SalsaAlexa @ Club Anton, Oakland, Friday, June 19!

She's sold out Yoshi's, Jazz at Pearl's and sizzled at the San Jose Jazz Festival. Now the Alexa Weber Morales Band brings you danceable salsa, son, cha-cha and a few funky surprises at the swanky Club Anton in Oakland's beautiful Jack London Square. The lovely Zareen joins on vocals! Grammy nominee Omar Ledezma on percussion, Murray Low on piano, David Pinto on bass, Miguelito Martinez on flute/vocals and Brian Andres on traps!

DJ Mambo spins nonstop hits before the show and between sets. Don't miss this chance to DANCE!!!!

Tickets are $15, $10 BEFORE 10 PM if you RSVP! Get on the guestlist! RSVP on Facebook, or contact Alexa by emailing song [at] alexawebermorales.com.

SalsAlexa
One night of danceable originals and salsa by the Alexa Weber Morales Band
Hits by DJ Mambo
Friday, June 19, 10 PM - 1:30 AM
Club Anton
428 Third St. @ Broadway
Oakland, CA
510-463-0165

ABOUT THE ALEXA WEBER MORALES BAND

Since 2004, multilingual singer-songwriter Alexa Weber Morales has made six studio recordings, including her two solo albums, Jazzmérica and Vagabundeo. The latter, named “one of the greatest Bay Area recordings in recent times” by Latin Beat magazine, made top-20 airplay nationwide and received acclaim from around the world. Rio de Janeiro–based producer Arnaldo DeSouteiro (João Gilberto, Luiz Bonfá) calls her original compositions “rhythmically captivating and entrancing.” A June 2008 DownBeat review of Vagabundeo enthuses, “Her large-scale skill and talent encourages her all-inclusive dreams” and praises her “gorgeous articulation, flowing time sense and warm tone.”

Murray Low is a 30-year veteran pianist on the Bay Area jazz scene. Though he is a tireless performer, recording artist, and arranger, he is best known for his work with Pete Escovedo (since 1994); Grammy-nominated John Santos and the Machete Ensemble (since 2000); and Andy Narell, the pioneering steel pan player. His multifaceted career has also included international performances with Tito Puente, Bob Mintzer, Sheila E, Benny Golson, John Patitucci, George Duke, and many others.

Born in Caracas, Venezuela, 2008 Grammy-nominated Omar Ledezma, Jr. has been taking the Bay Area by storm with his percussion-vocals skills and his professionalism. After graduating at one of the most prestigious law schools in Caracas, Omar packed one bag and one drum to begin his move to Boston while making a passionate commitment to study at Berklee College of Music. There he collaborated and toured with renowned artists in the US, Europe, Caribbean and South America. He has participated in more than 20 recordings and projects including CDs, DVDs and books.

David Pinto is a Peruvian native probably best-known for his work as musical director, arranger and bassist with Grammy-winner Susana Baca, champion of Afro-Peruvian song. Other credits include Olga Guillot, Alex Acuña and Bay Area band leaders Edgardo Cambón and producer Wayne Wallace. He has played more than 800 festivals around the world.

Vocalist Zareen grew up in a small town outside of Boston. She has studied with Madeline Eastman, Kurt Elling, and Raz Kennedy; writes her own songs; and has recently released an album of original trip-hop tunes. Her repertoire also includes Brazilian, Afro-Cuban, and Latin American music. Zareen has performed all over the Bay Area, with several different bands including Los Boleros, Simply Jazz, and the Befores, but she especially values her performances with her third-grade students.


Miguel Martinez studied Music Education at the University of Art and Sciences in his native Chiapas, Mexico, and classical flute at the University of Veracruz. In 2001, Miguel traveled to Cuba to study under René Beltrán and Freddy Martines. Miguel recently received a certificate of recognition for his invaluable contribution to the flourishing of son montuno in Mexico. Miguel is new to the Bay Area, but he has played and recording with Anthony Blea,Karl Perazzo, John Calloway, Jesus Diaz, Michael Spiro, Orestes Vilato, Alfredo de la Fe. He is member of Conjunto Karabali and Tito y Su Son de Cuba.

