Will Johnson and Anders Parker played a show at a house here in Montpeculiar the night before we left for Athens. The house was gorgeous and the people were very nice. I was wearing a shirt from someplace in Athens, and as per usual somebody came up to me and asked if I was from there. Yes. "Do you know so and so and his wife? They own whats-it-called." I don't, but a lot of my friends work there. Neat.
The show was beautiful and hilarious. I love a quiet, intimate setting for quiet intimate music. The guys were both obviously comfortable and told great stories between songs, and the crowd was respectful but fun. Lovely. I wish we could do that more often.
We decided to fly out of Boston. This required a three hour drive to the airport, but it saved us about five hundred dollars on the plane tickets and made for direct flights in both directions, which is a luxury I will gladly pay for.
The morning was mostly uneventful, as was the drive. We were fueled by pastries and coffee and neither of us had had anywhere near enough sleep. Fortunately we make an excellent team and were able to find our way into the airport without incident and with plenty of time to spare.
The flight was mostly uneventful, as was the car rental and the drive into Athens. We went immediately to Sr. Sol, our favorite Mexican restaurant, where we were met by our old friend Adam. Adam was going out of town for the week to work, so this was our last opportunity to see him until the weekend.
The food was fantastic and it was great catching up with Adam, and afterward we bade him farewell and went to Todd and Shayne's where we would be spending the night. We stopped on the way to buy beer, and then proceeded to crash their otherwise quiet Monday night, riling up the dogs and generally making a big loud mess while we came in and dumped our bags. Shayne had just returned from a weekend on an island off the coast of Georgia, where she was doing hair for a music video shoot. Her stories had me laughing until I was sick. After we had polished off a couple of beers, we headed into the guest room, finally decompressed enough to get some sleep. As I leaned over to turn out the light, I looked at the b.h. and said "Goddammit this is Just Like Home." He grinned and agreed and we both went to sleep.
Showing posts with label Rock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rock. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Thursday, April 08, 2010
Sunday I had a paid day off. Some holiday or other. Anyway, I took the dogs out for a walk in the woods behind the house. It was great fun and when we got in far enough I decided to take Kilgore's leash off so he could run around. He immediately left the trail, sniffing furiously and heading over the edge of a fairly steep decline. I started after him, shouting for him to come back. When I crested the ridge, he was at the base of a tree, nosing through an enormous pile of what looked like bird feathers. I ran up to him, re-attaching his leash and realizing with horror that the pile was actually fur. A lot of it. I dragged Kilgore back to the trail, trying hard not to see what was under it. We turned back toward the house after that. After putting a load of laundry in the washer, we headed back out, this time to the park. The river was too cold even for Kilgore to swim, but we had a great time running the trails and I took a few pictures.
On Monday, the b.h. and I went into Burlington. It was warm and lovely and we got some lunch and then headed over to the lake to walk around. D and A were meeting us later for The Hold Steady, but we had lots of time to kill. We had dinner at the Daily Planet and bought some beer at Healthy Living, and were so efficient that we were finished with everything we needed to do well before show time. We headed to the club early and hung out in the back, hilariously tired considering that in Athens we would never have even been out yet.
The show was great, even though they've lost some of their umph without Franz. I somehow managed to fix the crick in my neck by bobbing my head and bouncing up and down. I guess I could save the money I spend on the chiropractor by just getting out more.
On Monday, the b.h. and I went into Burlington. It was warm and lovely and we got some lunch and then headed over to the lake to walk around. D and A were meeting us later for The Hold Steady, but we had lots of time to kill. We had dinner at the Daily Planet and bought some beer at Healthy Living, and were so efficient that we were finished with everything we needed to do well before show time. We headed to the club early and hung out in the back, hilariously tired considering that in Athens we would never have even been out yet.
The show was great, even though they've lost some of their umph without Franz. I somehow managed to fix the crick in my neck by bobbing my head and bouncing up and down. I guess I could save the money I spend on the chiropractor by just getting out more.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
On Friday night I went with my friends D and A to St. Johnsbury to see Neko Case. I had been so busy in the runup that I hadn't really had much time to actually look forward to it at all, so I didn't get really excited about it until we got there.
Having been nominated for two Gr@mmy awards this year, you might wonder just why a woman would play a smallish school auditorium in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Turns out that this is Neko's home turf, and she has returned as a resident to the Green Mountain State. This show was a benefit for the local arts community.
The room was lovely, but you could tell they weren't used to hosting quite so many people. First, the merch table was set up basically right in front of the entrance, making it near impossible to get in or out of the building. Of course my first thought was about how the hell we'd get out if there were a fire. Also, it felt like the place already was on fire, because they had the heat set somewhere near a thousand degrees. Since everyone was dressed for the weather, we were all basically schvitzing from the moment we took our seats. I was thankful that I had layered in such a way that I could get down to a t-shirt, and jealous that A had worn a tank top. I seriously can't imagine what they were thinking. On top of the heat, there were absolutely no refreshments to be had. And again, I'm thinking to myself "Who the hell planned this?" Surely they could have sold a thousand bottles of water at a few dollars a pop in that temperature. No such luck. I found out that there was a water fountain, and during the intermission (I won't go into detail about the opening act since I didn't really like it) A and I made our way down a narrow flight of stairs to the long line that eventually would lead to the ladies' room. The ladies room had two stalls, of course, and the water fountain was inside. The men also had two stalls, but being men their line was moving a lot faster. Also, their water fountain was outside the actual bathroom. After standing too long in a virtually unmoving line, I finally decided to take matters into my own hands. I had seen another woman follow her boyfriend into the men's room, so I waited for him to come out and followed her lead. I was careful to put the seat back up when I was done, and the men that were in line when I came out didn't seem too upset. I got a drink at their water fountain and was back in my seat before Neko came on. The same could not be said for the ten women in front of me in line at the ladies'.
I was surprised and incredibly pleased to find that the lovely and talented (and hilarious) Kelly Hogan was along on this tour. And if only I could remember his name I would also credit the very talented Canadian guitar player they had in tow. There was a very casual vibe, with lots of talking between songs. Kelly Hogan could easily have a career in standup if she ever decided to quit singing. I sometimes forget how much I miss people with my sense of humor. In any case, the show was brilliant, and I didn't pass out. When everybody stood up to applaud for an encore, I looked rather desperately over and said loudly to no one in particular
"Somebody open that fucking window!"
And lo and behold, somebody did. Thank you, bearded stranger, for saving if not my life, then surely my dignity. I seriously felt like I was going to pass out. I would also note that nobody complained, even though it was very cold outside and there were at least three or four songs in the encore.
I have known for a long time that I would like Neko Case, and for whatever reason I haven't gotten around to listening, but now I'm definitely going to fix that.
Having been nominated for two Gr@mmy awards this year, you might wonder just why a woman would play a smallish school auditorium in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Turns out that this is Neko's home turf, and she has returned as a resident to the Green Mountain State. This show was a benefit for the local arts community.
The room was lovely, but you could tell they weren't used to hosting quite so many people. First, the merch table was set up basically right in front of the entrance, making it near impossible to get in or out of the building. Of course my first thought was about how the hell we'd get out if there were a fire. Also, it felt like the place already was on fire, because they had the heat set somewhere near a thousand degrees. Since everyone was dressed for the weather, we were all basically schvitzing from the moment we took our seats. I was thankful that I had layered in such a way that I could get down to a t-shirt, and jealous that A had worn a tank top. I seriously can't imagine what they were thinking. On top of the heat, there were absolutely no refreshments to be had. And again, I'm thinking to myself "Who the hell planned this?" Surely they could have sold a thousand bottles of water at a few dollars a pop in that temperature. No such luck. I found out that there was a water fountain, and during the intermission (I won't go into detail about the opening act since I didn't really like it) A and I made our way down a narrow flight of stairs to the long line that eventually would lead to the ladies' room. The ladies room had two stalls, of course, and the water fountain was inside. The men also had two stalls, but being men their line was moving a lot faster. Also, their water fountain was outside the actual bathroom. After standing too long in a virtually unmoving line, I finally decided to take matters into my own hands. I had seen another woman follow her boyfriend into the men's room, so I waited for him to come out and followed her lead. I was careful to put the seat back up when I was done, and the men that were in line when I came out didn't seem too upset. I got a drink at their water fountain and was back in my seat before Neko came on. The same could not be said for the ten women in front of me in line at the ladies'.
I was surprised and incredibly pleased to find that the lovely and talented (and hilarious) Kelly Hogan was along on this tour. And if only I could remember his name I would also credit the very talented Canadian guitar player they had in tow. There was a very casual vibe, with lots of talking between songs. Kelly Hogan could easily have a career in standup if she ever decided to quit singing. I sometimes forget how much I miss people with my sense of humor. In any case, the show was brilliant, and I didn't pass out. When everybody stood up to applaud for an encore, I looked rather desperately over and said loudly to no one in particular
"Somebody open that fucking window!"
And lo and behold, somebody did. Thank you, bearded stranger, for saving if not my life, then surely my dignity. I seriously felt like I was going to pass out. I would also note that nobody complained, even though it was very cold outside and there were at least three or four songs in the encore.
I have known for a long time that I would like Neko Case, and for whatever reason I haven't gotten around to listening, but now I'm definitely going to fix that.
Monday, November 02, 2009
I'll be heading to work at the Local Grocery in a few minutes. Last night I worked at the LR, and it was actually quite fun. The b.h. stopped in to see me, and there were several regular customers as well. I waited on a pair of women in their fifties (I'm guessing) who were self-proclaimed foodies and lifelong restaurant people. This can be nerve wracking with some people, but these two were hilarious. A bit boisterous, enthusiastic, and not terribly concerned with propriety. In other words, my kind of gals. Also, there was a live music performance (we do this every Tuesday night at the LR) which I loved. The singer's name was Abby something (no, not "Normal"), and she covered Wilco and The Jayhawks as well as several other artists that I really like. If every Tuesday was Abby night, I would be very happy.
