The Pyrockers were in town over the weekend, staying with Baby Bro. In their honor, Baby Bro and his roommates threw a Pirate Party on Friday. I love a good costume party. My friends love a good costume party. We also all love pirates. And The Pyrockers played in the living room.
Yar! So many booty jokes, so little time!
If you’ve been following this blog at all, you know that I have been keeping pretty busy. Actually, that’s putting it lightly. I’ve been going going going so much that I barely see my apartment. It pretty much is just the spot where I crash and shower. I don’t even eat here so much.
Of course, as many people have pointed out, this isn’t necessarily a mutually exclusive symptom of single-ness. I just think, looking back on my relationships, that when you’re with someone, hanging out at one or the other’s place becomes an activity of it’s own. I don’t particularly care for sitting around by myself. It makes me either feel like a loser, a failure, or that I’m just missing out on lots of potential fun. I’d rather be busy.
So, I go out a lot. Band practice, piano bar, pirate party, jell-o shot party, drive-ins, dvds at the command center, Rudy’s, SNWMF, The Soul Captives playing, Maldroid playing, The Phenomenauts playing, and on, and on.
Then, when I finally do get home, exhausted, I fill up a glass of water, sit it next to my new alarm clock, plug my iPod into that new alarm clock, plug in my cell phone, and just as I’m crawling into bed, I slip out of my pants, and socks and leave them there . . . in the pile of other pants and socks that are next to my bed.
When I wake up, I drink some water, climb over the pile of laundry, and drag myself towards the shower, leaving what’s left of the clothes I wore yesterday on top of yet another pile that has come to live under the sink.
So, there’s been a pile of jeans and sox next to the bed, and a pile of underwear and t-shirts under the sink for weeks. Shoes are just about everywhere. And every week or so, I’ve done that one load of subsistence laundry with one pair of jeans, a few t-shirts, some socks, some underwear, and one towel. Then there’s also the overflowing hamper in the closet with all the clothes that I don’t want to wear often enough to be included in my subsistence load.
But even my laziness, craziness, and slovenliness has it’s limits. This morning I find myself with some down time, so I am doing about a metric butt ton of laundry.
I am so bored. Totally bored. Completely bored. Losing my mind bored. Claustrophobic bored. Shoot me bored. Screaming bored. I guess I’ll go to bed now bored.
I guess I could watch some Netflix or read a book, but like, I am just not in the mood. Plus, I’m just used to being on the go. I mean, sitting here in my apartment by myself is something I just don’t do anymore, right.
It’s not like I don’t have things to do. I still need to fill out the forms for my new job benefits. I could be doing laundry. There’s a baby shower I’m helping to throw. There’s a wedding coming up that I’m in. I’m going on a road trip next week. I have a pirate party to go tomorrow. There’s some dishes in the sink. So, there’s stuff I could be doing and preparing for.
But I’d rather somebody call me and say, “Come hang out with us.”
And at the same time, I’m exhausted.
Maybe I should just put on a Netflix and fall asleep.
What I really should stop doing is messing around on the Intertubes. PeggyLu!!! Put down the MacBook, and back away slowly.
I think boredom is giving me heartburn.
Last week, I hit a milestone and broke a record with this here little journal. On Friday, I set a new daily page views record. The next day, I broke 10,000 page views since I moved to WordPress.
Here are some highlights from last week:
This is a picture I took of myself at my birthday a few weeks ago:
And that’s Pedro in the background. I realized, when I saw this picture, that this is what the rest of my life is going to be like. He’s always going to be there, making crazy faces. For forever.
What have I gotten myself into? Seriously. I invited this madness into my life.
Who am I kidding? I love this shit!
Yesterday, I went to the World Music Festival in Boonville. There were some really amazing acts that played, Chris Murray Combo, The Expanders w/ Pat Kelly, Stranger Cole, and Roy Shirley, and Cornel Campbell to name a few. I think Stranger Cole was my favorite. It was also great because a lot of friends were there. The downside was that there were wildfires in the area, so there was a lot of smoke in the air, and my throat is a mess today. It’s like I smoked a carton of cigarettes and drank a case of whiskey. On the upside, I’m sure the guys would say it’s hot.
Anyway, I took a whole lot of pictures, so here’s a few:
I can’t sleep. Perfect. Tomorrow, which is really today, is going to suck.
Anonymity is something I kind of struggle with. I write about my life in a public forum, this blog. Although, I pretty much assume that most of the people that read this here blog probably know me personally. We’ve met, at the very least. Maybe there’s one or two people here who read my blog because I read there blog, etc.
Yet, there really is no telling who else might be reading. It is for this reason that I use a pseudonym. I hope you realize that Who isn’t really my last name. Not only do I have a nickname for myself, but I also give them to the people in my life who I write about. It’s very important to me that I’m not treading on their privacy. In fact, there’s some people who I write about who may not even realize that they’re being written about. Or they may not have caught on to the fact that “Character X” in my blog is them. I think if you walked up to Darby and called him by that name, he’d probably look at you like you were nuts. And then, if you told him that you figured out who he was from reading my blog, he would have no idea where I came up with ‘Darby’, and by the way, I’m not telling.
The one exception, to this rule, because there’s always an exception, is those people in my life who have a public life. For example, the various members of Monkey are called by their actual names. However, there is an exception to the exception (oh brother), which is that when they’re not performing, and I’m writing something about them that does not involve their performances and gigs, then I have a pseudonym for them.
I’m sure you can imagine how complicated this could become. Of course, I had to go and make it more complicated.
As I’ve written, I’m in a band myself now. I now will have a public life, and I will perform. It’s time for me to decide whether I want to continue to write under my pseudonym, or whether I want to enter into a public sphere with my blog. I feel like, if I mention the name of my band in the blog, it’s only a matter of time before people search out info on the band, and then the public will know just who PeggyLuWho really is. And won’t that then compromise Darby, Mama Bear, Creeper, and the rest?
For the time being, I’m stalling. All you need to know is, I’m PeggyLuWho. I’m in a band. Which band? Well, that’s nunya!
And I’m still listening to my BBD station on Pandora.
I saw The Soul Captives on Monday night. During one song, our friends joined the band on stage to sing back ups. I shot a little video. This is my first YouTube video, too.
The sound is a little rough and distorted, ’cause I took it with my little Kodak EasyShare piece ‘o crap camera, but it’s not too too bad.
I took a bunch pictures, too.
more cat pictures
I’ve become a LOLcats freak.
Peggy Lu Who's Just Sayin' 