Cool.

This is really interesting. (Hat tip, Andrew Sullivan).

Fair Warning.

There is a ridiculously cool rock show going on at Tasty World on Thursday night. Hayride, Lake City, and The Dumps. All three bass players are bartenders at Tasty World, so it will be a basstender extravaganza. Special guest bassist Murphy Wolford. Deals on Bass beer if you play bass. I'll try to upload the flyer here later if I can. It's funny as shit.

Employment Update.

So I got another job. This one is at a liquor store. I'm working mostly in the wine department, which is great, because I have so much to learn and I am very interested in the subject.
So far it has gone very well, though I am exhausted after working both jobs for several days in a row. I like all the people I work with. I've known a few of them for a long time, which always makes things easier. Customers, however, can still really suck. I had forgotten how depressing scary alcoholics can be. It's totally different, to me at least, to see people drinking early in the day. Especially people who come in for an airline bottle to slip in their coffee during their lunch hour. Ick.
The good news is there will be plenty of Customer of the Day/Night stories from this job as well. I've already got one scratched on a post-it in the back of my brain that I'll share when I'm more up to writing. Right now I'm going to get horizontal, play my new Glossary CD over and over*, and tuck in to The Yiddish Policeman's Union before I get to the rest of the John Adams movie I started yesterday. HBO does such incredible work. I highly recommend the movie for history geeks and movie lovers alike. It does an excellent job of portraying our founding fathers as people, rather than mythical figures, and personally I fond that the truth is way more interesting anyway. Ben Franklin was a fucking weirdo. I can't wait 'til they make the movie about him.
I'll be catching up on blog reading later and a bit tomorrow, I imagine. Happy Sunday everybody.

*I finally saw them on Thursday night at the 40 Watt, and I can't tell you how amazing it was. Think Marah meets Whiskeytown, but without all the bullshit rockstar attitude. Beautiful. Oh yeah- their new album is available for download - free! - at their myspace page. So you have no excuse not to check it out.

Finally,AthFest Photos.

The guy in the bunny head must have been sweaty as shit. It was a million degrees and there were SO many people at the main stage for Modern Skirts.




This is a shot of Will backstage at the 40 Watt.





The graffiti in there would take hours and hours to read, but I got the important stuff on film - Like this one:




Clever shit, huh? And there are drawings just like it all over backstage areas all over the country- probably all over the world.

Here's Will in action. I was closest to him, so the pics of him turned out best. You can see Matt there in the background, but not as well as I'd like.



Luckily, I got a nice one of Matt showing off yet another talent:



Do you see how that van is packed? A work of art, it is.


Here are a couple pics of the Don Chambers & GOAT show at the GA Theater:

Control.

Or rather, Control. Great movie. I never knew much about Joy Division, but I have always been of the opinion that Anton Corbijn is a genius behind the camera. Anyway, the movie is beautiful, but i don't recommend sitting on your unemployed (underemployed, anyway) ass on a rainy afternoon watching it by yourself. Fuck. That was depressing.

Customer of the Night #21: Angry Drunken Mumbler

Friday night was so busy that I hardly had time to pay any attention to anything, much less bother to get pissed off. For the most part people were really drunk, but polite enough, and everything was going smoothly. It was busy enough that we had three bartenders, with a barback that was also slinging a drink here and there. So this guy that I haven't seen all night comes up and I go over and ask
"What can I do for you?"
"Grlmphclosemlghtabgrlmmph," he replied, making a swirlie motion in the air with his hand.
"Close your tab?" I responded. I am fluent in Drunkanese. "Okay, what's your last name?"
"Grlgggrmmph."
"Great. I'll be right back with that."