Born in Cincinnati, Ohio into a family of professional musicians, it is no surprise that drummer Brian Andres found himself drawn to the origin of all music: Rhythm. While living in the Midwest, Brian’s diverse range of styles led him to performances with Rock and Roll Hall of Fame members Little Anthony and the Imperials, as well as Tony Award winner and Broadway star, Faith Prince. Brian has also shared the stage with such artists as Leroy "Sugar" Bonner from The Ohio Players, blues greats Sam Myers and Lonnie Mack and television and movie star, Woody Harrelson. Brian's growing interest in Latin music and culture brought him to the San Francisco Bay Area in early 1999. He quickly began working with numerous local Salsa, Afro-Cuban, Latin funk, Latin jazz, and Tex-Mex groups. In 2007, after spending his career as a sideman, Brian stepped into the role as bandleader. The San Francisco Bay Area was introduced to The Afro Cuban Jazz Cartel.

How Alexa Got Her Schmooze Back, Part One

This past weekend was very impressive, for me. Friday night I hit three clubs in San Francisco and Saturday I both performed with my Cuban rueda (circular salsa dance) class and went out to Roccapulco in the Mission. Sunday I hit the kid soccer circuit and networked with all the hippest 3- to 8-year-olds in the pool.

It all started at a joint in the Financial District, Cafe Claude, that has been hiring jazz trios and quartets for over a decade. In fact, Marcus Shelby, the debonair bassist who was playing there that night, told me he's played there 14 years -- back in the days when he still drank and smoked and partied. I sat at the bar and listened to Marcus and a guitarist whose name escapes me as they played in the corner. The food was delicious -- well, all I had was chocolate mousse, but it was great.

An English chap sat next to me at the bar, reading a book in Italian. After a while I started talking to him. Apparently he was into early music -- from before the Renaissance, folks like Josquin. He said something I made immediate mental note of, which was that some music is wonderful to hear, and some is more wonderful to perform than to hear. I think that sums up my relationship to classical music and more esoteric jazz. The challenge of learning and performing difficult music makes it enjoyable, but if you were to ask me to sit and listen to Baroque music I quickly lose interest if I'm not participating. Eventually I talked him into buying my CD. Thanks Dave!

On the break I schmoozed a bit with Marcus and the guitarist. I did a terrible job of it. My attempts at self-deprecation merely sounded lame, like I was possibly the most unsuccessful singer in the Bay Area. My jokes were stupid: As the wait staff began to break down the sound equipment, I acted surprised, and then said to the guitarist, "Wow, they break down your equipment for you? At my gigs they usually just... uh, they just, uh, hit me with it. Heh heh." The reaction of barely camouflaged pity? Priceless.

We were all polite to each other, but I also felt uncomfortable, like I was obviously trying to poach a gig from them. I often feel guilty when schmoozing or selling, even though there is no reason to -- they weren't even the bookers, for crying out loud. In any case, they were nice fellas and Marcus said he'd put in a good word for me.

I left Cafe Claude and realized if I could brave another club alone I could drive over to Biscuits and Blues, in the theater district. One nice thing about the bad economy is that street parking is easier to come by; I quickly found some. Across the street, Ruby Skye had a big line. Not sure what kind of scene that is but I'd guess DJ'd dance/house/meat market-type music. I walked into Biscuits and Blues. The man behind the ticket counter told me the show was almost over, so they'd let me in free. My kind of show! I began to walk downstairs to the venue, then turned back. "Excuse me, do you know who books this club? Can I leave a package for them here?" "Sure, got a press kit? What kind of music do you do?" "World and latin jazz and salsa," I said. He nodded approvingly and said another artist I know worked there frequently. They do book non-blues acts, despite the name.

I pulled out my second press kit of the night and spruced it up, then handed it to him. "Hey, could you do me a favor and tell the booker that when I gave you the press kit, I was incredibly charismatic? Like you were just blown away and wouldn't even have to listen to know I was great? Can you do that for me?" He laughed and said sure. "Well, that just makes my night," I said. "Lately my schmooze has totally sucked!"

I descended the stairs and it was as if I was back at Eli's Mile High Club in Oakland, watching the old-timers. I loved the dazed expression on the face of the drummer, as if he were an astronaut on a space-walk who just happened to be striking these drums in perfect funkyness. The horn section -- sax, trumpet and trombone -- was tight, and I recognized Mike Rinta on trombone, as he has played a few of the salsa gigs I've been on. I always like horn sections. They seem to work every type of gig there is. Rinta played a burning solo at one point and had great blues feel. The other horn solos were a bit jazzier, to my ear.

