Marc "Gunnery Sergeant"
Matt's sitting next to me, trying to re-hash an old Straight Legged Kick song out on my keyboard. He's been working on it for about twenty minutes now and can't seem to get it straight. I tried twice, and both times I've failed too. Oh well, life seems a little silly today any ways.
So, I got back from California at about four in the morning, turned on my TV and saw this band called Saliva. I told you last weekend that I was going to throw my TV out. I didn't have time. But, after hearing this band, I promptly woke up in the morning, unplugged it from the extension chord and took it into the kitchen. From there, it's all a bit of a mystery. Saliva had gotten the best of me last night, to be sure. They sucked, they were ugly, and they are by far the worst re-incarnation of a rap/metal band that I've seen. They made me want to kick in my TV. So I did. It's now on the floor in the kitchen, it's interior exposed and open to attack. Think I just might smash the screen in before we leave for the show. It'd be a fitting beginning to a night filled with fun, butts, and stuff.
Oh yeah, I got to fly first class last night. I almost missed my plane because I was sleeping on a bench in the airport. I woke up and realized it was almost seven, time for me to get my ass to the plane and be off. The business man in the seat next to me gave me a weird look. "That's my seat," I said as I pointed to 3A. He must've been talking on the phone to his wife cause he muttered something about holding on and looked up at me. He pointed to the seat and said, "You mean that one?" So, I showed him my ticket. Hard to believe that I, the bald-headed, dirty green sweatshirt wearing dude had a seat in first class, I know, but I knew I wasn't lying. That was my seat and his dumbass had to get up to let me in. So, I didn't talk to him for the next four and a half hours. Didn't even wave good-bye as I followed him out to his car after getting my bags (which for the first time in my life came out of the thingy first). I just jumped in my car and drove quietly home.
CD's I listened to on my pleasant, wee-hours of the morning drive:
1) Elvis Costello- "Very Best of Of. . . Disc 1"
2) Alkaline Trio- "From Here To Infirmary"
3) Aimee Mann- "Suite #2"
4) Braid- "Movie Music, Vol.2"
Nothing like a good helping of some Braid to get through the night, eh? "Strawberryann Switzerland" by far exceeds any other song in my book, Braid or otherwise. It needs the full Crimes and Misdemeanors intro to go full circle. I'm rambling now. Off to the dance fest.
Matt's sitting next to me, trying to re-hash an old Straight Legged Kick song out on my keyboard. He's been working on it for about twenty minutes now and can't seem to get it straight. I tried twice, and both times I've failed too. Oh well, life seems a little silly today any ways.
So, I got back from California at about four in the morning, turned on my TV and saw this band called Saliva. I told you last weekend that I was going to throw my TV out. I didn't have time. But, after hearing this band, I promptly woke up in the morning, unplugged it from the extension chord and took it into the kitchen. From there, it's all a bit of a mystery. Saliva had gotten the best of me last night, to be sure. They sucked, they were ugly, and they are by far the worst re-incarnation of a rap/metal band that I've seen. They made me want to kick in my TV. So I did. It's now on the floor in the kitchen, it's interior exposed and open to attack. Think I just might smash the screen in before we leave for the show. It'd be a fitting beginning to a night filled with fun, butts, and stuff.
Oh yeah, I got to fly first class last night. I almost missed my plane because I was sleeping on a bench in the airport. I woke up and realized it was almost seven, time for me to get my ass to the plane and be off. The business man in the seat next to me gave me a weird look. "That's my seat," I said as I pointed to 3A. He must've been talking on the phone to his wife cause he muttered something about holding on and looked up at me. He pointed to the seat and said, "You mean that one?" So, I showed him my ticket. Hard to believe that I, the bald-headed, dirty green sweatshirt wearing dude had a seat in first class, I know, but I knew I wasn't lying. That was my seat and his dumbass had to get up to let me in. So, I didn't talk to him for the next four and a half hours. Didn't even wave good-bye as I followed him out to his car after getting my bags (which for the first time in my life came out of the thingy first). I just jumped in my car and drove quietly home.
CD's I listened to on my pleasant, wee-hours of the morning drive:
1) Elvis Costello- "Very Best of Of. . . Disc 1"
2) Alkaline Trio- "From Here To Infirmary"
3) Aimee Mann- "Suite #2"
4) Braid- "Movie Music, Vol.2"
Nothing like a good helping of some Braid to get through the night, eh? "Strawberryann Switzerland" by far exceeds any other song in my book, Braid or otherwise. It needs the full Crimes and Misdemeanors intro to go full circle. I'm rambling now. Off to the dance fest.
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