I retrieved his card, ran it through the credit card machine, and stopped to find a pen, at which point I ran into T, who seemed a bit testy. Apparently his night was not going quite as smoothly. We exchanged a quick couple of words, and as I was turning back to the Drunk Mumbly Guy, he looked blearily in the general direction of my left ear and demanded to know where his drink was.
"You didn't order a drink. You asked me to close your tab."
"Mmmglph... bullshit...drink mmmglph."
"No, you didn't ask for a drink, and you obviously don't need one, because you are totally wasted, so please sign your tab."
He flipped me off, and before I could say another word T was in front of me, pointing in the guy's face and telling him to "sign his shit and get the fuck out."
The guy continued to protest, and T poked him hard in the side of the head. I knew what he was doing, and I found it a bit unnecessary.
"I've got it," I told him. I was wrong. There followed much repetition, me trying to get him to sign his credit card slip and him being drunk and stupid, until finally i went over to my boss.
"I don't have time for this shit, can you please handle it?"
N, the other bartender, who is bigger than T or me, went around and escorted the guy to my boss, who was waiting with his card and the slip.
In the end, the Mumbler was escorted from the building by his throat to the sidewalk, but he tipped us so that was okay. Idiot.

Well, shit.

R.I.P. George Carlin.

AthFest Roundup.

Holy Crap am I exhausted. Thursday night I was off. The b.h. and I went over to Jenn's for dinner. Some friends from Rotterdam are in town and they're staying at Chez Pointy Pointy. Matt made a lovely lasagna and we all ate 'til it hurt.

