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Dateline: Thursday, February 8, 2001

As Joe and I Delta to Cincinnati, a minister reaches into the overhead bin above me. His shirt buttons are open right at the crux of his huge belly. Is it wrong to button a minister's stomach? Joe and I crack up like idiots.

Charlie's Angels flickers across the screen. Watching these three uber-babes fight crime I can't help but think the original series was Emmy-worthy in comparison. OK, I'm a child of the 70's, with all the terrible role models that statement implies. I grew up emulating Farrah's hair flips, and Rerun's What's Happening! dances and coveting Facts of Lifer Lisa Whelchel's boots. I winsomely envied the New Mouseketeers, the ZOOM kids and every bee-ach that played Annie. I faithfully bought Charlie's Angels cards, wrote scripts (hoo boy, did they suck) with similarly deluded friends, and practiced jumping off of playground apparati, landing in gun-toting "Freeze!" positions. All this after a childhood of Electric Company and Sesame Street. Who says children raised on TV can't be normal!!? Anyhoo, I digress -- the movie is terrible.

Super James (world’s best promoter) meets us at the airport with the biggest truck on the planet. The silver Tahoe is ours for the weekend. Matthew Bob shows up sporting a vertical Simon LeBon-esque 'do that will endure much mockage. James and cooler than cool wife/biz partner Deb make dinner as we go over the master plan for the next few days. I read an interview Matthew did for a local paper divulging that "Amy travels with a stuffed monster -- she calls it her 'friend.'"

Thanks, buddy!

We learn E-mail Valentine, an old tune the Bobs did back in the 80s as NPR commentators. Saturday's show, The Bobs Sing! (And Other Love Songs), will be broadcast on WCET, Channel 48 (PBS) on Valentine's Day, hence this goofy doo-wop ballad, with Janie (now me) singing/speaking an overwrought tale of cyber-love -- a tune truly ahead of its time.

Back in the huge vehicle, we miss the downtown exit and end up in Covington, Kentucky. The Cincinnatian is a great old hotel -- I'm not just saying that because it's a five-star establishment who donated the rooms for our stay! Unfortunately it doesn't matter tonight because I never sleep the first night out, especially if I'm suddenly on East coast time. So, Spaceballs and E-mail Valentine running through my head escort me to the morning.

Dateline: Friday, February 9, 2001

In the hotel lobby at 8 a.m., Richard mocks my laptop, continuing our "you're an addict"/"no, you're an addict" tradition, then asks if he can check his e-mail later. Joe Bob, whose room was next to Richard's, says he changed rooms (another tradition). Probably the moaning of "Earthlink! Earthlink! DSL!" drove him nuts! We climb Mt. Adams to WEBN, crooning Vapor and Earl for the morning crew.

Gotta love a buncha guys (including Mojo Nixon) who offer you beer and pizza at that hour! No wonder Debbie Gibson got pregnant with his two-headed love child! Nat Comisar, a major FOB (Friend of the Bobs, for the uninitiated) and owner of Cinci gourmet fave, Maisonette is there -- he's also promoting the concert/taping. Der Comisar will prove crucial in all culinary matters -- and he's a prince of a guy to boot.

I try to sneak a nap when Richard comes to my room to feed his monkey (use the net). We geek out about music software -- I'm gonna download a free version of Finale, which I hear is a bear, to write a chart. The Bobs do vocal workshops and master classes for college and high school groups, and Lincoln High School has requested a chart of Joe's and my tune, A Cappella Choir in the Sky, so I'm writing a choral arrangement for them. Sometimes it's easier to do this by hand, but I want to dive into the Finale pool.

Camera rehearsal at WCET goes very well -- we have a 28-person crew and 7 cameras this time! We have to chop the show -- too many songs listed. Corn Dogs, and Nose to Nose, both of which we tried to work up, are left at the curb due to lyrical not knowingness. Richard and I run Bach to Bach twice through -- the first time it's been up on its feet -- I was sick for so many weeks I didn't have the top notes! It's in the show: trial by film. Hey, if you're gonna premiere something, be brave!

Falling over with exhaustion, I try to nap again back at the hotel before dinner at Maisonette, only to learn that we have to dress nicely. My on-the-road uniforms of sweats, jeans and sneaks won't cut it. But all my nice clothes are back at the station! Incredibly wonderful (and 8½ months pregnant) crew member Beth drives my clothes over after her work shift is over. Thank you again, Beth, but please don't name your baby "Amy Bob the Doofus!" I write my piece for this week's A Cappella Survivor contest and e-mail it to the dudes at Vocal Universe before heading over to Maisonette.

OH MY GOD!!!!! You might not know that Cincinnati used to be the only city between New York and Chicago to have several five star restaurants. And Maisonette is the only restaurant to be awarded Mobil Travel Guide's five stars 37 YEARS IN A ROW! Add the gurgling of Bobs stomachs to the list of accolades. I can't possibly describe everything we ate. The smorgasbord of small but amazing dishes, served with the utmost elegance (plates on plates on plates!), included smoked salmon, lobster salad, Chilean sea bass, seared foie gras, venison, vegetable ravioli, caramel flan w/raspberry compote, truffles, cakes, mousse and a new wine with every course. And I tell you, when you eat at the owner's table, you know the service is gonna be amazing.

Nat regales us with tales about the food, like the melt-in-your-mouth, air-filled potato fries dating back to a resourceful cook in Napoleon's kitchen. The guy has been in the restaurant biz his whole life -- it's a family affair -- and although Maisonette is clearly where the elite meet to eat, he couldn't be more down to earth. Later on he gives us all CDs of his Ithaca College a cappella reunion on which he personally sets the Bobs' White Room arrangement aflame!

