Written on Tuesday, the 2nd of August, 2005 at 1:03 am and was filed under:
Music
Brendan Benson MOTHER FUCKING ROCKED THE MOTHER FUCKING 400 BAR!
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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Written on Monday, the 1st of August, 2005 at 1:23 am and was filed under:
Diversions,
Bikes
This morning I attended the United Church of Delicious Fucking Breakfast at the Uptown Diner in… uh… Uptown. Later I finally got a new lens cap for my digital SLR so I can start stuffing it into my bag again and taking more pictures. Paul will surely stop visiting my blog if there aren’t any pictures. : (
I made it back to Penn Cycle on Lyndale. They had gotten in the Giant OCR1 in size small for me to try. It was light and generally acceptable but somehow didn’t seem as fast as the Trek. Ooh, ratios, so I don’t forget: 12-26T and 30/42/52T. Compare that to the Trek 1000 with 12-26T and 30/42/52T. Wait a minute, why did the Trek feel faster? Hrm. That doesn’t make any damn sense. Maybe I didn’t actually get the rear into the top gear. Anyway, when I got back from my test ride (up the bike trail thing just north of Lake Street) Shawn was helping a couple other customers and took a phone call.
Of course, I randomly stopped into the Varsity bike shop in Dinkytown where I had gotten my blue nutbuster a few years ago. They had a Fuji Ace in 50cm in stock. It was reasonably comfortable, but the web site reveals an 8 speed rear end, which according to my limited internet research is a liability for upgradeability. I didn’t ride it for long, though, since I had forgotten my ID at Penn Cycle and had to head back before five. Ugh. It was way too hot to be driving in circles, but strangely, not to hot to be on a bicycle. I don’t get it either.
Tonight I rolled out the new google maps powered developer map and moved bharat’s dot to NYC. Only three weeks until my dot is there too.
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Written on Sunday, the 31st of July, 2005 at 9:16 pm and was filed under:
Diversions
Anyone who is confused by my life raise your hand now.
In Minnesota the saying is to dress in layers. Well, I made a phone call and then took off some layers. I took off some more layers. I took off layers that I wasn’t even wearing, but still heat pressed down on me with a giant monkey hand, pressing me into a sleep full of very strange dreams, almost like hallucinations. According to my window thermometer it is 78 degrees outside and 86 in my room. Ugh.
Depending on your imagination, I may or may not be wearing any pants right now. I suggest that you decide which state is more appealing and only imagine that one. If that state is the state of pantslessness, maybe we should talk.
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Written on Saturday, the 30th of July, 2005 at 7:20 pm and was filed under:
Bikes
Today I went back to the MInnehaha Hub to try out the Bianchi Volpe ($849.99) and Castro Valley ($799.99). They were all right, but the gear ratios in the rear were fucking RIDICULOUS. The Castro Valley seemed like a neutered Volpe, having just one 42 tooth chainring in the front instead of three (28/38/48T) on the Volpe. I honestly did not like the STI shifters a whole lot. Overall, still a contender, but only in Volpe form, since I can add fenders and a rack to it and have a much more comfortable bike. I wish that I could take five of the rear speeds out and throw them away. The lady who helped me first had a name that started with a C, but I didn’t write it down. I tried a 52 and a 49, and somehow they both seemed largish — I thought that there was supposed to be some space in between the frame and one’s nuts. Maybe the 49 was okay, and would be better without the sort of knobby tires. Shock mounted seat = silly.
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Written on Saturday, the 30th of July, 2005 at 1:34 pm and was filed under:
Diversions,
Family,
Bikes
Stan and I rode bicycles to Mill City Coffee (or whatever the hell it’s called these days) and back. I was towing Noah in the Burly. It’s only 2.6 miles each way, but it felt like 26. When we put the bikes back in the garage, I noticed that Noah had thrown the boat anchor out the back. I guess that explains the load grinding noise. Note to self: I hate flat handlebars.
Then, I mowed the lawn, which is always strangely relaxing. Tonight I babysit Noah so that Lisa and Stan can go out and pretend to not be grown ups for a while. I’m either 13 now or 43.
After some discussion with my financiers I think that I might still be able to get a bike, so I think that I will drive to some bike shops and get measured. Or, I could just go get that $50 mountain bike at Target and swear a lot when I ride. Nothin’ wrong with that. I enjoy swearing. It’s a fine art.
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Written on Saturday, the 30th of July, 2005 at 2:30 am and was filed under:
Diversions
Gerg let me know that his bike still wasn’t running, so I did a little more research and sent him a list of things to check, including whether or not there was too much oil in his crankcase and if there was any additional oil in the airbox. The answer to both of those questions turned out to be “yes,” so our carburetor work was pretty much all for naught - except that his carb did get a nice cleaning. In any case, he drained a bunch of excess oil out of the bike and did something with the air filter, and the bike started and ran well enough for him to drive to Lodahl’s house.
I found this when I called him back after my double-header nap. Part one wasn’t very satisfying, but in the intermission I had delicious Annie’s mac and cheese, and it’s a lot easier to nap with a brick of cheese in one’s stomach. When I finally woke up again I stumbled upstairs to watch an episode of Monk before having a flash of inspiration that I could go see Wedding Crashers by myself, since that was about all for which my brain was up to speed. I laughed a lot, but I heart Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson. I thought that Vince’s monologue about dating at the start of the movie was worth the price of admission by itself, but there was plenty of out of control humor to go around.
Good night, y’all. I think it’s time to watch that other episode of Monk and slip into unconsciousness.
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Written on Saturday, the 30th of July, 2005 at 2:07 am and was filed under:
Music
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.) |
FUCK
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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Written on Friday, the 29th of July, 2005 at 10:21 pm and was filed under:
Diversions
This morning Lisa commented that I looked a little lost. I would have said bewildered. I went on a non-date last night. My boss commented yesterday that every non-date is a date as soon as you screw up. Apparently I didn’t screw up, because it ended up being a date. She came to my house and hung out on the deck with me until the wee hours. She had worn her work clothes, so I loaned her a t-shirt, then a hoodie, then a blanket. Stars appeared and disappeared behind the leaves of the maple tree while clouds piled up overhead and drifted apart. It was like that.
I don’t know what to make of it all, and I’m fresh out of sass tonight — even after a dual stage nap.
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Written on Friday, the 29th of July, 2005 at 8:09 am and was filed under:
Diversions
I could be this guy.
WOW. Why the fuck am I awake now?
Props to dooce.
Did I tell you about dooce? I should have, because she’s way funnier than I am.
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Written on Friday, the 29th of July, 2005 at 2:16 am and was filed under:
Diversions
Do I really come off as a lush? It’s all a total act. After this summer I will probably go back to the grim spectre of sobriety. In the mean time, any time that a cute woman wants to come to my house and encourage me to drink myself silly on the deck I am all over that like a cheap suit. Shit. That does sound like a thing that Drinky McDrunk Drunk would say.
None of you have any idea what the fuck is really going on.
Paul, you should come drink here too.
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