The thing about Chris and Corine is that they seem like such kindred spirits. I first met them about six or seven years ago on the porch at Tasty World during AthFest. It was totally random, of course. My friend Jason and I were bartending, and while we were between shifts we both went outside and there they were. We struck up a conversation and lost track of time, and then Chris and Corine left to see the Truckers and I din't see them again.
Not until 2005, at least. The b.h. and I drove to Denton Texas to see the final Slobberbone shows. We were traveling with our friend P, who would break off in Texas and head to S0uth by S0uthwest when we returned to Athens. The b.h. is in P's band, and P plays in multiple other bands as well (welcome to Athens, where everybody's a musical whore). So we drove to Texas and we went to the show, and as I was standing in Dan's Silverleaf, I turned and saw Corine. I knew immediately that it was her. I did that thing, where people sputter a bit and point and go "I know that I know you, but- here? Where? Why? What the-?" I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Lots of people travel for music the way the b.h. and I do. It was a fun reunion, but it was short-lived.
Then last year we went to St. Loius for TwangF3st. Standing in the Schlafly Taproom, chatting with the Centro-matic, I once again turned and saw Chris and Corine. Turns out they also knew Jamie, as well as our buddy T1m Easton, and a host of other like-minded folks that all made the pilgrimage. We wound up at a very strange late night party, and I encouraged them to come to AthFest this year. We exchanged e-mail addresses and went on our way.
Flash forward to Tuesday afternoon. My phone rings and it's Jenn, and she's sitting at Cutters Pub with Corine and Chris. I had no idea that they were coming, but I was thrilled. Apparently they lost our e-mail addresses somewhere along the way, so they never got in touch. Ah well, at least they made it.
So Thursday night was great, because we finally got to hang out in a non rock show environment. Real conversations, good stories, etc. Then we did go to a show. The show was a blast. Nick Bielli and Carlton Owens proved themselves the rock Gods that they are (and then Nick rushed back to work), and we talked to strangers and had a few beers and generally had a good time. When I went back to the bar to pick up the b.h., somebody broke a main water pipe in the back hallway at the bar and water started pouring out all over the floor. We shut the water off, called the plumber, and arranged for him to come out the next morning.
Friday morning I got a call way too early from a lady whose water had also been shut off in the process of our late-night problem solving. Having had a whole four hours sleep, I leapt out of bed, washed my face and tried to flatten out my hair and we both ran out the door.
When we got to the bar there was a lot of calling around for a plumber (we couldn't wake ours), and a lot of plumber's tape. We wrapped the pipe as best we could and turned the water on so as not to inconvenience that other woman any further. Luckily the pipe was leaking onto a drain in the floor, so it wasn't terribly messy. Once the plumber and S got there, the b.h. and I went to meet Corine and Chris for lunch. We ate at The National, and then the b.h. and I had running around to do so we took off. The b.h. played a show on Friday night while I slaved away at the bar. It was a pretty good night. Good music and so busy that it went very quickly. It all ended with a lot of people on the bar at 2:15 am. I'll try to post the pictures later.
Saturday we had to b00tleg some beer due to a misunderestimation (thank you, Mr. President) of exactly how much people like to drink. The b.h. and I went to the store, where our friend was kind enough to loan us his truck to deliver it so we wouldn't have to try to cram 17 cases of beer into our T0y0ta.
After that we went to Jenn's and ate- once again, fucking fantastic. I may die from banana pudding one day, but at least I'll die happy. We went straight to the 40 Watt from there. I stopped out at the main stage to see Modern Skirts. They were fantastic, as usual, but the sound on the side of the stage was shitty and I would have had to walk back three blocks to stand in the front. It was that crowded.
So we hid in the air-conditioned confines of the Watt, catching up with the Centro-matic guys and marveling at the back stage graffiti. I have often threatened to make a coffee table book of backstage areas in small clubs, because they are all hilariously similar in their utter juvenilility. (Yes, it is a word. I just made it up.)Again, pics to follow. Can't upload them on this here laptop.
Centro-matic was, as always, amazing. The new songs are glorious, even more so when I heard them again today on our new vinyl copy of the record. Those guys should really be huge by now. I'm happy for my own sake that they're not, of course, but it would be nice if they could get paid.
While we were backstage, Will asked the b.h. if he had gotten a message he had left two days before. Is the offer still open for us to crash with you guys tonight? But of course, we said. We hadn't gotten the message, but it would be no problem.
No problem except for the fact that the dishes hadn't been done in five days, nor had the laundry, nor had our carpet seen a vacuum this week. So after they finished their set, I ran out of the Watt, over to my car, and sped back to the house to tidy up. The result of my thirty minute whirlwind calls to mind a saying about laws and sausages- that you don't want to see how they get made. I emptied and filled the dishwasher, shoving the remaining items which were too big into a cooler, on which I stacked some things so nobody would open it. Laundry was crammed into baskets and run up the stairs. Sheets from the guest bed were freshened with a dryer sheet and some lavender essential oil, ditto the couch cover. The dogs were staring at me like I was insane (they were right), and barely able to keep out of my way as I ran the vacuum cleaner and dusted at the same time.
The thing is I doubt the guys would have noticed or cared what our house looked like, but I couldn't bear for them to see it like that.
I got back downtown in time to see some of The Empties and some of Idiot Slowdown at Tasty World. The crowd for Idiot Slowdown was so horrifying that I lasted only a few songs. Swooning dumbshit girls and big, oafy guys, all flailing about dangerously and drunkenly. The band sounded great but there were only about eleven brain cells in the whole room, and I couldn't stay. The Empties did a cover of The Glands. Can't recall the song at the moment, but it was cool.
Next I went down to the Georgia Theater to see Don Chambers and GOAT. Girls were swooning there as well, but they weren't encroaching on my personal space while they did it, so I didn't mind. The band sounded fucking great. Best band in Athens, if you ask me. There was a small group of girls standing directly in front of Pistol, totally mesmerized. Will and I were cracking up. I took some pictures.
After that I went with Corine, Chris, and Centro-matic back down to the Watt so the guys could unload. As we were piling into the van, Pistol walked up.
"Did you lose your blonde?" I asked.
"Shhh," he replied, his eyes growing wide.
"Is she behind you?'
He nodded. Actually, she was behind me, but drunk enough that she had no idea what I had said.
We got back here and everybody pretty much fell out. The guys had to be on the road by 7:15, so I barely even heard them this morning. All in all a successful weekend. I'm just glad I get to recover tonight.

Erie Silence.

My co-worker S got a tooth yanked this morning. He hasn't said two words in the hour we've been together. Anybody who knows S will understand how weird this is. I feel like he's hatching a terrorist fist-bump plot.

Crotchety.

