Homeward Bound + Show

Howdy folks.
It's that time of year again.

The roads are filled with shoppers who are more concerned with finding a 'Furbie' or a 'Tickle-My-Nuts Elmo' than they are with how awful their driving is. The spirit of the season is more based in consumerism than cheer.

It's also the time of year that I make my now annual trip home to Baton Rouge to see my family, my friends, and my dog. I plan on spending a fair amount of time on the inside of several bars. My goal is to enjoy life, slightly or incredibly inebriated.

It's also the second year in a row that I have a show around Christmas.

Northgate Tavern. Saturday December 23rd. 10pm.

David Loti will open the show with a full band, and I'll play with my guys after that.

Much respect to Tom Poirier who is pulling double duty, playing drums for both David and me.

Also, JT$ is pretty studly for playing with his band, The Lazarus Heart, earlier in the evening and then hauling ass across town to thrown down on bass with yours truly.

I hope to see a lot of you while I'm home, both at the show and in various haunts around the Red Stick.

Rock on.
-cpk.

Okay...I get it.

Ha ha ha....very funny.

My inbox has been filled with email most of the day. And by filled, I mean that I've gotten five emails today......and by today I mean this week. But it actually did all show up today. Strangely enough, it was all relevant to one particular topic.

Poor, poor T-Bizzle.

It's actually quite sad that five people felt compelled to send me articles about Taco Bell. I get it....I eat Taco Bell. I like it. It's relatively cheap, even though it has been years since the prized "59-79-99" menu was in it's prime. You could feed an entire village of poor, starving, mosquito-bitten African children for a total of $7.46......then again, I could just eat it myself. Seriously, what kind of American would I be if I didn't do my part to add to the stereotype that we're all fat self-concerned slobs.

I truly am sorry that people in the greater New York area have gotten ill from eating at a Taco Bell restaurant.

My question is this: What makes you bastards so special?

No really. Do you know how many people get sick from eating at Taco Bell everyday? You think you're so great 'cause the Escherichia coli gave you a different type of diarrhea? My dad used to get what seemed like 'Montezuma's Revenge' everytime I made him take me on a run for the border.

Would Taco Bell be owned and operated by Yum Brands, Inc if the food wasn't absolutely delicious? I doubt it. You don't hear of any companies called 'Our Food is Fucking Disgusting and Bad For You, LLC'! That's because they would have a very hard time selling anything.....even something as awesome as a "Choco Taco". Trust me.

Jonathan and I have a very special friendship that has only been strengthened by our love of fake mexican food. I'll always remember the summer of 1998.....and the stomach problems that resulted from it. If my memory serves me correctly, it was eight straight days that I ate Taco Bell, three times a day. Breakfast was usually around 1pm, Lunch at 8pm, and Dinner was eaten closer to midnight. I spent the ninth day in the bathroom for several, relatively obvious reasons.

On a different note, I am quite glad that Taco Bell no longer employs that grubby Chihuahua that 'quiero'd' TB......no, not tuberculosis. I always thought it was most likely against health regulations to have a mangy dog wandering around the food prep area. That's got to be some sort of health code violation. Then again, an E. coli outbreak is probably due to some lapse in cleanliness.

I've done some research and decided against explaining in any detail the cause of E. coli outbreaks......mostly because it is absolutely disgusting and totally involves dookie.

I suppose I should be appreciative for those five people caring so much about my intestinal fortitude that they forwarded the article above. That was quite nice of you. The funny thing is that the more I received the article, the more I craved Taco Bell. Is that wrong?

I hope not......'cause dinner was awesome!!! And it only cost me $7.46!

Facial Hair and You!

Hello kiddies.

Do you remember those old kid's games with a goofy, almost clown-ish face encased in plastic with small, magnetized particles that you could move around into shapes on the poor sap's dome?

No?

How about now.....Wooly Willy!!!

Ok.....so here's where you come in.

I'm lazy.               Shocking revelation, I know.

As previously mentioned, for Halloween, I shaved my previously grown facial scruff into a kick-ass "HELL YEAH!" beard. And although I'm still waiting to be able to bring you all the most-excellent picture of said beard....I (again) have laxed into a period of 'in-between-ness'. My scruff is going on 8 days old and I have yet to decide what pattern it needs to take for the next few weeks. So, I figured it'd be fun(ny) to see who actually pays any attention to me at all and what he or she has to say about my scruff.

So take a look at the options below and decide what hair makes the cut........I'll pause for a moment and allow you to laugh your collective asses off at my hilariously intended pun.

.

.

.

You good? Rock.

Choice A. (the standard "A Chris in Winter")

Choice B. (the "Tuxedo")

Choice C. (the "Chops & Dot")

Choice D. (the "Imperial")

 

Okay. So there it is. The one with the most votes wins and will be shaven.....unless I think it's stupid by the time I decide to crack out the razor. Just for giggles, let's say voting ends by Wednesday.....evening.

Cereal For Dinner

Friday night. Awesome! I can't wait until [insert fun activity] starts!

Ok, so I'm sitting on my ass watching television and eating cereal for dinner.

Granted, "Cereal for Dinner" is not as creative (or thought-provoking) a title as Toothpaste For Dinner, but it's pretty much the only food we've got around here. It is way too cold for me to go wandering after some grub by myself.

Corey's got shit to do tonight, so I figured I'd go see a movie. I paired my choices down to "Running With Scissors" and "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan". But I'm a fucking moron and got the times mixed up. I'm glad I checked before I left. I decided that I'd go see "Running With Scissors" at 10:35pm. Except that it started at 10:00pm. Borat was at 10:35. Crap.

Ok. No problem. I've got a couple DVDs to watch. Oh, plus there's some College Football on.....Air Force @ Army. Ouch....blowout in the first quarter. Nevermind. Oooooh! Video Games!!!!! But wait, I'm hungry.

What to eat? What to eat? What to eat?

How about a peanut butter sandwich......for the 1,010,981,234,712,479,571,647,342,342,640,576,638,222,305,747,649,563,938,127,357,483rd time (That's a lot of bread). Nah.

Ok, ok. I'll have cereal. What tha....? How is it that a 21 ounce box (595g for our friends on the metric system) that is clearly, if not absurdly, labeled "FAMILY SIZE", is almost empty. The same box that I bought at the grocery store yesterday. How is it that a pound + of cereal that is packaged to feed an entire family only lasts me four or five bowls (depending on whether or not I feel like eating the grainy remnants at the bottom of the plastic bag)?

So I'm finished inhaling my Honey Bunches of Oats. Now I'm on to dessert......beer. You should have seen the look that the old bag in front of me in line at the grocery gave me when I plopped my loot onto the conveyor belt. Cereal, Milk, 12pk of Bass, and Shampoo. As if that crunchy old broad buying Donut Holes and Fixodent was totally normal.

I'm slightly wary of drinking alone. I feel bad before I pop the cap off the first bottle......a feeling that secedes rapidly after three or four sips......and completely disappears after three or four bottles.

I still have no idea what to do with the rest of my evening.

Halloween Sucks.

