Professional Wingman Services

So I’m going out tonight and I need a wingman. My boss (Zabe 1) suggested that I hire a professional, and that the professional should be female, since that is all the rage. Unfortunately, there is only one professional wingperson in the Twin Cities metro area (that I could find in thirty seconds of googling), and since she is cute I’d probably just spend the whole time checking her out.

Alternatively, I could take Stan or Lisa, but Stan is awfully quiet and would probably spend the whole time checking out the synthesizers on stage. Lisa likes to embarrass me when she gets drunk. Lisa likes to embarrass me when she’s sober, like when I brought home a woman, and she made Noah ask:
“Are you my new mommy?”

Actually, that was fucking hysterical, except that I am the sort of person who lives with a married couple and their three year old. Oh, now I’m sad again.

I think that I’m gonna go to the Varsity by myself and walk home afterwards. I will shave on Gerg’s behalf, I think.

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Brendan Benson


So there I was at the 400, where they do not serve Summit for some inexplicable reason. WHAT THE FUCK. Anyway, I was pointing at the James Page tapper and the bartender asked if I wanted the Smithwicks. Whaaa? Irish ale? The irish parts of me hollered loudly and I pointed at that tap instead.

“Okay, you sold me, give me that!” I practically shouted. This may have been after I bought Stan and myself Maker’s Mark in honor of the Hawaii kids (not as good neat). The bartender looked at me quizzically and asked if I wanted to try a sample. I threw a slug in my mouth and swished it around before draining the finger or two that he had pulled into the plastic cup.

“I think he likes it,” said a cute woman standing right there at the bar. I honestly had no idea what to say because I wanted more ale more than I wanted that cute woman to talk to me. I think that I said something like “MORE, FUCKER, MORE GODDAMN ALE NOW BEFORE I KILL EVERYONE!”

Actually, I think that I said, “I’d some more of that, please,” before turning to the cute woman and saying with great aplomb, “how are YOU tonight?” I’m pretty sure that I had already had bourbon, because I was being my extra loud self. The woman closed her eyes and turned away in disgust. Stan just looked at me like I was nuts. During the show she stood behind us, then in front of us, and I imagined however briefly that she thought that I was cute and was doing what I used to do at concerts - stand next to a cute member of the opposite sex and pretend to not be interested. Nowadays I just don’t give a shit anymore, because honestly, who meets someone at a concert besides that chick who was dressed up like a schoolgirl for Halloween at First Ave that one time and let me finger her in her car a few nights later.

The opening band (Robbers on High Street) was spectacularly awesome. Stan and I shouted to each other about how tight the band was, and how much we appreciated the cheesy fake ass piano. Later, Stan commented that he thought that the opener was better than Brendan. Sacrilege! I bought their CD from some random cute woman before they were even done playing.

Brendan played only a few songs from One Mississippi, but one of them was “Sitting Pretty.” I screamed more than usual, danced, sang along, and almost knocked over a table. It was glorious. I think that I saw Blue. You’re my boy, Blue!

By the way, if you feel the urge to read EIGHTEEN pages of my blog you should at least say HELLO. Honestly. FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

Oh yeah, it’s my job to fix web shit. I really want to help you, but I feel like an asshole. Thanks!

Paul: I got reasonably drunk, but nothing like Saturday will be. You’re the fucking best!

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Mix CDs

I already posted the red car playlist elsewhere, so I don’t need to repeat it. These are just mixes that I have actually burned. If you are awaiting a mix I am still germinating the seed of the list.

Songs For Moms

My mom is awesome, but sometimes she has a rough time of it. She likes this CD, which is sort of cool and weird.

The Flaming Lips Bad Days (aurally excited version)
Firewater Psychopharmacology
Descendents Everything Sucks
Built To Spill You Were Right
Rilo Kiley A Better Son-Daughter
Elliott Smith Memory Lane
Tegan And Sara Monday Monday Monday
Cat Power Cross Bones Style
Walt Mink brave beyond the call
Slim Cessna’s Auto Club Last Song About Satan
Micranots Mother’s Day (from an album called “Obelisk Movement,” which is sort of an inside joke.)


I don’t know if this needs any explanation, but maybe this Say Anything quote will help:

Bitches, man.

