(I am Jack's yuppie trash. Man, it's hard for me to even comprehend I just typed the above, but there you have it.)
(Quick side note having nothing to do with this post, as if this post had some sort of grand theme anyways: Starbucks near my office bumps up their staff to accommodate the morning rush. This means that even with a long line, service is speedy and efficient, because there are 25 employees behind the counter, most of them yelling. Unfortunately, to be this speedy and efficient, the whole line has ordered by the time they reach the register to pay, because employees yell "WHAT YOU WANT?????" to every person in line. So then I have to also yell my order across the room back to the counter, which I find vaguely and inexplicably embarrassing. My coffee and I have a thing, dammit, a private, morning thing that I do not want the IT guys to share. It is MY coffee. I do not know why, but I don't want everyone to know my order. (grande vanilla soy latte, no foam. Not brain-bending.) But because of the yelling, they get my order wrong. All the time. Today, I walked out with no soy milk, and possibly someone's blueberry muffin, which I did not order nor did I want, yet they thrust in my hands, insistent. I need a new java mainline. Please, independent shops, make your way to the facelesss, numbing office parks of suburbia. Bring your comfy couches, your free wireless access, your hippie/patchouli/grad student smell of sweat and desparation, your organic third-world co-opt coffee beans from Farming for a Future, your Battle of Bands, your adorable, fresh-scrubbed employees wearing hemp necklaces. Please.)
(I now hate myself because of the above post. Great.)
My bad mood might also have something to do with this:
Last night, 395 South. I love flat tires, but I love GIANT BOLTS FLYING UNDER MY CAR even more. And not fun bolts, like lightening bolts. Bigass pieces of metal. This picture does not accurately represent the size of this sucker. I can't even comprehend what nails/bolts/screws of this size are used to fasten. And now, I get to buy new tires, again. My car has been renamed "Goofy Foot."
Don't Mess With Burke
I have officially now missed Revival (ex-Canyon) every single time they've played, ever, anywhere, in the whole galaxy. I feel bad for Revival (ex-Canyon). Will they ever be billed just as Revival? And not Revival (ex-Canyon)? R-E-C, I am missing you again on Saturday, for Old 97s. Apologies. Since I have never seen you, I don't know whether to be concerned about this or not. Are you good?
Perhaps I have mentioned it (to anyone who will listen), I am pretty apathetic in re: to this Old 97s concert, even though I will attend and sing along with the rest of the attendees, because I always do, and God knows I love tradition. I don't know why the magic has faded in recent years- it might have something to do with the song "Rollerskate Skinny." It might also have something to do with Grey de Lisle opening up, (AGAIN)), in a giant wave of nepotism and insanely low-cut dresses. I'm sure she's a lovely woman but I really don't like her
Also.
Much like every single Bob Schneider concert I've been to, I get annoyed by the 700 (give-r-take) people who scream out "TEXAS! TEXAS RULES!!!!" or "AUSTIN!", like they're from that state. When they actually grew up in Burke or something. Don't lie, I know you did.
Happier Things:
1. Someone googled "Pyggy Metal" and found this page (awesome.) I am hoping this is some kind of headbanging thing. I'm really hoping to bring Headbangers Ball back to MTV, and I think a musical genre like Pyggy Metal might be just the thing to push the suits into revitalizing said programming.
2. The color printer at my main office server is named "Dr. Bunsen Q. Honeydew." The black and white one is named "Shaft."
6 comments:
Because of the girls who attend Bob Schneider concerts, I will never see Bob Schneider ever again. Ever. That, and I'm put off by his oversized head.
IT IS!!!!!
It really is only the girls. I so don't get it.
I think Texas is a disease, curable only by etiquette and elocution lessons. And, having gone to an undergrad institution (in VIRGINIA!) where approximately 30% of the population was from Texas, I can only hope for a cure in our time. For the children.
Some people from Texas are great. Some are assholes. Some people from VA are great. Some are assholes.
Potato/potato. My problem is when people from one place pretend to be from somewhere else due to where the BAND (????) is from? It's weird, and obnoxious.
Brett, you're a turd. Texas is the reason.
Thank you, Kriston. Well reasoned and insightful.
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