I'm bummed out.

For real. I'm seriously bummin'.

The Saints losing to the Ravens this weekend by such a profound margin has left my heart in shambles. This is worse than when Taco Bell renamed the 'Chilito' as the 'Chili-Cheese Burrito'. In my professional opinion, who cares that the former name, roughly translated from Spanish slang, is a 'tiny penis'. It's still a delicious combination of Chili, Cheese, and a flour tortilla.....and nothing conveys that combination better than a combination of the words chili and burrito. Dammit.

I'm also having beard withdrawal. For guys, growing a beard is like a status symbol. If you can sprout chin-fur in a matter of days or weeks, you hold an esteemed position in the eyes of your contemporaries. Just like the first girl to sprout sweater-meat in elementary school....without the disdain.....or the cooties.

This time last year, I was playing my first show in NYC. I "dressed" as Dave Grohl, of Nirvana and Foo Fighters fame, who I bear a slight resemblence to when in full-beard and scruffy hair mode.

This year, I shaved my beard into a bad-ass "Hell Yeah" handlebar 'stache and chops. I used such a rockin' re-do for the express purpose of dressing up like a hillbilly and going to a party with Corey to one of his coworkers' houses. And it was totally......LAAAAAAAAAAAAME.

I knew we were in for a rough night when on our way to the party, we decide to pick up some "Hell Yeah" beer to go along with our costumes. After wandering into a grocery store, we.......no, I got a lot of weird looks. Granted, I looked like a jackass, but it was Friday night.......there had to be a hundred people out and about, dressed up for a night of wild fun.

So we wandered through the store with our twelve packs of in hand, 'cause you "ain't 'HELL YEAH' if you don't drink some American beer out of a can....the way God made it!"

Here's the abridged version of the rest of the story: drank way more beer than I had planned to, ended up sitting on some random girl's couch watching Family Guy with Corey, got in an argument with said random girl and Corey about some topic that is slightly foggy at the moment, and by the grace of some higher power, we made it home.

So here I am, beardless and hungry, watching reruns of Law & Order, because it's more interesting than NBA Basketball and/or UAB vs. SMU in College Football. I know full well there are cute girls stumbling around dressed like sexy nurses or sexy referees or sexy Bob Dole.....wait, what? How did that get there?

Anyway.....here is a video in case you're looking for that last second costume. Girl's Costume Warehouse

Ok....I'm gonna make a run for the border.

 

 

P.s.  Does anyone know how to get money for product placement?

1/4

Three hours and twenty-five minutes and seven beers into my twenty-fifth year on this planet has got me feeling reflective.

I don't know why I hate today.

It could be that when I was twelve, everyone I seemed to know totally forgot that I had actually turned twelve. And then when it happened when I was fourteen. And again when I was fifteen. Oh yeah, and when I was sixteen.

No, I'm not kidding. Yes, I'm being over-dramatic.

It could be that a retarded holiday that prevents me from receiving important mail on the second Monday of October always precedes the day of my release into the wild.

Maybe it's that I am, by my mother's own admission (during Thanksgiving Dinner, no less) a "fluke". And "no", I won't just let that go.

For those of us that are dictionarily challenged, let's examine what a "fluke" is......Look it up on Merriam Webster Online. Type in "Fluke" in the search box of the dictionary feature. There are three entries for fluke, excluding the referrences to the blood or liver variations of a trematode that may or may not invade your mammilian organs.

You know what? I'm gonna save you the trouble. Here's what it says: 

1) Pronunciation: 'flük
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English floke, fluke, from Old English flOc. 1 : Flatfish
2 : a flattened digenetic trematode worm; broadly : TREMATODE-- compare LIVER FLUKE

2) Function: noun
Etymology: perhaps from fluke
1 : the part of an anchor that fastens in the ground

2 : one of the lobes of a whale's tail

3) Function: noun
Etymology: origin unknown
1 : an accidentally successful stroke at billiards or pool

So, basically, either I'm an extremely inconvienient microorganism, a piece of steel, a part of fish anatomy, or I'm my father's extremely successful, however accidental, stroke at putting a ball in a hole with a pole.

I apologize for the graphic nature of this rant. Excuse me while I vomit, being that I just unintentionally made myself ill.

Sure, there are stories that my parents, sisters, friends, relatives, relatives once-removed, relatives twice-removed, and random strangers will tell you that my name....all three of them (no, "asshole" is not in my initials) were supposed to be given to all of my siblings previous to my birth, except that three times was not the charm to squirt out a boy. Sure, I may be the "golden child", but forgive me if I take offense that I was a "fluke" eleven years after my parents first tried to name their child a boy's name and a full seven years after the third time such a tragedy occurred.

Don't missunderstand me. I'm not saying I've had a bad life so far. I've had a good life. My family is full of great people. My parents are loving and supportive and even though life can get in the way, both are incredible people. My father has worked for a long time and done everything in his power to make sure that my sisters and I have a good life. My mother has a heart that is too big for her body and not enough hours in the day to keep using it for the benefit of others. My sisters are all amazing individuals with great hearts and bigger brains than mine. My oldest sister is the amazing mother of five boys and is incredibly strong in all of her beliefs, which is something I wish I could mirror. My middle sister is a strong, bull-headed, confident woman who works way too much, but is doing everything in her power to make a difference in this world.....and I admire everything she does. My youngest sister has a brain the size of Brazil and still manages to be a wife and a loving mother of the happiest baby girl I've ever been fortunate enough to meet.

Fact is, I'm the fluke that got fluked into a family that I probably don't deserve....not to mention the friends I'm all too lucky to have. I've spent the last few years of my life attempting to have a better attitude. Sometimes I've succeeded. Most of the time, I've failed miserably. 

Thus, the conundrum of why I thoroughly hate the day that shares a number with the month it's in. Perhaps its a question I'll never answer. I guess all of this is to say, don't be offended if I don't answer the phone (or the conundrum) today.

Old Creaky Bones

Well, it's official.

My body hates me.

Until now, it had only been a suspect in the myriad of crimes against myself. Today, as a shock to the world, all mysteries have been solved.

Many isolated events have led me to this conclusion. Events such as my appendix blowing up on me, my pancreas going kaput, my head splitting open (actually, that was my fault), a busted ankle that has still yet to diminish to its normal size (normal being the size prior to injury), and a throwing shoulder that throbs for a decent amount of time after throwing lightly for less than half an hour.

Yesterday, things got worse. Corey's dog enjoys running upstairs, prying into a room (usually mine) and taking a giant dump on the floor. I got extremely angry as this is the third time in the last few weeks. I chased the dog to toss him outside on his leash while i cleaned up his mess. At some point through the chase, I felt a twinge in my lower back. For the rest of the day I felt awful.

When Corey got home late last night, we got a wild hair and decided to go running. Here is why that was a bad idea: I haven't run for years. YEARS. I would gather that it has been at least three years since I have laced up any type of running shoe. The most running I've done since was running from my car to a door in the rain....and I ususally don't even do that, 'cause I don't really mind getting wet.

