Not blown off so much
So, I guess this was friday night, but it's been busy so I didn't write. Blah. It was good times, for me at least, so I figure I should post it, to offset all the griping I do.
Went with some people from work (yeah, the same people as with the blowing) and their friends to see a little band called One Atom Twelve at the Ten High. Got in free, because a bandmember from the band headlining the thing (not OAT) liked my shirt that said "My Other Ride is Your Mother". Amusing, and thanks schizobovine.
Music good, new people good. Next band, bad. So we go upstairs to the Dark Horse Tavern. Dark Horse bad. Just plain, the sort of people who I do not like to associate with, do not like to deal with, and hope to never be like. A whole bar full of drunken asses. Not that I'm not drunk at this point (Guiness On Tap), but I am not a bleach-blond Birkenstock-wearing fuck, toting around a bleach-blond fatass with fake tits and bad cellulite who probably gives bad head and complains about the size of.....okay, enough of that.
So. Anyway. That sucks, so Cassie, who I work with and is generally cool, a skinny dude named Dan, and myself wander off, in search of food. End up at El Myr (skeezy burrito joint), which has, of course, stopped serving food. More guiness on tap, blabbity blah, and then, Neutral Milk Hotel, that band I'm always listening to (thanks Paulie) comes on the, I don't know at the time, jukebox. Dan starts singing. I start singing. Life is good. Dan clues me in, so I go feed the jukebox more money, at which point the juke freaks out and stops playing songs right. Oh well. Evidently this dude saw them live, back in '98 when they were a real band and I was clueless as hell.
Eventually we leave, find a quickie mart so they can eat (hey, I'm not hungry, Guiness has food value), and they truck my ass back to Petsmart, where I'd left my bike, and I roll home. Slightly tipsy. On a bike. Save the "you asshat" comments, I know.
So yeah, I have a new band to follow. And some people I'll probably recognize in the future. Night well spent.
Went with some people from work (yeah, the same people as with the blowing) and their friends to see a little band called One Atom Twelve at the Ten High. Got in free, because a bandmember from the band headlining the thing (not OAT) liked my shirt that said "My Other Ride is Your Mother". Amusing, and thanks schizobovine.
Music good, new people good. Next band, bad. So we go upstairs to the Dark Horse Tavern. Dark Horse bad. Just plain, the sort of people who I do not like to associate with, do not like to deal with, and hope to never be like. A whole bar full of drunken asses. Not that I'm not drunk at this point (Guiness On Tap), but I am not a bleach-blond Birkenstock-wearing fuck, toting around a bleach-blond fatass with fake tits and bad cellulite who probably gives bad head and complains about the size of.....okay, enough of that.
So. Anyway. That sucks, so Cassie, who I work with and is generally cool, a skinny dude named Dan, and myself wander off, in search of food. End up at El Myr (skeezy burrito joint), which has, of course, stopped serving food. More guiness on tap, blabbity blah, and then, Neutral Milk Hotel, that band I'm always listening to (thanks Paulie) comes on the, I don't know at the time, jukebox. Dan starts singing. I start singing. Life is good. Dan clues me in, so I go feed the jukebox more money, at which point the juke freaks out and stops playing songs right. Oh well. Evidently this dude saw them live, back in '98 when they were a real band and I was clueless as hell.
Eventually we leave, find a quickie mart so they can eat (hey, I'm not hungry, Guiness has food value), and they truck my ass back to Petsmart, where I'd left my bike, and I roll home. Slightly tipsy. On a bike. Save the "you asshat" comments, I know.
So yeah, I have a new band to follow. And some people I'll probably recognize in the future. Night well spent.