It would be nice to attribute my absence and altogether infrequent presence this past summer to some fabulous vacationing or wild adrenaline-soaked days on the road. Sounds pretty lame to say um, well... I don't have internet access at home and I had to wait until the school year started in order to properly start abusing the taxpayers' dollars. But my roommate is thisclose to buying herself a laptop and then she'll simply have to chip in on some WiFi action.
So back to work and back to blogging. In the meantime, some snippets from past weeks.
Ever been so drunk you can't remember which restroom symbol is for boys and which one if for girls? Yeah, me too! Here's how I solved the problem (and looked perfectly ridiculous in the process): I steadied myself between the two doors and stopped trying to remember which was which and simply waited for someone to emerge from one of the rooms. Clever, eh? I was supposed to also be thinking, in my head, "wait for a guy to emerge, then use that door." Instead I nodded politely to the girl in the skirt and stilettos as she held the door for me with what I assume was a rather confused expression and waited behind two girls lined up for a stall for a good thirty seconds before realizing that there was a slight problem.
I still used the stall. I really had to fucking pee.
That was the same night I booked my friend's alt-country band for a Danzig-tribute show on Halloween weekend. Sounded like a great idea at the time. If Dando and Cash can look cool doing it...
I have a new '05 fave:
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!'s debut album is a brilliant marriage of Talking Heads and Arcade Fire that, thanks to a fortuitous second pressing, is finally available in respectable music stores (re: Amoeba) and not just online. Get one.
There's an interesting anti-war pagoda-looking thing in Hayes Valley that looks like it's built out of popsicle sticks. I hear it looks cooler if you're spinning.
Those of youse chumps still lining up for forty-five minutes outside of the Pork Store because of your velvet rope mentality need to cross the fucking street to the Squat and Gobble and spend more time eating and less time trying to look cool.
I'm sending this picture to my grandmother in Italy. She doesn't think my brother and I are eating enough.
I'm still in love with this girl who doesn't even know I exist!
Well, she does kinda know. But she just bought a new Jetta and forgot all about me. I'm going to buy more comics and sulk.
Tomorrow night! Italian night!
Remember how much fun it was last year? Who's with me?!?
So back to work and back to blogging. In the meantime, some snippets from past weeks.
Ever been so drunk you can't remember which restroom symbol is for boys and which one if for girls? Yeah, me too! Here's how I solved the problem (and looked perfectly ridiculous in the process): I steadied myself between the two doors and stopped trying to remember which was which and simply waited for someone to emerge from one of the rooms. Clever, eh? I was supposed to also be thinking, in my head, "wait for a guy to emerge, then use that door." Instead I nodded politely to the girl in the skirt and stilettos as she held the door for me with what I assume was a rather confused expression and waited behind two girls lined up for a stall for a good thirty seconds before realizing that there was a slight problem.
I still used the stall. I really had to fucking pee.
That was the same night I booked my friend's alt-country band for a Danzig-tribute show on Halloween weekend. Sounded like a great idea at the time. If Dando and Cash can look cool doing it...
I have a new '05 fave:
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!'s debut album is a brilliant marriage of Talking Heads and Arcade Fire that, thanks to a fortuitous second pressing, is finally available in respectable music stores (re: Amoeba) and not just online. Get one.
There's an interesting anti-war pagoda-looking thing in Hayes Valley that looks like it's built out of popsicle sticks. I hear it looks cooler if you're spinning.
Those of youse chumps still lining up for forty-five minutes outside of the Pork Store because of your velvet rope mentality need to cross the fucking street to the Squat and Gobble and spend more time eating and less time trying to look cool.
I'm sending this picture to my grandmother in Italy. She doesn't think my brother and I are eating enough.
I'm still in love with this girl who doesn't even know I exist!
Well, she does kinda know. But she just bought a new Jetta and forgot all about me. I'm going to buy more comics and sulk.
Tomorrow night! Italian night!
Remember how much fun it was last year? Who's with me?!?
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
Bout time you got your ass back in the regular online express coach and did some good and proper journal terrorizing. Props to you good sir. Props.
ps: What the hell are props any way? Gilded propellers on plinths with plaques at the bottom? Random set dec items, quaintly gift-wrapped? Random bits of lumber wedged strategically under the object of complimentary intentions?