Yesterday when I got to work at the Local Restaurant, My Harried Manager came up and handed me an envelope.
"What's this?"
"It's your bonus," he said, smiling uncomfortably and rushing off once it was in my hands.
I ripped it open and read the letter. It was from the Head of the Culinary School. You will remember that the Local Restaurant is run by the Culinary School, which the b.h. attends as a student. (Of course you will remember, because the minutiae of my life is ever so enthralling.) Anyway, the letter is about the school and how it relates to the community and my job, and it encourages me to think about donating some money to the scholarship fund. "It's easy," reads the letter, which I am reading with the voice of Idiot School Head in my mind, though I have never met Idiot School Head) to donate. Money can be taken directly from your paycheck, by filling out this simple form."
This is all well and good, but my whole bloody paycheck is already going to the school, you asshole. Also, this is a particularly bad time of year, what with business having just dropped off abruptly and probably until the end of the year, to be asking already strapped, no-insurance-having service industry professionals for their hard-earned money. This is beyond bad taste. I felt awful for Harried Manager, because I realized that he was embarrassed to have to hand this to me. We joked about it later. If I weren't so desperately in need of the money I make from my two weekly shifts at Local Restaurant, I would write a letter to Idiot School Head telling him where he can stick his donation request. Honestly.
On a lighter note, I socialized with co-workers for the second time last night. It was only nicking over to the tap room for a quick beer after my shift, but it did involve adult conversation with people, as opposed to my Digital Friends (not that there's anything wrong with them), so it was pleasant. I text-messaged Nick Bielli in the middle of a story because I couldn't remember the name of a band. I would tell you who it was, but I don't even want to type their name in the ether one more time because I think they suck (er, sucked, may be more appropo, since I doubt they have played in a decade) and I don't want to give them any more mentions. Anyway, Nick bailed me out and I felt like I was still in Athens, behind the bar at Local Rock Club, and I was briefly comforted.
Tomorrow we will be paid a visit my the boys from Modern Skirts. Our schedules won't allow us to see them play, but we'll put them up for a night and feed them a nice home-cooked meal in mid-tour. I'm looking forward to it.
Off to work at the Local Grocery. Then home to clean for company. TTFN.
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Just returned from a dinner party at the home of some friends. We never get to do that anymore, and I was glad for the opportunity. We had a few red wines, as well as a lovely German beer that Sam recommended (I can't remember the name at the moment, but I am sure to buy more so I'll report back). I can't say much about it except that it's nice to act like regular adults once in awhile. Eating at a proper table, without the company of a television but with the company of friends and friends of friends, is a luxury we don't often afford ourselves. If I were a resolution type of girl, I'd resolve to do this more often. Since I'm not, I'll just say I'm working on it.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
AthFest Roundup.
Holy Crap am I exhausted. Thursday night I was off. The b.h. and I went over to Jenn's for dinner. Some friends from Rotterdam are in town and they're staying at Chez Pointy Pointy. Matt made a lovely lasagna and we all ate 'til it hurt.
The thing about Chris and Corine is that they seem like such kindred spirits. I first met them about six or seven years ago on the porch at Tasty World during AthFest. It was totally random, of course. My friend Jason and I were bartending, and while we were between shifts we both went outside and there they were. We struck up a conversation and lost track of time, and then Chris and Corine left to see the Truckers and I din't see them again.
Not until 2005, at least. The b.h. and I drove to Denton Texas to see the final Slobberbone shows. We were traveling with our friend P, who would break off in Texas and head to S0uth by S0uthwest when we returned to Athens. The b.h. is in P's band, and P plays in multiple other bands as well (welcome to Athens, where everybody's a musical whore). So we drove to Texas and we went to the show, and as I was standing in Dan's Silverleaf, I turned and saw Corine. I knew immediately that it was her. I did that thing, where people sputter a bit and point and go "I know that I know you, but- here? Where? Why? What the-?" I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Lots of people travel for music the way the b.h. and I do. It was a fun reunion, but it was short-lived.
Then last year we went to St. Loius for TwangF3st. Standing in the Schlafly Taproom, chatting with the Centro-matic, I once again turned and saw Chris and Corine. Turns out they also knew Jamie, as well as our buddy T1m Easton, and a host of other like-minded folks that all made the pilgrimage. We wound up at a very strange late night party, and I encouraged them to come to AthFest this year. We exchanged e-mail addresses and went on our way.
Flash forward to Tuesday afternoon. My phone rings and it's Jenn, and she's sitting at Cutters Pub with Corine and Chris. I had no idea that they were coming, but I was thrilled. Apparently they lost our e-mail addresses somewhere along the way, so they never got in touch. Ah well, at least they made it.
