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.
What does a guy have to do to get his name written on a piece of paper, inserted into a woman’s yoni, taken out the next day, partially burned, hung in the Southwest corner of a room, then buried with two cherries these days?
I wonder if I have burned all my bridges already, or if there are some that I missed.
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.
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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