Grooving on the inside...
I need to get a couple of things out of the way before I move on to the rest of my post.
♥ I have just been complimented on how nice my hair looks when it’s down. So it is clearly not looking too green today, which I feared it was (it’s the green jumper, I tell you). Sadly, of course, the niceness is entirely due to the fact that I blow-dried it last night, which is unlikely to ever be the case again on a school night.
♥ I have been crack_impala’d again, for my Johnny Cash fic. My head is rapidly swelling, and it only contained by the sneaking suspicion that in spamming you all constantly with SPN fic for the last fortnight, I have exhausted my muse.
♥ Katie said a funny thing last night, and I promised faithfully to report it. So here it is.
Katie’s Joke
Me: Rawr, my fringe is crazed (my hair obsession not dimmed by a vodka and lemonade).
Katie: Is it a lunatic fringe?
Me&Katie: *much, much laughter*
So, with those safely recorded for the mind of the posterity, I shall move on to what I shall call the thrust of this post. Or possibly the pith. Can I say pith in this context? I do not know, so will do so willy nilly.
♥ I am dead. Quite seriously dead. Or, OK, if you want to be clinical about, I’d probably still register as alive on the stethoscope, but I have a bit of a hangover and am operating on four hours’ sleep, and I am NOT HAPPY. The reason for this is:
♥ We went to see Steve Carlson at the Barfly in Camden last night. The experience was only ever so slightly marred by some very, hmm, enthused fangirls. And you know me and enthusiasm… But Steve was very, very good indeed, and actually just the sort of music I like, so it was all very fine. And he was quite lovely, and we definitely, definitely need him in Casa Padackles, with a guitar and his hat (he didn’t wear a hat, which was a mild disappointment, but c’est la vie). Katie and Helen bought CDs, which I am planning shamelessly to rip (well, Katie’s at any rate and, follow my logic closely here, Katie and Helen will rip their respective CDs for MP3 purposes, and then swap, and then I can steal Helen’s from Katie - oh yes. I’m always thinking…). The first two lots of people (acts? sets?) were also good - the first one was your standard band type, with a guitarist who looked eerily like a young Howard Moon. And the spirit of… well, not Jazz, but something else… was in him. And then there was a chap whose name I have entirely forgotten but possibly started out with an Emmett, or maybe an Earl, came on with guitar and harmonica (a new one, which he pimped admirably throughout), and did several quite funny and very entertaining songs. Might have to Google him.
♥ After the gig, our rational capacities clearly affected by alcohol, we decided that it would be ever such a good idea to head down to Leicester Square, and go to the Full Mooners gig. Uh-huh. On a school night. Crazed, we were, downright crazed. We got there just before it started, and it was very funny, though I can’t remember anything that anyone said, or who was there. Oh, I do remember the vagina song, which started out really randomly, then sort of mellowed, until it was: “‘Vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina/ it was yellow.’ The new Coldplay song there…” which made me laugh vee, vee much. Still have a bit of a girl-crush on Lady Carol, who is mighty fine. Go and look for Lady Carol of the Moon on YouTube, people! Ooh, speaking off, must check for Steve on YouTube over the weekend.
♥ We caught a couple of night buses home. Uneventful. Listened to Katie’s new MP3 player. I kept losing my ear. Frustrating. Got home. Went to bed.
♥ My parents come this weekend. Unfortunately, am deeply untidy (obviously), so will have to do stuff this evening. Pah. Will ring the mater and find out what time they’re planning to show up. Might just go to bed when I get home, and tidy in the morning, though that is doomed to end badly as a plan. Will probably do it anyway, despite this knowledge. Because I suck.
♥ I have just been complimented on how nice my hair looks when it’s down. So it is clearly not looking too green today, which I feared it was (it’s the green jumper, I tell you). Sadly, of course, the niceness is entirely due to the fact that I blow-dried it last night, which is unlikely to ever be the case again on a school night.
♥ I have been crack_impala’d again, for my Johnny Cash fic. My head is rapidly swelling, and it only contained by the sneaking suspicion that in spamming you all constantly with SPN fic for the last fortnight, I have exhausted my muse.
♥ Katie said a funny thing last night, and I promised faithfully to report it. So here it is.
Katie’s Joke
Me: Rawr, my fringe is crazed (my hair obsession not dimmed by a vodka and lemonade).
Katie: Is it a lunatic fringe?
Me&Katie: *much, much laughter*
So, with those safely recorded for the mind of the posterity, I shall move on to what I shall call the thrust of this post. Or possibly the pith. Can I say pith in this context? I do not know, so will do so willy nilly.
♥ I am dead. Quite seriously dead. Or, OK, if you want to be clinical about, I’d probably still register as alive on the stethoscope, but I have a bit of a hangover and am operating on four hours’ sleep, and I am NOT HAPPY. The reason for this is:
♥ We went to see Steve Carlson at the Barfly in Camden last night. The experience was only ever so slightly marred by some very, hmm, enthused fangirls. And you know me and enthusiasm… But Steve was very, very good indeed, and actually just the sort of music I like, so it was all very fine. And he was quite lovely, and we definitely, definitely need him in Casa Padackles, with a guitar and his hat (he didn’t wear a hat, which was a mild disappointment, but c’est la vie). Katie and Helen bought CDs, which I am planning shamelessly to rip (well, Katie’s at any rate and, follow my logic closely here, Katie and Helen will rip their respective CDs for MP3 purposes, and then swap, and then I can steal Helen’s from Katie - oh yes. I’m always thinking…). The first two lots of people (acts? sets?) were also good - the first one was your standard band type, with a guitarist who looked eerily like a young Howard Moon. And the spirit of… well, not Jazz, but something else… was in him. And then there was a chap whose name I have entirely forgotten but possibly started out with an Emmett, or maybe an Earl, came on with guitar and harmonica (a new one, which he pimped admirably throughout), and did several quite funny and very entertaining songs. Might have to Google him.
♥ After the gig, our rational capacities clearly affected by alcohol, we decided that it would be ever such a good idea to head down to Leicester Square, and go to the Full Mooners gig. Uh-huh. On a school night. Crazed, we were, downright crazed. We got there just before it started, and it was very funny, though I can’t remember anything that anyone said, or who was there. Oh, I do remember the vagina song, which started out really randomly, then sort of mellowed, until it was: “‘Vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina/ it was yellow.’ The new Coldplay song there…” which made me laugh vee, vee much. Still have a bit of a girl-crush on Lady Carol, who is mighty fine. Go and look for Lady Carol of the Moon on YouTube, people! Ooh, speaking off, must check for Steve on YouTube over the weekend.
♥ We caught a couple of night buses home. Uneventful. Listened to Katie’s new MP3 player. I kept losing my ear. Frustrating. Got home. Went to bed.
♥ My parents come this weekend. Unfortunately, am deeply untidy (obviously), so will have to do stuff this evening. Pah. Will ring the mater and find out what time they’re planning to show up. Might just go to bed when I get home, and tidy in the morning, though that is doomed to end badly as a plan. Will probably do it anyway, despite this knowledge. Because I suck.