But the star of the show, Johnny Lee Walker Jr., had us in the palm of his hand. Most of the old standards (Stormy Monday) were trotted out, but there was no waiting between songs, and he kept them short which made them not seem so tired. There were some funkier originals, too. His voice and presence and wit were all the real deal. A seasoned showman, he made sure we were all standing and dancing before he was through with us. As I watched I found myself wanting to do more blues in my own show. It's pretty hard not to feel the blues if you're an American, I think.

When the show was over I felt horribly guilty for not buying his CD, but I was $20 ahead what with my own CD sale earlier that evening, so I forced myself not to. I always tip street musicians and I often buy CDs. Anyway, I slunk out past the bluesman and his stack of CDs, walked to my car, and realized that yet another venue was across from me. It was a restaurant that I'd looked into earlier for performing. The venue paid a pittance, however, not enough to cover a band, so I'd written it off. I went in and climbed the stairs. A tiny piano bar on a balcony sat over a hotel lobby. A woman was singing R&B standards with a gray-haired pianist and a drum machine to two English tourists. "Sing 'I Found My Thrill On Blueberry Hill,'" they requested. I stood there politely, giving the singer a positive vibe even though internally I was thinking, wow, this is a pretty bad gig.

Just then in the lobby below a storm of swear words burst out, as if from a Tourette's sufferer. We all looked over the ledge to see a balding white business man in a suit. He collided against the double glass doors, seemingly trying to break them down. "How the hell do I get out of this place?" he bellowed. "Get in the elevator and push R," the weary female bartender called down. He disappeared. A minute later, he was on the street, colliding with the same double doors, trying to get in now. "I'll go help him," she said. I wondered why she would want to do that. Then I wondered how I was going to get out of this postage stamp without encountering him. Stay or go, I debated... Go, I decided, and as I stepped down the stairs he barrelled up them past me, yelling with choice epithets about bleached blond bimbos who had done him wrong. Thus my Friday night clubbing ended, and I drove home...

Three Ways to Win Friends

Lately, I don't know what has changed about me but I have begun to go out a lot more and have more of a social life. I have always been a tremendous homebody, very content to putter, create, fritter, garden and houseclean for hours on end. I wondered recently if this was due to Facebook -- sad, I know, but could it be true that Facebook had actually invigorated my social life? On many occasions, I have gone out and met "friends" from Facebook at a dance club or concert, and it's a real ice-breaker. "You look so familiar -- wait, are we 'friends'?" "Yes, that's right, from Facebook." It's happened a lot.

However, that's not the only thing. I joined Team in Training in January 2008, and made some really good friends. I remember having that awkward feeling, however, at times, like I was back in high school and not really a member of any group. But I've learned as an adult and as a journalist to put that aside and converse with strangers pretty easily. I guess once the glue starts forming around a group, that's where I have always neglected my duties as a friend and found myself outside or barely integrated. The interesting thing is that I did make some friendships that lasted from 2008 until now, and that when I came back to Team in Training in 2009 I really felt like I belonged. And I wasn't alone -- I often overheard conversations about how people had joined TNT in search of new friendships, and had found them.

Then there's the dance classes taught by my friends Sidney Weaverling and Ryan Mead. These two have so much talent both as teachers of Cuban salsa and as magnets for genuinely nice people. We took a road trip to L.A. in December and I got to know a lot more about them -- and we seemed pretty compatible, travel-wise.

Executive summary:

How to make more friends when you've been a homebody all your life

1. Join Facebook (and become my fan), then actually go out occasionally to an event mentioned there
2. Join Team in Training
3. Take a dance class with Sidney and Ryan
4. Try to be nicer
5. Pass notes in the bathroom
6. Always carry snacks, ibuprofen and tampons

Today's Original Song: I Wanna Work For You

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kf3WYChvaM4

I Wanna Work For You
(c) 2009 by Alexa Weber Morales

I wanna know where the meeting is
Take me to your leader
I'll tell her everything she wants to hear
I'll make the coffee sweeter

Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna wear a suit, I wanna work for you

My resume never used to fail
Now every door is slammed harder
I guess you think I know too much
But hey, I'll make you look smarter

Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna wear a suit, I wanna work for you
Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna wear a suit, I wanna work for you

I used to watch the sailboats on my lunch break
I used to wonder if someday I'd catch my wave
But everyone was right and I was so wrong
Who was I to think that you would buy this song?