So Thursday night was great, because we finally got to hang out in a non rock show environment. Real conversations, good stories, etc. Then we did go to a show. The show was a blast. Nick Bielli and Carlton Owens proved themselves the rock Gods that they are (and then Nick rushed back to work), and we talked to strangers and had a few beers and generally had a good time. When I went back to the bar to pick up the b.h., somebody broke a main water pipe in the back hallway at the bar and water started pouring out all over the floor. We shut the water off, called the plumber, and arranged for him to come out the next morning.
Friday morning I got a call way too early from a lady whose water had also been shut off in the process of our late-night problem solving. Having had a whole four hours sleep, I leapt out of bed, washed my face and tried to flatten out my hair and we both ran out the door.
When we got to the bar there was a lot of calling around for a plumber (we couldn't wake ours), and a lot of plumber's tape. We wrapped the pipe as best we could and turned the water on so as not to inconvenience that other woman any further. Luckily the pipe was leaking onto a drain in the floor, so it wasn't terribly messy. Once the plumber and S got there, the b.h. and I went to meet Corine and Chris for lunch. We ate at The National, and then the b.h. and I had running around to do so we took off. The b.h. played a show on Friday night while I slaved away at the bar. It was a pretty good night. Good music and so busy that it went very quickly. It all ended with a lot of people on the bar at 2:15 am. I'll try to post the pictures later.
Saturday we had to b00tleg some beer due to a misunderestimation (thank you, Mr. President) of exactly how much people like to drink. The b.h. and I went to the store, where our friend was kind enough to loan us his truck to deliver it so we wouldn't have to try to cram 17 cases of beer into our T0y0ta.
After that we went to Jenn's and ate- once again, fucking fantastic. I may die from banana pudding one day, but at least I'll die happy. We went straight to the 40 Watt from there. I stopped out at the main stage to see Modern Skirts. They were fantastic, as usual, but the sound on the side of the stage was shitty and I would have had to walk back three blocks to stand in the front. It was that crowded.
So we hid in the air-conditioned confines of the Watt, catching up with the Centro-matic guys and marveling at the back stage graffiti. I have often threatened to make a coffee table book of backstage areas in small clubs, because they are all hilariously similar in their utter juvenilility. (Yes, it is a word. I just made it up.)Again, pics to follow. Can't upload them on this here laptop.
Centro-matic was, as always, amazing. The new songs are glorious, even more so when I heard them again today on our new vinyl copy of the record. Those guys should really be huge by now. I'm happy for my own sake that they're not, of course, but it would be nice if they could get paid.
While we were backstage, Will asked the b.h. if he had gotten a message he had left two days before. Is the offer still open for us to crash with you guys tonight? But of course, we said. We hadn't gotten the message, but it would be no problem.
No problem except for the fact that the dishes hadn't been done in five days, nor had the laundry, nor had our carpet seen a vacuum this week. So after they finished their set, I ran out of the Watt, over to my car, and sped back to the house to tidy up. The result of my thirty minute whirlwind calls to mind a saying about laws and sausages- that you don't want to see how they get made. I emptied and filled the dishwasher, shoving the remaining items which were too big into a cooler, on which I stacked some things so nobody would open it. Laundry was crammed into baskets and run up the stairs. Sheets from the guest bed were freshened with a dryer sheet and some lavender essential oil, ditto the couch cover. The dogs were staring at me like I was insane (they were right), and barely able to keep out of my way as I ran the vacuum cleaner and dusted at the same time.
The thing is I doubt the guys would have noticed or cared what our house looked like, but I couldn't bear for them to see it like that.
I got back downtown in time to see some of The Empties and some of Idiot Slowdown at Tasty World. The crowd for Idiot Slowdown was so horrifying that I lasted only a few songs. Swooning dumbshit girls and big, oafy guys, all flailing about dangerously and drunkenly. The band sounded great but there were only about eleven brain cells in the whole room, and I couldn't stay. The Empties did a cover of The Glands. Can't recall the song at the moment, but it was cool.
Next I went down to the Georgia Theater to see Don Chambers and GOAT. Girls were swooning there as well, but they weren't encroaching on my personal space while they did it, so I didn't mind. The band sounded fucking great. Best band in Athens, if you ask me. There was a small group of girls standing directly in front of Pistol, totally mesmerized. Will and I were cracking up. I took some pictures.
After that I went with Corine, Chris, and Centro-matic back down to the Watt so the guys could unload. As we were piling into the van, Pistol walked up.
"Did you lose your blonde?" I asked.
"Shhh," he replied, his eyes growing wide.
"Is she behind you?'
He nodded. Actually, she was behind me, but drunk enough that she had no idea what I had said.
We got back here and everybody pretty much fell out. The guys had to be on the road by 7:15, so I barely even heard them this morning. All in all a successful weekend. I'm just glad I get to recover tonight.
