St. Louis, Part Two. (We're still not in St. Louis)

Okay, so we get up on wednesday morning in Paducah, and we proceed northward. We have eight hours before there are any TwangFest events, so K and I decide to stop along the way and go junking. About an hour into the drive, K realizes that she has left her pillow at the M0tel 6, which wouldn't be a big deal were it not for the brand new pillowcase which her friend had embroidered for her (including her intital and crossed pink six shooters-it's really remarkably cool), in which said pillow was encased. She called the Motel, they agreed to hold it until Friday so we could pick it up on our way home, and we kept going.
In Carbondale, Illinois, we found a Goodwill and a thrift shop run by the local radio station right across the street from each other. I scored a really cool yellow leather belt with a buckle that has a red and yellow image of Twiggy(?) on it. I think it's her, anyway. It looks very Warhol. In any case, it was a dollar and it actually FITS ME. This never happens. At the store across the street, K got a really cool 50's bathing suit for fifty cents, and I found the motherload of vintage dishes. The b.h. had about had it with our shopping frenzy at this point, but we had met the proprieter of said thrift shop and he urged us to visit his other shop down the street. And he had been so nice, and had given us such good deals... so we went. And the other place was even better. I wish I could remember the name of it so I could post it here, but no such luck. If you're ever in carbondale, though. The shop next to the vegetarian restaurant. Ask for Tom.
Ugh. It's like five in the morning. I gotta crash. More later.

Athfest.

Wow. I am so tired I can barely type. This was a long and trying weekend, as well as an incredibly rocking one. While I was not able to navigate the schedule as freely as I did last year, I was still able to see a lot of excellent rock and roll. First, my customer of the weeken d story:
Friday night, 1:50 am (ten minutes before close, for those of you unfamiliar with the college town rigamarole).
Creepy dude: Can I get a Red Stripe?
Me: Of course.
CD: Are there other places that are open later here?
ME: Nope. College town, man. Everything pretty much shuts down at two.
CD: That's how it is in my town, too.

Silence as I wipe down coolers and collect fruit trays.

CD: So when are you and I going to Amsterdam?
ME: Probably never, since my husband generally frowns upon me going to foreign countries with strange men.
CD: Oh, that's not what I meant. We're just friends.
ME: Really?
I walk off and start re-stcoking beer coolers. Five minutes later, I walk by him with a couple cases of beer.
CD: The Grill is open.
ME: That's true. And they have food. So there you go.
I walk off and hide. He leaves.

Saturday Night.
The B.H. sees Creepy Dude enter bar, makes his way quickly over to him.
B.H.: Can I help you?
CD: (Points at me.)
B.H.: What do you need?
CD: (Points at me again).
B.H.: What do you need?
CD: It just feels better when it comes from her.
B.H.: I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but that's my wife.
CD: I'll have a Red Stripe.

Drama.

So now my mostly anonymous, just for fun and writing practice Pretentious Internet Journal is becoming a forum for something else. Who knew that a post I made almost a month ago was going to cause a stir? Not me. And the funny thing is, the people I know who read this blog (all four of them) had no idea about whom I was speaking. There are so many burners. And now somebody I didn't even know was a reader of the blog (shout out, yo) is complaining about a post I made. See, the whole point of this thing was just to write and express myself- good times and bad and whatnot. And now it seems that I have caused quite a stir. Sorry, dude.

The City of Big Arches.