There seems to be a rush of people looking for jobs right now. I have lost count of the number of people who have come into the bar this week inquiring. It's unfortunate, really, because there are NO bar jobs to be had in this town in the dead of summer. What's more unfortunate is the resume' I got from a girl on Monday.
Objective: "I wish to seek a position(...) that my abilities with customer service..."
This was at the top, before I read that she was a HOPE scholarship student and that she had maintained a 3.2 GPA all the way through college, from which she had already graduated. With a degree in English, and a minor in fucking Journalism. Seriously.
I don't mean to sound a prude or anything, but are there any fucking standards anymore?
I wouldn't deny the girl a job because she has no grammar skills - they really aren't necessary in our line of work - but seriously?!
Your objective is to wish to seek? And you have a degree in journalism?! It really does explain some of the ridiculous headlines ("Man accused of tying son to tree in Court"). This shit makes me want to tear my hair out.

Oh yeah- Get off my lawn!!!

Brilliant.

I finally got my copy of The Signal in the mail. The b.h. and I watched it on Friday between work and work. It was even better than I remembered, possibly because when I saw it before I was watching on a smallish screen from about a hundred feet away. In any case, I'm sure you can all find it on Netflix, so go ahead. On top of being very entertaining, it was nice to see a friend actually doing what they're supposed to be doing. (Excellent work, A.J. We're all really excited for you.) Outside of musicians, that doesn't happen to me much.
Things are looking good on the job front. Got a callback and will probably interview on Friday. ST
till waiting to hear from the other place. In the meantime, I am spending a lot of time at the bar this week, since my boss is out of town.
And of course, with AthFest rapidly approaching, I am not sweating the money thing much. It should be a good weekend for us. Incidentally, if you aren't already aware, Centro-matic is playing at the Forty Watt on Saturday, just after Modern Skirts finish up the main stage. Hope to see you all there. I just got a call from Jenn, and it turns out that Chris and Corine are in from the Netherlands. I'm looking forward to seeing them. The first time I met them was at another AthFest several years back, on the front porch at Tasty World. I have since run into them in Denton, Texas (at Dan's Silverleaf for the last Slobberbone show), as well as on our trip to St. Louis last year. Weird how that happens. Again with the small world thing. Anyway, I am glad they are here. After Centro-matic I will probably head over to Tasty World to catch The Help, Idiot Slowdown, and Rockinwood.
Lots of interesting stuff on the horizon, possible weird shit and mostly good shit, that I look forward to being able to discuss soon. Don't let the suspense kill you while I go off to see the new Hulk movie.

It's a Small World After All.

