The World According to Keitho

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Posts Tagged ‘Charles Nelson Reilly’

Furniture store!

Posted by keithosaunders on November 8, 2011

 

The great one

The sports world has been so great lately that I have neglected the musical side of this blog.  Here then is a post dedicated to the gigging portion of my life.

Things have been very busy here in the East Bay — in fact, this past month has been one of the busiest periods of my life.  I’ve been working between 4-6 gigs a week and the phone has been ringing off the hook.  I am guardedly optimistic about my future here in the Bay Area.  The word guardedly must be used as a qualifier for all things musical in this fickle economy, but for now I seem to be in demand.

Of course some gigs are more glamorous than others, and when it comes to deciding whether of not to accept a gig, years of a ‘feast or famine’ lifestyle have practically eradicated the word no from my vocabulary.  Still, even I have my limits, so when it came to the nude-tap-dancing-while-on-fire engagement, I politely declined.

I do enjoy the variety of work I get, however, and thanks to my ability to see the humor in life, I have a pretty high threshold of zanyness.  Last week I played a gig at a furniture store, of all places.  It was in a tony section of San Francisco, not far from the Presidio.  I was in a trio that played jazz while the swells walked around deciding which high-priced furniture to buy for their townhouses. 

The women were all Betty Drapered out, which is to say they were extremely overdressed for walking around a furniture store.  Many of them wore backless gowns, or eye-catching red dresses.  

As for the men, at one point I looked around and spotted a Charles Nelson Reilly lookalike.  He was a dapper middle-aged man with horn rimmed glasses wearing a tweed coat.  At one point I was going to pick him to block but I thought better of it.

‘The store supplied me with an antique, faux-sheepskin chair, which was very uncomfortable.  It was one of those chairs in which you sank deep into the cushion — in other words, a bad chair.  With my bad back it made for a somewhat painful evening.  At one point I leaned back in the chair and the back of it splintered.  You could hear that cracking noise, which next to glass breaking, is the sound I dread hearing the most. 

I was envisioning having to work off this priceless Ming chair, to the point where it bankrupted me.  Years later one of you would happen to spot me on skid row with an unkempt beard and a bottle of ripple in my hand.

Keith!  What happened to you?!          

I would respond in my drunk voice:  “I had a gig in a furniture store.  It ruined me!”  

Me in 15 years

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