Can I tell you how much The Aggrolites rule? They rule more than the pirates, that’s how much. It doesn’t matter how big the club or how small the bar, those guys put it on. I don’t know why I bothered spending all that time doing my hair before the show, though. I mean, Aggrolites shows always turn into saunas, anyway. I’m sporting a head of curls right now. Gosh I dig that band. That’s why I’m going to see them again tomorrow. There’s going to be so many people at that show, too. I’m completely looking forward to it.
You know what I’m really looking forward to, though, is a new Los Hooligans CD. There’s a track off their new album on this sampler I just got, and it’s amazing. I can’t wait for a whole new CD of that.
What can I say? I love me some ska and reggae.
Boy was I wrong. I’m darn lonely. There’s nothing really going on tonight, anyway. I’d almost rather be harrassed by the cops. Just kidding. Next weekend, though, there will be none of this. It’s going to be all about The Aggrolites. And Froggy. And Sibrina. And John. Lots of people around next weekend. I don’t really mind being alone, but it’s more like I don’t like having them unavailable. No one is available tonight. I should get over it, though. I should just turn my music up a little louder, write something, read something, or clean my bathroom. Whatever it takes. Oh, SNL must be on, right?
So, Wednesday night, really late, one in the morning, I’m on my way home. I’m driving up 580, just before Oakland, and the pretty lights start flashing in my rearview. So, I put on the turn signal, and I move over to the shoulder, the voice of god tells me to go up to the next off ramp and leave the freeway, and once I comply with that decree, insists that I pull into an empty dark parking lot. I pull in, shut off the engine, roll down my window, reach for the insurance/registration in the glove box, and there’s a tap on the passenger window, so I roll that down, too. I think that I must have been speeding, but I learn that that is not the problem. Why was I drifting into the other lane? Well, sir with gun, I am tired. Where was I coming from, where am I headed to, and have I been drinking? Just A beer, many hours ago. Yes, with dinner. Yes I can do a test. No, I don’t necessarily need my glasses. Indeed I can step out of the car. Cannabis? What’s that? Oh no, not in quite some time. My pulse, yes. I’m afraid to tell you that you’re squeezing to tight, and it hurts, so I’ll just hold my breath until it’s over. It has to be over soon; I haven’t done anything. Pulse is racing, well, that makes sense. I’m a girl in a dark parking lot in the middle of the night with two gun toting men. No, I don’t get pulled over often. No, I didn’t take anything else with the beer. I am, in fact, very tired. Yes, I am awake now. I am going right now. Thank you, and you have a nice evening, too.
But I don’t know about that Ruby Skye club. A few too many team members for my taste. I’m really glad that Sibrina called me, though, because we had a blast hanging out together.
Beware of the Keebler Elf!
Tomorrow night: Fishbone!
I survived my two days worth of babysitting. This experience has confirmed my suspicion that I am not cut out for children. Taylor was an angel, and it was a piece of cake, but I lost all patience with being tied to the apartment. I’m too immature and selfish for kids of my own. I like to be able to pick up and go whenever I please.
Speaking of picking up and going, I’m going on a road trip next weekend. Look out LA!!
Still unemployed, so if anyone hears any leads, please let me know.