At the end of the night a couple of the usual suspects came down from the kitchen and entertained me while I cleaned up, and after we went for a beer next door. I finally tried Southern Tier's Iniquity, which is a fabulous, bitter, dark ale that I could easily have consumed in quantity, were I not so full of self control.
I have been going through old journals, trying to find reference to the night I met Ron Jeremy. I've been homesick for Athens lately and I'm hoping that writing about it will make me feel better. So I'll try to get around to that soon.
Oooh- and I managed to get my bar shift covered for Saturday night, so I will be able to attend the annual LG Wine Tasting, which is apparently Quite A Do. Looking forward to it.
At the end of the night a couple of the usual suspects came down from the kitchen and entertained me while I cleaned up, and after we went for a beer next door. I finally tried Southern Tier's Iniquity, which is a fabulous, bitter, dark ale that I could easily have consumed in quantity, were I not so full of self control.
I have been going through old journals, trying to find reference to the night I met Ron Jeremy. I've been homesick for Athens lately and I'm hoping that writing about it will make me feel better. So I'll try to get around to that soon.
Oooh- and I managed to get my bar shift covered for Saturday night, so I will be able to attend the annual LG Wine Tasting, which is apparently Quite A Do. Looking forward to it.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Even though we missed Athfest this year, the b.h. and I have been listening to several of the shows, which were recorded by our friend Sloan. This is making me quite happy. It will make you happy, too. There's another link over there to your right. Enjoy.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
I just got this from my good friend and former boss, who has been an Athens resident since the mid-eighties. I love it. Aside from the fact that I have always loved Chunklet anyway, the music is super cool, and now I feel inspired to go watch Athens, GA Inside Out again. I still haven't finished reading Party Out of Bounds, largely because I was afraid it would be too depressing as I was heading out, but there are serious gaps in my knowledge of Athens music in the early days.
One of the reasons for this is because the music scene is still (and, it seems, has aalways been) so vibrant that I didn't have time. I was so busy watching history being made that I didn't have time to go back. I recently discovered a couple new bloggers who are just getting started on their musical journeys, and I felt a little jealous. I remember when I wasn't lazy and jaded. I remember the shock of hearing, for the first time, somebody saying they didn't want to walk "all the way" (half a mile, at most) down to the 40 Watt to see a really great band. And I remember feeling the same way not long after that.
I remember the first show I saw in Athens. Cafeteria played at Allen's when I was visiting a friend. The first show I saw after I moved there (huh- I just typed "here", because I still feel like I am there) was The Lures at The Caledonia. I called my friend in Chicago from the patio to tell him that the drummer had sung every note of "Joey" by Concrete Blonde and not missed a beat. I was floored. But now Clay is well, just Clay.
In the nine years I spent living in Athens, I saw brilliant bands come and go. I watched FFS become Modern Skirts an The Redbelly Band become Dead Confederate. I saw the first show The Whigs ever played, Caught Patterson Hood solo for two bucks at Nowhere Bar on a Thursday night(and bought his solo CD, which at the time was a burned copy from his home computer in a cardboard sleeve), and watched The (shirtless) Star Rooms Boys play their last show to a packed Tasty World. I saw the Glands there, too, as a matter of fact. I can't say which show had more people, but I'm glad the fire marshal didn't show.
These are just a few of the hundreds of amazing shows and bands I've seen, and mine is an experience that encompasses just a tiny sliver of what was happening during the time when I lived there, which in itself is a tiny sliver of time. And yes, I admit that I got lazy. I just got spoiled having good bands playing so often. It wasn't until I knew for certain that I was leaving that I started going out to shows several nights a week again. I guess it's better that I got away for awhile. Living in a place with little or no music scene has already upped my appreciation of Athens.
I wonder if anybody will ever make another Athens music documentary. And if they do, I wonder who'll be in it. No matter who it is, things will be left out. You just can't capture it all.
One of the reasons for this is because the music scene is still (and, it seems, has aalways been) so vibrant that I didn't have time. I was so busy watching history being made that I didn't have time to go back. I recently discovered a couple new bloggers who are just getting started on their musical journeys, and I felt a little jealous. I remember when I wasn't lazy and jaded. I remember the shock of hearing, for the first time, somebody saying they didn't want to walk "all the way" (half a mile, at most) down to the 40 Watt to see a really great band. And I remember feeling the same way not long after that.
I remember the first show I saw in Athens. Cafeteria played at Allen's when I was visiting a friend. The first show I saw after I moved there (huh- I just typed "here", because I still feel like I am there) was The Lures at The Caledonia. I called my friend in Chicago from the patio to tell him that the drummer had sung every note of "Joey" by Concrete Blonde and not missed a beat. I was floored. But now Clay is well, just Clay.
In the nine years I spent living in Athens, I saw brilliant bands come and go. I watched FFS become Modern Skirts an The Redbelly Band become Dead Confederate. I saw the first show The Whigs ever played, Caught Patterson Hood solo for two bucks at Nowhere Bar on a Thursday night(and bought his solo CD, which at the time was a burned copy from his home computer in a cardboard sleeve), and watched The (shirtless) Star Rooms Boys play their last show to a packed Tasty World. I saw the Glands there, too, as a matter of fact. I can't say which show had more people, but I'm glad the fire marshal didn't show.
These are just a few of the hundreds of amazing shows and bands I've seen, and mine is an experience that encompasses just a tiny sliver of what was happening during the time when I lived there, which in itself is a tiny sliver of time. And yes, I admit that I got lazy. I just got spoiled having good bands playing so often. It wasn't until I knew for certain that I was leaving that I started going out to shows several nights a week again. I guess it's better that I got away for awhile. Living in a place with little or no music scene has already upped my appreciation of Athens.
I wonder if anybody will ever make another Athens music documentary. And if they do, I wonder who'll be in it. No matter who it is, things will be left out. You just can't capture it all.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
I decided to nap yesterday instead of getting the lawnmower fixed. It was a good decision, because we had a long night.
I picked the b.h. up from work and we went to El Sol for dinner (yes- again. What?!). Then we came home and he napped and I played with dogs and then we went down to the University to see Dan Savage speak. Savage is a personal hero, and what we refer to as a "Blog Friend", which means a person who you don't really know at all but whom you read so often you feel like you know them. I have been reading his column for fourteen years now, and his blog for a couple. He was as hilarious as I expected him to be, and afterward he went with us for a drink at Flicker. He was exhausted but completely gracious, and we talked for an hour or so and then J and the b.h. and I walked him back to his hotel before heading to the 40 Watt to see Dinosaur Jr. That was awesome. I haven't had a record of theirs for years and years, and was surprised at how many songs I recognized. The show was fantastic, and we all went home very tired but very happy at 2am.
I picked the b.h. up from work and we went to El Sol for dinner (yes- again. What?!). Then we came home and he napped and I played with dogs and then we went down to the University to see Dan Savage speak. Savage is a personal hero, and what we refer to as a "Blog Friend", which means a person who you don't really know at all but whom you read so often you feel like you know them. I have been reading his column for fourteen years now, and his blog for a couple. He was as hilarious as I expected him to be, and afterward he went with us for a drink at Flicker. He was exhausted but completely gracious, and we talked for an hour or so and then J and the b.h. and I walked him back to his hotel before heading to the 40 Watt to see Dinosaur Jr. That was awesome. I haven't had a record of theirs for years and years, and was surprised at how many songs I recognized. The show was fantastic, and we all went home very tired but very happy at 2am.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
I just got back from Savannah. Thought for a minute there I wasn't going to be able to go. Started feeling extra gross at work on Friday night, wound up coming straight home from work instead of going downtown to see the b.h. play. Hot shower, emergen-c packet, and piles of blankets. Slept and watched TV. Woke to pick up the b.h. around two, came home and passed out again, woke up feeling fine. I think the pollen just got to me.
Anyway, we got an early start, went down to Ike and Jane's for breakfast sandwiches and coffee and doughnuts. Drove straight through with only one stop, and went immediately to the club to check in. The band was an hour behind us due to a keys-locked-in-van incident. We headed over to the Sentient Bean for coffee and then to the SCAD shop. I love that place. Student art for sale, and some of it very good. Nothing I could afford that really struck my fancy, though. The band called when they got to the club and we headed back there.
Parking was a bit of a bitch. The club was on River Street, which is the mainest of main drags on the riverfront (thus the name), which was packed with people because of the absolutely lovely weather. Having already made that mistake once, the b.h. and I decided instead to park several blocks away and walk with both of his guitars and his suitcase o' pedals and such. No problem. Then we stood around for an eternity waiting for the other band to load out. We didn't really mind, though, because we were able to buy beer and stand out on the street drinking it. We did because we could, and because of the aforementioned incredible weather. After that was load in and soundcheck, which I managed to avoid most of by walking down the waterfront with R while the b.h. checked and leaving when the other band did.
The b.h. and D and I walked over to the Moon River Brewery and waited at the bar for the other guys. I had a Swamp Fox IPA. It was delicious.
We were seated in the main room, still waiting for the other guys to arrive from sound check. D had his back to the front door. Through the crowd I saw some frat boys and sorostitutes in Full Confederate Regalia, and they were making their way in our direction. When they passed our table, D looked up in disgust and said quite loudly "You guys are hilarious", in a tone indicating that he did not, in fact, find it hilarious.
I find the whole thing quite confusing myself. The fascination with a war that no one ever spoke of outside of history class where I come from. Technically those people were traitors, and since many if not all of those people claim to be patriots, I don't see why they feel the need to celebrate. Also, I can't imagine how the black people who were present (waiters and bartenders in this case) must feel at the sight of these people, but since I am not a real Southerner I more often than not feel like the best bet is to keep my mouth shut. As far as I am concerned, these people might as well be walking around in KKK robes or Nazi uniforms, but generally I am able to simply ignore it. Not so with D. He was obviously pissed (in both senses of the word, I now realized), and made it known. I was worried that we were only three and they appeared to be younger, more fit, and in greater numbers. Not that I am afraid of a broad in a hoopskirt, mind you, but the boys were definitely of the large and cornfed variety. Luckily the rest of the guys showed up just then, and we were distracted by food and fun.
