, so in the middle of the show she somehow wrangled us the best box seats in the whole joint. AH! Etta! Etta was humping her chair (which surprised me! lol) and purring and posing. Etta James. ETTA JAMES! (Etta James just lost something like 7 or 8 thousand pounds. Seems like me n’ Chris are two of the few fat peoples on the planet who haven’t had gastric bypass.) Anywayz… It was magically deliscious. And Susan Tedeschi opened!!!!! Susan who? Ah. Find out who…. if ya don’t know. I was a huge fan before the show, but now I just might stalk ol’ Susan too. That girl can hollar the blues and bend a guitar plumb in half! Psst! Shh! Pfft! Shoooo. We are also planning to see Miss Aretha before we head back to Big D. Diva Week on the Eastern seaboard. I’m down.
The Miz is stirring. Yesterday I made Chris stomp around dirt roads at a cheesy pioneer village, and I accidently told her she had to wear this gingham bonnet before she could get in. hee hee She was not impressed with the whole Laura Ingalls scene, so today is Chris day. Brat-tay said she wanted to hang on the beach a bit, walk around and look at the little shops n whutnot, and then catch the sunset by the lighthouse — which is supposed to be pretty amazing. My plan is to love on her. Check!
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