One of my favorite forms of meditation involves coming up with cool names for rock bands and racehorses and for chapter headings for my egomaniacal, as-yet-unwritten, bestselling autobiography.
Last night over drinks with some friends from work, we stumbled upon a gem: The Romaniacs. But a band like The Romaniacs can't stand alone. No, it requires a frontman. Or better yet, a frontWOMAN. Roxana. Roxy and The Romaniacs.
How rad is that?!
We will play our first gig at my as-yet-unopened but soon-to-be-packed hot spot here in Bucharest: California Bar.
Laugh if you want to, but all of this will happen one day in the near future. And when it does, I might give you a guest pass so you can get around the bulky bouncer and the 10 euro entrance fee. (Or 1000000000 ron, in case the whole EU thing doesn't work out in the next few years.) And I might name a thoroughbred after you someday, too. Or a lame donkey if you're not well behaved at California bar!