procrastinating is a v. v. entertaining pastime
Kaitlin, I have things to tell you!
First things first; Pat Robitaille was the man that accompanied the Sam Roberts band on bongos when they played Brother Down in Windsor. And apparently he was at the Georgian Downs concert, which the Father refused to drive me to because he said Sam Roberts would think I was stalking him. I told him I didn’t bloody care what Sam Roberts thought of me, as long as I could see his gorgeous gorgeous band again. He still said no, that hoser (the Father, not Sam Roberts).
Anyways, Pat Robitaille is a folk rock musician* from Windsor with an amazingly gorgeous voice whose philosophy is that, “Life wouldn't be the same without green tea." Naturally, I’m kind of** enthralled with him.
I learnt this all, of course, on livejournal, while searching for Sam Roberts pictures as I’m currently making headers and icons of the band. I came across this girl’s photographs of the concert (go to the next few pages to see the rest) and her fangirlish squee about seeing them. I am rather jealous of her as she got to bloody meet Sam Roberts and Pat Robitaille afterwards, and they both signed either her or her friends’ things.
So, Kaitlin, I have a plan. Next time we go to a concert we are not bringing along people with a time limit. Alright? I am serious. No more taking parents to concerts, we shall hitch hike instead if we have to. We are staying afterwards to get our backs touched by Sam Roberts and there are no if ands or buts! (like you’ll disagree)
While I’m on the topic: I keep on having these dreams where I get someone (once it was the Muzzer, the other time the family dropped me off) to drive me to Sam Roberts concerts at these really obscure outdoor imaginary locations. When I get there I think everything will be perfect but then I can’t get in to the concert or whatever. In one, the parents dropped me off and I had this lounge chair with me which I set in the corner of this parking lot (which is where the concert was). I think it’s a great spot to see and all but then I blink and I see all these people lined up to get in to the concert and realize that I’m outside of the gate. So I get up and turn around, and when I look back to grab my chair I can’t find it. Then all these people surround me and I can’t see anything and I wake up. The thing that bothers me the most about these dreams is that I NEVER SEE ANY BANDS PLAY! And it’s really starting to piss me off. Can’t I at least see the opening band? I mean, really, this is my mind, you know.
No word as of yet how Muzzer’s surgery went, and I have a long list of relatives I have to call when the Father finally calls me. Yes, you read that correctly, I, telephonophobic*** Julia, have to call people. And hold conversations with them. Please, someone, pray to Davey for me.
Have procrastinated far too much, off to do school work. Or perhaps I'll take Callie for a walk as she is bugging me and refusing to eat again.
* Maybe I’ve been listening to too much Neil Young and the Band of late but he’s kind of on the mainstream side of folk rock, which isn’t to say I don’t like him or anything, as he’s quite addictive, but he’s less rock influenced than I’m used to. I think it’s just his voice.
** “kind of” greatly understated. He is a man after my own heart.
*** I was never aware there was an actual name for my phobia before today. I don’t feel alone anymore! Hurrah!
ETA: Thank you Davey! The Father called to tell me that Muzzer is doing well and they should be returning in the afternoon tomorrow. I told him about all the people I had to call and he told me he already called them all. I felt a bit offended. I mean really, I'm their daughter, and I get called last. Muzzer could have had a stroke for all I knew!
First things first; Pat Robitaille was the man that accompanied the Sam Roberts band on bongos when they played Brother Down in Windsor. And apparently he was at the Georgian Downs concert, which the Father refused to drive me to because he said Sam Roberts would think I was stalking him. I told him I didn’t bloody care what Sam Roberts thought of me, as long as I could see his gorgeous gorgeous band again. He still said no, that hoser (the Father, not Sam Roberts).
Anyways, Pat Robitaille is a folk rock musician* from Windsor with an amazingly gorgeous voice whose philosophy is that, “Life wouldn't be the same without green tea." Naturally, I’m kind of** enthralled with him.
I learnt this all, of course, on livejournal, while searching for Sam Roberts pictures as I’m currently making headers and icons of the band. I came across this girl’s photographs of the concert (go to the next few pages to see the rest) and her fangirlish squee about seeing them. I am rather jealous of her as she got to bloody meet Sam Roberts and Pat Robitaille afterwards, and they both signed either her or her friends’ things.
So, Kaitlin, I have a plan. Next time we go to a concert we are not bringing along people with a time limit. Alright? I am serious. No more taking parents to concerts, we shall hitch hike instead if we have to. We are staying afterwards to get our backs touched by Sam Roberts and there are no if ands or buts! (like you’ll disagree)
While I’m on the topic: I keep on having these dreams where I get someone (once it was the Muzzer, the other time the family dropped me off) to drive me to Sam Roberts concerts at these really obscure outdoor imaginary locations. When I get there I think everything will be perfect but then I can’t get in to the concert or whatever. In one, the parents dropped me off and I had this lounge chair with me which I set in the corner of this parking lot (which is where the concert was). I think it’s a great spot to see and all but then I blink and I see all these people lined up to get in to the concert and realize that I’m outside of the gate. So I get up and turn around, and when I look back to grab my chair I can’t find it. Then all these people surround me and I can’t see anything and I wake up. The thing that bothers me the most about these dreams is that I NEVER SEE ANY BANDS PLAY! And it’s really starting to piss me off. Can’t I at least see the opening band? I mean, really, this is my mind, you know.
No word as of yet how Muzzer’s surgery went, and I have a long list of relatives I have to call when the Father finally calls me. Yes, you read that correctly, I, telephonophobic*** Julia, have to call people. And hold conversations with them. Please, someone, pray to Davey for me.
Have procrastinated far too much, off to do school work. Or perhaps I'll take Callie for a walk as she is bugging me and refusing to eat again.
* Maybe I’ve been listening to too much Neil Young and the Band of late but he’s kind of on the mainstream side of folk rock, which isn’t to say I don’t like him or anything, as he’s quite addictive, but he’s less rock influenced than I’m used to. I think it’s just his voice.
** “kind of” greatly understated. He is a man after my own heart.
*** I was never aware there was an actual name for my phobia before today. I don’t feel alone anymore! Hurrah!
ETA: Thank you Davey! The Father called to tell me that Muzzer is doing well and they should be returning in the afternoon tomorrow. I told him about all the people I had to call and he told me he already called them all. I felt a bit offended. I mean really, I'm their daughter, and I get called last. Muzzer could have had a stroke for all I knew!