Who Chooses to Call Themselves "Lizard King" Anyway?

So, I've recovered from my July 4th weekend. I celebrated our independence day this year in a time honored american fashion: a road trip. A nice little easy drive to, well, okay, Cleveland. Except for a couple of brief slowdowns around Frederick, the drive was actually quite smooth. It was also, appropriately enough, the fiftieth anniversary of our highway system. I figured that it was as good a time as any to avail myself of it.

My visits to Cleveland are really for the sole purpose of visiting the only people left there that I actually know and like: the Aikido twins, Nif and Laura. Nif has about a thousand friends, so she's always got stuff going on. Saturday night was a party at the house of a woman for whom Nif did some legal work. This woman's house was the sole regular house on a street filled with newly built townhouses. Inside her back gate was a fabulous garden with pathways, a waterfall and koi pond, a bar, and a garage that had been converted to a patio. The kitchen was amazing, and her downstairs space absolutely beautiful. I have never been so jealous of a rental property in my whole life. Sunday was a drive over to, well, we'll call it west of the city, to take a ferry over to an island called Put-in-Bay. Put-in-Bay is an old resort island with lake houses, little kitschy shops, some restaurants, and whole bunch of bars. Put-in-Bay, for the historically minded among you, was from where Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry launched the American fleet to fight the Battle of Lake Erie during the War of 1812. There's a big tower called the Perry Victory and International Peace Monument there, and it's the tallest thing on the island. Unfortunately, it's currently closed because lightening struck it and big chunk of rock fell off of it (I know! No one was hurt, so I wish I'd been there to see it.) When it's open you can climb up it and see across the lake to Canada. That evening featured a mini pub crawl (well, two bars and a brief stop off in a place playing that stupid "Proud to be an American" song, to which I said, "Oh, hell no," and with which everyone agreed. Our first stop was the Crescent, which featured a house band called The Maxx Band. And they featured... Wow, now that I'm actually to this point in the post, I'm not sure quite who to say this. They had a Jim Morrison imitator. Who called himself, yes, the Lizard King. The Lizard King wears leather pants and a pirate shirt. Where do you even buy a pirate shirt in this day and age? It was strongly reminiscent of the Puffy Shirt. I'll give him this, he certainly, um, committed, to the act. And he worked the crowd. In fact, the whole band was in the habit of leaving the stage and wandering the crowd. And, well, maybe you don't know this about me, but I get intensely embarrassed for performers who sing to people int he crowd. And, frankly, when you suddenly are confronted with someone singing at you and he is literally a half an inch away from your face, nightmares are sure to ensue. So, martinis were drunk, cover bands listened to, and fudge was bought. Isn't that what you do at the beach? We wound the weekend up with a viewing of Superman Returns. Long story short: Brandon Routh is a cutie (but should get his eyebrows waxed), Kate Bosworth is too young, Kevin Spacey rocks, Parker Posey also rocks but is under-utilized, and James Marsden needs to get a role in which he gets the girl.

So I once again availed myself of the highway and drove back home on the Fourth. Hit a quick barbecue at my brother's neighbor's house, saw some fireworks, fought the traffic through Falls Church, and finally made it home to a very, very annoyed cat.

So, a great Fourth of July, all told. Hope you all had a great one as well.