Got a call from Peggy Plants today. It seems that my contract has run out at the B.S. Squared. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Since I hadn't gotten dressed or had any coffee yet when I found out, I didn't really react at all except to thank her and hang up. Then I drove the b.h. to work and went to find another job. Went to the new location of an old health food store, where as it turns out, they no longer carry any food and are focusing on vitamin supplements and skin care products. They are not hiring, but they were doing free organic facials (tee hee), so I stuck around for a few minutes and let a total stranger rub a bunch of goop onto my face. It never ceases to amaze me how much crap people actually wear on a daily basis. I thoroughly enjoyed the cleanser/toner/moisturizer portion of it, but the rest was pretty hilarious. Clown-like, even. I smiled and thanked the woman and left.
I don't know if i have ever mentioned it before, but Athens is an incredibly small town for it's size. Some might say too small. They would be (sort of) right. When I got to the Other Health Food Store, I stopped and chatted with my friend D, who works in the grocery department. I mentioned my free facial and my discomfort with the amount of makeup I was wearing, but he didn't seem to notice. He gave me an application, and while we were standing there a former co-worker of mine walked up. This former co-woker and I are not really speaking, for reasons that I don't care to go into, and D had no idea, and so felt the need to introduce us to each other. We both kind of looked uncomfortable for a minute and quickly and awkwardly assured D that we had, in fact, met. Then we exchanged some pleasantries and she moved on. I have no wish to intrude upon this person's pleasantly hey bartender-free existence, but I really, really need a job, and the Health Food Store is one of the few places in town that has a good health insurance plan. Plus, I really like healthy food. So i hope she will indulge me.
I went and sat in the cafeteria area to fill out my application. On the way there, I saw three people I knew. Two of them work at the Health Food Store and one of them was shopping. (Did I mention how small this town is?) Anyway, there were only two other people in the room where i was sitting, and they were having a loud and very lively (to the point of distracting) conversation which involved several people with whom I am familiar. Apparently these two dipshits have no idea how small this town is, because the woman was loudly discussing her ex-boyfriend (first and last name mentioned at least five times), with whom I am quite familiar, having SHARED A NEEDLE with another person they were talking about. SHe said it without any malice at all, and having heard so much of this conversation I was sure that they are still friendly with one another, which is all the more reason why I was appalled that she would repeatedly mention his first and last name in the same sentence with SHARED A NEEDLE. These people were truly idiotic and so completely compelling that it took me well over fifteen minutes to fill out a very simple application form. I almost went and got myself lunch just so I could stay in there. There was talk of his divorce, of a woman whom he had befriended who wound up stalking him (puzzling to me once I turned and actually saw him), a woman who, of course, the woman he was speaking also knew, because everybody knows everyfuckingbody here. She apparently sent him pornographic pictures of herself. It was seriously entertaining. I am going to leave you now and see if I can't find them on MySpace, because I just know there is more to the story.
Oh, I also made another stop and I think I found myself a job, but I don't want to jinx it so I'll have to tell you about it later.

I'm having a really weird day. Can't describe it- don't even want to try, but suffice to say that I watched Rude Boy and then drove to the theater to see the Sex & The City movie.
I'm glad I went. I needed to get out of the house. Say what you will about that show, but it was well written, and so is the movie. I find it amusing that people are talking so much about it. Aside from the usual "chick flick" remarks (whatever- it is,and we're all aware of that), there are people who are really, really pissed off about it. Why? Because it enjoyed the highest grossing opening weekend ever for a movie about women? I love that men have the balls to be "tired of" the hooplah, of the fact that women are so excited about this movie. As if we should apologize for getting in the driver's seat when everybody knows the vaginas belong in the back. (Even my spellcheck is in on the act. It doesn't like the word "vaginas".) Whatever. Has it even occurred to anybody that if there were more movies about women- real women, with opinions and jobs and lives and female friends who aren't exactly like them- then this one wouldn't stick out so much? I don't get it. In any case, my enjoyment had nothing to do with feminism or politics or any of that. I just thought it was fun.
It had rained (yay!!) while I was in the theater, and my drive home was like a reverse game of Frogger, with frogs leaping all over the road and me swerving to try to avoid flattening them. When I pulled into our driveway, a large clump of kudzu ran in front of me, camouflaging a large and presumably happy beaver. No rain has left them nothing to dam, so now I guess he'll be getting back to work. Which means that the b.h. will have to do the same.
I just got a text message from the b.h.:
"Sometimes two people who can't sing will accidentally harmonize. This is not the case right now."
I'm sure he regrets quitting drinking.

Also, this beer kicks total ass.

Waiting for Godowen.

So I ordered my copy of The Signal, assuming (there I go again, Z) that it would be delivered on the release date. No such luck. Damn. I didn't rent it from Vision Video because I thought it would be waiting for me when I got here yesterday. Crap. I still haven't seen the finished version, but even in rough cut I thought it was fantastic. Go get it, and tell me how it is. Amazon sent it via the U.S. Mail, so who knows when it might get here. I suppose hacking back all the overgrown vines in the driveway might help. Crap.
Alright then.

More Reasons To Love The British.

Thanks to Matt for sending me this.

Inspiration.

I have Andrew Sullivan to thank for this. Just what I needed: Another really cool distraction.