I ordered onion rings and a dip-thingie made from cream cheese, sundried tomatoes, and roasted garlic to share with everybody, and leek and goat cheese cakes for myself. This is what I had last time we were here, and though I prefer to be more adventurous, there were not a lot of veggie options. I was very happy with all of my selections.
AT one point I stepped outside for a smoke break with R, again mostly because it was beautiful out and I could bring my beer along, and the first guy I saw was in a confederate uniform. I asked if I could take my picture with him, and could I please hold his sword? Then I found out that he was the Haunted Savannah Tour Guide.
"Oh, so you're not really a racist, you just get paid to wear that, huh?" I smirked. Holding the sword point to his throat was not near as fun.
Another fratty couple came up in uniform and I got a picture with them. It's one of those "the folks back home are never gonna believe this" things. By back home, of course, I mean Chicago. No one in Athens will have trouble believing.
We returned to the club stuffed to the gills and waited a short time for the bands to start playing. It was a fun show but a long one, and we were all ready to get to sleep when it was over.
Hilariously, River street was now blocked on one side with illegally parked cars, and on the other was a very long, seemingly immobile line of traffic. Two of the guys wound up walking back two blocks to get the van, then we waited while they sat in traffic, then we blocked traffic while all scrambling to get the gear in. The guys in the little SUV immediately behind the van seemed totally relaxed, watching us calmly through the windshield while thumping bass poured from their over-sized speakers. In fact, nobody honked or complained at all, which was odd but a relief. There was simply no other way for us to load out. No one from the club bothered to help us, despite there being at least two young and able-bodied men right next to the door and absolutely no business now that the bands had finished. I doubt they'll be going back there.
We spent all day Sunday walking around. The guys went home early, and the b.h. and I had the whole day to ourselves, knowing that our capable dog-sitter would be staying at least until two. We got breakfast at Clary's which I found mostly disappointing this time, and then coffee at the Sentient Bean (again), and walked through square after square all the way to the river from the far side of Forsyth Park. Then we walked down the river and turned back, this time walking a very different and less populated set of squares. We stopped in a lovely French decor shop, which D had mentioned the day before. I fell in love with a piece of art that was $1400. Of course. Champagne taste and a beer budget, as they say. I bought a greeting card and we continued on. The walk was fantastic, the weather perfect. We decided that were we to move to Savannah, this would be the neighborhood we would live in. I took a ton of pictures. There are so many tiny details on houses and gates there. It's like a treasure hunt in a way. I love (visiting) that place.
After we got back to the car we bought refills and pastries and started home.
The drive was uneventful, and when we returned we found treasure, in the form of school loan documents, waiting in the mailbox. Hoo-fucking-ray.
Anyway, we got an early start, went down to Ike and Jane's for breakfast sandwiches and coffee and doughnuts. Drove straight through with only one stop, and went immediately to the club to check in. The band was an hour behind us due to a keys-locked-in-van incident. We headed over to the Sentient Bean for coffee and then to the SCAD shop. I love that place. Student art for sale, and some of it very good. Nothing I could afford that really struck my fancy, though. The band called when they got to the club and we headed back there.
Parking was a bit of a bitch. The club was on River Street, which is the mainest of main drags on the riverfront (thus the name), which was packed with people because of the absolutely lovely weather. Having already made that mistake once, the b.h. and I decided instead to park several blocks away and walk with both of his guitars and his suitcase o' pedals and such. No problem. Then we stood around for an eternity waiting for the other band to load out. We didn't really mind, though, because we were able to buy beer and stand out on the street drinking it. We did because we could, and because of the aforementioned incredible weather. After that was load in and soundcheck, which I managed to avoid most of by walking down the waterfront with R while the b.h. checked and leaving when the other band did.
The b.h. and D and I walked over to the Moon River Brewery and waited at the bar for the other guys. I had a Swamp Fox IPA. It was delicious.
We were seated in the main room, still waiting for the other guys to arrive from sound check. D had his back to the front door. Through the crowd I saw some frat boys and sorostitutes in Full Confederate Regalia, and they were making their way in our direction. When they passed our table, D looked up in disgust and said quite loudly "You guys are hilarious", in a tone indicating that he did not, in fact, find it hilarious.
I find the whole thing quite confusing myself. The fascination with a war that no one ever spoke of outside of history class where I come from. Technically those people were traitors, and since many if not all of those people claim to be patriots, I don't see why they feel the need to celebrate. Also, I can't imagine how the black people who were present (waiters and bartenders in this case) must feel at the sight of these people, but since I am not a real Southerner I more often than not feel like the best bet is to keep my mouth shut. As far as I am concerned, these people might as well be walking around in KKK robes or Nazi uniforms, but generally I am able to simply ignore it. Not so with D. He was obviously pissed (in both senses of the word, I now realized), and made it known. I was worried that we were only three and they appeared to be younger, more fit, and in greater numbers. Not that I am afraid of a broad in a hoopskirt, mind you, but the boys were definitely of the large and cornfed variety. Luckily the rest of the guys showed up just then, and we were distracted by food and fun.
I ordered onion rings and a dip-thingie made from cream cheese, sundried tomatoes, and roasted garlic to share with everybody, and leek and goat cheese cakes for myself. This is what I had last time we were here, and though I prefer to be more adventurous, there were not a lot of veggie options. I was very happy with all of my selections.
AT one point I stepped outside for a smoke break with R, again mostly because it was beautiful out and I could bring my beer along, and the first guy I saw was in a confederate uniform. I asked if I could take my picture with him, and could I please hold his sword? Then I found out that he was the Haunted Savannah Tour Guide.
"Oh, so you're not really a racist, you just get paid to wear that, huh?" I smirked. Holding the sword point to his throat was not near as fun.
Another fratty couple came up in uniform and I got a picture with them. It's one of those "the folks back home are never gonna believe this" things. By back home, of course, I mean Chicago. No one in Athens will have trouble believing.
We returned to the club stuffed to the gills and waited a short time for the bands to start playing. It was a fun show but a long one, and we were all ready to get to sleep when it was over.
Hilariously, River street was now blocked on one side with illegally parked cars, and on the other was a very long, seemingly immobile line of traffic. Two of the guys wound up walking back two blocks to get the van, then we waited while they sat in traffic, then we blocked traffic while all scrambling to get the gear in. The guys in the little SUV immediately behind the van seemed totally relaxed, watching us calmly through the windshield while thumping bass poured from their over-sized speakers. In fact, nobody honked or complained at all, which was odd but a relief. There was simply no other way for us to load out. No one from the club bothered to help us, despite there being at least two young and able-bodied men right next to the door and absolutely no business now that the bands had finished. I doubt they'll be going back there.
We spent all day Sunday walking around. The guys went home early, and the b.h. and I had the whole day to ourselves, knowing that our capable dog-sitter would be staying at least until two. We got breakfast at Clary's which I found mostly disappointing this time, and then coffee at the Sentient Bean (again), and walked through square after square all the way to the river from the far side of Forsyth Park. Then we walked down the river and turned back, this time walking a very different and less populated set of squares. We stopped in a lovely French decor shop, which D had mentioned the day before. I fell in love with a piece of art that was $1400. Of course. Champagne taste and a beer budget, as they say. I bought a greeting card and we continued on. The walk was fantastic, the weather perfect. We decided that were we to move to Savannah, this would be the neighborhood we would live in. I took a ton of pictures. There are so many tiny details on houses and gates there. It's like a treasure hunt in a way. I love (visiting) that place.
After we got back to the car we bought refills and pastries and started home.
The drive was uneventful, and when we returned we found treasure, in the form of school loan documents, waiting in the mailbox. Hoo-fucking-ray.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Customer of the Night#5410: The Prioritizer.
"I love that (Random Napa Cab), but it's sixty bucks. That's like a gram and a half."
It's funny how differently people talk to me at work depending on how I am dressed. I got called in on my day off again, and we're still broke, so I agreed to work. I was wearing an Okkervil t-shirt with a weird and somewhat scary drawing on it and a pair of jeans, rather than my usual button-down shirt ensemble. The guy told me it was his birthday and that he was looking for a nice bottle of red wine. We wandered over to the proper area and he stood gazing at the upper shelves, declaring his love for several of the pricier bottles. But one does have priorities, especially on one's birthday, I suppose, so he got himself a twenty dollar Chilean instead (and presumably made straight for the G@ bar afterward).
We went down to the Watt on Monday night for Garbage Island (featuring their newest member, Patterson Hood). It was nice to be out but I really am a morning person now so we didn't stay late. I do love to watch Craig play, though.
Still waiting on loan info. Still going crazy.
It's funny how differently people talk to me at work depending on how I am dressed. I got called in on my day off again, and we're still broke, so I agreed to work. I was wearing an Okkervil t-shirt with a weird and somewhat scary drawing on it and a pair of jeans, rather than my usual button-down shirt ensemble. The guy told me it was his birthday and that he was looking for a nice bottle of red wine. We wandered over to the proper area and he stood gazing at the upper shelves, declaring his love for several of the pricier bottles. But one does have priorities, especially on one's birthday, I suppose, so he got himself a twenty dollar Chilean instead (and presumably made straight for the G@ bar afterward).
We went down to the Watt on Monday night for Garbage Island (featuring their newest member, Patterson Hood). It was nice to be out but I really am a morning person now so we didn't stay late. I do love to watch Craig play, though.
Still waiting on loan info. Still going crazy.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Work, Rock, Work, Rock, Work, Rock: A Caledonia Weekend.