So we did it. Ran at least a mile. Nowhere near "race pace". Probably about an 8 or 9 minute mile. My back hurt the whole time. My legs were wobbly. I even turned my ankle slightly when I stepped off the jogging path for a second to avoid a giant pile of duck dookie. The one thing I have to hang my hat on is that I didn't stop. Not once. I ran the whole time at a somewhat even pace and never stopped to catch my breath, which seemed to be a couple of steps behind me.

Getting old sucks. A quarter of a century and my body is falling apart.

Hyperbole

I swear I have a third nipple.

No lie. It's either a third nipple or a mosquito keeps biting me in the exact same damn place. I personally find it easier to believe that I have Polythelia than to believe that a series of blood-sucking insects are able to repeatedly land and slurp from the same spot below my right useless man nipple. I suppose the only thing that detracts me from this theory is that it only lies approximately one inch from the bottom of the real deal.

All I do know is that it hurts like hell. I was exiting the shower after my early afternoon de-funk-ification, and as I began to towel off in my usually refined pattern, I rubbed over the area in question with my towel. Like I have alluded to, this is not the first time I've noticed the problem. I would venture to say this is at least the third time my polythelia has flared up.

I guess I'll rummage around for some Neosporin or something. Maybe that'll disappear the little bugger for a while. Not that I want it to go away, I just prefer for it not to itch, burn, sting or throb whenever I dry off after showering.

In other news, searching for a job sucks.

Well, I'm off to find something constructive to do, like get a doctor's appointment or a sandwich.

I'm Ready For Some Football

I've been steadily digesting a healthy diet of sports over the last week that I've been home from "touring". It's been an impressive run of college football (GEAUX TIGERS!), pre-season NFL, the pennant races of Major League Baseball, and sadly......the WNBA.

I swear, I only watched the game tonight because I was told by two lesbians that it was the Title-clinching game. But Detroit evened the series with Sacramento in the best of 5 series. And now I'm not really sure what those lesbians were talking about when they mentioned the Title-clinching game........is that like a "Strawberry Shortcake"?

Anyway......College Football is absolutely in FULL swing. Corey and I attended a gathering of LSU alums at a restaurant in Cary, NC last weekend to watch LSU beat the hell out of U-la-la. I guess we're gonna do the same this weekend for the game against Arizona.

But on to more important matters......

You know who has the worst job in Football?

That's right.......the Back Judge. The Back Judge is an official with the job of standing at the very end of the field in the direction the play is headed. He is usually the guy that calls pass interference or defensive holding. He also spends most of the game staring at the asses of football players. However, that is not the worst part of his job.

This is:

Your boy has to wander around the field all day long with the letters "BJ" tagged onto his zebra suit. Drag. How bad can life be for this guy? BAD! Think about the people you know that have been to a college or professional football game. Or perhaps, you've been to a game yourself? Hearken back to your experiences at said games. Do you remember the alcohol intake before and/or during the game? Then again, if it was like any of the games I went to, you don't remember much of anything. All I know is that the maturity level of the whole crowd usually dips slightly after a healthy amount of tailgating, thus lending to an atmosphere normally associated with middle school boys.

I'm sure Back Judges get more than their share of hell all over the nation. So the next time you see one of these poor saps, be sure to encourage him in his chosen profession with these words of encouragement:

"HEY BACK JUDGE!!! GET OFF YOUR KNEES, YOU'RE BLOWING THE GAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Tour: Pictures & Final Notes

Ok. So here goes. I am a poor man, so I lack the funds to acquire a digital camera. Thus, I rely on throw-away cameras for most of the events in my life. This tour was no different. Here is my attempt at a photo-journal.

We started off at Mojo Risin' in Houston.We played solo sets with a combined set at the end. Notice the picture of the random guy playing the harmonica with David. His name was Steve and he really blew that mouth organ.......pun intended.

Our next stop was Cafe Brazil in Dallas. We picked this show up at 2pm and played at 8pm. It was hot as hell in Dallas! I'm not sure if anyone really paid much attention to us (besides Karen, Bernie and Adam), since there was no PA.

Sunday night, David and I played at Club DaDa in the Deep Ellum part of Dallas. This show was slightly better.

We drove back to Baton Rouge on Monday and had a few days off. Wednesday night was our show at the Spanish Moon. Both David and I played with our full bands. Somehow, the pictures I took of David playing developed as 4x6 black boxes. I know that John's dad, Richard, took a lot of shots, so hopefully we can get a few of those to show off David's rockin' band!

Friday, we headed to Moonlight Music Cafe in Birmingham. Sadly, I left the camera in my pocket for most of the set. I didn't get a picture of the cutest little jailbait or any of the show whatsoever. But I got a shot of the front of the joint and of David's new girlfriend!!!

Saturday, we trekked from B'ham to Columbia to play at Jammin' Java. This place had a cool vibe. It was underground, in both the literal and physical senses. Corey drove down from Durham and hung out with us during the show, after the show and shared our raucus hotel room. Many details are deleted. After all, this is a family show.

Tired, hungry (even after the crappy "continental breakfast"), and slightly hungover, we bolted to the ATL. Sunday night meant Smith's Olde Bar and a missing crowd of usually 70 people, according to the guy running the joint. We played in front of a small group of people....and thankfully they were partial to us.

Again, due to technical difficulties (throwaway cameras suck), very few pictures of Monday's show at Eddie's Attic remain. I guess it's fitting, because it really wasn't much of a show. I mean, David and I played well, but two songs each isn't really much of a performance. I play as many songs when I wake up in the morning before I go drop ten pounds. That said, here are the final pictures from the final day.

Okay......so thanks for indulging me. I hoped you've enjoyed the pictures as much as David and I enjoyed the tour. If you'd like to contribute to the "Chris Needs A Digital Camera Fund", feel free to contact me at any time.

And Finally:

Top 5 Lessons Learned During August 2006

5. Bathing is pleasant, both to the senses and to your tourmate, but not always prudent or necessary.

4. Music is not something a person does for money. Except maybe those hobos that hassle you for $0.25 in a parking lot with a harmonica or some awful rendition of Johnny Hartman's "Let Me Love You". I'll keep that in mind for next time.

3. Laughter is an amazing thing. It allows people to express pure joy and amusement. Occasionally, people find certain things so amusing that they begin to cry while laughing so hard. It is not good to laugh this hard while driving. Visibility is severly limited.

2. Flyers are actually small, easily distributed pieces of art. Depending on the amount of work a person puts into the design of a flyer, they can be incredibly interesting to look at. They are also a monumental waste of time and money. People hate flyers.

1. If I could continue to tour and play music, I think my life might very well be complete. If I could start next week, it would not be soon enough. I have nothing clever to say here.

Tour: Part 8

We're done. And that kinda sucks.

Let's see....where did I leave off?

Ah yes: More flyers were passed out, more people did try and avoid contact with us, and David did not let me give him a mohawk.

So, we woke up on Monday, had a decent lazy day, watched Old School. After a while we got up and went to the movies, saw "The Illusionist". It was good, not great, but good.....and Jessica Biel is still 100% Certified Bone-able.

