Yesterday Zach and I went to the Andy Warhol Museum.  Not to see that nutjob's art, but to see my favorite musician, Ike Reilly.  He was being interviewed by David Dye for the "World Café" show on NPR.  I figured (M)Ike would answer a few questions, and strum a ballad or two on his acoustic guitar.  Nope.  His whole band showed up.  Zach was blown away by the show.  I can't imagine seeing a show that awesome at the tender age of six.  After the show, Zach and I shot the shit with both Mr. Dye and Mr. Reilly.

Reilly's guitar player looked super clean cut.  He wore a polo shirt, and his hair was parted neatly to the side.  Later in the evening, Mrs. and I went to see the Ike Reilly Assassination play again, this time at an outdoor festival.  We sat up front, 15 feet from the PA speakers.  Mrs. won't ever be the same.  At least her hearing won't.  Mr. guitar player must have turned Pittsburgh upside down during his four hours between shows.  His hair was a mess, he had a black eye, and he stared vacantly with his eyes extra wide open while viciously attacking his guitar.  Rock and roll.  Perhaps he partied with the homeless guy (below right) who paced like a caged tiger while constantly signaling Ike to "raise the roof".

Later in the evening my kids tied the knot:

Here's my favorite Ike Reilly song...