Went to work on Thursday, got done around midnight, and made straight for the Harvey Milk show. I had never seen them before, and I knew that they were a good loud rock band and everything, but I did not realize that they were metal. There were a lot of people at the club,more dudes in giant beards than I had counted on, but the more the merrier, in my mind. They were out of my beer, which was disappointing, but I survived. K was there. We smoked and talked outside (K is the devil on my shoulder, and since I knew I would be spending the weekend going out with her I invested in a seven dollar pack of Nat Sherman Lights, on account of their naturalness and whatnot) for a bit, then headed in when the band started. I got claustrophobic fairly quickly and retreated to the patio, where a group of us ladies wound up at a picnic table, smoking and drinking and talking shit, while still being able to watch the band through the door. It was loads of fun.
I was talking with the Queen B when a very young and very drunk guy stumbled up and sat down at a nearby table. She was in the middle of telling a story, and she said "Oh my God!!" a couple times, very loudly. He interjected, awkwardly mumbling something that neither of us could hear at first, then more loudly, and of course he had nothing to say. He had misheard her or misinterpreted or whatever, but he wouldn't let it go. She tried to be polite at first, but he wouldn't bugger off, so eventually we just ignored him. After a few minutes he gave up on B and started to babble at A, another girl at the table. At this point, A guy friend of ours walked up and sat down and the drunk guy fell silent. When he eventually went inside, I turned to J:
"Boy, I wish K had been sitting here. She would have just looked him straight in the eye and told him to fuck off, and I just don't have the balls to do that."
"I thought you knew that guy."
"Nope. Random drunk stranger."
"Ugh."
Just as our conversations had all resumed, the guy comes back.
"Do you mind if I sit next to you?" Of course he has to ask me.
Long pause.
"I guess not."
He sits down.
"You seem kind of bitter-"
"You can sit here as long as you don't talk to me."
There was a brief exchange, during which i tried to explain that we were all there together and having a sort of girls night thing, and that none of us were single (lies!), and that there were plenty of other places to sit. He of course responded by telling me how he had brought his friend here just to see this show and how he didn't live here and how Athens was supposed to be so cool and that people were not, in fact, very friendly. Then he did finally fuck off.
I really hate when people try to put me in that situation. Stupid, drunk, twunt. Do I look like a fucking ambassador? This isn't the U.N. asshole. It's a fucking metal show. Sheesh.
Work was painful on Friday, since I slept like shit and barely at all. There was not enough coffee on the planet that morning. After work I went out to eat with K and her friend A at the grit. I had something called a Caribbean Feast, featuring jerked tofu and plantains and some kind of tomato-ey soup. It was fantastic. Afterward K and I went back to the Caledonia to see Magic Missile. They sing songs about the periodic table. I love them. When they finished playing K and I ran over to see if Dave was at the Manhattan. He wasn't. That was probably for the best, since I then headed home and went to sleep instead of having another beer.
I didn't have to work until ten on Saturday morning, so I was slightly more refreshed. Work was long and dull, and when I got home I took the boys for a walk and waited for the b.h. to get home.
He arrived about an hour and a half after I did, while I was in the middle of Bottle Shock, which I enjoyed immensely. I'm glad I got it through Netflix, because had I read the box at the video store I would have avoided it like the Plague. "The next Sideways or little Miss Sunshine" is not in any way how I would describe this movie. In fact, I am, as the b.h. put it, a little tired of 'The Little Movie That Could'. I was disappointed that Bradley Whitford's role was not bigger, but other than that I thought it was pretty cool. We ate a quick meal of TVP ("chicken" nuggets) and then went downtown.
Ham 1 had a great set. It was their record release, and they had actually pressed vinyl copies, which I love, but I was too broke to buy one. Goat played the best set I've seen them play in ages. Good times were had by all. I geeked out about beer for awhile with my friend B, and have added a couple more to the list of things I need to try.
I was talking with the Queen B when a very young and very drunk guy stumbled up and sat down at a nearby table. She was in the middle of telling a story, and she said "Oh my God!!" a couple times, very loudly. He interjected, awkwardly mumbling something that neither of us could hear at first, then more loudly, and of course he had nothing to say. He had misheard her or misinterpreted or whatever, but he wouldn't let it go. She tried to be polite at first, but he wouldn't bugger off, so eventually we just ignored him. After a few minutes he gave up on B and started to babble at A, another girl at the table. At this point, A guy friend of ours walked up and sat down and the drunk guy fell silent. When he eventually went inside, I turned to J:
"Boy, I wish K had been sitting here. She would have just looked him straight in the eye and told him to fuck off, and I just don't have the balls to do that."
"I thought you knew that guy."
"Nope. Random drunk stranger."
"Ugh."
Just as our conversations had all resumed, the guy comes back.
"Do you mind if I sit next to you?" Of course he has to ask me.
Long pause.
"I guess not."
He sits down.
"You seem kind of bitter-"
"You can sit here as long as you don't talk to me."
There was a brief exchange, during which i tried to explain that we were all there together and having a sort of girls night thing, and that none of us were single (lies!), and that there were plenty of other places to sit. He of course responded by telling me how he had brought his friend here just to see this show and how he didn't live here and how Athens was supposed to be so cool and that people were not, in fact, very friendly. Then he did finally fuck off.
I really hate when people try to put me in that situation. Stupid, drunk, twunt. Do I look like a fucking ambassador? This isn't the U.N. asshole. It's a fucking metal show. Sheesh.
Work was painful on Friday, since I slept like shit and barely at all. There was not enough coffee on the planet that morning. After work I went out to eat with K and her friend A at the grit. I had something called a Caribbean Feast, featuring jerked tofu and plantains and some kind of tomato-ey soup. It was fantastic. Afterward K and I went back to the Caledonia to see Magic Missile. They sing songs about the periodic table. I love them. When they finished playing K and I ran over to see if Dave was at the Manhattan. He wasn't. That was probably for the best, since I then headed home and went to sleep instead of having another beer.
I didn't have to work until ten on Saturday morning, so I was slightly more refreshed. Work was long and dull, and when I got home I took the boys for a walk and waited for the b.h. to get home.
He arrived about an hour and a half after I did, while I was in the middle of Bottle Shock, which I enjoyed immensely. I'm glad I got it through Netflix, because had I read the box at the video store I would have avoided it like the Plague. "The next Sideways or little Miss Sunshine" is not in any way how I would describe this movie. In fact, I am, as the b.h. put it, a little tired of 'The Little Movie That Could'. I was disappointed that Bradley Whitford's role was not bigger, but other than that I thought it was pretty cool. We ate a quick meal of TVP ("chicken" nuggets) and then went downtown.
Ham 1 had a great set. It was their record release, and they had actually pressed vinyl copies, which I love, but I was too broke to buy one. Goat played the best set I've seen them play in ages. Good times were had by all. I geeked out about beer for awhile with my friend B, and have added a couple more to the list of things I need to try.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
We have a new hard drive, but the b.h. is still trying to retrieve everything from backup. We'll see.
Thursday night we both worked, and I had the good fortune of getting sprung early (I had a Paper Scissors Rock duel with my co-worker to win the privilege; I chose rock, of course, and therefore got to rock), which allowed me to see Patterson Hood & friends at Farm 255. His friends included William Tonks, Dave Barbe, Easy B, Don Chambers, John Neff, and the fabulous Mr. Dave Marr. I got to hear many of my favorite songs, quaff a couple Dogfish Head 90 minute pale ales, and hang out with the b.h. It was indescribably wonderful. We had every intention of going to the 40 Watt after, but it was very late when they finally quit and we both had to work early in the morning, so we decided to head home instead (I really am getting too responsible in my old age).
Friday morning was painful, but with the bonus that by the time I was fully awake my work day was half over. Work was enjoyable.
I got fresh samosas from the boss lady's parents, who know from samosas. They were cheap and delicious, and kept the b.h. from having to do any manual labor when we got home.
We rented Death Rac3, which we knew was not going to be thought-provoking (I could watch Ian McShane butter toast for two hours, though, so who cares?), and basically just turned off our brains when we got home. Went to bed very early. Still not finished reading Coraline, despite its being a children's book and an easy read, because I keep nodding off moments after turning in.
Woke up early to take the b.h. to work, stopped at the bank and the grocery store, and started some yard work when I got back. It is warm and beautiful outside today, and I'm trying to decide where to take the dogs for a short field trip before I go to work.
Thursday night we both worked, and I had the good fortune of getting sprung early (I had a Paper Scissors Rock duel with my co-worker to win the privilege; I chose rock, of course, and therefore got to rock), which allowed me to see Patterson Hood & friends at Farm 255. His friends included William Tonks, Dave Barbe, Easy B, Don Chambers, John Neff, and the fabulous Mr. Dave Marr. I got to hear many of my favorite songs, quaff a couple Dogfish Head 90 minute pale ales, and hang out with the b.h. It was indescribably wonderful. We had every intention of going to the 40 Watt after, but it was very late when they finally quit and we both had to work early in the morning, so we decided to head home instead (I really am getting too responsible in my old age).
Friday morning was painful, but with the bonus that by the time I was fully awake my work day was half over. Work was enjoyable.
I got fresh samosas from the boss lady's parents, who know from samosas. They were cheap and delicious, and kept the b.h. from having to do any manual labor when we got home.
We rented Death Rac3, which we knew was not going to be thought-provoking (I could watch Ian McShane butter toast for two hours, though, so who cares?), and basically just turned off our brains when we got home. Went to bed very early. Still not finished reading Coraline, despite its being a children's book and an easy read, because I keep nodding off moments after turning in.
Woke up early to take the b.h. to work, stopped at the bank and the grocery store, and started some yard work when I got back. It is warm and beautiful outside today, and I'm trying to decide where to take the dogs for a short field trip before I go to work.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
New York, Part Deaux.