We then trailed off to Decatur, courtesy of our excellent ATL tour guide, Sarah. We passed out several more flyers to a bunch of people that didn't want us harrassing them. At least we didn't have to throw all those flyers away on our own.

Sarah cooked us dinner, which was very cool of her. After that, we packed up and meandered to Eddie's Attic. Monday nights is open mic night. It was a cool room and there were several very talented artists. David went on and sported an AWESOME rock-n-roll mullet with some most excellent RED WHITE AND BLUE sweatbands! The only drag is that we only got to play two songs, which I think for both David and I is very much time at all to get warmed up on stage. Irregardless, David rocked the stage for his two songs, and then it was my turn. I tried to be charming and funny, but I'm not sure it worked. I think I played well. And if you'll humor me for a moment, and allow me to be slightly snotty, I think I played better than at least two of the three "finalists". But, oh well.

I dropped David off at his final destination and made it home a little later. A few more beers prompted me in to a pleasant but awkward sleep. I woke up a lot later than I wanted to, but after a good six hours in the car all by my lonesome, I made it back to Durham.

This venture was overall a great experience. We definitely didn't do this for the money. Sure, we sold a couple of CDs, gave away a lot of buttons and stickers and had a ton of great times. A few times, David made me laugh so hard, I cried. The bad part was that I was driving, and the sudden influx of saline made it very difficult to see, much less keep my contact lenses in my eyes. It's been a long time coming, but I finally got the chance to taste what its like to do what I want to do in life. It'd be nice to one day make a little pocket change for playing songs, but I couldn't have asked for more.

So thanks to everyone who supported the tour. Thanks to David for being awesome in 1 million different ways. To my 'rents for being supportive, as always. For our friends along the way, new and old, for keeping us dry, warm (although the August sun did its part there), and fed. I can't wait to do this again!

Stay tuned for the pictures!

Tour: Too Many Long Nights (Parts 5,6 & 7)

Wow. Being away from a computer for too long plays tricks on a man's brain. I haven't seen a picture of a boob via the pornagraphic industry in like three days. Just kidding.............Kind of.

Where did we leave off?
Ah, yes. We were gearing up for the last leg of our tour. It's been a great time. I really enjoy spending time with David, and I think we've had some excellent times.

So Friday, we drove to Birmingham. It was an uneventful trip, which is good. We arrived at the venue about 6:00pm. The Moonlight Music Cafe was awesome. Thoroughly awesome. Keith Harrelson and his gal, Joni (insert last name here), were the nicest people we've met this trip. As we wandered into the venue, they greeted us with open arms and seemed genuinely excited to see us. The Moonlight, as it was referred to, was quite lavender, but a very nice room.

As you enter through the front door, there is a counter where they take assorted monies for the ticketing process. To your left is
a stairwell that leads to the bar/food counter and further on is the rest of the room. A stage, raised about three inches off of the ground, sits in the far left corner. We set up, soundchecked and got ready for the rest of our evening.

As the headlining band arrived, we were sitting downstairs running through our set. All of the sudden, God's gift to men walked in. Her name was Andi and she was the hottest girl I've seen in a good long while. She smiled at me (at least I hope) and I was smitten. Of course, as is commonplace, she wanted absolutely nothing to do with me or anything that I'm about. For the first time in my life, I now know that this is a good thing, as I will find out soon enough.

A very responsive, polite, and endearing crowd filed in starting at about 7pm. We played about 40 minutes or so and the crowd clapped and interacted and generally enjoyed our set. They passed around a tip jar at the end of our set and we actually witnessed people put dollar billz in the jar. And to our surprise, people even paid us money for copies of our music on various compact discs. David developed a crush on an older woman, who was in fact, HOT! No deal.

Yet another example of how nice Keith and Joni were/are, they put us up for the night, allowed us to roam around their house without shoes and even fed us breakfast in the morning. The only alarming part of our whole Birmingham experience was when Keith began telling a story of an open mic night at the Moonlight, and he mentioned that foxy little temptress, Andi......who is still in HIGH SCHOOL!!!!! SON OF A........................
I swear I'm not a pervert.

On to Columbia, SC.
Again, an uneventful drive. About half an hour into our drive, I got a phone call from Corey. He had decided to come down from Durham to the show. ROCK! We met up with BIG C at the venue, Jammin' Java, which was in downtown Columbia. We met this kid Clay, who worked at the venue and made us some awesome food. Again, we set up, played reasonably well and then packed up and left. Other details are omitted in order to keep you reading.

Corey, David and I shared a room at a hotel to be named later. I bought a twelve pack of Bud Select which tasted like wee-wee in a brown bottle, but it was alcoholic and just what we needed after playing for twenty-five people and making $5.

This morning we packed up and headed for the ATL. Our AWESOME friend Sarah has graciously allowed us to crash her pad and took it upon herself to mobilize her friends to come to the shows. We spent the afternoon passing out flyers to people who probably threw them away ten seconds later. We played at Smith's Olde Bar tonight. I think we had an audience of seven people (including the doorguy). Even the guy who booked the show left before we played. The sad part is, we played really really really well. David rocked the mic first, then we played about six songs together, and then I finished up. Fun was had, pictures were taken and things were interesting. It was a rollicking good time.

That is my story for now, and I'm gonna stick to it.
Tomorrow is Eddie's Attic and some decent hang time in the ATL. More flyers will be passed out, more people will avoid contact with us, and I will try desperately to convince David to let me give him a mohawk!

Tour: Part Four

So after a few brief moments of rest, along with band practices, trying to hang out with various friends as much as possible and attempting to catch up on some drinking, David and I finally played our homecoming show. Well, maybe it was just my homecoming show, since David still lives here, and was only gone for five days last week.

Irregardless, The Spanish Moon show definitely happened.

I don't know if I had just gotten my hopes up, or if it was in fact a well attended show. It was a Wednesday night, in Baton Rouge, and it was raining for a spell......which generally means hardly anyone goes out. I knew that. I've known that pattern for years. I was just hoping for a grander scale.

That complaining now having been complained, the people that did come out are AWESOME! Some I hung out with the night before, some I haven't seen in what seems like five years. But I had a blast, probably a little too much to drink, but a blast nonetheless.

"Car-Bomb-A-Thon '06" began the night for Mr. John Tulley. He had been talking about shooting "Irish Carbombs" for three days. In all honesty, I thought the birthday boy would have been passed out half-way through my set....but he rocked hard for the whole night, even after pulling double-duty as the bass player for both David and I.

David started the night off in the fashionably late style. Eleven PM rolled around as the place at least started to fill, mind you, it never actually continued to fill, but a start was good. David was backed by Drew Greene on drums and as previously mentioned, JT$ on bass guitar. His set was excellent and well played. It's a much different experience to see David play with a backing band. It adds a great amount of depth to each song. Usually when he plays alone, Dave fills a lot of space with his quick fingers and little quips on the high strings, but tonight, those elements were still there, but he let the band to the talking. It sounded gooooooooood.

