Only 11 more days and I'll be back in Las Vegas. Quite looking forward to it, as my job is pretty much killing me. Oh, but surely I exaggerate, you say. Well, let's see: there was the 2 weeks during which I threw up each and every night before (and only before) I went off to toil in the career quagmire in which I'm currently, well, mired. Add in the lack of time to sleep, eat, bang, or do much of anything besides go to and from work, and you have the makings of a burnout. Of nuclear, supernovaish (Song of the Day: Liz Phair- Supernova) proportions. It's a damn good thing my GF (and yes, she's coming to L.V. with me; she found the one day flight sale, and double occupancy is cheaper than single) is so understanding. Especially since I've no time at my disposal, should I decide to replace her.
Nope, not even time to visit a doctor about, say, the fact that I was throwing up every night (I work graveyard shifts) at the mere thought of going back. And then my boss wonders why (and gets all miffed when) I refer to it as a hole. And not the good kind, either. And I don't even call it by it's official name, shithole, in her presence, either. Chicks. And I really need to find the time to visit me a dentist, too, as my teeth are pretty much falling out. But then again, the company has saved many a peso by providing me with largely unused dental coverage over the years.
Anyway, after I finish this little diatribe, I'm off to work on my resume. If I have enough crayons.
Rest in Peace, Heath. You'll be missed. And no, I'd have never even THOUGHT to draft him in the Celebrity Death Pool. And yes, we here at suavelyderanged inc. totally forgive him for Brokeback Mountain. We're just humanitarians to the core. Sages, even.
When did Brock Lesnar join UFC?
I still haven't figured out how to operate my coffeemaker the GF gave me for xmas. However, there'll be plenty of time on the plane to read the instruction manual. Or, perhaps the guide to Las Vegas Divorce which she forwarded me.
It's kinda sad that Kevin Federline's 2 recent appearances on One Tree Hill (yay, it's FINALLY back from hiatus; but where's Bionic Woman? love the new American Gladiators, can't wait for the remake of Knight Rider...since most of today's TV sucks dead bear, they may as well revisit timeless classics from the past) constitute more of a career than Britney Spears currently has.
And yes, I totally use who's the bigger slut; Britney or Jamie Lynn? as an opener. But only when I approach in church. A boy's got to have his moral standards, after all.
Speaking of which, this is to the drunk guy on the train (nice support work by your wings, by the way) that was trying to open (and did fairly well, I'll admit, other than not closing) the seated 2-set last night. Attempting to beta someone (nope, it wasn't me, although I was expecting it, being all dressed up in my wintry weather gear and all) who isn't interfering with or attempting to move in on your approach does not make you alpha. It merely makes you try-hard. Perhaps that's partly why you didn't even number close.
Ah yes, the weather. With the windchill factored in, it's pretty much been in the vicinity of -40 to -45 degrees Celsius (for those who roll in Fahrenheit; picture standing in a meat locker, you've seen them on TV, you know, the episode where so and so gets locked in the freezer; with the door shut tight, but with the fans on and blowing at roughly 25 miles per hour...now picture this outside, for days on end) hereabouts since Sunday a.m. Now feature driving in said weather. Pretty fucking bleak, n'est pas? And that's even before the accident I was stuck in the traffic aftermath of, yesterday, going home from the GF's. Half a dozen cop cars, 3 fire trucks and at least one ambulance. Fine rubbernceking abounded, were one into that sort of thing. I think somebody drove off a bridge or some shit, although I didn't care enough to like, look, or anything.
Anyway, add the miserable weather to the fact that Ticketmaster still hadn't figured out how to mail me the ticket I paid for in November (which meant a visit to Will Call), and the fact that I was going to roam the teeming masses of youthful exuberance known as the General Admission Floor by myself (fuck yeah, I go to shows by myself; the, in this case $60 I save by not taking a date, GF or otherwise, is $60 that goes directly into my Crack and Hookers Fund) and the result is that I was more than somewhat reluctant to venture out into the cold at all. Fact is, I simply wanted to curl up into a fetal ball on my couch (I finally managed to make some time to clean the house, after needing to these past 6 months or so; this past weekend whilst the GF was in Banff, curling; I'll tell you about how she bonked her head on the ice some other time) and watch basketball. But I knew I'd have a good time, so I went.