The thing about Chris and Corine is that they seem like such kindred spirits. I first met them about six or seven years ago on the porch at Tasty World during AthFest. It was totally random, of course. My friend Jason and I were bartending, and while we were between shifts we both went outside and there they were. We struck up a conversation and lost track of time, and then Chris and Corine left to see the Truckers and I din't see them again.
Not until 2005, at least. The b.h. and I drove to Denton Texas to see the final Slobberbone shows. We were traveling with our friend P, who would break off in Texas and head to S0uth by S0uthwest when we returned to Athens. The b.h. is in P's band, and P plays in multiple other bands as well (welcome to Athens, where everybody's a musical whore). So we drove to Texas and we went to the show, and as I was standing in Dan's Silverleaf, I turned and saw Corine. I knew immediately that it was her. I did that thing, where people sputter a bit and point and go "I know that I know you, but- here? Where? Why? What the-?" I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Lots of people travel for music the way the b.h. and I do. It was a fun reunion, but it was short-lived.
Then last year we went to St. Loius for TwangF3st. Standing in the Schlafly Taproom, chatting with the Centro-matic, I once again turned and saw Chris and Corine. Turns out they also knew Jamie, as well as our buddy T1m Easton, and a host of other like-minded folks that all made the pilgrimage. We wound up at a very strange late night party, and I encouraged them to come to AthFest this year. We exchanged e-mail addresses and went on our way.
Flash forward to Tuesday afternoon. My phone rings and it's Jenn, and she's sitting at Cutters Pub with Corine and Chris. I had no idea that they were coming, but I was thrilled. Apparently they lost our e-mail addresses somewhere along the way, so they never got in touch. Ah well, at least they made it.
So Thursday night was great, because we finally got to hang out in a non rock show environment. Real conversations, good stories, etc. Then we did go to a show. The show was a blast. Nick Bielli and Carlton Owens proved themselves the rock Gods that they are (and then Nick rushed back to work), and we talked to strangers and had a few beers and generally had a good time. When I went back to the bar to pick up the b.h., somebody broke a main water pipe in the back hallway at the bar and water started pouring out all over the floor. We shut the water off, called the plumber, and arranged for him to come out the next morning.
Friday morning I got a call way too early from a lady whose water had also been shut off in the process of our late-night problem solving. Having had a whole four hours sleep, I leapt out of bed, washed my face and tried to flatten out my hair and we both ran out the door.
When we got to the bar there was a lot of calling around for a plumber (we couldn't wake ours), and a lot of plumber's tape. We wrapped the pipe as best we could and turned the water on so as not to inconvenience that other woman any further. Luckily the pipe was leaking onto a drain in the floor, so it wasn't terribly messy. Once the plumber and S got there, the b.h. and I went to meet Corine and Chris for lunch. We ate at The National, and then the b.h. and I had running around to do so we took off. The b.h. played a show on Friday night while I slaved away at the bar. It was a pretty good night. Good music and so busy that it went very quickly. It all ended with a lot of people on the bar at 2:15 am. I'll try to post the pictures later.
Saturday we had to b00tleg some beer due to a misunderestimation (thank you, Mr. President) of exactly how much people like to drink. The b.h. and I went to the store, where our friend was kind enough to loan us his truck to deliver it so we wouldn't have to try to cram 17 cases of beer into our T0y0ta.
After that we went to Jenn's and ate- once again, fucking fantastic. I may die from banana pudding one day, but at least I'll die happy. We went straight to the 40 Watt from there. I stopped out at the main stage to see Modern Skirts. They were fantastic, as usual, but the sound on the side of the stage was shitty and I would have had to walk back three blocks to stand in the front. It was that crowded.
So we hid in the air-conditioned confines of the Watt, catching up with the Centro-matic guys and marveling at the back stage graffiti. I have often threatened to make a coffee table book of backstage areas in small clubs, because they are all hilariously similar in their utter juvenilility. (Yes, it is a word. I just made it up.)Again, pics to follow. Can't upload them on this here laptop.
Centro-matic was, as always, amazing. The new songs are glorious, even more so when I heard them again today on our new vinyl copy of the record. Those guys should really be huge by now. I'm happy for my own sake that they're not, of course, but it would be nice if they could get paid.
While we were backstage, Will asked the b.h. if he had gotten a message he had left two days before. Is the offer still open for us to crash with you guys tonight? But of course, we said. We hadn't gotten the message, but it would be no problem.
No problem except for the fact that the dishes hadn't been done in five days, nor had the laundry, nor had our carpet seen a vacuum this week. So after they finished their set, I ran out of the Watt, over to my car, and sped back to the house to tidy up. The result of my thirty minute whirlwind calls to mind a saying about laws and sausages- that you don't want to see how they get made. I emptied and filled the dishwasher, shoving the remaining items which were too big into a cooler, on which I stacked some things so nobody would open it. Laundry was crammed into baskets and run up the stairs. Sheets from the guest bed were freshened with a dryer sheet and some lavender essential oil, ditto the couch cover. The dogs were staring at me like I was insane (they were right), and barely able to keep out of my way as I ran the vacuum cleaner and dusted at the same time.
