You Drive the Men Wild!

That’s what someone wrote in the subject of a private email I received.  Why do I receive private emails?  Because I have a private email address.  What was that private email about?  I’ll tell you what it’s about because I’m not so private. Cool Kitties and the Square Cats had a kick-ass rockabilly show last month at Otto’s Shrunken Head.  We rocked and we rolled. Anywhoo – some drunkard in front was dancing real good to our swinging tunes.  He was dancing, and drinking, and drinking, and drinking.   There were some close calls of Bethany almost decking the dude, and after the third time he threw his coat onto her feet, she turned to me and said “this dude has got to go.” By the time we hit “Blue Suede Shoes” it was too late.  The drunkard jumped on stage and moved in.  I got pushed up against the wall (mind you, I didn’t lose the groove), and he extended his hand lovingly towards my face to go in for the kiss.  Luckily, our Square Cat guitarist, Seth, and Bethany came over to intervene.  The drunkard got escorted out, but made sure to give me the international sign of “f-you” with a mean ‘ol stare.  That didn’t really bother me because I returned his “f-you”, and raised it with the international sign of vagina. Here’s the private email; written in reference to this little scuffle: “Chicken wire reminds me of the movie Road House with Patrick Swayze where they had chicken wire around the band to protect them.  I saw that guy come over in your direction, but...