Grammy Itch

I used to play in rock bands. I'll just come right out and own up to the fact that deep down inside of me lives a little man who wants to get in a van and drive ten hours to play a forty five minute show for just enough money to cover what I spent on gas and food to get there. This little man doesn't care about making a living, he doesn't care about sleeping in comfortable beds and he doesn't mind eating gas station food that exists at the lowest rung of the food chain. All he wants to do is rock.

This little man was knocking at the door of my mind while I very casually watched what was left of the Grammy awards after small group on Sunday night. Here was the dialogue we had:

Little Rock Man: Hey. Hey! There are people playing music
on tv. Do you see that?

Me: Yes, Little Rock Man. I see it. It's pretty
cool.

Little Rock Man: Of course it's cool. They are rocking!

Me: Well, to be fair, it is the Grammys so there really isn't that
much rocking going on.

Little Rock Man: There's enough. I wanna do that too! Come on...let's do it! Grab some of your holey (not to be confused with holy) jeans out of the closet, throw some goop in your hair, get your guitar and let's drive! We can be in Pennsylvania by noon tomorrow, and maybe we can get in on open mic night at Jimmy's Coffee Hut.

Me: That sounds about as good as getting punched in the face, Little
Rock Man.

Little Rock Man: I know! It rocks!

Sometimes I wish I had Little Home Improvement Man or Little Star Wars Figurines Man. Little Baseball Card Man sounds good too, but I guess we do the best with what we have.

I did go downstairs and play my guitar really loud though. Really loud. Sorry neighbors.