Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Ray, uh, LaFountainhead- live

Friends got us concert tickets for last night.

I have never been to the 930 club where chairs were involved, nor such a crowd of responsible and polite young men and ladies in pressed denim. PURSES! Ladies brought purses! Because they had seats to sit on! It was a wonder to behold. I stayed true to 930 roots and kept my license in my shoe.

I kept thinking I was going to see John Legend all day yesterday, even though I don't know who John Legend is, and therefore stage-whisper-screamed "WOOOOOOT JOHN LEGEND" probably 104 times in our friends ears. It was obnoxious. For that, I apologize.

The N. apologizes for calling the opening act "Tristan Fairyfeather, Girl Detective." TFFGD was, according to the very careful notes I took on my cell phone text message draft function: "joni mtchll female jack jhnson sarah mclachlan @ lilith fayre?????"

Tristan, her website notes, likes to surf and draw in the sand. Also, her last name is not Fairyfeather.

We were home and in bed no later than 12:10 pm, and while I enjoyed every minute of barefoot acoustic Ani-guitar and transient-like mumbling between Joe Cocker covers (really, I'm not even trying to be a big asshole. who doesn't love Joe Cocker?), I have officially decided to buy GWAR tickets the next time they come round. I missed them Sunday, and I am sad I did not have the chance to be covered in piss and blood.

Life's delicate balance n stuff.

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In other news, I am slowly breaking free of the Deep South accent that has taken over my body like some such parasite. It's taken a few days.

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G's brother: there is a certain kickass band playing a specific kickass show in a certain kickass city on New Years Eve, where a certain kickass dude's girlfriend happens to originate, er, from. Said dude found an extremely cheap ticket to that city, and is finalizing plans to break in the New Year with a Killer Party. Your jealousy may begin.... now.

The G: i hope you liked to be punched in the stomach til you cry like the baby douche you are.

That's okay, I'm spending my NYE on the beach.

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