I want to be upfront with you about the way I’ve felt lately, and I know that you feel the same way I do considering how close we are (both figuratively and physically). I need you to know that the decisions you make have a profound effect on my happiness and general comfort level—and I must say, your decisions lately have inevitably led to a great deal of discomfort and unhappiness on my part, hence this letter.

You see, it all started with your latest purchase: a pair of briefs… underwear, at the local designer clothing store. For years now, you have done right by me, taking great care in purchasing what I like: boxer briefs. Generally, and in my humble opinion, I think you look far more attractive in them; they are loose and casual, comfortable and dynamic in their flow and adhesiveness—I feel quite at home in them.

Now, I am all about self-exploration (I mean, come on, we’ve had our fair share of creative shenanigans together—you remember that time with the rubber bands?), and I certainly want you to try new things, or in this particular case, retry new old things that you used to do 20 to 25 years ago when you didn’t have a choice (Christmas was always socks and Fruit of the Loom briefs from mom and dad—hi mom and dad), but I digress.

Look, I was fine when you came home with the first pair of brand new designer briefs from the store a week or two ago, but then (as if to add insult to injury) just a few days ago, YOU-BOUGHT-TWO-MORE-PAIR! What on Earth were you thinking? I’m getting the sweats and chills just thinking about it—it’s like I’m stuck with this decision in much the same manner as I am your leg, and I don’t like it! It’s like my creativity and general comfort level suffocates, as the borders of your briefs draw closer and closer to me with every wash and dry cycle—those 100% cotton abominations of nature! YOU… should be ashamed! That wedgie you are feeling right now up your fault line is no fault of mine and you know it—think of the cocoa brown stains that could happen if you weren’t thorough! What would a lady friend think of that? Neither of us wants or needs another dry spell. Answer me!

[deep breath] I’m sorry…

I need to know: is it something I did or said? Look, I love you… and I want you to be happy. Talk to me; we can work this out. I just want everything (specifically, our underwear) to be more like how it used to be—when the things between us were fresh, more boxer-brief-like, and consensual.

Sincerely,

Your Testicles

Having done a few college and university tours all by my lonesome, I can attest that having company makes all the difference.

In fact, just a few days into my first tour up the West Coast, I found myself deeply starved for human interaction: I remember having a quite an interesting and long winded conversation with some random dude on the street in Seattle who was trying desperately to sell me crack or a hand job only moments before… and if hindsight truly is 20/20, I think I should have been doing this a long time ago, and I don’t mean smoking crack, accepting hand jobs from strangers, or having longwinded conversations—I mean touring with dudes like Cory.

We had a lot of fun on our brief stint up the West Coast—

April 18th 2010 – Visalia House Concert
April 19th 2010 – 210 Café in Visalia, CA
April 23rd 2010 – Red Rocks Café in Mountain View, CA
April 25th 2010 – The Kilns in Bend, OR

but in all honesty, Cory beat me to the punch in terms of blogging about it in a very engaging fashion. So, if you find yourself yearning for a more comprehensive and chronological account of our exploits, I invite you to check out Cory’s blog (not to mention his music):

http://coryjoseph.com/?p=218

More blogs coming soon (I have a lot to write about), so stay tuned.

- Mike

So, like a complete idiot, I didn’t snap any shots from the stage when I played the first round of the Best Acoustic Showcase for the Orange County Music Awards, however, luckily, some people with professional camera equipment did.  So through the magic of my blog, I thought I would share a couple of shots from January 26th at The Gypsy Den in Santa Ana.  I can honestly say that every musician killed that night and it was an absolute pleasure sharing the stage with my friends Kurt Hunter, Brittany Bontempo, and Marc B. It was also awesome to make new friends The Vacuum Bell, I hate you just kidding, and some of the members of Canvas.

For more coverage of this year’s Orange County Music Awards, you can visit the following links:

http://www.ocmusicawards.com/
http://www.ocmusicawards.com/blog/

Thank you to everyone that came out—I think the OCMA’s estimated that there was around 225 people that came out to support that night!  I hope you all had fun.

Can you find yourself in some of the crowd shots? It’s like “Where’s Waldo,” but without the stripped shirt.

- Mike

www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_nm9X1q4PM

Latchkey Kid

Words and Music: Mike Vitale

Coloring books when I was nine
Anything that I could do to pass the time
Finished up my homework after I go home from school
Built a blanket fort in my living room

Set the oven to 400 degrees myself
Perched up on the countertop to reach a kitchen shelf
It’s dinner time, and my parents are nowhere to be seen
So corn dogs and fish sticks are my routine

I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in

Waiting by the phone for my parents to call
Staring at our family portrait hanging on the wall
My daddy says no TV if stay up too late
Too bad he aint here to regulate

I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in

Sometimes my father would come home late
And my mother would be drunk by then, smell perfume, and throw a dinner plate
No one to read me story when I tuck myself into bed
So I dream of love
I dream of love
and then start my day again

I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid

Latchkey Kid
Words and Music:  Mike Vitale

Coloring books when I was nine
Anything that I could do to pass the time
Finished up my homework after I go home from school
Built a blanket fort in my living room

Set the oven to 400 degrees myself
Perched up on the countertop to reach a kitchen shelf
It’s dinner time, and my parents are nowhere to be seen
So corn dogs and fish sticks are my routine

I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in

Waiting by the phone for my parents to call
Staring at our family portrait hanging on the wall
My daddy says, “no TV” if stay up too late
Too bad he aint here to regulate

I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in

Sometimes my father would come home late
And my mother would be drunk by then, smell perfume, and throw a dinner plate
No one to read me story when I tuck myself into bed
So I dream of love
I dream of love
and then start my day again

I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid

Step 1:  Keep your mouth shut.