I'm not really sure what time it was when we finally meandered on stage. It must have been at least midnight. Tom already had his drumset on stage and setup by the time I realized we were even supposed to start. I think I had gone to the bathroom and assumed David's band was wtill packing up. So I stumbled up the stairs and picked up my guitar. Brandon was already tuned and ready to go. John was strapped in after a brief moment of respite. So we got the levels checked, thanks to Talley, our excellent sound guy for the evening. And then we comenced to rocking.

I think we played really well. During practices and afterwards, I kept alluding to being in my band is like riding a bike.....once you learn how to do it, you don't really ever forget how its done. My on-again/off-again love affair with being in a band is the same way. Once you've played a show with me, you don't really forget the tunes whenever the next gig rolls around. Even though its been almost eight months since John and Brandon played with me, and a year or more since Tom played with me last, we rode that bike like we had been riding the whole time. Only a few beats were missed, and I think it was mostly my fault.....except when Brandon started playing along with "You'll Be Fine" by playing the wrong chords. Way to go, turd.

So. In summary, I think we played well. I think David and his band played very well. I think David put that heckler in his place (I'll let him tell you that story). It was awesome to hang out with so many familiar faces. It was great that Holly wore her "  I HEART Chris Keegan" t-shirt. I think more cute girls should own that shirt. Like an army of adoring female fans that I probably still wouldn't have a chance with. Damn.

As the sky is falling outside, I'm pondering the next stops on this tour. Birmingham tomorrow, Columbia on Saturday, and on to the ATL.

If you're reading this and in one of those cities, c'mon down!

Rock.

Tour: Parts Two and Three

PART TWO

Hola mis amigos. Yo necescito el bano.

Friday, David and I were still in Houston. We hung out with David's sister Carol and went to this massive candy store and David loaded up on some of the sweet stuff. Then it was off to the Menil, which is a small museum with some cool art and artifacts. After a quick lunch at a trendy but national grocery store, we headed back to the house, hit up the game Catchprase for hours and then went out on the town with Carol and her husband Fred.

Saturday morning, when David woke me up with monster noises, it was monsooning. We needed to depart Houston with a quickness and so I showered as quickly as possible, threw all my crap into my bag and we headed out like a baby through a birth canal.

PART THREE

David, being the uber-ninja that he is, found us a "possible" show at a place called Cafe Brazil (a chain of coffee shop/restaurants in Dallas). After trying to reach the manager/booking guy for a whole week, we finally managed to peg him down on Friday. The only drag was that we had to be in Dallas, at the cafe, by 2:00pm. Thank the good Lord above that he blessed me with a lead foot, because we were parked and seated at the counter by 2:01pm.

We actually thought this guy was blowing us off and that he'd be a big jerk, but contrary to our bad attitudes (who, me?), the guy finally came to meet with us after he had his own buiness meeting to attend. He told us that he couldn't pay us, but we could have all the coffee we wanted! Neither David or I drink coffee..........damn. But he offered us a place to hang out and play. So David and I showed up at 8pm and played for about two hours. We ended up playing every song together, whether it was David's tunes or mine, or even a few covers of A Soup Named Stew, the Cure and New Order. It was an amazing time, and even though the crowd was sparse, we had a blast and I even sold a couple of CDs.

Yet again, David's family came to the rescue. David's oldest sister, Karen and her husband Bernie allowed us to invade their home too and have been awesome hosts, which apparently runs in Dave's family. Must be genetic or something. After the show last night, Bernie led us to a bar called the Ginger Man. Beer taps galore!!!! My kind of place, except that it was like 200 degrees outside at like 11:30pm. Dry heat, my ass.

Today, or well, tonight, we played at Club DaDa in Deep Ellum, which I guess you would say is the cool place to be in Dallas. Tons of clubs and apparently a ton of live music every night of the week. Tonight's show was actually an open mic night. So, in an effort to take up more time than the 20 minutes per set each, we signed up for a third installment as "The Sockpuppets", which was David and I's band from camp all those years ago. People really seemed to enjoy each of the three sets. In fact, there was one couple that was so enthralled by one of my songs, that they just commenced to makin' out right there in front of God and everybody. Rock on. Granted, I didn't get any play on this leg of the tour, but I totally lived vicariously through that guy.

So tomorrow it's back home to BR for a few days of rest and band practice, and then on Wednesday night August 23rd, it's David Loti and Chris Keegan @ The Spanish Moon!!!! Be there or be a triangle.....or something....I dunno, I think I failed geometry. 

Tour: Part One

Ok.
Day one, done.
Woke up stupidly early, then fell back asleep for too long.
David bought a set of drums this morning, which actually has nothing to do with anything, except that I thought it was interesting.

I suppose it was about 1:30pm when we finally loaded our small amount of equipment into my SUV and trucked it toward the somewhat large state of Texas. My question is this: If "everything is bigger in Texas", then how large are things in Alaska? Seriously, that state is f-in' HUGE! Is everything "huge-r" in Alaska? I digress.

Dave took a nap. I had a low blood sugar. We stopped in Winnie, TX and I had a Whataburger. It was tasty, but I'll know next time to order it with fewer onions.....and more cheese.

We arrived at David's sister's house (everyone follow that?) at a little after 6:00pm following a relatively stress free drive. We took a few moments to play a little music, before we put our gear back in the car and drove to the venue to take more moments to play a little more music.

Man, am I glad that David has family in Texas. If it weren't for David's sister and cousin and their respective husbands, we would have had an audience of the proprietors of Mojo Risin' and this guy Steve, and maybe some crickets. As we would later learn, Steve was an English teacher (who had no favorite author) at a local Community College. He also claimed to be a professional harmonica player, a claim which I refuse to support or deny. David, being the extra-super-nice guy that we all know he is, invited Mr. Pro-Harmonica Blower (?) to blow on a tune.

"He was good though," said David.

David and I traded 40 minute sets and then shared the stage for two songs together at the end. It was fun, but for the next show, I totally need to write a set list. Yeah.

In review, Mojo Risin' is a cool place in Houston that serves coffee and coffee-related beverages.....but no beer. Man, I need a beer. They've been open for about a year and have grown their fan base slowly.......sloooooooooowwwwwwly.

As David put it so eloquently in his half-sleep stammering, "We should totally do this for real. You know, this touring thing?"
Then I said "Yeah, we should do this for real, 'cause I wanna proactive with some groupies."

I guess you had to be there.....but you weren't.

Stay tuned kiddies. More shows to come......tens of more people to expose to our unique brand of less-than-rock-n-roll.

Two Things this Time

Two things this time.

I hate moving, but I'm afraid I'm done yet. I'm sure at some point I'll have to pack up all my crap and move along to yet another stop in this odd trip. Most recently, for those of you keeping score, I've stumbled into Durham, North Carolina. Perhaps, I'm a slacker and I'm just getting around to rambling about this, but I've been here for a month. I'm crashing on Big C's couch for the meantime.....well, at least I have been, Jonathan gave me his bed today, so I'll actually be using the room that Corey gave me for sleeping, instead of just storage.

