The woes of being me
Ah, back to the blog. You would think that the powers-that-be could come up with a different word for what my kind do instead of blogging. It just sounds immature, ya know? In a way it would be like having a high-power president type position and you're main email address is from hotmail. presidentjohnson@hotmail.com. If I was the president of a large corporation and I the email that I gave out to people was from hotmail, I think that I would probably lose my position in that company very quickly. I would lose the position based solely on having a hotmail account that I gave out to other professional people. Do you write? Yeah, I write. What have you written? Oh, I blog. Oh, I see. Blog. Blog. Blog. That word doesn't sound silly the more you say it. It just sounds stupid.
Anyway, I went to a show last night with the other half of Coldview at the Nutty's. We went to see a band called Melt Banana. Awesome band, by the way. Their set killed! Unfortunately we had to also see the first opening band. Now, I'm always skeptical of opening bands only because I haven't got a clue what they sound like. This band, however, had no drummer. They had a guy manipulating his Mac Book Pro and playing with his electric theramin. That came out kind of dirty, didn't it? Fine. It would have been fine if he had any kind of creativity or direction but he had none of that. He was putting out some hip hop/ drum and bass beats, very simple stuff, nothing to wild. Over the top of him, a keyboardist, bassist and guitarist were playing, what I would consider, very mundane pop music. Ok so we had this clash of house music with pop music and none of it was very good. The whole thing was a cluster-fuck of shit. To top it off, the guy pumping out mundane guitar chords was also singing. Again, fine. But it wasn't fine. He apparently couldn't write enough lyrics to fill a song. I kid you not, every song had a chorus that went like this...are you listening?...doo doo doodoodoodoo doo doo. He sang the words doo doo for almost every god damn chorus. This fusion of pop song/house music was so bad that I almost felt the need to take a doo doo right there in front of them.
So last night, I got home from Nutty's and ended up with a bad stomachache. This thing hurt like hell. It was one of those pains where you are almost positive you are going to be spending the night on the bathroom floor in a fetal position waiting for the next big wave of colon surfing. It never got to that point for me but I didn't sleep well because I was positive that it would come to that. I had convinced myself that if I fell asleep I would wake up in a fudge factory explosion. My fat jelly like stomach just can't take late night food like it used to, I guess. I know you don't want to hear about my bowel stories but then again writing down the interesting things of my life is all part of doing a blog. Blog. Blog. Nope, still don't like the word.
Anyway, I went to a show last night with the other half of Coldview at the Nutty's. We went to see a band called Melt Banana. Awesome band, by the way. Their set killed! Unfortunately we had to also see the first opening band. Now, I'm always skeptical of opening bands only because I haven't got a clue what they sound like. This band, however, had no drummer. They had a guy manipulating his Mac Book Pro and playing with his electric theramin. That came out kind of dirty, didn't it? Fine. It would have been fine if he had any kind of creativity or direction but he had none of that. He was putting out some hip hop/ drum and bass beats, very simple stuff, nothing to wild. Over the top of him, a keyboardist, bassist and guitarist were playing, what I would consider, very mundane pop music. Ok so we had this clash of house music with pop music and none of it was very good. The whole thing was a cluster-fuck of shit. To top it off, the guy pumping out mundane guitar chords was also singing. Again, fine. But it wasn't fine. He apparently couldn't write enough lyrics to fill a song. I kid you not, every song had a chorus that went like this...are you listening?...doo doo doodoodoodoo doo doo. He sang the words doo doo for almost every god damn chorus. This fusion of pop song/house music was so bad that I almost felt the need to take a doo doo right there in front of them.
So last night, I got home from Nutty's and ended up with a bad stomachache. This thing hurt like hell. It was one of those pains where you are almost positive you are going to be spending the night on the bathroom floor in a fetal position waiting for the next big wave of colon surfing. It never got to that point for me but I didn't sleep well because I was positive that it would come to that. I had convinced myself that if I fell asleep I would wake up in a fudge factory explosion. My fat jelly like stomach just can't take late night food like it used to, I guess. I know you don't want to hear about my bowel stories but then again writing down the interesting things of my life is all part of doing a blog. Blog. Blog. Nope, still don't like the word.