Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Sunday, October 16, 2005
“Fuck off with that coffee song.”
IMG_0017.jpgIMG_0004.jpg
[Tremendous brunettes at the Park West]

For those of you who believe that animals can tell who's cool and who isn't, it seems my boys have picked out my new boyfriend: Snidge's baby bro, who came up with her for the Mike Doughty show this weekend. As it happens usually, Rube is standoffish and glares like an insolent teen at everyone, while the Ween just hides, not to be seen unless running back under the bed after eating or using the can. But with Rlee? Rube was rubbing up against him like they were best pals, while Ween let him touch him. (Ween also nudged Snidge to pet her during the night, but he knows her well enough now.)

It was another stellar visit this weekend. The Snidge family got in about 10-ish Friday night, so what we do? Head to the land of the Hobartians so that Rlee could experience firsthand what Snidge has been telling him about for months. And it didn't fail to disappoint, either, as it never does: The people turning to stare at you as you walk in the bar because you're not indigenous to them thar parts; the near 6-hillbilly brawl out front of Rosie O'Grady's during heavy metal night; the teenagers walking around well after curfew; Benny coming up and calling me his "Irish Rose," also kissing me one too many times. Yep, all there. And he LOVED it. Also, he loved the Vodka and Red Bulls he was tossing back.

After a vile, greasy breakfast at the Flying J in Lake Station, we got back to the crib, where after a mere four hours of rest I was out the door to an early muni meeting. (The message I left on my editor's voicemail: "My mellow has been harshed," followed by something completely unintelligible about that assignment and the second one I was headed to that wouldn't have to be written up for daily unless the retirees started setting the union hall on fire in protest. Luckily, it didn't happen, because I'm getting too old for that shit.) Meanwhile, Snidge and Rlee headed off to Chicago for some tooling around and shopping, so that gave me the perfect opportunity to come home for a four-hour nap. (Don't judge me.) Both showed great restraint with their purchases, except Snidge bought this stuff from Lush that looks like olive drab gelatin, and I was quite disturbed. (Had I known there was going to a trip to Lush, I'd have told her to get me another bar of Buffy the Buttskin Slayer and another Butterball, but that's all right.) I got up, they got back, we all changed clothes and headed back downtown for the show, starting with a lovely dinner at my favorite tapas joint.

If y'all have never been to the Park West for a show, I'd highly recommend it, because it's a great setting, and one that suited my pretend rockstar boyfriend well, because he ROCKED. OUR. SOCKS. (Yes, pheNOMenal, my friend. Thank you for turning Snidgey on to him.) Opened with "Tremendous Brunettes" and stayed tight the whole show. He did this montage of "It's Raining Men" and "Firetruck" that included the riff from "Circles," but he flatly refused to perform it outright, which was cool. It's just too bad that the crowd didn't seem to be into it as much as they should've, because Doughty's got a great stage presence. Stupid trixies. Anyway, one of his encores? Kenny Rogers' "The Gambler."
You got to know when to hold 'em/Know when to fold 'em/know when to walk away and/know when to run./You never count your money/when you�re sittin� at the table./There�ll be time enough for countin� when the dealin�s done.

After we got out of the show, Snidge had a hankering for sushi, so we popped into the sushi joint next door for some tempura and California rolls, which were all right according to them, but not as good as some of the M-Town places. Since I'm not a huge sushi connoisseur, I had no reference point as to what's good or not, but the joint DID play techno music, which was kind of funny. Then it was onward home, but not before searching through the ghetto for a place that Snidge could use the toilet for the 15th time. (We ended up at a McDonald's on the state line where the toilets were in a trailer outside. At that point, she didn't care.)

And with that, notable quotables after the jump:
Posted by Broad10:52 PM
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



Save the Net Now



/> Wanna make a bunch of money doing what you're doing right now?

Hey Webmasters! - Make $$$
The AllPosters.com Affiliates Program is a great way to make money with your website. All you have to do is place links on your site to AllPosters.com. When your site visitors click on your links and make purchases at AllPosters.com, you earn 25%-30% of the sale. Sign up today!

Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

powered by
EE Core

script assistance by
scriptygoddess

hosted by
wiredhub

This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.

image




<< chicago blogs >>



Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

Support Bloggers' Rights!
Support Bloggers' Rights!






online