|january 25, 2000|
don't think today is ever going to end.
I've been here at work since 8 am and although it's not even 5 pm yet, I just want to slam my head against my desk and die. This morning started out with an email from the user from hell who cannot understand that if you don't save your data, it's not going to show up again when you try to retrieve it. I'm not going to rant. It's not worth the effort. But Jesus Christ! Get a clue! And the rest of the day has just dripped by like maple syrup in a dirty tap. No end in sight.
This past weekend I went with Erin and her friends to TwoRow's for dinner, and then with Amanda to see Chomsky at the Curtain Club. God, I hate that place. It's usually overpriced and there are these paintings all over the walls of local bands. And I don't know about you, but I don't consider a painting of Baboon or Buck Jones a piece of quality art. (not picking on them necessarily...) But it's just creepy to go in there and stare at drawings of yokels you see standing next to you.
And for as many local shows I attend, you would think that I would feel a little more inspired to talk about how great they all are or whatever, but I look at most of the people who are overly eager about the "scene" and want to shell myself up into my bedroom and never come out. Yeah, it's good that these starting musicians have a fanbase, but I don't really see any fruition coming out of most of them. The one really good band we had in Dallas broke up because a member had a drug overdose, and the rest are all lacklustre. Yeah, they might play catchy tunes, but I don't think their stage presence is worth the cover charge to get in.
/end local rant.
The rest of the weekend sort of went by in a blur. I helped Erin piece together an armoire that she bought and spent Saturday evening at her apartment scanning pictures of our excursion from the previous weekend. Amanda and I got crazy in the kitchen and made up new drinks which I aptly named "the tummytuck" and for the first time in my life, my eyeballs were actually HOT. So no more tummytucks for me, thanks.
This weekend I should be getting paid. Thank the Good Lord above. My last paycheck is almost gone, and considering it was only for a couple day's worth of work, there was no way it was going to sustain me for too long. With this paycheck I should be able to get my furniture back and put most of it towards the downpayment on the car I'm going to buy for my birthday (February 16 in case you forgot). And I am really thinking about going to Atlanta for the weekend in a couple of weeks, so I'll need a little bit of cash for the stand-by airfare. If I go next weekend, I told John that we'd catch the Deathray Davies show, so that will be kind of neat to see how he handles being in a room where all of the little females aren't fawning over his every movement. And no, I'm not dissing him at all, but it's just damn funny to see girls ogle after him. And yes, I have been guilty of it, but there's only so much staring you can do before you realize that he's really just too asexual for that sort of attention.
But yeah -- Atlanta! Phatlanta! Hotlanta! Whatever you want to call it. I could definitely use a couple of days of goofing around with our glamorpuss guyfriends out there. I could definitely use a couple of days of record shopping. Maybe I'll find more Sloan posters. Maybe I'll find a matching Barcode tennisshoe since I'm only able to find one of the set I have. Maybe I can see the Cotton Club one last time before they level the block it's sitting on. Maybe I'll actually go for the gold and will go through a tour at Coca-Cola World. I know I keep talking about it and haven't done anything about it yet, but maybe this will be the trip where I die of a caffeine overdose. Hopefully, the ice storm that struck the area last weekend will have cleared up by then, because I'm far too spoiled by this Texas winter (Texas winter!? Ha!) to know what real cold is.
God. I want to get out of here. The office. Dallas. Just for a little while. And then I'll be rejuvenated and focused and will be one of those productive citizens again. Ahh. To Dream the impossible dream.
The Stone Roses - The Stone Roses.
The Slow-Motion World of Snowpony - Snowpony
Fountains of Wayne - Fountains of Wayne
Brighten the Corners - Pavement
Eponymous - REM