Who Let the Super Fan on Stage?

Oh the sentences muttered around yours truly.

Asshat alert!

Asshat alert!

Living in Nashville, chances to see fabulous live music always present themselves. This past Friday Willie Nelson, along with Alison Krauss and Union Station played at The Woods at Fontanel.


The Woods concert prep on a gorgeous Tennessee day.

It’s Nashville’s only amphitheater and a pretty kick ass venue.



Arriving just as the sun set, I was immediately put in my place among the riff raff at the venue. While I wasn’t important enough to be a Big Deal, I was above being a Groupie and found myself among the Blue Collar folks.

Blue Collar all the way.

Blue Collar all the way.

While settling in to hear Willie croon my fave song “Crazy,” (did you know Mr. Nelson wrote Patsy Cline’s biggest hit?) I was enjoying the crisp spring weather along with a Skinny Pirate. Typically at live shows, I’m on my way to losing my shit the second the first note creeps out of the speakers but at the start of Willie, I was uncharacteristically calm.

Cool kid concert attire.

Cool kid concert attire.

Calm that is, until my eyes spotted a t-shirt that I needed and somehow sweet talked its male owner out of (he went to his car with his girlfriend, mind you, to get another shirt).


How would my life have been complete without this top?

As the evening wore on, I found myself falling in love with Willie’s unmistakable 81-year-old (yes – 81!) voice and when the encore was complete, I found myself not wanting the evening to end.

Ask and you shall receive.

One of my buddies asked if I was coming up on stage as they loaded out equipment.

Which way to the party?

Who, me? The stage? RUN!

I almost ran right into the Big Deal trailer park (due to the twinkling camper lights calling my name)…

Big Deal hangout.

If you’re behind the barricade, you’re a Big Deal.

…but was kindly strong armed directed to the stage.


I belong here. On stage. Duh.

Holy Shit!

Now who’s the big deal?

Being that I work in the music business, it’s never cool to show any emotion while experiencing anything out of the norm. So there I was on stage in a stolen Shotgun Willie shirt, a plastic concert bag of swag and my mouth hanging wide open.

Jewels not tools.

Co-workers ignoring my fanatic ass.

Asshat alert!

Who wants to claim this fool?

Luckily for me, my buddies decided to throw me a bone but not before one of them uttered…

“Who let the super fan on stage?”


Dork sandwich.

You can always count on me to make you look cool.



Weekend Winks – Sizzlin’ Willie Style

Oh the fun that filled my Nashville weekend!

Back in January, I filmed a sizzle reel for a potential reality show and I have been patiently waiting for the final product.

Sizzlin' it. Just a little bit.

Sizzlin’ it. Just a little bit.

While sitting at my desk trying to eek out a little more work just before the clock hit five on Friday, Producer Paul texted me and said that I’d get to lay eyes on the final reel later that evening. Naturally I pestered him to the point where he wished he’d never opened his mouth and learned that I had to wait another two hours.

So I went to kill time with five a few Skinny Pirates at Dalts before the world Nashville premiere of my sizzle.

After getting over the fact that hearing my own voice makes my ears want to bleed profusely and wishing I’d eaten 800 less sugar cookies over the course of the holidays (as we filmed in early January), I nestled into my bar stool and let ‘er rip.


Not so bad the first time.


Second viewing a success.


Third round proved a monster had been born.

Rudely interrupting my sizzle observations, a chance to see Willie Nelson presented itself and how could I say no?

I couldn’t.

I also couldn’t refrain from stealing a Shotgun Willie shirt off of the back of a gentleman in the crowd. OK, I didn’t steal it.  I simply admired this dude’s shirt out loud and he offered it up after some gentle prodding by yours truly.


Mamas don’t let your babies grow up to be robbers…

I also got to hang with my work buddies who made my Willie experience all the more fabulous.

C'mon down!

Tire Hero, CBXB and Ashman.

Finding myself out way past curfew, I fully expected a tongue lashing from Teddy upon my return to our mini manse. But he could barely even muster an eyelid opening and I found myself off the hook. Holla!

Passed out

Too tired to care.

I found myself dazed and confused staring at my half-assed wallpaper fail and found the motivation somewhere in my dehydrated state to finish the damn job – even the wonkiness above the doorway.

All around fail

All around unfinished fail.

After three hours, four cocktails and one large headache the stick-on wallpaper mission was accomplished!


Don’t try this sober.

Not at all amused or sharing my joy in any way shape or form was none other than Mr. Ted E. Bear who slept off his food coma (I accidentally fed him breakfast twice) while I practically stood on my head lining fucking stripes of sticky paper together.


Trying so hard to not give a care.

Keeping in the spirit of putting pep in household steps, I helped G (you know, the friend who almost brawled an 80-year-old man for me) gussy up her new bedroom by throwing any and everything in her cart at Target (much to her hubby’s dismay, I’m sure). On a side note, did you know that Southerners call shopping carts buggies? Yes, like the horse and buggy type. Just an FYI for you.

Fully loaded cart - or buggy as southerns like to call them.

Supermarket Sweeps CBXB style.

Coming home I found these my two ‘we-don’t-like-each-other-when-you’re-around-but-when-you’re-not-looking-we’re-in-love’ cats sitting in tandem on the porch.

Love to hate

My pretty pussies.

All weekend I was sweating how to break the news to Tedstar that he didn’t make the sizzle reel, even though he made damn sure he was highly involved during the weekend shoot.

Patiently waiting for his close-up.

Patiently waiting for his close-up.

As we nestled into bed and I turned the sizzle on for the 7,491 fourth time this weekend, Ted couldn’t do much of anything but silently seethe when he found himself missing from the entire footage.

No love.

If looks could kill.

I’ve relayed this issue to Producer Paul who may or may not have claw marks on his face next time he visits Nashville…