I guess I expected bigger fanfare when I arrived. Big C and I have spent many an evening carrying on, perhaps a bit too far. In fact, I've had several mornings where I wished I hadn't woken up. But we did purchase some fancy lawn chairs and have had a few evenings turn to early mornings on the porch. I'm excited to be in place where grilling at will is totally possible. Plenty of hamburgers have been rabbled down my gullet.

I'm sad to see Jonathan headed back to Deustchland so soon after my arrival, and I'm not sure that I'll ever understand his attachment to such a foreign place, but he is really happy about it and he's smarter than me, so I'll just hope he decides to make it back here sooner rather than never. Curiously, that's about the extent of my stay in Durham so far. Drinking, Eating, and Watching plenty of baseball! I'm glad to have my two buddies around again. I'm sorry that the enjoyment can't be shared by everybody in the area, and that I'm running out of beer $$. So as everyone learns to live their own seperate lives, I'll just try and stay slightly inebriated till it all passes over.

That is, except while I'm driving.

I'm stoked. For once. I'm finally taking the opportunity to hop in a motor vehicle and drive around part of the country and play some tunes. It's been almost ten years since the last time I got to play music in a city other than the one I lived in. Granted, BUG's first few forays into the world of a touring band were amazingly fun. Thousands of great stories still get told about those trips to KC. But this is the first time I've ventured out on my own.........or at least to play my own music.

For the last six years since I've been on my own (musically speaking), I've always given way to supposed pressures of my job(s), hindrance of transportation, and other factors that I now view as ridiculous. Call it growing up, call it being an asshole......whatever. I'm finally doing it, although I could not do it alone! David Loti, you are my hero......in so many ways.

We're off, next week. Seven shows all around the southeast. Dave did most of the work.....in fact, all I was really ever able to accomplish was coming up with the idea and a list of cities we should target as possible venues for our unique brand of Wuss Rock. Much to his chagrin, David had waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more luck in trying to book shows. One time, I was actually able to secure a show but then had to call back and cancel, after Dave had already booked a show on the same evening. The only other time I managed to get a response from a venue, it was to tell me that a certain Mr. Loti had already been in contact and they were "pleased to inform me of a time slot" that had already been secured.

So, take away my shortcomings as a booking agent. Subtract my distaste for living life as a nomad from my desire to wake up in a new city every day. Introduce a barrel-type container of chimpanzees (I don't want to get sued for trademark infringement), and let the tour begin!

See ya, suckers!

Man....that is NASTY!

Creepy.

I noticed something today. I've been watching a lot of television lately. Mostly reruns of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and various baseball games. As you may well know, between segments of entertainment, they play various short, quirky and occasionally entertaining quips known as commercials, designed to convince you, the viewer, to purchase an array of products.

There is one particular commercial where a middle-aged gentleman plays a guitar (left-handed, although the guitar is right-handed........it is also the same guitar that I own) and sings a song about the individual parts that form a Snickers candy bar.

I've always liked Snickers. In the pre-diabetes days of my illustrious life, I would eat about ten per day.

Ok, that's not true. In all reality I preferred a Mr. Goodbar or a Nestle Crunch, but a Snickers would do in a sweet-toothed pinch. I mostly reserved candy for the special stomach grumblings of a long road trip, but these days, when my blood sugar plummets, a nice hunk of chocolate helps prevent me from turning into a blue-faced diabetic coma icicle.

Now, to my dismay, this middle-aged candy bar crooner is also featured in a much more disturbing advertisement. He is placed, in this commercial, in the awkward position of hawking VALTREX to you and me. Personally, I don't have genital herpes (unless anyone I've slept with has something they want to tell me?), and I feel some empathic discomfort for those who do. But in all honesty, the last thing I want is a herpes-ridden old fart trying to sing me to sleep with a song about a fucking candy bar. I'd like to eat my chocolate treat in the personal comfort of knowing that my loins are not burning with the fires of little red blisters covering my love machine. 

The immoral of my story is this: Pay attention to commercials. Know who is selling you what. Also know if this person or these people have any little red bumps on their genitals that could cause your own happy times to burn like living hell. And cut back on all that candy you've been eating. You might end up like me and have to shoot up at restaurants before you eat with a bunch of inbreeds telling the waitress that someone is doing drugs at the table. IT'S INSULIN, YOU DUMB F*@%$#*@.

Diggin' For Gold...

So earlier today, I was pickin' my nose.....and I yanked out a glorious piece of booger-art.

I swear to God, this thing looked like a lamb-chop.

Unfreakin' real!

I was gonna take a picture of it, but I don't have a digital camera......so I just flicked it behind the couch along with the other lost treasures from the Mines de Nostril.

I seriously overdid it last night. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Shots are the bane of my existence!

Not to mention the crapload of beer that I steadily funneled down my gullet all night long.

It's good to be home. Seeing people I haven't seen in months. Having these people buy me alcoholic beverages. Then having other people drive me home. It's good to be the King.

Now, if only I could walk. I busted my ankle last week, playing Ultimate Frisbee with David. It's getting better, but it looks like hell......and it's no peach to stand on either!

I was gonna take pictures of that too and show you all the bruises that travel all the way to my knee......but, alas, we've previously discussed my lack-of-camera conundrum.

So, now it's off to watch movies.....keeping a low profile this evening in preparation for Thursday's debauchery!

Rock on. Holla atcha boy!

Garden State 2: The Escape From New Brunswick

Amazing weekend! Straight up awesome!

Here's tha dilly.......

My favorite band in the whole wide world, Toad the Wet Sprocket, has reunited for a summer tour. Having found this out, my homeboy Brandon decides to make a most excellent adventure to see the band in New Jersey. The gig is at Starland Ballroom on June 4th. So B makes his flight to come into the Newark, NJ airport late late on Saturday night. My job was to hop on a train and meet him at the aeropuerto at close to midnight.

Unbeknownst to B and myself, the Newark Airport is the screwiest place on earth......or so we thought.And, like a jackass, I totally missed my stop on the train anyway, so I had to ride to the next stop and then wait for a train to come back in the opposite direction. I talked to Brandon several times after he landed and while I was waiting for the train back to the airport. I even suggested that he should go ahead and pick up the rental car and pick me up from the train station I was waiting at.

Skipping a few unimportant details, I end up at Newark to see Brandon and a BRIGHT YELLOW 2006 Ford Mustang. Initially I was embarrassed to hop into such a gaudy car, but as will later be evidenced, this car would be our Godsend.

Now, Brandon is unbelievably prepared for this trip. He has maps, driving directions, tickets, parking, motel, hot spots, and destinations all totally scouted out and arranged. I, for one, was thoroughly impressed. As we find our way out of the parking garage and later the airport, I assume my job as navigator for our neon yellow spacecraft. In my defense, I have a stellar record as navigator for millions of roadtrips into undiscovered countries, like Kansas and North Carolina. I wholeheartedly blame all things that went wrong on the urban planners in the state of New Jersey. The streets are bonkers (for lack of a better word). There seems to be no way to make a (legal) left turn in the entire state.