I got laid off and I became a troubadour
I sang with the baby on my hip
Please take me back, put me behind the Levolors
I can't buy breakfast with my wit

Won't you allow me to do your PowerPoint
I'm quite happy flying coach
I'll bring you 8 am Croissanwiches
I'll stay late without reproach

Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna wear a suit, I wanna work for you

Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna be a suit, I wanna work for you

Ain't nobody else who can do the job I do
I wanna count your beans, I wanna work for you

Farewell to TYT; Tomorrow Night in Jack London Square

Wow, has the first half of 2009 gone by quickly or what? Whether you've been barely surviving or joyously thriving (I've done a little of both), I hope you're learning new tricks and really seeing the glory that is all around you.

We had a lot of fun opening for Average White Band at the Castroville Artichoke Festival. Who knew that AWB was British? I liked the samba feel that ran beneath many of their funky new tunes. They also clearly had a more comprehensive show rider than we did -- we had a little awning over a patch of dirt, they had an air-conditioned tent with catered food, coffee and alcohol. I snuck in and got me a little mug of that stuff I can't resist ... coffee. It may be 3 pm on a dusty hot day dancing among hay bales in front of a giant festival stage, but show me a tureen of coffee and I have the same reaction many do when they see an ice-cold beer: I didn't realize I wanted coffee, but now that you mention it...

Also, I love me a big giant stage that I can boogie across for miles, and that's exactly what I and my fellow singers (Terrie Odabi and Keith Hames) did. In retrospect, this has turned out to be an important gig for us, because after nine years, Keith has announced he's shutting down his San Jose-based funk band TYT and going on to new things.

I've been playing with them since late 2007, and we've had a lot of glamorous (matching Dream Girls dresses) and memorable (wedding with all-you-can-eat-oysters and a pool with an artificial beach and waterfall) and sometimes downright bizarre gigs (a meeting of dog trainers, performing in front of a giant backdrop that read "The Nutritional Concerns of Breeding Bitches"). We have one more gig together at the Monterey Blues Festival. If you're in town, be sure to check out the soulful, good-natured sound of Mr. Hames.

Closer to home, I'm playing solo piano/voice tomorrow night at La Furia Chalaca, a Peruvian seafood restaurant on the corner of Broadway and 4th in Oakland, in Jack London Square. Come on down!

Keeping Up Appearances

I have a lot of sadly funny little gig stories, stories I am often afraid to share because I figure it both shows what a small shot I am and potentially burns a bridge with some crappy, abusive venue, booker or audience I might need to re-woo in the future. On the other hand, despite being a relatively unimportant musician, I know for a fact that even rather important musicians do bad gigs with astonishing frequency. One day it's Carnegie Hall, next it's an Elk's Lodge, next it's a funeral, next it's a world tour with an egomaniac who stiffs you on the last month's pay, next it's a cavernous auto dealership without air conditioning and a single customer wearing prominent hearing aids.

On some level, if I ever do get a bit more successful, all my stories will add up to your usual struggle to "make it" -- and by "make it" I merely mean make as much money musically as I did as a magazine editor.

But I do find so much joy being on stage that it usually wipes out the negatives, at least temporarily. And when you overcome a particular challenge -- sound being run by crack-addicted chimps, or surly transvestite audience members, or a passive-aggressive pianist -- during the gig, you feel triumphant. It's those times you had 'em in the palm of your hand but then lost 'em that hurts more, I think.

The more you play, however, the more you put the bad behind you and realize that most gigs won't be great, or even very good. I recently read something in runner's world: The more you race, the less emotionally fraught each race becomes. That echoes what a music teacher once said to me: The more you gig, the less potentially traumatic each gig becomes. The bad stuff gets filed in your litany of bad gig situations. Musicians love to share their horror stories (see "Bad Gigs" by Tuck Andress).