So our trip to ST. Louis was fantastic. We left on Tuesday at around 7pm, caught almost no traffic lights on 316 to Atlanta (you can't appreciate the miracle if you haven't driven that road), and no traffic in Atlanta. Stopped in Chatanooga (I know I've likely misspelled that, but am simply too lazy at present to care) for pizza and the best cup of coffee from here to Chicago (possibly further, but I haven't checked) at a shop called Greyfriar, and drove all the way to Paducah before stopping at a M0tel Six for the night. The drive was beautiful and fun, and having our friend K in the car made it a little more interesting. We only went to the M6 because it was cheap and we really just wanted a shower and a bed. Little did we know that we would be sleeping in the only available room in the apparently booming metroplis of Paducah, and that said room would only have one bed.
"Do you want smoking or non?" asked the young girl with the fake nails and the round face behind the bullet-proof glass in the lobby.
"Doesn't matter," I replied.
She punched keys on her computer.
"We have one room left. It's a king non-smoking."
"Let me check on that. I'll be right back." I ran to the car, explaining the situation to my traveling companions. We were all tired, we are all fairly small, and we mostly don't care much about stuff like, oh, sleeping three to a bed. It was the cheapest hotel at the exit, and we would have to check out in eight hours. But I had to ask.
"That'll be fine," I told the girl.
"How many adults?" she asked, as she punched still more keys on her keyboard.
"Three."
She cocked her head sideways and raised an eyebrow. She had surely heard of such things before, what with Kentucky being wired for cable for at least a couple years now.
"We really don't care," I said weakly. "One of us can sleep on the floor. We've been driving all day."
She didn't seem convinced, but she gave us the two person rate anyway (a three dollar savings, thank you very much).
More Later...

Please be patient.

Our phone line got ripped out (for a second time) by the construction (c*cksuckers), so I have been unable to post. I find it very difficult to write downtown, which is where I have to go now to get a connection. I'll be back ASAP. In the meantime, I am managing to keep up with some of you (because I don't have a problem reading downtown.)
*sigh*

Weird Vibe.

The first thing I had to "deal with" this evening was a young lady who tried to put a drink on a tab that did not exist. When my coworker (a guy) asked her to clarify, she started smiling coyly at him, telling him he was "hot" and generally making a total dipshit of herself. She had of course already consumed the drink in question. I pressed her for her ID, she claimed it was outside, and then tried making for the door so she could "go get it." Long story short, I followed her out, called her out on the sidewalk as a thief (in front of a whole bunch of people), took money from her friend for the drink, and told her that I could have her arrested, and that I never wanted to see her again. I hate that shit, and I feel weird when put in that position, but am glad that I actually called her out instead of shaking my head in disgust and letting it go, as I have done in the past.
A bit later, I walked outside to find a loud verbal exchange between a different co-worker (who was not working) and a customer. I stepped in and sent everybody away, blah blah blah. More B.S. I can't wait for vacation.

Quandary.

So I have this friend. This friend is always asking me to borrow CDs in order to burn them. The friend is admittedly not well off, but always seems to have enough money to buy a cd from f*@!ing Be@st Buy- the latest by Amy Win3house or some other artist that doesn't need this friend's money. But the friend never, EVER buys CDs from local bands, or from touring bands that need to buy gas. And this friend never pays to get into shows, either.
So what do I say? Mostly because I am a big fat wuss and I don't enjoy confrontation, I have passed on some of my favorite CDs to this person, and this person has burned them, and then they proceed to tell the band how great they are, and what a big fan the person is, the next time they play in town. It makes me a little mad. It makes me a lot mad, actually, but I don't quite know how to say no. It would be different if the person had never heard the band, and I was trying to convince them to listen. Then no problem. I have had this experience several times, and when I like the band (as in the case of the ever fabulous Okkervil River) I usually end up giving them a lot of money. In fact, with Okkervil, I (we, actually, since the b.h. is a huge fan as well)have purchased two shirts, all of their CDs, and a couple of their records on vinyl. In addition, I have traveled to see them and paid to get in to several shows. I also burned a copy of their disc for other people who I thought would like them, and AJ not only bought shirts and CDs, but he's trying to put one of their songs in his movie, which would be a huge boon for everybody. So burning is not always a bad thing. But this particular person does not get it. I read a really great piece last year by a music writer (was that your friend Carl, J?)about how buying music and going to shows is a music fan's way of patronizing the arts. I think I even blogged a link to the piece because I thought it was so important.
Now I feel that it is time to put my money where my mouth is. So the new rule? You can't burn anything I own by a band that isn't riding in a fucking tour bus and mugging on MTV. And I really don't own any of that anyway, so you're S.O.L. Unless, of course, I am proselytizing. In which case, burn away.