We end up taking a poorly marked exit ramp that placed us deep into the heart of downtown Elizabeth, NJ. Without the aide of a GPS locator or a very detailed map (since we were there by accident, B had no map for this situation). We pass by the train station that I was waiting at (so Brandon totally could have picked me up) and make our way back to the interstate. Our first destination is a bar in New Brunswick. Brandon, being the stately beer connosieur that he is, found this place on the internet and they are regarded for their beer selection. Sadly, this idea bombs terribly. We wander in to a bar that is filled with over-dressed ladies and under-dressed gentlemen (yours truly included). There was a band playing that was confused about whether to rip off their sound from Phish or Matchbox 20 (not a good combination). And sadly the beer selection was not what Brandon had planned on. We guzzle our beers and decide to try and book it to a convienience store to grab a sixer and go to the motel.

Oh, right......because New Jersey suuuuuuucks, you can't buy beer in a convienience store. So its off to our suite (read: room with no view) at the Motel 6. Granted, we had to make three or four illegal left turns and one drive down a DO NOT ENTER lane, in order to make it to the "Sixer".

One, two, skip a lot......we get to our hotel.........shoot the breeze.....watch Sportscenter........sack out.

After rolling out of bed at around 11am on Sunday morning, B and I decide that some food would be an excellent way to start the day. We end up at McDonald's (mistake number 37 for those of you scoring at home). I'm going to take a moment away from the jokes for a second. I like to make you laugh, but I'm being dead serious. The employees at this McD's were hands-down the dumbest bunch of morons in history. I actually think that the kid who struggled through his attempt to take my order was retarded. I know that I bust on midgets and retards way too much, but Brandon can vouch for me here......this kid had no brain function.

Here is a summation of our conversation:

"Hi. Welcome. Welcome. Ummmmmm. Welcome to McDonald's. Can I take...., er, serve you?"

".......sure. Lemme get a number 4, no onions, and can I get and iced coffee instead of a soda?"

.....the kid then punches buttons for a solid minute.......

"Do you want fries, mister?"

"Yeah, I want the combo meal.....or whatever you call it here."

"And you want a large coffee?"

"No. I want an iced coffee instead of a soda."

"You mean with your meal? Instead of a soda?"

(shocked!!!!) "Yes. I think you've got it."

The kid wanders off, and stands in the middle of the workspace behind the counter. I don't know if his brain just shut off, but he spaced for a good minute. I eventually end up with a burger, small fries, and a GIANT iced coffee with most of the creamer on the side of the cup, because the kid obviously had no clue how to used the fountain system.

We finally sit down to eat, Brandon having had an equally ridiculous time ordered his breakfast/lunch. As I finish preparing to eat (taking my insulin shot), B has already finished eating.

Fast forward to Brandon and I driving around East Brunswick, searching for a high end wine and spirits store. Brandon loads up on big bottles of hearty, hoppy beers from companies that aren't distributed in LA. We also grab a couple of six packs, a styrofoam cooler box and two bags of ice. We head back to the Motel 6, turn on the Mets game on TV and start drinking.

At around 5, we decide to head to the venue, and maybe catch another bite to eat. We zoom past the venue on a search for some food, and settle on a Philipino Buffet. Most of the food was fantastic and the owner/cook/cashier lady kept trying to make us fill up another plate. The best thing on the menu was this chicken breast stuffed with spinach and cheese and covered in a very buttery/creamy sauce......AWESOME!

I'm realizing that I'm trying to cover every exciting event in this story and its becoming very very longwinded.......well, suck it up.

We get to the Toad show. They rock my face off! The show itself was reasonably uneventful and there is probably someone much more qualified to review this show. I had a blast. B and I got right in front. Pressed against the railing in front of Todd Nichols (the guitar player).

We leave the show at around 11:10pm and head straight to the Motel, where the rest of our six packs (eight beers left) and two Arrogant Bastard Ales are chilled and ready for consumption. We don't go to bed until 2:30 or 3am. Both Brandon and I had 7am flights departing from Newark Airport (which is 30 minutes away from our Motel room). We request a wake up call from the front desk for 4:15am and I set my cell phone alarm for 5 minutes after that. The plan is to wake, shower, haul to the airport and have plenty of time to stroll to our respective planes.

Again......the best laid plans.....

I am woken by a not-so-graceful love-tap on the shoulder from the Amazing Brand-O. It is now 5:37am and we have not ripped ourselves from the sweet slumber of all-night drinking. We both hurredly sweep all of our belongings into the bags we packed and run out of the door. Here is where the Yellow Mustang becomes worth the mention. We have a 30 minute drive and only 15 minutes to be there.

Brandon wins the Awesome Driver award.

115mph. Arrived at Newark a few moments past 6am.

I'm in North Carolina for a few days, then back to BR for some much needed home time!

Perhaps it has been too long...

Hello everyone.

....or anyone........

A friend of mine pointed out recently that I haven't blogged in a long time. She wanted to know if I was still alive. The answer, surprisingly, is yes. I have been laying low over the last few months. Plus, lengthy access to a computer has been reduced due to a certain roommate (mainly, that the computer is hers and I hide out in my room when she's home).

This is not to say that I haven't had some (not-so-) exciting bolg topics to share with you!

In February, I moved into this new space. It was a Craigslist find.....so i didn't know either of my roommates before moving in. I tucked myself into my jail-cell of a room and tried to be reasonably invisible. I get along with one roomie, while the other kind of drives me batty.

March was a monumental waste of time.

In April, I shaved my beard off. I had grown the beard in the beginning of October, and although I had trimmed it several times (when I shaved my head), I never cut it off until April 2. I have the pictures of the shave, including several variations on facial hair ideas (including: handlebar moustache, pornstar moustache, etc.). Sadly these pictures reside on my sister's hard drive......and being that I moved out of her apartment two months prior, it made it difficult to upload them, thus cancelling my blog post. The reason for the shave was Opening Day. I, along with three friends, attended Major League Baseball's Opening Day at Shea Stadium. We watched the New York Mets beat the Washington Nationals, 3-2. It was a great day, but it was so amazingly cold.

May has been decent. John came to visit, and although I had to work a lot and I was sick, I think we had fun. I spent last weekend at the Jersey Shore, near Asbury Park (think: Bruce Springsteen). We went to a bowling alley that has bands play in the middle of the lanes. We bowled while this horrible white-boy dub band played, and then the lanes were turned off when surf-guitar legend Dick Dale took the stage. "Who is that?" you ask. If you've seen Pulp Fiction, you've heard his music......it's pretty much the theme song to the movie.

Ashley and G-dub are coming to visit today. Hopefully that will mean more baseball games and excitement......but it won't squelch the homesickness.

I've played a few gigs this spring. In fact, I've played a lot more than I thought I would.....but never to more than 10 or 15 people. And it's not like I'm raking in the dough ($$) here. I figure I could play for the same size crowds back home for more money and at least the bartenders would buy me a consolatory Shiner Bock for my efforts.