As they roll out the cordial cart and Matthew and Joe peruse the single malt scotch list, I feel sleep finally coming on. James and Deb bus me one block away to the hotel, where I dream of lush hills, flowers, Alex, and No Doubt's Simple Kind of Life.

Dateline: Saturday, February 10, 2001

Downtown, home of The Chong (see Bob Tales #2) and the dizzyingly named Fifth Third Bank has plush hotels behind old facades, stores like Brooks Brothers, and a lot of poor people wandering the streets. It's a stark meeting of the social strata at all hours of the day that's jarring to say the least. I guess when rundown areas "gentrify" that's part of the deal. It's disconcerting and sad.

I pass Richard on the way back, who asks directions to Starbucks (quelle surprise!). The news says O.J.'s been arrested again (quelle surprise!). I run the Bach piece in my room a million times, hoping I don’t alarm anyone with the clucky ending. ("Um, we've had noise complaints, Miss Engelhardt. Is there live poultry in your room?")

The 4 pm show serves as a great rehearsal for the 8pm taping. Afterwards in the lobby, we're treated to the Woodford High School choir's rendition of Helmet. Congratulations to soloist Ellen Royse and director Ben Brown, a serious atomic FOB, for a job well done despite the absence of altos!

The 8pm show, from which all of the material is eventually taken, is a firecracker. Bach to Bach is a hit, Joe almost explodes during his Drive By Love guitar solo, and various audience members leave with yummy Valentine's candy hurled at them during the set. After this show, we're serenaded with the Java Jive by local barbershop quartet Harmony Street. All in all, we're really happy with the tapings, thanks to a super crew, incredible support staff, stylist Laurie (thank you thank you thank you!) and of course, awesome food (Nat brought Maisonette takeout!)!

Dateline: Sunday, February 11, 2001

It's hard to rise from a deep sleep, but have an instore performance at Joseph Beth Booksellers at noon. After crooning Welcome to my Fog, Chickens and others, and plugging the concert (to be broadcast in 3 days) and our CD, I finagle an employee discount for the excellent new David Sedaris book, Me Talk Pretty One Day.

Chez James, we review show tapes, deciding what to use for broadcast. The WCET editors await our decisions since there isn't much edit time. Zoe, James' cute chocolate lab, has final approval, so this takes awhile. We end up dumping Signs on a Line and E-mail Valentine -- I had too many leads anyway and the latter didn't really hit (as evidenced by Zoe's howling critique).

An amazing Thai takeout dinner precedes our appearance on The Stupid Galvin Brothers Show on WVXU, on which a meltdown of epic proportions completely derails There's a Nosering in my Soup. Naturally, it's recorded on film -- James had a cameraman following us around all weekend for "Behind the Scenes" footage that will be put on the VHS and DVD we're packaging with the concert. I'm serious -- it was BAD! At one point, Richard was the only one singing. Joe was doubled over in hysterics, Matthew had long since given up and was shaking against the wall, and I was laughing so hard I was crying. I want to go on record as still laughing while saying, "There is no excuse for such unprofessional behavior!"

Dateline: Monday, February 12, 2001

SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. Do you get the sense at all that these tours are both incredibly fun and totally exhausting? I sometimes come home and sleep for about 12 hours a night for several days running.

After another bagel breakfast, it's back to WVXU for a much calmer experience: AudioSyncracies, an hour long interview program that features mainly jazz artists. I like doing group interviews -- I always learn something new! (The stories the guys tell may be fictional, but they're always new.) This time it's from Joe -- how he saw The Bobs on a double bill with Bobby McFerrin on New Year's Eve the year he ended up joining the group. He found them "disturbingly bizarre." Well, it's good to know that not much has changed!

Next it's off to Gary Burbank’s radio show, where we're asked to play along with the conceit that the host is actually in the studio. (In reality, he's in sunny West Palm Beach). I have no idea why they asked us to pretend he was there -- it would've been way funnier to address his absence, or even claim to ALL be in different cities. Nat shows up with plastic trays full of chocolate mousse (Whatta guy!), then pulls an All About Eve, replacing Joe Bob flawlessly on lead in Leisure Suit. Hey, there's no job security in the music biz, Joey. And Nat 1) brings food and 2) doesn't call me a doodyhead.

Later that night, at J's Fresh Seafood, a reception is held for patrons who bought the "concert package" -- tickets to the taping, a COASTER CD, a Bobs @Live at the 20th Century video and this private party, where we'll sing a few tunes, shovel hors d'oeuvres into our faces and sign CDs. Matthew appears in the hotel lobby clad all in black (including the leather pants I'm always mocking him about) looking like Dieter from SPROCKETS. But I really can't say anything -- I'm in all black too, with a bright lime green oversized jacket and my hair pulled back; I look like his Eurotrash date, Dagmar! (Hey, I'm taking a German class now, so I guess it's sinking in.) We drink and chomp at J's, hobnobbing with radio station bigwigs and those who shucked the big bux to hear our yuks. After a few tunes we head back to James' for final wrapup.

Dateline: Tuesday, February 13, 2001

In the early a.m. we rid ourselves of the Tahoe -- no more jokes about clearance ("Is it the truck or your hair, Matthew?") - and fall onto our respective flights home. Joe's and my flight is very empty, so we sleep on the seats. Guess what bookends the trip? Original episodes of Charlie's Angels. I withdraw my comment that it was Emmy-worthy, but posit that James would make a great Bosley.

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