Three Days Grace (whom I saw in November of '06; they did damn near the exact same set, too, complete with a fine acoustic cover of Alice in Chains' (I saw them in concert in'91, opening for Van Halen, and you didn't) Rooster by the lead singer; who was in much better voice this time around). Seether (the band I was there to see, having regrettably missed there last, acoustic, visit here in May of '06 at a Cowboys during a torrential downpour). Econoline Crush (whom I believe I saw in '99 at Edgefest; but, if I did, I barely remember them, as I was there purely to see Hole; I still remember a topless Courtney Love singing Northern Star during a thunderstorm at an outdoor show). 3.5 hours of entertainment for said $60. And yes, I knew I was getting old when I was focused more on the fact that my poor paw hurt so much in my shiny new shoes that I could hardly stand anymore, rather than on Three Days Grace' set.
Much love to the dye-job blonde who chose to wear the 6 inch stilettos despite the fact that the streets outside are pretty much sheets of glare ice. It really IS like the pickup gurus say: women don't get all dressed up and go out to dance; they're there to meet men. And, of course, to try to out-dress other womenfolks. See, it's good to get out into the field sometimes. Especially since I don't even have time to spend with my few remaining friends anymore. And no, she couldn't walk on them very well, either. Sadly, what with the weather and all, most of the HB's were fairly well bundled up, showing some skin-wise.
Although there were the 2 skinny little white girls that flashed their little breastesses by pressing them up against the window of the Plus 15-type tunnel from the venue to the train. Sadly, I was behind them, and they were sprightly quick.
Econoline Crush's lead singer has all the moves down. Hell, he even did the Axl (or is it the Davy Jones? whatever) dance. Their lead guitarist totally belongs in a better band. Some of the songs were fairly catchy, if not especially memorable.
I didn't even get to see anyone pass out or vomit. Although the chick in font of me did get poked in the eye when everyone scrambled out the way of an errant stage diver. Who, unfortunately, emerged unscathed. Sigh. These kids today. I weep.
Seether really should've played Because of Me. I fucking LOVE that song. Not much in the way of patter, they simply came out, kicked ass, and left. For those of y'all wondering how they'd handle the performance of Broken (you know, wherefore the presence of Amy Lee on one version WAY outsold the album version); I, my ownself assumed chick backup singer...they brought out the lead singer and guitarist of Three Days Grace to provide acoustic guitar and duet-type vocals. Note to self: do Broken as a duet in karaoke with doable chick from one's social circle; should one ever again, you know, FIND oneself with a social circle and shit. It was pretty cool. I also enjoyed the way the black light hit the backdrop advertising the new album and logo. And their brief rendition of 3DG's I Hate Everything About You.
Then I got to see a face and, bending over, ass from the past in between sets. Someone I haven't seen in over a year, someone who taught me a valuable lesson: NEVER trust a woman with more than one hair color all at oncet. If she can't even pick a hair color, how can she possibly be expected to make more important decisions? Such as, par exemple, swallow or spit. Her tits were bigger than I'd remembered, though. Again, all dressed up, showing some cleavage. Nope, didn't appoach. After all, I have me a GF. Well, that and the fact that all the time I waste at work is killing my Game.
Three Days Grace opened with the kickass Animal I Have Become. Again. But that didn't make me enjoy it any less. Also loved me some Riot. In fact, I do believe I'll be listening to some of One X after I wrap this up. Perhaps Seether's Karma and Effect (haven't gotten Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces yet; I believe that's the title) as well. It really is time for 3DG to put out a new disc, though.
And yes, I will revisit the General Admission Floor on another occasion. Perhaps others, even. When the weather is better and fine sarging opportunities abound.
Happy Humpday, y'all. May the name hold true for you.