At the same time, I feel like I'm accomplishing something by staying in New York. Whenever I was a kid and was at summer camp, I would get homesick and beg my parents to come get me. Now, even though I complain just as much, if not more.......my parents aren't coming to get me. I'm on my own. It's scary as hell......especially since my sister (who dragged me up here in the first place) just moved to New Orleans. She got a job with the Louisiana Recovery Authority. I'm happy for her......but i now have a bit of a desertion complex.

I feel like less of a man, for admitting I'm still a boy. Oh well.

Glen Phillips just put out a new EP and a new Record. They are both AMAZING. I went and saw him play a week ago or so.......also, AMAZING!!!!

And the cherry on top, is Brandon is coming in a few days, and we're going to see Toad the Wet Sprocket re-unite........At least that's some excitement!

"I'm Just Sayin'..."

So I've just knocked out a "sixer" of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale (John & Adam, I know you guys hate it, but stay with me here.....) and I'm bored as snot. The Olympics are leaving many, many, many things to be desired and I have some random yet exciting ideas that I would like to share with you.

First thing's first. I have finally made the transition from my sister's couch to a total stranger's couch!!!!! Hooray!

No, in all reality, I just moved into a new place......well, not just moved....it's been a couple of weeks now. Everything is cool. I have two roommates. Both are girls. That's ok.....i'm used to living with girls.....I have three sisters. I still don't feel like this is home.....it feels more like I'm house-sitting! I wake up in the morning and nobody is here....so i wander around in my boxers, watch TV, eat food that is in the fridge, and kill time until I have to go to work at my job that I loathe. Fun, right?

At least I'm catching up on old episodes of ER!

Something I've also noticed is that "I'm just sayin'..." has become the new phrase to abdictate oneself from all responsibility before stating an observation, comment, or rhetorical question.

For example: "I'm just sayin'.....Your face looks like somebody beat you upside the head with a bag of pennies!"

See? All blame has been removed from the statement.

The phrase can even be used at the end of a sentence:

"Your mom was a whore and now you are a whore..........I'm just sayin' !!"

I've noticed this phrase used by many New Yorker's since moving to the city, and now I'm even picking it up on TV shows and movies. It is weird to feel like you started a phenomenon, but still know that you have very little effect on anyone that has any contact to you.

On the same topic, I've also noticed that "Yeah, yeah, yeah" has replaced "Yada, yada, yada." as the end all, catch all phrase for New Yorkers. This is completely different and totally unrelated to the band, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

For example: "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I totally had sex with that girl!"

See how the details of the story no longer matter now that they have been replaced with "yeah, yeah, yeah"?

For your reference, the phrase can also be used to answer questions, state agreement, or even indifference!

So now that I've caught you up on my most recent discoveries and such, I'm off to waste even more time by watching the latest movie I have received from Netflix. Peace!

No Visible Scars

I'm actually quite relieved.
You know when you do something stupid and regret the outcome later? Of course you do. Sadly, that is the story of my life.
For those of you keeping tabs, I've covered the topic of this blog before.
You can actually catch up here.


Caught up? No? You didn't read the whole thing did you?
ok. short version:
boy meets girl. boy and girl date. boy and girl break up. boy turns into drunk blubbering idiot. boy inadvertantly causes bodily injury to top of head. boy ends up in ER.
now back to my ramblings:

Since that day, I've kept my hair long for fear of showing off my Captain Idiot Badge. But today I could no longer take it. It is really cold here in New York, as I have also covered here before. In order to maintain body heat, a warm wooly cap is required.

Warm wooly caps Long hair Cold Weather = Static electricity.
Static Electricity = bane of my existence.

So I buckled under pressure while I was at walgreens. I bought a hair clipper. And yes......it's all gone....And you can't even see the knick in my noggin!!!! But fear not. I took a before and after picture.



Other than that, I've been up to nothing.
I had this great blog planned about this time at work last week where this dude's ass exploded, but it was pretty vulgar and I didn't feel this was the proper arena.....and mostly because it wasn't as funny as the porno story.

Back to the Big City

I kept meaning to post a blog while I was actually back home. I mean, I counted down the days until I was back in my comfortable southern surroundings and I had the time of my life for nearly three weeks. I guess I just never got around to it. So many incredible things happened while I wandered around my hometown with my friends and family. And then it ended. It was over. No out-of-proportioned last hurrah. No fireworks.....well that's not true. At one point I ate at a table of 28 people, but only knew like 7 of them.

I'm now back in the Great White North. Well, it's at least the farthest north I've ever been. And it's no longer white, just cold. Apparently it didn't snow at all while I was gone. And even though snow and ice can be tricky to deal with while walking on it, it at least provides much prettier scenery to take your mind of how bloody awful cold it is.

I spent a lot of time with my friends. I got to see so many people that I wanted to and even some that I didn't expect to see. I only missed out on seeing a few, but it was mostly/hardly my fault, depending on who you ask. Plus some certain folks were no longer in town, either by choice or not. If you're reading this, you probably know who you are and what category you fit into.

I got to meet my 8-month old niece for the first time. Even though that last sentence was totally redundant, Gianna is absolutely darling and quite a handful for my sister to deal with. She'll be a heartbreaker in no time! I also got to spend a ton of time with my five nephews. I bought my nephews some toys for Christmas. Micah (who is 5 years old) got a talking Darth Vader Mask. It was hilarious seeing him trounce around with this helmet that was half his size and hearing this booming voice instead of his tiny little chuckles.

I got to play music with some of my most excellently talented friends who also happen to be some of my best friends in all of the whole world. It was an amazing show and the amazement was doubled by the fact that so many people showed up. At one point, there were at least 150 people in the bar. I've played in front of as many as 1200 people and a bunch of huge crowds before, but for some reason, this measly 150 felt very empowering. Hearing Ray beat the snot out of his drums behind me again gave me goosebumps at several points throughout the evening. Sharing the stage with Brandon and John was more comfortable than it has ever been. And having David there as an opener was great. I wish more people would have been as excited about his set as I was. I feel bad not having David play with me, but I know he would have wanted to get a few practices in and there didn't seem like there was time. I also wish Tom had played on his songs too, but having him come out to see the show was good too.

New Year's Eve was a fantastic event. Small, but with mostly everyone I'd have wanted to be around. A 'fridge full of beer, Fireworks, Football, and Breakfast at 3am were all a boy could have wished for. It has been a small tradition of mine over the last few years to engage in a battle of wills, but with Roman Candles. Sadly, this tradition took a year off, but bottle rockets and the "depth charges" off the side of the canoe in Brandon's lake were more than an acceptable replacement. The alligator sighting and subsequent "paddle-for-your-life" experience was more enjoyable than scary, although those tables might have been turned if said alligator had decided to eat three grown men in a boat as opposed to several tiny ducks with no sense. And to think, I just spent the last seven months here in NYC trying to convince people that not everyone in Louisiana lives near water, owns a boat, or has a gator in their backyard.

So that kind of explains why I'm bummed that I am back in New York, but does nothing to explain why I chose to come back here.
I'll work on trying to figure that out for next time.
Be good.