The thing is I doubt the guys would have noticed or cared what our house looked like, but I couldn't bear for them to see it like that.
I got back downtown in time to see some of The Empties and some of Idiot Slowdown at Tasty World. The crowd for Idiot Slowdown was so horrifying that I lasted only a few songs. Swooning dumbshit girls and big, oafy guys, all flailing about dangerously and drunkenly. The band sounded great but there were only about eleven brain cells in the whole room, and I couldn't stay. The Empties did a cover of The Glands. Can't recall the song at the moment, but it was cool.
Next I went down to the Georgia Theater to see Don Chambers and GOAT. Girls were swooning there as well, but they weren't encroaching on my personal space while they did it, so I didn't mind. The band sounded fucking great. Best band in Athens, if you ask me. There was a small group of girls standing directly in front of Pistol, totally mesmerized. Will and I were cracking up. I took some pictures.
After that I went with Corine, Chris, and Centro-matic back down to the Watt so the guys could unload. As we were piling into the van, Pistol walked up.
"Did you lose your blonde?" I asked.
"Shhh," he replied, his eyes growing wide.
"Is she behind you?'
He nodded. Actually, she was behind me, but drunk enough that she had no idea what I had said.
We got back here and everybody pretty much fell out. The guys had to be on the road by 7:15, so I barely even heard them this morning. All in all a successful weekend. I'm just glad I get to recover tonight.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Sometimes We Socialize.
Sunday we went over to Jenn's for a birthday shindig. I ate like a pig. It still hurts. Her house is super cool and her new deck totally rocks. I'm looking forward to more adult beverages on it this summer (yep- sometimes I invite myself over, too). It was great to see everybody in that context. Unfortunately much of my socialization takes place in bars, more often than not while I'm working, so it felt good to relax and have real conversation. Thanks, Jenn. We needed it. Hope you had as much fun for your birthday as we did.
We came home early and watched TV a bit, then crashed. I'm sitting on the couch listening to our new Okkervil River records- yes, records, my friends. Thank the gods some people are still pressing them. And speaking of which, does anybody know if the new Replacements reissues are coming out on vinyl anytime? Man, I hit the Rhino website today and just drooled.
The yard is looking really great. Still haven't planted any veggies yet, though. Gotta get the dirt/mulch/compost mix put in. I think I'm going to build some boxes around my raised beds this year. I meant to do it last year and never got around to it, and consequently I have lost a lot of soil. Ah well. Live and learn.
The b.h. is making asparagus risotto right now. It smells amazing. I think I'm going to go see if he needs some help.
We came home early and watched TV a bit, then crashed. I'm sitting on the couch listening to our new Okkervil River records- yes, records, my friends. Thank the gods some people are still pressing them. And speaking of which, does anybody know if the new Replacements reissues are coming out on vinyl anytime? Man, I hit the Rhino website today and just drooled.
The yard is looking really great. Still haven't planted any veggies yet, though. Gotta get the dirt/mulch/compost mix put in. I think I'm going to build some boxes around my raised beds this year. I meant to do it last year and never got around to it, and consequently I have lost a lot of soil. Ah well. Live and learn.
The b.h. is making asparagus risotto right now. It smells amazing. I think I'm going to go see if he needs some help.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Three Strange Days.
They were only strange for me, because I spent the better part of each in a fever dream state, sleeping and sweating and snortling on the couch (Yes it's a fucking word. Because I said so). The show on Thursday night was fabulous as usual. One of the guys was a bit under the weather, so I took him back to the house to dope him up with Ther@-flu while the b.h. finished closing the bar and the rest of the band loaded out. We stayed up late, ate pizza and snack food and talked a bunch of crap. It was fun. I didn't even feel that bad when I woke up after only five and a half hours of sleep and had to go to work at the Big Stupid Box Store. I figured it wouldn't be so bad because I had put in extra hours on Thursday and only had to work four and a half on Friday. No sweat.
Except that isn't how it went at all. I got there and we already had a truck waiting. We had no sooner unloaded it than another truck pulled up, this one with a giant order of indoor plants, which all come wrapped in paper or in boxes and are much more difficult and time-consuming to deal with. Elizabeth and I were the only ones working. Luckily the weather was so crappy that the outside cash registers weren't open, so we were able to pile up the stuff that was waiting in the aisle while we rushed to get the shrubs out before the next order came. While we were doing that, another truck pulled up. I finished putting out the shrubs while she signed that order in, and just as I was finishing, a Slightly Senior Manager (there are many, many managers in a Big Stupid Box Store. They like it that way because it makes it easier to find somebody to point a finger at.) came bumbling through the garden center, barking orders at everyone in sight.