We woke up earlyish on Sunday, had some coffee and kolacky cookies (I can't find the word "kolacky" in the plural, so there you have it), layered ourselves fully, and set out to shop. I found a lot of stuff that I loved at the first store we went to, but I didn't want to spend all of my money on the first day so I settled for a long wool J. Cr3w coat and a shorter green tweedy Gu3ss coat that has really great buttons and detailing. They were both under twenty bucks. The store was called the Buffal0 Exchange, and I guess it's a chain. Some new stuff, some used stuff. It was chock full of hipsters and bargains. We each left with a full bag, and headed back to the restaurant where K works to drop them off in the office. We got on the subway and went into Manhattan, where we stopped at a Japanese version of the Gap. the name of that store escapes me, but I liked a lot of their clothes. The fitting rooms had long waits, so after a couple of unsuccessful attempts at new jeans I picked up a skirt and a few pairs of socks that were on sale and we got on our way.
The next stop was a place that was full of stuff I really wanted and didn't remotely need. Pearl River, I think it was called. The clothes were ridiculously expensive, but the dishes were very cool and all reasonably priced. I picked up a coffee cup and two bowls (ours keep breaking in the dishwasher. Note to self: No more dishes from fucking Target).
I got a call from the b.h. saying that the band was at the club and they were planning on eating at Katz, the deli famous for its giant pastrami sandwiches (and also for the famous faked orgasm scene in When Harry Met Sally). We stopped by the club to say hello, but chose to eat at a more vegetarian friendly restaurant in the East Village.
Again, I do not remember the name, but it was a full-on veggie place, complete with some kind of shitty "natural" and "healthy" substitute for coffee (as fucking if). K was hilarious. She texted her friend M, who had recommended the place, swearing to get revenge.
Our waitress was slow and not terribly professional, but the food was remarkable. We both had dessert, too. After that we went back to her place to get cleaned up and dressed for the show.
When we got back to the club, it was a thousand degrees inside, which was bad because I had dressed for the cold and immediately started having a panic attack. I went backstage and dumped off a few layers and my coat and was much more comfortable. We ordered a draft for K and a bottle for me, which came to fourteen dollars. Ouch. Then we realized that we had left the cigarettes on her kitchen table, so we ran across the street to buy another pack. $9.25. For C@mel Lights. I have no idea how regular people can afford to smoke there. Luckily we ran into a friend and former Athenian Chris, who was putting the band up for the night. He bought a round for K and me.
The show was great, despite the fact that Donnie had mostly lost his voice. The crowd seemed to like it, too. Afterward K and I went up the street and got the most incredible falafel I think I have ever eaten. It was cheap and delicious, and it made up for the overpriced beer. When we got back to the club, K was accosted by two homeless guys who had earlier harassed her while she was out smoking. I blew past them and opened the door of the club, only to be told by the surly bouncer that there was "NO FOOD ALLOWED INSIDE!"
I told him to get the guys off of us, and he consented to let us hover by the door and eat while the band loaded out. This was made more difficult by the fact that I had bought a sandwich for the b.h., too. I stood there starving, unable to either eat (too messy for one hand) or set one down (pitas are not built to lie down), until K finished and was able to assist me.
We all split up for the night, the b.h. coming with K and me in a cab while the rest of the band went with Chris. It was nice to have the b.h. back, even if just for the night. Made the air mattress a little fuller and me a little warmer. We had a glass of wine, watched an episode of Laverne and Shirley, showered, and turned in.
The next stop was a place that was full of stuff I really wanted and didn't remotely need. Pearl River, I think it was called. The clothes were ridiculously expensive, but the dishes were very cool and all reasonably priced. I picked up a coffee cup and two bowls (ours keep breaking in the dishwasher. Note to self: No more dishes from fucking Target).
I got a call from the b.h. saying that the band was at the club and they were planning on eating at Katz, the deli famous for its giant pastrami sandwiches (and also for the famous faked orgasm scene in When Harry Met Sally). We stopped by the club to say hello, but chose to eat at a more vegetarian friendly restaurant in the East Village.
Again, I do not remember the name, but it was a full-on veggie place, complete with some kind of shitty "natural" and "healthy" substitute for coffee (as fucking if). K was hilarious. She texted her friend M, who had recommended the place, swearing to get revenge.
Our waitress was slow and not terribly professional, but the food was remarkable. We both had dessert, too. After that we went back to her place to get cleaned up and dressed for the show.
When we got back to the club, it was a thousand degrees inside, which was bad because I had dressed for the cold and immediately started having a panic attack. I went backstage and dumped off a few layers and my coat and was much more comfortable. We ordered a draft for K and a bottle for me, which came to fourteen dollars. Ouch. Then we realized that we had left the cigarettes on her kitchen table, so we ran across the street to buy another pack. $9.25. For C@mel Lights. I have no idea how regular people can afford to smoke there. Luckily we ran into a friend and former Athenian Chris, who was putting the band up for the night. He bought a round for K and me.
The show was great, despite the fact that Donnie had mostly lost his voice. The crowd seemed to like it, too. Afterward K and I went up the street and got the most incredible falafel I think I have ever eaten. It was cheap and delicious, and it made up for the overpriced beer. When we got back to the club, K was accosted by two homeless guys who had earlier harassed her while she was out smoking. I blew past them and opened the door of the club, only to be told by the surly bouncer that there was "NO FOOD ALLOWED INSIDE!"
I told him to get the guys off of us, and he consented to let us hover by the door and eat while the band loaded out. This was made more difficult by the fact that I had bought a sandwich for the b.h., too. I stood there starving, unable to either eat (too messy for one hand) or set one down (pitas are not built to lie down), until K finished and was able to assist me.
We all split up for the night, the b.h. coming with K and me in a cab while the rest of the band went with Chris. It was nice to have the b.h. back, even if just for the night. Made the air mattress a little fuller and me a little warmer. We had a glass of wine, watched an episode of Laverne and Shirley, showered, and turned in.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Double.
Working the Local Liquor Store around eleven this morning. Then a two hour break, then Rock Club. Should be fun, but I'm really looking forward to having tomorrow off and getting some rest. Computer still fucked, so I can't upload NYC pics. The thing isn't even paid for yet and it's already crashed. Not a good sign. Anyway, I'm going to walk the boys before work. Hopefully I'll have something fun to report later.
*Later*
Well, that was exciting. The LLS was particularly busy due to the impending Big Game. Gods I'm glad I no longer work in a sports bar. If I had to work tomorrow I would surely shoot somebody. Anyway, at least most people were in a good mood.
The b.h. has had a tour-related neck injury. No, not the infamous "rock neck", but just as insidious: Couch Neck. Seems he slept somewhere too soft and woke up unable to turn his head much. Thankfully it was the last day and he didn't have to play in that condition. We went to the chiropractor yesterday and he spent the evening on the couch icing and self-medicating whilst I slung drinks.
The first two bands were underwhelming and gay, respectively. First I was exposed to the new 0F M0ntreal record, which was, to put it politely, not my cup of tea. Next was a decent enough band from Nashville, followed by a soul(?) band made up of some Atlanta all-stars. The lead singer was wearing red pants of the new-fangled and short-waisted variety, which rode so low that they didn't even come close to touching his red vest/sleeveless shirt combo. Later I referred to the hair in that part of his mid-section as a Trail of Tears. I had meant to say Happy Trail, but what came out was far more fitting. I don't know who told that guy that those pants were a good idea, but they ought to be slapped.
The Modern Skirts were fantastic, as usual. I don't own and have not heard the new record, but the material they played from it was catchy and fun. It's really cool to see them playing to such a large and responsive crowd, having been there years ago when they sucked out loud to six people. For the encore they brought out members of both opening bands and one Mr. Mike Mills, who sand harmonies and played tambourine. It was great.
Afterward I cleaned up quick, counted my money, and said a quick hello to Phillip and Jojo before taking my leave as quickly as possible.
*Later*
Well, that was exciting. The LLS was particularly busy due to the impending Big Game. Gods I'm glad I no longer work in a sports bar. If I had to work tomorrow I would surely shoot somebody. Anyway, at least most people were in a good mood.
The b.h. has had a tour-related neck injury. No, not the infamous "rock neck", but just as insidious: Couch Neck. Seems he slept somewhere too soft and woke up unable to turn his head much. Thankfully it was the last day and he didn't have to play in that condition. We went to the chiropractor yesterday and he spent the evening on the couch icing and self-medicating whilst I slung drinks.
The first two bands were underwhelming and gay, respectively. First I was exposed to the new 0F M0ntreal record, which was, to put it politely, not my cup of tea. Next was a decent enough band from Nashville, followed by a soul(?) band made up of some Atlanta all-stars. The lead singer was wearing red pants of the new-fangled and short-waisted variety, which rode so low that they didn't even come close to touching his red vest/sleeveless shirt combo. Later I referred to the hair in that part of his mid-section as a Trail of Tears. I had meant to say Happy Trail, but what came out was far more fitting. I don't know who told that guy that those pants were a good idea, but they ought to be slapped.
The Modern Skirts were fantastic, as usual. I don't own and have not heard the new record, but the material they played from it was catchy and fun. It's really cool to see them playing to such a large and responsive crowd, having been there years ago when they sucked out loud to six people. For the encore they brought out members of both opening bands and one Mr. Mike Mills, who sand harmonies and played tambourine. It was great.
Afterward I cleaned up quick, counted my money, and said a quick hello to Phillip and Jojo before taking my leave as quickly as possible.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
I went to Shayne and Todd's for an Obama party. Ate a whole lot of Jenn's fabulous Cowboy Caviar, as well as some lovely roasted potatoes, cheese and crackers (don't know what kind of cheese, but it was hard and white and very tasty- kind of Manchego-ish), a salad, some kind of dessert cup pastry thingie with a custardy filling that Kellie made (I had about fifteen of them probably), and a Rogue Yellow Snow IPA. Very tasty. Somehow I still managed to drag myself downtown for the rock show.
