It's an exciting day for foot and burn fetishists alike: I've posted a pic of the burns that Holly suffered at the Labor Day BBQ; see "HOLLY'S BURNS" in my pics. The image is so graphic that I debated whether or not I should Photoshop WWE Superstar Kane's mask over it to keep children from having nightmares and mothers' milk from souring in the teat. However, that would have required at least ten additional minutes of work, so I just tweaked the color to make the burns stand out more instead. And I'd like to point out that, unlike Kane, Holly actually was burned and is not just suffering from a severe psychosomatic delusion. (She sends thanks to EnergyChannel for the ice, BTW.)
I'm not posting any images of my own burns, because they were so teensy that I'd look like a wuss by comparison. But I did have another "burn" of my own that night. After gingerlie kicked over the flaming pot of oil that set us and the neighbor's lawn on fire, I said that if she had a job, I'd sue her. Sadly, she was just out of earshot when I said it, so she'll be hearing it for the first time here. If I escape hanging out tonight with my nuts intact, I'll know that she has a sense of humor. If not, well, I've always wanted to be able to sing like the late Tiny Tim.
Oh, and I saw R.E.M. last night at the Clark County Amphitheater, and they rocked. I'm old enough to remember when they were still relevant, and even though they haven't had a legitimate hit since about 1995, they've still got a huge catalog of songs that sound great live. They've also been doing their shtick for so long that they've got it down to a science, and they know how to keep the crowd in the palm of their hand. Michael Stipe blew the opening of the last verse of "It's the End of the World As We Know It," but he was so good throughout the rest of the show that I'm sure that wasn't the only thing he got a chance to blow before the end of the night.
And for the record, I'm not impressed with the Clark County Amphitheater. Apparently they had to go crazy with the soundproofing to get the permits to build it, so about 90% is covered by a gargantuan roof that just sucks all of the air flow and ambient noise out of the place. It's surprisingly sterile for a rock venue. Of course, maybe my perception was colored by the fact that we were sitting in the pricey-pricey seats, surrounded by middle-aged middle-class white people. It was like sitting in the middle of Congress, except we were there to rock instead of debate the merits of the Northeast Dairy Compact. But R.E.M. still kicks much ass, in a very sensitive and politically responsible way, and I'm glad I made it out to see them.
I'm not posting any images of my own burns, because they were so teensy that I'd look like a wuss by comparison. But I did have another "burn" of my own that night. After gingerlie kicked over the flaming pot of oil that set us and the neighbor's lawn on fire, I said that if she had a job, I'd sue her. Sadly, she was just out of earshot when I said it, so she'll be hearing it for the first time here. If I escape hanging out tonight with my nuts intact, I'll know that she has a sense of humor. If not, well, I've always wanted to be able to sing like the late Tiny Tim.
Oh, and I saw R.E.M. last night at the Clark County Amphitheater, and they rocked. I'm old enough to remember when they were still relevant, and even though they haven't had a legitimate hit since about 1995, they've still got a huge catalog of songs that sound great live. They've also been doing their shtick for so long that they've got it down to a science, and they know how to keep the crowd in the palm of their hand. Michael Stipe blew the opening of the last verse of "It's the End of the World As We Know It," but he was so good throughout the rest of the show that I'm sure that wasn't the only thing he got a chance to blow before the end of the night.
And for the record, I'm not impressed with the Clark County Amphitheater. Apparently they had to go crazy with the soundproofing to get the permits to build it, so about 90% is covered by a gargantuan roof that just sucks all of the air flow and ambient noise out of the place. It's surprisingly sterile for a rock venue. Of course, maybe my perception was colored by the fact that we were sitting in the pricey-pricey seats, surrounded by middle-aged middle-class white people. It was like sitting in the middle of Congress, except we were there to rock instead of debate the merits of the Northeast Dairy Compact. But R.E.M. still kicks much ass, in a very sensitive and politically responsible way, and I'm glad I made it out to see them.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
It was cool meeting you last night.