"This needs to be moved right now," he said, mustering as much authority as a man with barely any authority can when there are other people with nearly as much authority present.
"Yeah. We'll get right on it." That was the approximate answer that Barb gave him. Barb is more senior in management than Middle Manager Jim, but less so than the Slightly Senior Manager who doesn't even warrant a name here, since I never see him. Barb is a very hard worker, and though she isn't always on top of everything, she is at least aware of her limitations and leaves decisions to the people who are most qualified to make them whenever the BSBS rules allow. I like Barb. We all do. Unfortunately, Barb doesn't have the power to fire MMJ or he would already be gone. Barb has a sense of humor, too. More on that later.
Anyway, into the middle of all this mayhem walks a Big(ish) Cheese from my Parent Plant Company. I am absolutely calm because I knew he would possibly be coming by, and therefore I had stayed late on Thursday taking care of the minutiae that the Corporate Guys like to focus on: The pots were all facing the same way, tags out, colors striped, dead plants culled, etc. etc etc. I won't bore you with details, but you can imagine how mind-numbing the memos are. Guys in suits in air-conditioned offices making decisions about things they have little or no experience with is How Corporate America Works! (I should make a documentary with that title). We spoke to him for a few minutes, telling him how all the orders (from his company, mind you) had run late and how there were just two of us unloading four trucks, and how it was going to freeze this weekend so we couldn't even put much of the product out or it would die, etc. He seemed to understand. He did look alarmed at a half-full rack of cacti, complete with three dead plants on it, until we told him that we had moved the rest inside because of the weather. He took some pictures, walked around a bit, and left. We were still up to our asses (literally) in paper and house plants.
I was unloading some orchids and a customer came by. She was an older woman who had just moved into a new house, and she was looking to brighten the place up a bit. We talked for a few minutes, marveling at the beauty of the orchids. She chose one that I had had my eye on for a week. I told her so and congratulated her on her good choice.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I don't want to take the one you want."
Very kind of you, I explained, but I am here to make money not spend it, etc etc., and I can't afford to take home everything I like or I would never get paid. I told her I was just happy that some one was taking it home to enjoy so it wouldn't sit in the store and wilt. She thanked me profusely and left to go find moss. A minute or two later I discovered another box of orchids. These were different than the others, with much more color, so I went after her to let her know. She was very surprised and pleased that I would bother to come and find her, and she did wind up choosing an additional plant from the new box.
To make an excruciatingly long story as short as possible, she bought the damned white one for me. I was totally floored, and I tried to refuse it, but she wouldn't hear of it. I thanked her several times and then sort of ran away in embarrassment. Remember when I said I was socially awkward? Yeah.
When I told Elizabeth about it she smiled and said "Well hold onto that feeling, because in like two weeks you're going to lose all faith in humanity."
I laughed, but I know she's right. And it didn't even take two weeks for the wind to abruptly leave my sails.
The rest of the day was more of the same. We were busting our asses. Then we heard a rumor that it might snow. Elizabeth and I were both halfway out the door when the call came in, and we looked around, crestfallen, at all of the plants that would certainly have to come in if it snowed. Calls were made. Managers were summoned. Plants were racked. Then the SSM (Bob- I'll go ahead and name him now that he's been here twice) told Elizabeth that she had to go. No overtime allowed, no matter what. Somebody else would have to do it. Sweet. I was actually over on my alloted hours too, so I started wrapping up to go.
"Who's going to bring this stuff in?" I asked, disbelieving. You can't imagine the number of trees, shrubs, hanging baskets, and, worst of all, rose bushes we had out there.
"(Middle Management) Jim," replied Barb, smiling as she punched out. "Somebody'll have to tell him when he gets back from lunch."
I went home and crashed on the couch. My sinuses started acting up around nine that night, and by twelve-thirty I had what felt like a full blown cold. Slept all day Saturday, worked Saturday night (oh- remind me to tell you about the dumb-ass hippy what went to jail Saturday night), slept almost all day Sunday, and again all day Monday.
Monday evening I got an e-mail from Peggy Plants, my boss who I really like. There were several photos attached. The photos were taken in our store. On Friday. You know, Friday, the day the Big(ish) Cheese from the Parent Plant Company came in? He actually had the balls to point out that there were a few pots that were not facing the direction they should have been facing. He took photo documentation. And mailed them out to EVERYONE IN THE COMPANY. Another guy did the same thing on Wednesday when I wasn't there. Apparently he had waited until L and Elizabeth had removed some of the plants from outside so that they wouldn't freeze, then took pictures of the holes in the shelves where those plants had been, then spread out the rest of the plants for an "after" shot. What a fucking prick.