Dr. Ass was not in attendance due to a potentially serious illness , which was a bit of a bummer, but the Dictatortots soldiered on, playing mostly the hits in an acoustic fashion. They did a new song called Three Word Band Name that was hilarious. I hope they post the lyrics on their website. Later when The Dumps took the stage, Andy said they'd like to thank Hope for a Golden Dictatortot for opening the show. This is a funny joke if you are an Athens local with some knowledge of the music scene, but if you aren't then you'd be asleep before I could explain it. I laughed out loud and nearly shot beer through my nose.
Hayride was in full force. Loud and fun and wanky when appropriate. They did some great covers, too. Wish I had the energy to go back and see them tonight with Jackpot City.
I stayed for a few Dumps songs, but I did have to be at work early this morning, so I didn't see the whole show. I did get to talk to several people I haven't seen in awhile (again), so that was fun.
Did I mention that I'm really excited about the new president?
I did smoke about two thousand cigarettes last night in an effort not to drink too much, so I woke up this morning wishing I were dead.
I went to work moaning and grumbling (and late), and when I got there Clay had an egg and cheese biscuit waiting for me. I could have kissed him. It was soaked - and I mean soaked through with grease, and I scarfed it down and felt instantly better.
The day was long and difficult. I lifted a lot of heavy crap. I talked to very few people. I rather enjoyed it. It was bloody cold, but I was layered, and I felt a real sense of accomplishment when it was over.
the wine tasting was rather a bust, because a bunch of people canceled (probably due to the cold), but the few people that did show up wound up being great. It was fun and somewhat informative. I got home earlyish and just got off the phone with the b.h. Just found out that some of our friends are pregnant (in the good way), which is exciting, and also found out the lineup for the next Woody Guthrie record (like the Billy Bragg and Wilco ones, but without Jeff Fucking Tw33dy, whom I have had enough of at this point). It's all very exciting.
I'm going to have to use up the rest of my energy to go wrestle with the dogs if I intend to get any sleep, so I guess I'd best be going.
Dr. Ass was not in attendance due to a potentially serious illness , which was a bit of a bummer, but the Dictatortots soldiered on, playing mostly the hits in an acoustic fashion. They did a new song called Three Word Band Name that was hilarious. I hope they post the lyrics on their website. Later when The Dumps took the stage, Andy said they'd like to thank Hope for a Golden Dictatortot for opening the show. This is a funny joke if you are an Athens local with some knowledge of the music scene, but if you aren't then you'd be asleep before I could explain it. I laughed out loud and nearly shot beer through my nose.
Hayride was in full force. Loud and fun and wanky when appropriate. They did some great covers, too. Wish I had the energy to go back and see them tonight with Jackpot City.
I stayed for a few Dumps songs, but I did have to be at work early this morning, so I didn't see the whole show. I did get to talk to several people I haven't seen in awhile (again), so that was fun.
Did I mention that I'm really excited about the new president?
I did smoke about two thousand cigarettes last night in an effort not to drink too much, so I woke up this morning wishing I were dead.
I went to work moaning and grumbling (and late), and when I got there Clay had an egg and cheese biscuit waiting for me. I could have kissed him. It was soaked - and I mean soaked through with grease, and I scarfed it down and felt instantly better.
The day was long and difficult. I lifted a lot of heavy crap. I talked to very few people. I rather enjoyed it. It was bloody cold, but I was layered, and I felt a real sense of accomplishment when it was over.
the wine tasting was rather a bust, because a bunch of people canceled (probably due to the cold), but the few people that did show up wound up being great. It was fun and somewhat informative. I got home earlyish and just got off the phone with the b.h. Just found out that some of our friends are pregnant (in the good way), which is exciting, and also found out the lineup for the next Woody Guthrie record (like the Billy Bragg and Wilco ones, but without Jeff Fucking Tw33dy, whom I have had enough of at this point). It's all very exciting.
I'm going to have to use up the rest of my energy to go wrestle with the dogs if I intend to get any sleep, so I guess I'd best be going.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
I've just given the boys some Bully St1cks (G00gle it if you don't know) because more than anything I need a few minutes of quiet. Last night was awesome. So awesome, in fact, that I didn't even start home until 5am.
I worked my ass off for several hours. I had forgotten how much it hurts to open hundreds of beer cans, and wound up having to put electrical tape on my can-popping finger to reinforce my nail. The customers were mostly nice, except for the guy who was already pissing us off at 9:30 (the doors opened at nine). We was a big, goofy, red-necky guy in a button down shirt, camouflage pants, and checkered vans. Strange. Loud. We all tried nicely to get him to back off and slow down a bit. He was in our faces, as well as the faces of any and all customers who happened up to the bar when he was near (which was often, because he was a thirsty boy). I finally decided to cut him off because I didn't want him running all the other people off and sending them to the other bar. So when he came up and ordered, five shots of Jagerm3ister, I smiled sweetly and shook my head.
"What?"
"Nope. Can't do it. Sorry."
"You want one?"
"No."
"Okay, make it six then."
"Not gonna happen."
"Seven?"
I shook my head. He leaned forward and looked at me blearily, clearly unable to do the math.
"Why?"
"Look, you're putting me in a difficult position here. If I give you these shots, you're going to pound them all, pass out or get thrown out, and miss the show. And then you're going to be really pissed off."
"We got tickets to tomorrow night."
"Not gonna happen. Seriously."
I didn't see him for the rest of the night. I suspect he went over to the other bar and pissed them off and got thrown out. What a douche.
The show was glorious, the money was great, and I got to catch up with the Centro-matic guys later. I wonder how often we will see them once we move. Anyway, good times were had by all, I was far too chatty for my own good, and I wound up leaving the club at five am, having smoked far too many cigarettes and knowing full well that i would be paying for it the next day.
I worked my ass off for several hours. I had forgotten how much it hurts to open hundreds of beer cans, and wound up having to put electrical tape on my can-popping finger to reinforce my nail. The customers were mostly nice, except for the guy who was already pissing us off at 9:30 (the doors opened at nine). We was a big, goofy, red-necky guy in a button down shirt, camouflage pants, and checkered vans. Strange. Loud. We all tried nicely to get him to back off and slow down a bit. He was in our faces, as well as the faces of any and all customers who happened up to the bar when he was near (which was often, because he was a thirsty boy). I finally decided to cut him off because I didn't want him running all the other people off and sending them to the other bar. So when he came up and ordered, five shots of Jagerm3ister, I smiled sweetly and shook my head.
"What?"
"Nope. Can't do it. Sorry."
"You want one?"
"No."
"Okay, make it six then."
"Not gonna happen."
"Seven?"
I shook my head. He leaned forward and looked at me blearily, clearly unable to do the math.
"Why?"
"Look, you're putting me in a difficult position here. If I give you these shots, you're going to pound them all, pass out or get thrown out, and miss the show. And then you're going to be really pissed off."
"We got tickets to tomorrow night."
"Not gonna happen. Seriously."
I didn't see him for the rest of the night. I suspect he went over to the other bar and pissed them off and got thrown out. What a douche.
The show was glorious, the money was great, and I got to catch up with the Centro-matic guys later. I wonder how often we will see them once we move. Anyway, good times were had by all, I was far too chatty for my own good, and I wound up leaving the club at five am, having smoked far too many cigarettes and knowing full well that i would be paying for it the next day.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Long Weekend.
I had every intention of going to the Beef Silence show last night at the Caledonia. Not that I have any idea what Beef Silence sounds like, but anything Nick Bielli is involved in is generally entertaining, so I was all about it. Even the b.h. seemed inclined to socialize. Things were looking up as we drove home from work. I was famished when I got home, so I re-heated a bowl of veggie chili, poured on a generous helping of this sour cream jalapeno sauce that the b.h. had made for our dinner the previous night, and shoveled it all into my gullet as quickly as possible. After the initial stabbiness had subsided, I was sitting on the couch reading when the b.h. asked me if I wanted a black-eyed pea cake. That was what he had made the night before, along with the aforementioned cream sauce, caramelized onions, corn bread, green beans with orange rind and candies pecans, and greens with kalamata olives and garlic. I said yes to all of the above, and was soon finished with dinner, part two. At that point I decided to go upstairs and lie down a bit, and at that point, my night was pretty well over.
I napped for two hours, and when came downstairs again I crawled onto the couch under a blanket. Still convinced that I would make it to the rock show, I turned on the coffee maker to re-heat the morning's leftovers. After I drank it, I opened the front door and realized that the fog was so thick i could barely make out the car in the driveway. Oh well, so much for that. I had a few minutes hemming and hawing after, but it was only halfhearted. We watched an episode of Torchwood (thanks for that recommendation, Jamie, I believe I'm hooked) and went to bed. I of course couldn't sleep due to the nap and coffee, but I did have a Josephine Tey book to keep me distracted. When I was finally drifting off, I heard a crash downstairs. Fucking rodents again. Dammit.
Today I finished reading Julie and Julia, about which I am still unsure how I feel. But at least it's not lying on the coffee table anymore, half finished, staring me in the face and quietly mocking me.
Now I'm on to The Cheese Lover's Companion(because why not really?), and I will likely crack open my new copy of Redemption Song: The Ballad of Joe Strummer very soon.
My work schedule is going to be a bit different this week, so I'm hoping to utilize my new found free time reading and writing. No New Year's Resolution or anything, just a vague hope that I will get back to some sense of normalcy. We'll see how that goes. My life has a tendency to throw curves, and I have a tendency to swing wildly at them.
I just finished some wheat pasta with sundried tomato, bread crumbs, and green olives. I am waiting patiently for five o'clock so I can break out a beer. Or a glass of wine. Not much longer now, so I'd best go decide.
