The Deck Band... Rockin' and Bloggin' South Jersey one party at at time!
Kevin Murphy: Blogger Extrodinaire
It was a dark and stormy night.
A low pressure system swung down from Canada and consummated a marriage with a warm air mass over the western plains. The resultant progeny was born in the form of a driving rainstorm which engulfed the eastern seaboard. It was in this gloomy maelstrom that the Deck Band convened for it's weekly practice. Band members' moods ran low - it was quite obvious to all that the weather conditions, and the usual paucity of talent, had put them in a somber mood. A pragmatic suggestion that they practice indoors did little to raise the spirits of the fearsome foursome.
And then - SHE arrived. Like a single shaft of sunlight that beams through a heavy gray blanket of clouds, Irene Lambrou descended from the heavens and came to rest gracefully on the doorstep of the Carey homestead. Basking in the billowing glow of her stardust, the boys quickly tucked their shirts in, wiped the crumbs from their lips (their own lips -not each others') and removed the stray bits of toilet paper from their shoes.
Irene stepped to the mike and transformed Carey's Pub into a swanky nightclub, the kind of place that has a coat check girl and really nice overstuffed leather chairs. Her voice alternately soaring, sultry, and sexy, she led the boys through three songs on her own and partnered with the motley crew on two others. What a voice! What presence! What a bunch of other stuff that men love about talented, beautiful women!
Alas, Irene eventually departed, and with her took a little piece of the group's soul. The boys will never regain that piece, but plans are afoot to graft some extra tissue from the bass player's ample ass to fill the void.
To Irene Lambrou, the goddess personified, we say "Farewell" for now, but never "Goodbye".
2007-04-17 03:14:20 GMT
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