So yeah- there goes that whole "faith in humanity" thing.
Except that isn't how it went at all. I got there and we already had a truck waiting. We had no sooner unloaded it than another truck pulled up, this one with a giant order of indoor plants, which all come wrapped in paper or in boxes and are much more difficult and time-consuming to deal with. Elizabeth and I were the only ones working. Luckily the weather was so crappy that the outside cash registers weren't open, so we were able to pile up the stuff that was waiting in the aisle while we rushed to get the shrubs out before the next order came. While we were doing that, another truck pulled up. I finished putting out the shrubs while she signed that order in, and just as I was finishing, a Slightly Senior Manager (there are many, many managers in a Big Stupid Box Store. They like it that way because it makes it easier to find somebody to point a finger at.) came bumbling through the garden center, barking orders at everyone in sight.
"This needs to be moved right now," he said, mustering as much authority as a man with barely any authority can when there are other people with nearly as much authority present.
"Yeah. We'll get right on it." That was the approximate answer that Barb gave him. Barb is more senior in management than Middle Manager Jim, but less so than the Slightly Senior Manager who doesn't even warrant a name here, since I never see him. Barb is a very hard worker, and though she isn't always on top of everything, she is at least aware of her limitations and leaves decisions to the people who are most qualified to make them whenever the BSBS rules allow. I like Barb. We all do. Unfortunately, Barb doesn't have the power to fire MMJ or he would already be gone. Barb has a sense of humor, too. More on that later.
Anyway, into the middle of all this mayhem walks a Big(ish) Cheese from my Parent Plant Company. I am absolutely calm because I knew he would possibly be coming by, and therefore I had stayed late on Thursday taking care of the minutiae that the Corporate Guys like to focus on: The pots were all facing the same way, tags out, colors striped, dead plants culled, etc. etc etc. I won't bore you with details, but you can imagine how mind-numbing the memos are. Guys in suits in air-conditioned offices making decisions about things they have little or no experience with is How Corporate America Works! (I should make a documentary with that title). We spoke to him for a few minutes, telling him how all the orders (from his company, mind you) had run late and how there were just two of us unloading four trucks, and how it was going to freeze this weekend so we couldn't even put much of the product out or it would die, etc. He seemed to understand. He did look alarmed at a half-full rack of cacti, complete with three dead plants on it, until we told him that we had moved the rest inside because of the weather. He took some pictures, walked around a bit, and left. We were still up to our asses (literally) in paper and house plants.
I was unloading some orchids and a customer came by. She was an older woman who had just moved into a new house, and she was looking to brighten the place up a bit. We talked for a few minutes, marveling at the beauty of the orchids. She chose one that I had had my eye on for a week. I told her so and congratulated her on her good choice.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I don't want to take the one you want."
Very kind of you, I explained, but I am here to make money not spend it, etc etc., and I can't afford to take home everything I like or I would never get paid. I told her I was just happy that some one was taking it home to enjoy so it wouldn't sit in the store and wilt. She thanked me profusely and left to go find moss. A minute or two later I discovered another box of orchids. These were different than the others, with much more color, so I went after her to let her know. She was very surprised and pleased that I would bother to come and find her, and she did wind up choosing an additional plant from the new box.
To make an excruciatingly long story as short as possible, she bought the damned white one for me. I was totally floored, and I tried to refuse it, but she wouldn't hear of it. I thanked her several times and then sort of ran away in embarrassment. Remember when I said I was socially awkward? Yeah.
When I told Elizabeth about it she smiled and said "Well hold onto that feeling, because in like two weeks you're going to lose all faith in humanity."
I laughed, but I know she's right. And it didn't even take two weeks for the wind to abruptly leave my sails.
The rest of the day was more of the same. We were busting our asses. Then we heard a rumor that it might snow. Elizabeth and I were both halfway out the door when the call came in, and we looked around, crestfallen, at all of the plants that would certainly have to come in if it snowed. Calls were made. Managers were summoned. Plants were racked. Then the SSM (Bob- I'll go ahead and name him now that he's been here twice) told Elizabeth that she had to go. No overtime allowed, no matter what. Somebody else would have to do it. Sweet. I was actually over on my alloted hours too, so I started wrapping up to go.
"Who's going to bring this stuff in?" I asked, disbelieving. You can't imagine the number of trees, shrubs, hanging baskets, and, worst of all, rose bushes we had out there.
"(Middle Management) Jim," replied Barb, smiling as she punched out. "Somebody'll have to tell him when he gets back from lunch."
I went home and crashed on the couch. My sinuses started acting up around nine that night, and by twelve-thirty I had what felt like a full blown cold. Slept all day Saturday, worked Saturday night (oh- remind me to tell you about the dumb-ass hippy what went to jail Saturday night), slept almost all day Sunday, and again all day Monday.