I napped for two hours, and when came downstairs again I crawled onto the couch under a blanket. Still convinced that I would make it to the rock show, I turned on the coffee maker to re-heat the morning's leftovers. After I drank it, I opened the front door and realized that the fog was so thick i could barely make out the car in the driveway. Oh well, so much for that. I had a few minutes hemming and hawing after, but it was only halfhearted. We watched an episode of Torchwood (thanks for that recommendation, Jamie, I believe I'm hooked) and went to bed. I of course couldn't sleep due to the nap and coffee, but I did have a Josephine Tey book to keep me distracted. When I was finally drifting off, I heard a crash downstairs. Fucking rodents again. Dammit.
Today I finished reading Julie and Julia, about which I am still unsure how I feel. But at least it's not lying on the coffee table anymore, half finished, staring me in the face and quietly mocking me.
Now I'm on to The Cheese Lover's Companion(because why not really?), and I will likely crack open my new copy of Redemption Song: The Ballad of Joe Strummer very soon.
My work schedule is going to be a bit different this week, so I'm hoping to utilize my new found free time reading and writing. No New Year's Resolution or anything, just a vague hope that I will get back to some sense of normalcy. We'll see how that goes. My life has a tendency to throw curves, and I have a tendency to swing wildly at them.
I just finished some wheat pasta with sundried tomato, bread crumbs, and green olives. I am waiting patiently for five o'clock so I can break out a beer. Or a glass of wine. Not much longer now, so I'd best go decide.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Happy New Year, Indeed.
I worked a full and insanely busy day at the Local Liquor Store, picked up the b.h., brought him home, and rested for about an hour and a half before heading out to bartend. The night was fairly easy, the music more fun and much more tolerable than I expected (sometimes cover songs are truly a blessing), and overall I had a good time. At the end of the night, I waited on my second favorite local bass player. He was wearing a spectacularly gaudy jean jacket, adorned on the back with two skulls in American Indian headdresses. They had rhinestones for eyes. The feathers were individually embroidered. It was fantastic. I was jealous. And of course, without a camera for the first time in almost forever.
Anyway, he and his lady friend were very nice and chatted with the other bartender and me, and we all drank a howdy to ought nine and our incoming President. Though I missed the b.h. and my boys, I cannot remember feeling better for the start of a new year in a very long time.
Today's Customer Of The Day was an old lady who sat in her car in the parking lot and layed on the horn for a full minute until my co-worker Rob finally noticed. He looked out the window, rolled his eyes and sighed, and asked me to please go take the woman's order.
"I'm sorry- WHAT?"
"I know, I know - Just go out and see what she wants."
I did. She opened her door just enough to let the words escape.
"I want five little bottles of vodka."
"What kind of Vodka?"
"Boston?"
I went back in. I got a half pint and an airplane bottle of Mr. B0ston vodka and went back out to the car. Just to be clear, this woman had no handicapped sticker, was in no visible way impaired, and was smoking a fucking cigarette while she waited for me to bring her fucking liquor to her. She was, in short, not that old. Were she elderly, or handicapped, or even - gods forbid - polite, I would not have been so put out.
She pointed at the smaller bottle and handed me twenty dollars. I went back in, Rob rang it up, and I returned to the parking lot and handed her the bag. She took it without looking at me, peered into the bag, and muttered a thanks before closing the car door- again, without looking at me. (Is this a Baptist thing? Anyone?)
When i went back inside, I asked Rob how the fuck all that had started.
"I don't know. Sam set a precedent."
Sam is the owner, so it's not like I'm going to argue. But really.
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Anyway, he and his lady friend were very nice and chatted with the other bartender and me, and we all drank a howdy to ought nine and our incoming President. Though I missed the b.h. and my boys, I cannot remember feeling better for the start of a new year in a very long time.
Today's Customer Of The Day was an old lady who sat in her car in the parking lot and layed on the horn for a full minute until my co-worker Rob finally noticed. He looked out the window, rolled his eyes and sighed, and asked me to please go take the woman's order.
"I'm sorry- WHAT?"
"I know, I know - Just go out and see what she wants."
I did. She opened her door just enough to let the words escape.
"I want five little bottles of vodka."
"What kind of Vodka?"
"Boston?"
I went back in. I got a half pint and an airplane bottle of Mr. B0ston vodka and went back out to the car. Just to be clear, this woman had no handicapped sticker, was in no visible way impaired, and was smoking a fucking cigarette while she waited for me to bring her fucking liquor to her. She was, in short, not that old. Were she elderly, or handicapped, or even - gods forbid - polite, I would not have been so put out.
She pointed at the smaller bottle and handed me twenty dollars. I went back in, Rob rang it up, and I returned to the parking lot and handed her the bag. She took it without looking at me, peered into the bag, and muttered a thanks before closing the car door- again, without looking at me. (Is this a Baptist thing? Anyone?)
When i went back inside, I asked Rob how the fuck all that had started.
"I don't know. Sam set a precedent."
Sam is the owner, so it's not like I'm going to argue. But really.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
The Beat Goes On.
Sunday we slept in. We did a bit of housework when we got up, but mostly we relaxed and spoiled the dogs. On Monday we both worked, then the b.h. had band practice that evening, after which we went to see the new James Bond movie, which we both enjoyed thoroughly. A Bond girl that can actually act (as well as kick some ass), character development, and many, many action sequences. Everything I want in a Bond movie. Can't wait for the DVD so I can watch the fight scenes in slo-mo.
Tuesday I worked in the afternoon, then swung by the house, then raced downtown for the R.E.M. tribute show. It was a celebration of the 25th anniversary of Murmur. 25 years. Wow. Makes me feel a little old, honestly. Anyway, I missed Jackpot City (or whatever they were called that night) and Liz Durett, but I got to see Iron Hero and Don Chambers + Goat, so I was happy. Also, we got home earlyish, which is unfortunately a big deal to me now. (Again with the old).
Wednesday I took the b.h. to work in the morning and came home to nap. Then I got up and got dressed for work, and as I was on my way out the door, I noticed a furry lump on top of my English cabinet in the kitchen. I guess he though he was hiding, but it wasn't working. I got a box and put it next to the cabinet on the floor, with the intention of knocking him into it. Next I got a very log roll of aluminum foil in a box, and climbed onto a step to prod him off the top of the cabinet from the other side. I pushed him as hard as I thout I needed to, but he didn't budge. I wondered if he was stuck. I didn't want to rip his legs off, so I donned the rubber gloves again and reached up to grab him. He ran to the other side, out of my reach. By this time, the dogs were both very interested in what was going on, and I was nearly late for work. I went back to the aluminum foil box, and this time when I pushed him he ran down the back of the cabinet, out of my reach, and scurried under it. I pulled the cabinet out, closing off one side with the box and posting Kilgore on guard on the other. He wouldn't come out. Even after I had the whole cabinet perpendicular to the wall and was on my knees trying to pry him out with a broom, he wouldn't budge. After about five minutes of this, he bolted out between the box and the cabinet and scurried under the fridge. Bastard. I got up, brushed off my pants, and went to work, promising a steak to whichever dog managed to kill that rat before I got home.
I worked eleven hours at the Local Liquor Store. It was ridiculous. We sold ten thousand dollars worth of wine. Ten. Thousand. Dollars. That's a lot of wine. R and I were running around helping customers and just trying to keep product on the shelves. It was hectic, but it felt good to be busy.
Thursday was Turkey day with the b.h.'s folks, low key and delicious. Friday I worked in the morning, then Friday night we sat on the couch and watched movies and read. That new Narnia movie is beautiful to look at but inexplicably boring. It has been years since I read the books, but I swear they were about something. I know there were plots in them, so i can only assume that whoever adapted the screenplay just made it up themselves. I don't know.
Now I'm re-reading Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil in preparation for our trip to Savannah next weekend. I know we sound very jet-setty these days, but it isn't quite as it sounds. We're still wage slaves, but my sister and brother-in-law are generously putting us up in a lovely hotel where they will also be staying for a few days. I haven't been to Savannah in ages and I can't wait.
Tuesday I worked in the afternoon, then swung by the house, then raced downtown for the R.E.M. tribute show. It was a celebration of the 25th anniversary of Murmur. 25 years. Wow. Makes me feel a little old, honestly. Anyway, I missed Jackpot City (or whatever they were called that night) and Liz Durett, but I got to see Iron Hero and Don Chambers + Goat, so I was happy. Also, we got home earlyish, which is unfortunately a big deal to me now. (Again with the old).
Wednesday I took the b.h. to work in the morning and came home to nap. Then I got up and got dressed for work, and as I was on my way out the door, I noticed a furry lump on top of my English cabinet in the kitchen. I guess he though he was hiding, but it wasn't working. I got a box and put it next to the cabinet on the floor, with the intention of knocking him into it. Next I got a very log roll of aluminum foil in a box, and climbed onto a step to prod him off the top of the cabinet from the other side. I pushed him as hard as I thout I needed to, but he didn't budge. I wondered if he was stuck. I didn't want to rip his legs off, so I donned the rubber gloves again and reached up to grab him. He ran to the other side, out of my reach. By this time, the dogs were both very interested in what was going on, and I was nearly late for work. I went back to the aluminum foil box, and this time when I pushed him he ran down the back of the cabinet, out of my reach, and scurried under it. I pulled the cabinet out, closing off one side with the box and posting Kilgore on guard on the other. He wouldn't come out. Even after I had the whole cabinet perpendicular to the wall and was on my knees trying to pry him out with a broom, he wouldn't budge. After about five minutes of this, he bolted out between the box and the cabinet and scurried under the fridge. Bastard. I got up, brushed off my pants, and went to work, promising a steak to whichever dog managed to kill that rat before I got home.
I worked eleven hours at the Local Liquor Store. It was ridiculous. We sold ten thousand dollars worth of wine. Ten. Thousand. Dollars. That's a lot of wine. R and I were running around helping customers and just trying to keep product on the shelves. It was hectic, but it felt good to be busy.
