Just in case you are an aspiring song-writer and you are stuck in the middle of a ditty trying to finish your first hit record and you are thinking man, what this song really needs is a POWER CHORD, I just want you to know power chords are not up for purchase on Ebay.

I know because I looked.

Well, It was an accident. I was actually searching for a an old POWER CORD for an old piece of some junk I own when I accidentally typed POWER CHORD into the search box and sadly, there is no clearing house of hot guitar licks laying waste in a warehouse in New Jersey somewhere.

Sorry aspiring singer-song writers out there. Next time you do open mic night and someone says, “WRITE A HIT SONG? YOU COULDN’T EVEN BUY A HIT SONG!’*

Well, they might be right.

Or something.

Hey, speaking of power chords and singer-song writers and things, I recently found out my new and very-noisy-across-the-hall neighbor* is a bit of a Rock Star. And I don’t mean that in the same sense that everyone is a Rock Star when they’re hitting the air-guitar whammy bar in front of the mirror to their stereo blasting Eye of the Tiger or anything like that. I mean, apparently he’s in a band that has had some success. I mean like, he moved in across the hall in March or something and I never heard a peep from him for months because I had thought he was a college student with music as a hobby and he was probably gone for the summer living at his parents’ house in Florida or something but now I mean like, there’s some major record label involved and really he was gone for the summer because of a tour and really it turns out many of you kids have this band on your ‘favorite bands” d-land lists and all.

Which is probably cool and such, but considering they are all, like, a very young New Found Puddle of Charlotte Creed and such, I am not so much into this boy’s band-action. But it is really funny to know that after hearing one of his songs on the radio, I did some googling research and I found out they are very. very. new-goddam-punk-rock and well, I, and all of their fans should be into their new punk-rockedness only: HEY MR. PUNK ROCK NEIGHBOR! I TOTALLY SAW YOUR MOM HELPING YOU PICK OUT YOUR APARTMENT AND MEASURING FOR YOU COUCH AND ALL!

Note to self: he’s just young, and just making a living doing his band-thing so please resist posting that momma information on his fan-site when drunk. Because while it is totally funny to me, I don’t need the brigade of halter-top and pube-skimming jeans wearing girl-fans who drop this kid off after gigs at 4 am (because I have seen it and it is FUNNY!) leaving like their pseudo- punk rock haterizing messages towards me spray-painted on my door or anything. Because I? Am like totally old? And wouldn’t get this bands’ music, because it totally speaks to them? So, I should just shut up?

Which is cool, because hey, I’ve got a website with his tour schedule on it, so I should just be happy know when he’ll be gone at long stretches of time, because that means I can have totally loud old-people parties in my place, and not worry about waking the Pop-Star up in the middle of the night with my loud air-guitar!

Or. Something.

And, to top off life at this point, I got an invitation to a wedding in the mail the other day, which is not really a big deal, only, the wedding invite was from Wedding Stand By Date Geoff himself. Yes, my all-time yearly back-up wedding date Geoff is getting married. Sorry to make you click that link but irony is apparent when you get down to the bottom of that entry.

It’s like looking at a picture of yourself on tv, on a tv, that’s on a tv and. Well. Maybe not really, but goddamn did I laugh when I got that invitation because at this point?

Well, here I am.

And that’s cool too, because I spent most of the day basking in the sun in the pub’s beer garden, because if I can’t get my sunshine in a completely healthy swimming-laps-in-the-sun-kind-of-way because those bastards shut down my beach after Labor Day, you know I’ll do whatever it takes to get my recommended daily allowance of vitamin D, and if that means drinking pints in the beer garden, so be it!

*what? I never mentioned my new neighbor across the hall? Riiiight. That is probably because over my years here at ann-frank.diaryland.com I have realized a substantial amount of time has been spent on those wacky! neighbor! Stories and it’s not like you couldn’t just watch a Threes Company rerun (what?! It won’t fit? Push harder! Are we fixing pipes or…?!) to get such fodder. So my apologies, but really pop-star? who is noisy but not in a party-party kind of way, but more in a there-are-girls in-halter-tops-wandering-the-hallway**-at-all-hours-slamming-doors kind of way? Very funny. To me. At least.

** oh no you didn’t! yes I did just footnote my footnote! Because really, it’s not like you could roam these hallways, because actually it’s just one big dull stretch o’ hallway and once you get bored looking out the window to the dumpsters in the alley you are really just “hanging” more than “wandering “ and that is just sad.