Monday evening I got an e-mail from Peggy Plants, my boss who I really like. There were several photos attached. The photos were taken in our store. On Friday. You know, Friday, the day the Big(ish) Cheese from the Parent Plant Company came in? He actually had the balls to point out that there were a few pots that were not facing the direction they should have been facing. He took photo documentation. And mailed them out to EVERYONE IN THE COMPANY. Another guy did the same thing on Wednesday when I wasn't there. Apparently he had waited until L and Elizabeth had removed some of the plants from outside so that they wouldn't freeze, then took pictures of the holes in the shelves where those plants had been, then spread out the rest of the plants for an "after" shot. What a fucking prick.
So yeah- there goes that whole "faith in humanity" thing.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
The More Things Change...
K got in from New York on Thursday night. She brought her friend J, whom I had never met. They came straight to the bar from the airport, just in time to hear a really crap band play a really crap cover of Eric Cl@pton's "Cocaine"- a really crap song to begin with, in my opinion. So I took a break and got them and myself a drink and went outside where we could hear each other talk.
I haven't seen K since Halloween, and it was remarkable how little had changed, how I felt like she hadn't been gone at all. It made me think that I probably really need to get the hell out of this town. I swear we were having the same conversation that we had had the night before she left, and the night before that, and the week before that, and so on back to the time when I first met her.
Last night I met them downtown at eleven. They had already been drinking for hours, since some friends of K's got married that afternoon. We had a beer at one bar, then moved on to the 40 watt and then to the Caledonia. K wanted to give J the whole tour. There were good bands playing at both clubs, but we didn't hear much music because we kept running into people we knew (most of whom had not spoken to K since she left).
At some point, somebody brought up R0n Jeremy. I have no idea why, but it lead to me telling J the briefest possible version of the Night That I met R0n Jeremy story. It was amusing. I hadn't thought about it in ages.
Approximately thirty minutes later, my phone rang. It was T, drunk as fuck, calling from Chicago. He was at a work party (which explained the level of drunkenness). The first thing out of his mouth?
"Hey Bartender, can you e-mail me that picture of you and Ron Jeremy?"
Bizarre. I still haven't found it, but now that I've remembered I'm going to go hunt for it again.
A.J.'s movie is out now. I still haven't gone to see it, because it isn't playing locally, but I am trying to get to Atlanta. You should go. Like, all four of you. It's called The Signal, and I haven't seen it since they put the music in, but I'm sure it kicks even more ass. The Boston Globe thought he was particularly good. That made me really happy. Many reviewers don't seem to understand it. That makes me sad. For the record, I think the middle of the movie (it is in three parts) is hilarious. Hi. Lar. Ious.
In other news, I found several gray hairs on my head the other day. It's the stupid lighting at the Big Stupid Box Store. Don't they know that bar lighting is better for everybody? I called Shayne in a panic, but she was in NYC. Crap! I need a dye job. Badly. And a haircut.
In conclusion, the weekend was a whirlwind. I saw K several times, much drinking was done, and much talking, and I found myself not having much to say. I think it's time for a change of scenery. But the big question: Not where will I go, or what will I do when I get there, but What will I call my blog?
I haven't seen K since Halloween, and it was remarkable how little had changed, how I felt like she hadn't been gone at all. It made me think that I probably really need to get the hell out of this town. I swear we were having the same conversation that we had had the night before she left, and the night before that, and the week before that, and so on back to the time when I first met her.
Last night I met them downtown at eleven. They had already been drinking for hours, since some friends of K's got married that afternoon. We had a beer at one bar, then moved on to the 40 watt and then to the Caledonia. K wanted to give J the whole tour. There were good bands playing at both clubs, but we didn't hear much music because we kept running into people we knew (most of whom had not spoken to K since she left).
At some point, somebody brought up R0n Jeremy. I have no idea why, but it lead to me telling J the briefest possible version of the Night That I met R0n Jeremy story. It was amusing. I hadn't thought about it in ages.
Approximately thirty minutes later, my phone rang. It was T, drunk as fuck, calling from Chicago. He was at a work party (which explained the level of drunkenness). The first thing out of his mouth?
"Hey Bartender, can you e-mail me that picture of you and Ron Jeremy?"
Bizarre. I still haven't found it, but now that I've remembered I'm going to go hunt for it again.
A.J.'s movie is out now. I still haven't gone to see it, because it isn't playing locally, but I am trying to get to Atlanta. You should go. Like, all four of you. It's called The Signal, and I haven't seen it since they put the music in, but I'm sure it kicks even more ass. The Boston Globe thought he was particularly good. That made me really happy. Many reviewers don't seem to understand it. That makes me sad. For the record, I think the middle of the movie (it is in three parts) is hilarious. Hi. Lar. Ious.