Firewater Get Out of My Head
Walt Mink Love You Better
Archers Of Loaf You And Me
Cop Shoot Cop Hung Again
Soul Coughing How Many Cans?
Howlin’ Maggie Alcohol
Quasi Drunken Tears
Hot Hot Heat Bandages
Forget Cassettes Accismus
Cop Shoot Cop It Only Hurts When I Breathe
Descendents Enjoy

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And for Gerg’s birthday

Dallas Orbiter will be playing the Varsity Theater. Have you checked out their album yet? Okay, their live shows are better, but soon they will be holing up in their underground studio again, so you will have to squeeze every last drop of awesome that you can out of their albums. EVERY LAST DROP.

Uh. That’s, uh, August… uh… 5th.

I’m a bad friend.

Oh yeah, my popcorn smells like carb cleaner. My carb cleaner smells like popcorn. Delicious. We got the carb out, cleaned it, adjusted the floats (using my IKEA tape measure), and put everything back together. Every so often, we would ask “where did this extra hose come from?” and frantic minutes of searching would reveal that it was just another overflow hose. When it was complete, it didn’t start because the battery was dead. Gerg promised that he would let me know how it all comes out tomorrow after a night of charging. It almost started a few times, but…

It’s been a long long week.

Gerg’s bike looks like this:

I’m only a little jealous.

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What are you doing on your birthday?

Cake Woman asked me what plans I had for my 30th birthday. I shrugged and she suggested:

Drive your car off of a cliff?

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Dallas Orbiter - Kitty Cat Klub - June 24 2005

Gerg finally got me the pictures that I took with his camera. I imagine that this is because I will be going to his house tomorrow to help him disassemble the carburetor on his motorcycle. I’m not cool, but sometimes I’m cool by proxy.

Kitty Cat Klub - June 24, 2005

Some of these turned out pretty sweet.

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Face the nightmarish consequences!

Zach finally got the Suckadelic CD. It’s all cartoon supervillains over breakbeats. I am losing my mind. Right now. It is being erased by an onslaught of awesomeness.


Cobra Commander is playing at my house. Gargamel is opening. Doors are at eight.

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Look, it’s Evan Dando!

I had planned to go to bed early tonight, but the Hawaii kids convinced me to go out one more time. First off was the Kitty Cat Klub, where some random electronic band was playing, and a dude who was at Marsha and Boot’s wedding was playing fucking bass! What the fuck? I was enjoying the bleeps and beats, but Renee, Dean, and Lisa all wanted to mosey somewhere downtown, so we piled into the Mom car and headed to First Avenue. No one was playing the mainroom, and besides, who goes to First Ave just to drink? Anyway, it was something like one AM, and Evan Dando was playing the Entry, so we went strolling in like we owned the place and everyone else boozed it on up while I chilled with a Summit. We heard just a song and a half before Dando departed the stage, but we stuck around because there was still beverage in our beverages. The lights came on and we all reminisced over our favorite Entry moments.

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Why get a shoe shine

When you’re made of dirt?

Okay. Seriously. How did I let the Poster Children slip out of my consciousness? It’s not like they stopped making albums.

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Complicated Fun

I was unable to find the full lyrics to Complicated Fun by the Suicide Commandos online, so I took the liberty of transcribing them for everyone. Corrections are appreciated. I used to hear this on the radio all the time.

It was easy back in treatment I got the sympathy I need
I told ‘em I was really smart and everyone agreed
We drink some beers and crack some jokes and that was quite enough
But I’m a whole lot older now and now the novelty’s worn off

The new wave is the old wave ‘cause we know it all by heart
We’re looking for an anthem that we haven’t torn apart.
We gotta have fun. Fun. Fun fun fun fun. Fun fun fun fun.

Now the future ain’t tomorrow, now the changes have begun
We’ve gotta get a handle on some complicated fun
You show me where the plug is and I’ll recharge on the run
We’ve gotta get a handle on some complicated fun
So we rock!

Ah the future ain’t tomorrow, now the changes have begun
We’ve gotta get a handle on some complicated fun
Hoo! Ha! Hoo! Ha! Hoo! Ha! Hoo! Ha!

The future ain’t tomorrow, now the changes have begun
We’ve got to get a handle on some complicated fun

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