Then there are audiences. We play to ethnic groups of all kinds. You never know when you might make some politically incorrect blunder, such as asking a Mormon about his secret garment or offering pork jerkey to a Nation of Islam adherent. Some audiences are prim. Others are wild, drunk, drugged, demanding -- you name it. "Tough crowd," really does sum it up sometimes. Maybe Miles Davis was on to something, playing with his back to the audience.

Case in point: Recently I played latin jazz for a Peruvian event which involved the national masters soccer team, in town for a tournament. While the show wasn't awful, it was a case of being told one thing but finding the reality of the gig to be quite different. I had not come prepared to do a salsa show, and had been contracted to do background latin jazz. We did our first set and received polite applause. I stepped off stage and was introduced to the various soccer players, all in their matching track suits. One of them looked at me with a hungry gleam in his eye. I figured this wasn't a lost cause.

We began the second set, and things got a little harder. After a few songs, someone yelled "Queremos salsa!" from the bar. Another singer was present, and he got up to pinch hit some old salsa favorites. Good naturedly, I announced before getting off stage that I'd love to dance with someone. I stepped down and swayed expectantly. No one approached. A nice looking guy sauntered by me; suavely, I caught his eye. "Want to dance?" I murmured in Spanish. "No, I'm working," he replied, scurrying away like a crab.

In a move that probably looked exactly like my tipsy mother working a cocktail party, I sashayed towards the event host, who had flirted with me earlier. "Care to dance?" I asked. He, too, had demanded salsa. Now no one was dancing. He looked at me, then looked at the retired soccer players sitting nearby on barstools. "Does anyone want to dance with her?" he asked. I felt like a defective mail-order bride. The man who had surveyed me favorably earlier glared at me with what now seemed like unadulterated malevolence. He remained silent. After an awkward pause, the host began to dance with me until the song ended.

Despite the interruptions, we played a few more songs, until I was asked to let a young man get up and rap to some tracks he had. In hindsight, I should have said, sure, we'll play our last song and then he can get onstage. Instead, ever accommodating, I relinquished the stage without so much as a goodbye.

The rapper was good, but once he had the mic in hand he became drunk with power. Two songs, then three went by. I didn't mind the break, but I began to realize that this had not ended well -- and it's nice to end a gig well. Leave 'em wanting more, but at least make it clear that you finished on your own terms, with a crowd-pleaser. By the time the rapper was done -- six tracks later -- my band mates were done as well. Unfortunately there was no rousing closer -- nor, really, could there have been a good way to follow the rapper's energetic, patriotic set, which was faithfully documented by his buddy on video camera and involved artful draping of the Peruvian flag.

As I loaded my gear out, the sound man approached me and mentioned an interest in having me sing on some hip hop tracks. I told him my fee. He smiled and sipped a beer as we spoke. He also frequently rested his eyes on my chest, leading me to wonder if the recording project was indeed his primary motivation for chit-chat. On the way home I shared a postmortem with my percussionist and thought about lessons learned.

But I want to end this post with a bang, not a whimper -- and make it clear that I'm not complaining, truly I'm not. Would I do it all over again? Absolutely! Viva Peru!

The Male Mind: More Insight From My Bro

ME: So how is [rapper we know] doing?

BRO: Ah, you know, he spends all his time checking his MySpace, corresponding with girls who send him pictures of their vaginas.

ME: Ha ha! Oh, that reminds me of a song I wanted to write. I was going to ask you for some advice on it.

BRO: If "pictures of vaginas" just reminded you of the song, I can pretty much guarantee you shouldn't write it.

ME: Wait, wait, let me remember the idea. Oh yeah, you know how you say "Let me be your baby?" when you're in love?

BRO: "Let me be your baby?" No, you mean when you're a baby?

ME: No, you know, "I wanna be your baby."

BRO: Who says that?

ME: Lovers, don't they?

BRO: I don't think so.

ME: Baby this, baby that, you know. Anyway, the song was going to play on it, "Let me be your fetus, I want to be a cute little zygote."

BRO: [silence]

ME: "Feed me, IV me."

BRO: "IV me?"

ME: Yeah, stick an IV in me.

BRO: Not a good song.

ME: I was trying to be over the top, you know, make fun of how we infantilize ourselves when we are in love. That and all these bizarre fetishes that are out there.

BRO: Speaking of pictures of vaginas, did you know no guy can resist taking a picture of his johnson?