Last night I wound up seeing Craig's new band at the Caledonia, followed by Don Chambers. The show was great, intensified (perhaps) by the heat. I mostly sat outside with Jenn and a few other folks, but once Donnie started I had to go in because I couldn't hear him over the awful shit at farm 255. I don't know what the band was called, but they had no business playing outside, or anywhere within earshot of the general public.
When Donnie finished I went over to farm to catch Idiot Slowdown, who more than made up for the shit that preceded them. Seriously, those guys are fucking awesome. And they were having a particularly great night. I only wish I had remembered earplugs, because maybe my ears wouldn't be ringing right now. Anyway, catch them at Tasty World upstairs for Athfest. Saturday night, long after Centro-matic is through, so no excuses.

I actually finished a second book before my Novel reading Month time ran out. Confessions of a Jane Austen Addict was fun- a nice pot boiler, as my brother-in-law would call it. Nothing like the great literature being created by Michael Chabon, but I did manage to finish it in three days, unlike The Yiddish Policeman's Union, which I have still barely cracked. Chabon requires my full attention and wakefulness, neither of which I've had much of recently.
I found out on Monday that my hours were cut- by more than half!- at the BS2. Which is a huge shock to my system and my bank account, but since the temperature has been well into the 90s all week, I can honestly say I was a bit relieved. Of course, I will likely need to find a different job now, but what the hell. Unfortunately E was layed off, so now I have to face the BS2 with Scooter as my only co-worker. Sigh.
We went to see the new Indiana Jones movie on Tuesday night. I didn't hate it the way that most people seem to, though I found the CGI animals to be both pointless and annoying. Fucking George Lucas. Also, it apparently did not occur to anyone that the skull, being made of Crystal, should have weighed more. I noticed that the first time somebody picked it up, and after that it was like the laugh track on M*A*S*H, which I will never forgive my sister for pointing out because it is all I hear when I see that show now. All things considered, though, I was entertained. There was no way I was going to wait for that to come out on video. I saw the first IJ movie in the theater, and it shaped who I was as a kid. I seriously wanted to be an archaeologist for awhile.
Tonight there are several shows I'm looking into. We'll see where I land. For now I'm going to watch some TV.

Oh yeah- my tomatoes are infested with fucking aphids, too. Fuckers.

Sunday, Sunday, and finally SUNDAY.

We got up early, like I said, so I had some time to get laundry started and have some coffee before starting my day. I had talked to Jenn about maybe getting breakfast at Big City Bread, but when I called her she didn't answer. When she called me back she sounded like she had one foot in her grave. I know the sound of a hangover, and I know when I'm hung over the last thing I want is sunlight or food, so we rain-checked for next weekend and I got on about some other business. Ran some errands with the b.h., then went to a party for the cutest little muppet two-year-old in town. I realized while we were there that when people stop going out after they have kids it really is because they can't. Watching my friends chase after, monitor, and try to entertain theirs is all the proof I need that I never want any. They are all adorable, though. It was a really great party.
After that we headed over to the 40 Watt for a wedding. It was strange to see all those bar folks in the daylight, but everybody looked sharp and we all managed to get by, sunlight be damned.
After that we headed back here to watch a movie and sit on our butts. Once pantsless, real Sunday commenced and it was quite relaxing and nice.

I woke this morning to a thud, and when I sat up I found Wyatt, dazed and I daresay a little embarrassed, shaking out the cobwebs on the floor next to the bed. It was early, and though I had sworn to sleep until at least eleven, I was already wide awake, so I stumbled downstairs for some coffee.

