Soooo, last night didn’t quite pan out as planned. My partner in DJ crime was a no-show (apparently he decided to grab a nap before coming in…and woke up thirteen or so hours later) and the turn-out was much lighter than anticipated. What gives? To add insult to injury, the best costumed folks, a trio of lovely ladies who buried their charms under the very convincing guise of television’s The Golden Girls, didn’t win the best costume contest! Instead a less than inspired Janis Joplin won due to a technicality both Rudy and I had missed…the bar was giving the prize for the best dead rock star costume whereas we had just been promoting the prize as going to the best costume regardless of genre. Oh well, at least one of The Golden Girls won a free shot and a Ten56 t-shirt so they didn’t all walk away empty handed.
Also, to set then record straight since everyone was asking last night: No, I’m not angry with Rudy for not showing. I‘m actually glad he just overslept since I had nightmare images of overturned semis pinning him to the tarmac and his last words being, “But they would have loved us as Poison this Sunday…why God, why?!”
Doing my civic duty.
Tomorrow I have to report the suburbs for jury duty. Why the hell do I have to drive thirty miles outside of the city for frickin’ jury duty? Aren’t there enough slack-ass housewives with nothing better to do that live closer to the courthouse than I do? Whatever. I’ll show up and cross my fingers against being selected for a jury. I’m usually pretty good at alienating one lawyer or the other at these things though since I’m an opinionated, well-educated, white male…just the kind of person most lawyers don't want on a jury. At least it’ll give me some uninterrupted free time to do some reading and give a listen to the Pavement Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (that Pitchfork actually gave an unheard of 10.0 review (!!)) re-issue on my iPod (a.k.a. tankPOD.)
Off the wagon, a bit.
So I had a few drinks last night, thus ending my two week dry spell, and realized I’ve lost the taste for getting hammered. I’ve grown to enjoy getting up early in the morning and working out before heading into the office. I like being to remember what happened the night before without the aid of flash-cards or notes scrawled on my hands or napkins. I really grew to enjoy driving home late at night instead of forking over fifteen bucks to a cabbie…but most of all I enjoyed Photogal being slightly less pissed at me on a constant basis.
We’ll see how it goes, but I’m really going to try and keep it down to a sociable two or three drinks an evening from here on out
Dashed upon the rocks.
Speaking of drunks, there was this absolutely stunning girl in the bar last night. She was a bit punky but was rocking this total younger Angelina Jolie look. Many men approached her throughout the evening. I found out from the bartender at the end of the night that she introduced herself to every guy using a different name. That’s awesome.
No, I meant to say: That’s hot.