Called in sick today, and then realized people were out, and it would probably be awful tomorrow, so I called back and said I�d be in. I did not call in at all in the month of July, so I�ve now followed my schedule for over a month or so.

Last night went and had a beer with a couple of friends, followed by a late dinner. Upon leaving the restaurant we were standing outside talking and this little Honda pulls up with 4 gentlemen not born in the United States of America blaring that shitty song �Out the way move!� which useless African American is that? Anyway, they parked in front of the fire hydrant, in the crosswalk, and one by one went in the restaurant, came out, went in. They were doing something silly. They all had those expensive sandals on, and gold, etc. While inside I decided to leave a present from my lungs on the ground where they would be walking. Sure enough, the first guy to come out steps right in the 2� x 3� puddle of phlegm on the ground, and drags it a little. We all looked at each other and smiled.

Then, I realized I needed gas desperately. I had my Shell card, but no Shell for a few miles. I made it over there and while filling my SUV with gas, and simultaneously supporting terrorism, this brand new white Mercedes with New York plates pulls up behind me. There are two Asian women in it, they wave me over. They�re looking for the Courtyard From Marriott on Independence Way. They are both wearing skirts that are shorter than Gary Coleman�s cock, and have big fake tits, and low cut tops, etc. I can�t tell them where the hotel is, as I don�t know where it is. I ask �what can I get for five bucks?� and they speed off�no, actually, the guy pumping gas next to me knows where it is and offers them to follow him over there. I�m thinking, this bastard is getting in on my �me love you long time� night, so I decide to follow his truck, as he leads them to the hotel. Then I decide against it, grab a cup of coffee, go home and decide I need to watch either: Alphaville, the 39 Steps, an episode of the Prisoner, an episode of the Monkees, or The Seventh Seal�I veto all of them and watch a Steven Spielberg movie someone lent me and fall asleep before it ends.

Conversation at the beer table about the film the Lost Boys. I�m sorry, that movie was made for girls, if you are a male and you thought that movie was good you should have ammonia thrown in your eyes and forced to listen to that �Out the Way Move!� song over and over until you can�t take it. There is not a good actor in that movie besides Dianne Weist, Sorry, but any movie with Jason Patric, or the Coreys is automatically not good in the least bit and if you like them I don�t want to talk to you, look at you, or hear anything about you for the rest of my life. Life is too short to hang out with people with shitty taste. Heh.

Speaking of black people�We played the gig on Saturday night. I got ridiculously high for the whole event. Not the best idea I�ve ever had as it started with me arriving at the space to find out the elevator is broken and we need to carry our equipment down the stairs (on the right) to our cars and then to the gig up the street. That was not fun. The next few hours were spent dealing with a PA system, that I somehow got roped into dealing with with cotton mouth and glassy eyes. The crowd was a mix of a small number of our friends, and a number of hip-hop girls and boys with the tight clothes and baggy pants and sideways baseball hats, etc. At the request of Danzilla and Shawn we decided to forget the setlist and just play one song, and improvise for 30 minutes. During the cacophony and elderly African-American woman walked up in front of me with her fingers in her ears making a disgusted face�it worked!

Speaking of working.

before & after