Last night I bartended a wedding for some douchey former frat kid types. It's funny how they can get older (and look even older than they are, thanks to the fake tanning and whatnot) and never change. By "funny", I of course mean pathetic and gross. There were two girls there who were so plastic and terrifying that I couldn't stop staring at them. The Blonde One was bitchy and never made eye contact with me no matter what. The other two bartenders were guys, you see, so she had no use for me. She and her Hooker-like Friend both bought a round of shots from FB, and they bought one for him and "the other guy bartender" as well. But not for me. Not that I wanted one, mind you, but that is a really shitty thing to do. I think she was pissed off because my tits were nicer than hers and I didn't have to buy them. Her Hooker-like Friend was brunette, scarily tan, and wearing a skimpy white top with no bra (to a wedding- very classy) and short shorts. She kept standing with her chest puffed out like a rooster - also very classy - and one hand on her hip. They were loud in an attention-seeking way, and nobody at the wedding liked them except the two guys they were with. I think it is possible that they were both hookers. If so, I hope they weren't expensive.
There was another chick who was also incredibly bitchy to me. She was actually attractive, dark-haired and with a sense of style that wasn't as cookie cutter as everyone else in the room, but her attitude pretty much ruined it. After the second time she barked an order at me I stopped asking what she wanted and started opening her shitty domestic beer and shoving it at her when I saw her coming.
I swear to the gods, despite the snarky nature of these missives, I am actually a very nice person behind the bar. After all, it doesn't behoove me to start off an evening acting put out that people expect me to wait on them. I actually enjoy my job quite a bit, and my philosophy as a bartender has always been to treat people like they are my guests. The problem comes when your party gets crashed by assholes. When that happens, I can't help but respond. Luckily my boss had warned me in advance that these were "Horrible people," so I was ready. My expectations were low and my tolerance was high.
There was a couple there with two children. The woman was pretty in a soccer mom way, blonde and yuppie, with a balding blonde husband and two Hitler Youth kids that kept being fed soda after sugary caffeinated soda. They got more hyper and more annoying, and their parents got madder and more reactionary. Made me want to kill them all. The guy had a one word vocabulary: "Guinness." This was grunted at each of us bartenders in turn, without a please, a thank you, or an acknowledgment that we were, in fact, people. I started saying "You're welcome very loudly each time I set a drink in front of him. It didn't have any effect. To those people we aren't people, after all, we're The Help. Well, The Help was getting paid by the Father Of The Bride, one of maybe two nice people in the whole room, and The Help had a guarantee, so The Help kept their heads down, smiled and laughed and joked with TFOTB, and put as many drinks as possible across the bar. I poured the well drinks STOUT, dreaming of the wretched morning that would follow for those people and their toilets.
The band was horrible, too. They played some old Motown songs and what would have been cool soul numbers, but they were so white that everything sounded like J1mmy Fucking Buffett. It was horrible. At least they were nice, though. At one point I served one of them a beer, and I said

"You must be in the band."

"Because of my shirt?"

"No. Because you actually said 'please'."

He looked horrified, then pulled out his wallet and stuffed a few dollars in the empty tip jar.

When all was said and done I made an assload of money for not very much work. And, unlike those people, I didn't have to wake up and be-well, one of them.


Finally finished Let's Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste. Fucking brilliant. Have started The Yiddish Policemen's Union, by Michael Chabon. I'm also due to pick up a book from the b.h.'s mom tomorrow. I started reading it when we bought it for her, then gave it to her, and now I need to borrow it back and finish it before his sister leaves town on the 12th, so she can read it on the plane going home. So I haven't been very good at reading this month, but I'm starting to get better. My hours at the BS2 are about to get cut for the season, so I suspect that I'll start tearing through books again.

Betrayal.

"This was not part of the deal!" I shout, hurling a pine cone at his head.

He ducks his head briefly and says nothing.

"Seriously, why would you do this to me? After five years? We have never once had a fight- not even a disagreement. I know you didn't trust me at first, but things have been going so well."

He remains unmoved.

"You are such an asshole," I hiss, not quite under my breath, hitching the hose up over my shoulder. He looks at me blankly, completely unapologetic.

I turn my back on him, watering the lantana. I am seething with rage.

"I gave you strawberries!" I know this argument is futile, but I have to say my piece. The dog is pacing nervously at my feet. He has seen me like this before and he doesn't like it, but he knows there is nothing he can do.

The turtle floats about five feet from shore, munching the last of what used to be a two and a half foot tall Canna contemplatively. I squirt him with the hose and stalk off in despair.

I heard somewhere that there is good eating on one of those. He is very lucky that I am a vegetarian.