In other news, I found several gray hairs on my head the other day. It's the stupid lighting at the Big Stupid Box Store. Don't they know that bar lighting is better for everybody? I called Shayne in a panic, but she was in NYC. Crap! I need a dye job. Badly. And a haircut.
In conclusion, the weekend was a whirlwind. I saw K several times, much drinking was done, and much talking, and I found myself not having much to say. I think it's time for a change of scenery. But the big question: Not where will I go, or what will I do when I get there, but What will I call my blog?
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Memories.
I just got off the phone with K. She seems to be enjoying New York (if not her job and the weather, then at least the adventure). She talked about getting a job on the subway. I first thought she was talking about getting a job at Subway, the mediocre-at-best sandwich shop chain. I of course assumed that she was saying it sarcastically, expressing frustration at the current restaurant job. Finally, I realized she meant The Subway, not A Subway, and I though that might actually be a kind of cool job.
I suddenly had a memory of a woman who used to drive the Blue Line train I rode when I lived with my sister and brother-in-law in Oak Park. She was young, I thought, for her job. She was exceptionally pretty- model-like, even. She always wore a collared shirt and always, no matter what the weather, wore gloves. I never spoke to her, but since I often rode home late at night I would sit in the front car (safer, as at least you know you won't be alone) and watch what she did, what her job entailed. If you ride in the front, you can see all the traffic signals and speed limit signs. I realized that it was quite similar to driving. I also realized that like most drivers, many of the conductors had their own interpretation of the speed limit.
Anyway, one night I was riding home, and there were no other people on the train aside from this unnaturally beautiful conductor and me. The train stopped and a few young guys got on. They were loud and cocky and I don't know if they knew her or not, but they were sure paying her a hell of a lot of attention. She just kept on doing her job. They stood in the aisle a few feet away from her. A few more people got on at the next couple stops, mostly working people who were either getting on or off a shift, based on the way they were dressed. After a while these guys started to get aggressive toward some of the other passengers. They were looking for a fight, trying to prove that that were men. (They weren't). Several of us were getting nervous, and eventually having a hard time avoiding eye contact. And this girl, this young, quiet, incredibly striking woman, stopped the train at the next stop and basically told them to shut the fuck up or get off the fucking train. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't lose her cool. And they didn't really respond. They just shook their heads and walked out, laughing and not looking back. When the doors closed everybody in the car relaxed. Nobody looked around. A few stops later, I was gathering up my stuff and heading for the door. I walked up to the booth where she stood and thanked her. She didn't turn around (the train was still moving), but she smiled and nodded in my direction. And when she turned her head just a little, I noticed, for the first time, the skin on her neck, just above her collarbone, that was peeking out of the very top of her shirt. It was covered with what could only be burn scars.
Not that this has anything to do with K or her potential new career. It was just something I thought of. I wish K would come back.
I suddenly had a memory of a woman who used to drive the Blue Line train I rode when I lived with my sister and brother-in-law in Oak Park. She was young, I thought, for her job. She was exceptionally pretty- model-like, even. She always wore a collared shirt and always, no matter what the weather, wore gloves. I never spoke to her, but since I often rode home late at night I would sit in the front car (safer, as at least you know you won't be alone) and watch what she did, what her job entailed. If you ride in the front, you can see all the traffic signals and speed limit signs. I realized that it was quite similar to driving. I also realized that like most drivers, many of the conductors had their own interpretation of the speed limit.
Anyway, one night I was riding home, and there were no other people on the train aside from this unnaturally beautiful conductor and me. The train stopped and a few young guys got on. They were loud and cocky and I don't know if they knew her or not, but they were sure paying her a hell of a lot of attention. She just kept on doing her job. They stood in the aisle a few feet away from her. A few more people got on at the next couple stops, mostly working people who were either getting on or off a shift, based on the way they were dressed. After a while these guys started to get aggressive toward some of the other passengers. They were looking for a fight, trying to prove that that were men. (They weren't). Several of us were getting nervous, and eventually having a hard time avoiding eye contact. And this girl, this young, quiet, incredibly striking woman, stopped the train at the next stop and basically told them to shut the fuck up or get off the fucking train. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't lose her cool. And they didn't really respond. They just shook their heads and walked out, laughing and not looking back. When the doors closed everybody in the car relaxed. Nobody looked around. A few stops later, I was gathering up my stuff and heading for the door. I walked up to the booth where she stood and thanked her. She didn't turn around (the train was still moving), but she smiled and nodded in my direction. And when she turned her head just a little, I noticed, for the first time, the skin on her neck, just above her collarbone, that was peeking out of the very top of her shirt. It was covered with what could only be burn scars.
Not that this has anything to do with K or her potential new career. It was just something I thought of. I wish K would come back.
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