Thursday was Turkey day with the b.h.'s folks, low key and delicious. Friday I worked in the morning, then Friday night we sat on the couch and watched movies and read. That new Narnia movie is beautiful to look at but inexplicably boring. It has been years since I read the books, but I swear they were about something. I know there were plots in them, so i can only assume that whoever adapted the screenplay just made it up themselves. I don't know.
Now I'm re-reading Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil in preparation for our trip to Savannah next weekend. I know we sound very jet-setty these days, but it isn't quite as it sounds. We're still wage slaves, but my sister and brother-in-law are generously putting us up in a lovely hotel where they will also be staying for a few days. I haven't been to Savannah in ages and I can't wait.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Rock, A Road Trip, and The (Rat) War Continues.
So after that last incident, the b.h. and I hatted up, kissed the dogs good-bye, and headed north to Murfreesboro, Tennessee. We had had the pleasure of seeing both Centro-matic and South San Gabriel on Friday night at The 40 Watt, and were eager to repeat the experience. Even though South San wouldn't be playing, Glossary was, and we were happy to make the drive. J was watching the boys, the rats had been wrangled, we had an Ipod full of fresh podcasts, a half a cup of coffee, it was dark out, and we were wearing sunglasses. (Not really, but I noticed that I was halfway to a Blues Brothers quote and I couldn't stop myself. If you don't get the reference, I recommend watching that movie ASAP).
Anyway, I was exhausted, having worked late and then early and then late and then early and then wrestling a candied rat and jumping behind the wheel, but I was eager for adventure. We found our way to the club without incident, despite neither of us having ever set foot in Murfreesboro before. It was on the square, which we both immediately thought bore an uncanny resemblance to Denton, Texas (the home base of Centro-matic).
The club was full of scary frat-boy types and loud drunk women with too much makeup. The upstairs room, where the rock would happen, was mostly empty but for a few bearded hipsters. The guys were nowhere to be found. We decided to go in search of food. The only restaurants open were chains and fast food joints, so we decided to wait until after the show. In the meantime, we went in search of a liquor store.
Whenever we leave the state, it is a requirement that my fellow beer geeks and I return with hoppy spoils that can't be found in the great State of Georgia. Reasons for this lack of availability vary, but in a way I enjoy the idea that there is still a market for regional products. When I was a kid I remember going into gas stations in other states and seeing unfamiliar sodas and potato chip bags. What seemed at the time so exotic to me is now just a reminder of what we have lost. I hope that local beers continue to stay local in some places, because there is a special feeling when I can call my friend S on the phone and say, "They have Dogfish Head 120 minute IPAs. How many do you want?", and get an excited reply like I got Saturday night.
"Holy shit dude. Those are oak aged. That's the best beer in America right now. Buy it all. As much of it as they have. I'll pay you back and give you some."
They had nineteen bottles, which was good, because at $8.99 for twelve ounces, I couldn't have afforded much more. We also picked up some Double Chocolate Stout from the Fort Collins Brewery in Colorado, and a Unibrou 16th Anniversary ale, but everything else that they had is available in our store.
S gave me a double chocolate stout(22oz. of unbelievable deliciousness) and two Dogfishheads for my trouble. Bless that man.
We got back to the bar and killed some time chatting with the guys, and then watched a really great rock show. Chris from the Baptist Generals opened. I like the way he sings. His songs are weird and depressing in a good way. After that Cento-matic rocked a near Greatest Hits set. I decided that "Love You Just the Same" is my current theme song about America.
Hey, you should see us now
Things have really changed.
Reinvent ourselves
Love you just the same.
Will actually mentioned the election and ensuing sense of relief at the Athens show, but wisely kept mum on the subject in Tennessee (they don't know the crowd very well there). Anyway, the show was fabulous, and Glossary was also fabulous, and we had an excellent time. Afterward the b.h. and I stopped to eat at a Waffle House. It was better than our Waffle House at the end of the Universe experience in Asheville. We passed out promptly, and did not awaken until the knocking of the maid at ten after eleven in the am. We got coffee and a snack for breakfast and headed north to Nashville.
Little did we know that there was a professional football game happening right in the middle of downtown, or that the Titans are 10 and 0. Living in a college town has caused me to forget completely about Sunday football. We had a bit of trouble parking, but once we did we walked around and had a relatively pleasant time.
I found this statue in front of the Symphony Hall particularly captivating:
The b.h. had never been, so I wanted to hit some of the tourist spots, but neither of us was really up for the crowds and Hatch Show Print was closed, so we headed back to the car after a bit and drove toward Vanderbilt to find food.
We were tempted to take a carriage ride with this guy, but decided to spend our money on food instead.
These pis were taken out the car window while we were driving down Broadway. Sometimes i like extremely candid shots best.
This building was so stunning that I actually had to pull over and get a better look. It being the Customs House and all, I am surprised I wasn't questioned over my enthusiastic photography.
I had never thought of Nashville in terms of architecture before, but I am very impressed. Now I feel like I might be taking extra time there whenever we pass through.
We wound up at a fantastic Indian restaurant, where we stuffed ourselves crippled at the buffet, and then headed home.
When we got back I called J to thank him and he informed me that we were not, in fact, through with the rat problem. Crap.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Last Night We Partied Like It Was 1992.
A newly elected Democratic President and Matthew Sweet. What more could a girl ask for? Well okay then, how about two consecutive days off?
It was frustrating that every person that came up to me at the show started off with a remark about how fat Matthew Sweet has gotten. Masters of the obvious, they were. I mean, yeah, he's chunked out a bit, but so what? He sounds great, and all of us old folks (the b.h. and I both remarked that this was the first show this year where we remember feeling young in comparison to the rest of the crowd) finally had an excuse to get out, so everybody wins, right? The band that opened was called The Bridges. I had seen them before at Tasty World. Young and beautiful and very talented. We didn't see them play this time, but I remember their music being accessible enough and thinking that they were probably going to be huge. They have done several shows on this tour with Matthew Sweet, and he produced their record, so he called them up on stage to join him for a couple songs. Four young ladies (and one guy, but he was mostly in the background), all beautiful, as I said, and all wearing tight clothes and bouncing around happily. I have never seen a drummer so happy in my life. (The drummer, incidentally, resembled Floyd from The Muppets.)
We went out late and came home as soon as the show was over, and lit the fire and started to watch Kung Fu Panda. We both fell asleep before it was over, not because the movie wasn't great (it was hilarious- I can't recommend it enough), but because we are considerably older than we were in 1992, and because our couch seems to have some sort of sleep-inducing drug leaking from the cushions (further evidence of this phenomenon is the fact that I am currently flanked by two snoozing dogs).
Tonight the b.h. is going over to a friends house to participate in a manly night of playing poker and eating lots of meat. I am going to Earthf@re to buy some toothpaste and conditioner, and then to watch Matt's band play at Kingpins.
Tomorrow it's back to the grind, but for now I will get another cup of coffee and dig into my next book. Just finished Elmore Leonard's Killshot, which was okay, but not anything near Get Shorty. Still plowing through David Foster Wallace's Oblivion, but I can only handle that in small bites due to it's linguistic depth and generally bleak feel (at least so far). It's another book that makes me feel, at times, like I am reading the inside of my own head spilled on the page. So yeah- baby steps. Now I've just picked up Dishwasher, a book by a guy named Pete Jordan, purchased for the b.h. by a friend (and fellow former dishwasher). He rarely reads fiction, so I feel okay jumping ahead of him in line.
The best thing about choosing laundry as a chore is that there's all kinds of down time, but you still wind up with a sense of accomplishment (and a pile of clean clothes) at the end of the day.
It was frustrating that every person that came up to me at the show started off with a remark about how fat Matthew Sweet has gotten. Masters of the obvious, they were. I mean, yeah, he's chunked out a bit, but so what? He sounds great, and all of us old folks (the b.h. and I both remarked that this was the first show this year where we remember feeling young in comparison to the rest of the crowd) finally had an excuse to get out, so everybody wins, right? The band that opened was called The Bridges. I had seen them before at Tasty World. Young and beautiful and very talented. We didn't see them play this time, but I remember their music being accessible enough and thinking that they were probably going to be huge. They have done several shows on this tour with Matthew Sweet, and he produced their record, so he called them up on stage to join him for a couple songs. Four young ladies (and one guy, but he was mostly in the background), all beautiful, as I said, and all wearing tight clothes and bouncing around happily. I have never seen a drummer so happy in my life. (The drummer, incidentally, resembled Floyd from The Muppets.)
We went out late and came home as soon as the show was over, and lit the fire and started to watch Kung Fu Panda. We both fell asleep before it was over, not because the movie wasn't great (it was hilarious- I can't recommend it enough), but because we are considerably older than we were in 1992, and because our couch seems to have some sort of sleep-inducing drug leaking from the cushions (further evidence of this phenomenon is the fact that I am currently flanked by two snoozing dogs).
Tonight the b.h. is going over to a friends house to participate in a manly night of playing poker and eating lots of meat. I am going to Earthf@re to buy some toothpaste and conditioner, and then to watch Matt's band play at Kingpins.
Tomorrow it's back to the grind, but for now I will get another cup of coffee and dig into my next book. Just finished Elmore Leonard's Killshot, which was okay, but not anything near Get Shorty. Still plowing through David Foster Wallace's Oblivion, but I can only handle that in small bites due to it's linguistic depth and generally bleak feel (at least so far). It's another book that makes me feel, at times, like I am reading the inside of my own head spilled on the page. So yeah- baby steps. Now I've just picked up Dishwasher, a book by a guy named Pete Jordan, purchased for the b.h. by a friend (and fellow former dishwasher). He rarely reads fiction, so I feel okay jumping ahead of him in line.
The best thing about choosing laundry as a chore is that there's all kinds of down time, but you still wind up with a sense of accomplishment (and a pile of clean clothes) at the end of the day.
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