Step 2:  Keep it shut.

Step 3:  Wow, that was tempting, maybe I should speak up… no I’m resolute.

Step 4:  Don’t make eye contact.

Step 5:  Was that a camera flash?

Step 6:  Woops, I looked.

Step 7:  Wait, did he just wink at me?

Let me explain.

It all started off as an innocent evening of music going.  I was out to watch two of my many favorite local talents, Yeah, Brother, and Danny Maika.  At the conclusion of Yeah, Brother’s set at McClain’s Coffeehouse, I rendezvoused with two friends of mine, Max (who plays Banjo in the group Yeah, Brother) and his lovely girlfriend, Taryn, for an evening of minimalist debauchery at another local haunt of mine, The Pint House in downtown Fullerton a few blocks away.

Now, Taryn, Max, and I arrived just in time to catch Danny’s set.  Having my heart set on getting a little heady, I ordered a few pints of Guinness, and if I were to measure my progress in getting pissed by glasses consumed, I was somewhere around 3 or 4 before my interesting predicament occurred.  It all started with a note:

“So, whatcha drinkin’?”

The note was passed along to me from a young lady I am an acquaintance of, sitting at the table next to us.  Now, for the record, Brittany was not the author of the note; she was just the messenger.  In fact, the penman was a dude next to her whom I had made eye contact with briefly and gave a friendly smile (mistake #1 for those of you who may be keeping count).

Now, that evening, I was running under the assumption that everyone at the neighboring table are friends of one another.  Since I knew a couple of people in their group, and I was bouncing back and forth talking with various individuals seated there, I didn’t think much on the note I received, and cordially replied verbally to the written inquiry by saying to the gentleman out loud, “Guinness” (mistake #2).  I resumed my conversation with Taryn and Max, enjoyed listening to Danny Maika, and went on with my evening as planned.

As fate would have it, when our waitress magically appears at the table again with another round of drinks for Max and Taryn, she also happens to have a pint of Guinness that I didn’t order.  I was perplexed and pointed out that I didn’t order this drink, to which she replies, “Yes, I know.  He ordered it for you,” pointing to the author of the note; he waves.  Decision time:

a.)   Do I accept the beer from the stranger at the table next to me?

b.)  Do I refuse the beer?

I’m not one for being rude or un-cordial, so I accepted the beer and enjoyed it (mistake #3).  By doing so, perhaps I implied any number of things to the gentleman that bought me the beer:

1.    My cordial smile and head nod when we made eye contact earlier in the evening meant something more than “hello.”

2.    Like the Skittles ads, I taste the rainbow.

Unfortunately for him (and awkwardly for me), neither of these are true, however, at this point, it was too late.  I spent roughly the next 45 minutes avoiding his heavy drunken gaze and continued efforts to flirt from 10 feet away.  These included awkward long stares that I couldn’t help but notice from my peripheral as he tried in vain to initiate a visual exchange by persistently snapping photographs of me with a bright flash; he then would follow this with several stares or gestures that made Taryn laugh hysterically next to me.  At this point, I had already been taking flack from her considering my acceptance of the free drink and my explanation that I think it carried intentions beyond getting me drunk.

At the conclusion of Danny’s set, my drunken admirer invited himself over for a friendly chat, in which case, I stuck around for a minute or two, and then excused myself to go use the restroom.  Upon my arrival back, I catch the tail end of Max, Taryn’s, and my not-so-secret admirer’s conversation about him being an Interscope Records recording artist who was dropped from his label because his music was “too dark.”  I thanked him for the beer, after which he replied, “my pleasure” with a hint of facial grimace, and then he left.

Joey, if you ever end up reading this, I mean no offense and find your advances flattering, however, I prefer to keep the company of a woman.  I can’t help it and hope you understand.  Please don’t take offense, and thank you for the Guinness; it was cold, delicious, my favorite, and I appreciated the gesture.  If I can carry anything home from this story, I think it’s cool that we (as human beings with feelings and passion) are progressively moving towards a world where one man can hit on another in an open public space and the worst thing that happens is a blog.  My hat goes off to you Joey (and I mean that with the most respect possible); you know who you are and you are proud of it!  I wish more people could truly say that about themselves.

So, until the next time I get hit-on by a man, or until I find something else to write about, this is Mike Vitale saying, salutations, and thank you for reading.

- Mike