ME: What? I guess we are done talking about my song.

BRO: Forget the song. I'm talking about something that separates women and men. For men, it is an irresistable urge that cannot be denied.

ME: Have you done this recently? What does your wife think?

BRO: It's been a while. But if a man sees a camera lying around, he must pick it up and take a picture of his penis with it, for the other person to find.

ME: Oh, you mean someone ELSE's camera. Like a random person? Have you done this?

BRO: All men do it. It's innate. I mean, I haven't corroborated this with any other man that I know but I'm pretty sure that it's universal.

ME: I did not know that.

BRO: Ask your husband.

ME: I'm pretty sure he's never done that, but sure, I will. Thanks for the info, bro.

BRO: That's what I'm here for.

Last-Minute Gig Tonight at Club Anton, Jack London Square

This gig just came in, but I'm looking forward to it -- I enjoy playing with these musicians so much. Joining me from 6 to 9 pm tonight at Club Anton (428 3rd Street @ Broadway), are 2008 Grammy-nominee Omar Ledezma on percussion/vox, Jonathan Alford (Avance, Machete) on keys and David Pinto (musical director, Susana Baca) on bass! Club Anton is a recently remodeled addition to Oakland's Jack London Square, owned by former Peruvian soccer pro Carlos Anton. I went there earlier this year to see Cuban salsa vocalist Pepito Gomez and had the time of my life.

I believe the cost is $5, but I could be wrong. I also believe it's a fundraiser for the Peruvian national soccer team (seleccion nacional peruana), but I could be wrong about that too. One thing I know, we will be playing a nice mix of latin jazz, Brazilian, salsa and originals!

Club Anton
428 3rd Street @ Broadway
Oakland, CA 94607
510.463.0165
http://www.clubanton.com
Price: $5

Alexa's Tips for Multitasking Musician Moms: Management Team

This YouTube video shows how I have assembled the finest management team in music history: A pair of bright young guns who are hungry for success and won't take no for an answer (is that ever true!). I owe it all to them, breaking down doors, defending my honor, stashing my earnings in places I'll never find, twisting bookers' arms and -- if that doesn't work -- pooping on their lawns.

Men vs. Women and Their Little Goals

BRO: So what’s new?

ME: Nothing much. Where are you?

BRO: I’m in WalMart, buying a baby trailer for the bike.

ME: Oh, well, don’t talk to me while you’re doing that, it’s rude.

BRO: It’s OK, I have my in-ear on.

ME: It’s still rude.

BRO: No, I just look like a crazy person gesticulating to myself.

ME: Fine.

BRO: Anything new?

ME: Well, I just finished the triathlon.

BRO: Oh. [pause] How’d that go?

ME: Pretty good. But it was hard. Next time I need to push a little more on the training.

BRO: You know, that endurance stuff doesn’t appeal to me.

ME: It doesn’t have to.

BRO: I mean, I’m going to run a marathon, but I don’t like triathlons.

ME: Oh you are, are you?

BRO: Yes. I owe it to myself to finish a marathon, since I crapped out when I trained with you.

ME: You know, that time you got lost in the woods and I had to call Park Headquarters for a search party, you did end up running more than 26 miles, I'm sure.

BRO: Yeah, I know. Anyway, I don't like triathlons.

ME: Well, that’s how I feel now about the half-Ironman distance. Although I could change my mind. But being out on the course for 8 hours just doesn’t appeal to me.

BRO: Have you watched the Ironman recently? My buddy and I have watched that for years. It’s in Hawaii, in the triple-digit heat, with no wind? No thanks.

ME: Yeah, and basically more than 15 hours for an amateur athlete to complete.

BRO: We used to say we were going to do that someday.

ME: Yeah right. Men are so ridiculous. You say you’re going to do an Ironman someday, while sitting in a pile of empties, eating pork rinds and smoking a cigarette.

BRO: I don’t smoke.

ME: The point is, men are ridiculous.

BRO: Men like to puff themselves up. We like to say extreme things. You women have your little goals, and then you go along checking them off one by –

ME: They’re not so little, bro.

BRO: Yeah, whatever. Men tell everyone, “I’m gonna make a million dollars by age 30.” And then they go to their job at 7-11 and forget to buy a lottery ticket. ’Cause that’s how men roll.