Poop.
20 December 1999
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7:27 PM: Sigh. My office crush is quitting. I had kinda suspected it for a while, but it still sucks. I guess that's the only thing I really regret about missing all of the holiday parties this year, being able to get one of those rare out-of-work chat times with her. Ah well. Plus, now I hear that they're talking about selling off a project I've been trying to nurse back to health for a long time now. All the fun is going out of work.
(If I said I meant that ironically, would you believe me?)
Much Much more fun, however, is the magic and the mystery that is Three Day Stubble. We saw them play this weekend at the Bottom of the Hill, where they have a decent cheeseburger but could really use some of those big outdoor infrared space heaters in their smoking "patio", along with maybe some drainage? (i know i know, like there's some kind of non-infrared heat, but that's what those things are called, it's stupid but ubiquitous, like America) They're smart dressers, they're neat musicians, they're funny characters, and they make me feel good about myself. And isn't that what this holiday season is all about?
Even better, they opened with my favorite band in the world still yes they are, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. Though I have learned a valuable lesson - do not stand in front of the left monitor. "Isn't there another guitar playing over there?" "I think so, I can see his hand move." Still, just amazing musicianship, amazing songs. How can they sing so silly and play so ... I don't know, heavenly? Maybe I just have weird tastes, but for me, Mozart and Thinking Fellers, they push the same button.
It was a good long show, too, and they did tons of new songs and promised to release a new record early next year, he said, making a public record of it, and then maybe even play some more shows. Yay! Oooh, and a certain someone's prominent wedding/engagement ring is now a formerly-prominent wedding/engagement ring. I'm not scary, nooo...
Other than that, very lazy weekend. Trying to get Secret Santa going at the bar, with mixed results. I think it'll work out, but the administration of it is unorthodox to say the least. I suppose a bar can't help but be a pretty loose environment. Lots of people are leaving town this week or next. Going to be a quiet January. Presuming there's not an armed insurrection or something, that is.
8:51: I must say, I'm glad to see that someone else out there has Freshwater Fish Syndrome:
(I have no problem with the thagomizer, though I am a little worried by the unscrupulous cow in the life raft who is detected by the other passenger in the act of sipping from a glass. "Hey! That's milk! And you said you were all empty, you stinkin' liar!" shouts the indignant man. My problem is not the man and cow in the lifeboat, the talking cow, nor the question of where the cow got the glass, but -- why does the cow have stubble?)
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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