|October 11, 1999|
Elitist Slampiece Hysteria
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|How much do I suck for not updating
my page? Okay, not really that much because it's hard evidence that I've actually had
somewhat of a real life lately (pathetic isn't it?) but that's beside the point. I feel
like a schluff for leaving you all hanging and wondering "How the hell is
old Chrissy?" Yes. I am sure you are all pondering my well-being. I am sure your days
have been pretty shitty without my daily dose of talking about my well-being. Yes I
am full of shit and am full aware of the fact that like 3 people really do read this and
if you really read too much into this you'll find that I'm just a bored slacker with
nothing better to do.
That's the only explanation you'll get from me on "why I have a journal". Nothing deep or melodramatic about my lack of communication skills because I sure as hell have a mouth on me and I talk more than enough in real life anyways. I am just being a smarty pants. That's all.
So what have I been doing?
I saw Self. I made friends with Self. Self are fabulous guys. Buy their album(s).
I saw Marvelous 3. I drooled on myself at every Butch Walker sighting. Very pathetic for someone my age, but he is so perfect I can't help myself. I am sounding like a fool but oh well. It's 3 am I must be lonely. Sorry.
I saw Self again the next day. And the Marvelous 3. Except this was in Houston. I hate Houston, but I made lots of friends, including Wiley. Wiley is a redneck that works at the Satellite Lounge that has a bitchin' Van Halen logo tattooed on his arm. Very high class. At first he told me that all girls from Dallas were bitches (true) but we got along after that. He gave me free white russians all night and told me to call him anytime I was going to be at the club and he'd hook me up again for free. Wiley is the man.
So free drinks, free show, free hotel courtesy of Self. I'm in love with a rock and roll world.
Oh, at those shows, I also saw my new heroes, The Katies, because they were the opening act. They are also from Tennessee and are the poster boys for my favorite new genre of music: Confederapop. Screw that Britpop crap! These men know what real grits and iced tea are like!
I moved in with Deidre during that same time ... actually we'll get to that in a minute.
I saw Elvis Costello on Friday. I paid $100.01 for three tickets. I will not go into detail about how that sum made me want to vomit all over the Ticketmaster counter at Foley's. But I handed over my hard earned cash and prayed the show would be worth it.
And it was. You are a fool if you ever miss a chance to see Elvis Costello. I would donate all of my plasma to see him again. I cried like a baby during "Alison". And I was ripped to shreds on the inside during "I Want You". God that was so good. The weather was perfect, he cracked jokes, he did a Van Morrison cover, and he still is more beautiful than any man on the face of the whole entire earth. If a person cannot appreciate the genius that is Elvis Costello, I have no tolerance for them. Yes, definitely worth the ticket price. After that, Angie, Amanda and I all went to Sol's Taco Lounge for some overpriced food. I don't reccomend the Carlos burger, because Amanda got one and it really looked like Carlos fell in the vat of meat. Mmm-mmm good!
Yesterday and today I've performed hard back breaking work by moving my furniture in. All of my stuff. This was a major undertaking for my sister and I to take care of, but we did it. Lots of time on I-35. Lots of lugging boxes and cursing stairs. And big props to the scary Mexican neighbor who singlehandedly moved my mattress, box springs, and box of dishes in. He ruled.
Last night we went to see Chomsky at Trees. However, all of you dumbasses who go to UT or OU can kiss my ass and stay the hell out of Dallas next Texas/OU weekend. For those of you who are smart and don't go to either of these schools, God Bless You. For some reason unbeknownst to myself, there is this wicked rivalry going on between the two universities that decides to come to a head every October by playing in Dallas. Clogging our streets up with stupid drunken college kids and alumni and making it a generally bad place to be. They decide to bombard our clubs and dress either too classy or too bum-like and wear a lot of makeup. They wear too many pleated slacks. They are a bunch of idiots. They are the cause of us being late to Chomsky and allowing us only to see one song (and a half). If anyone ever tells me again that they go to UT/OU, I'm going to deck them. Without any room for explanation.
I really hate the university crowd. Hate.
Oh, but the rest of the show we got to see. Flickerstick suck. THE ADVENTURES OF JET!!!!! played as usual. I don't think they downright suck, but you know, you have a good equation for writing a good song, use it. But for that ONE SONG. Not for all of them. But then again, what do I know? I think their guitarist guy has cool hair. Very albino afro-puff. I almost feel bad for him because he's just so ... ugly.
I am almost situated in my new room. I have all of my furniture in place and most of the boxes emptied and a few posters on the wall. Lovely Butch Walker stares down at me now, which is a scary thing, but the poster is so "Get Happy"-esque...how can a girl help herself? I was dead tired earlier tonight around 8, but for some reason Deidre and I are both wide awake and cleaned the kitchen around 2:30 this morning. And sang Poison songs and ate corn dogs. I am in heaven.
Weird occurence for the night: She was looking through a bag in her closet and found one of those wallet-sized pictures from school of ME that I wrote a dippy note on the back of. How screwed up is that? I was all of 15! That's so classic.
I skipped out on the Fury III show tonight. Yeah, I'm sure Denton sheds a tear of beer for me.
I found a Sloan song today that drove me up the wall more than anything. I found a Sloan song I hate! Hate! (Notice the repeating pattern here.) One of Chris Murphy's own, "The Marquee and The Moon". It's like he's trying to write the score for one of those sub-par Disney follow-ups to Pocahantas. It's not even on the grade-A level. It's just crap. The melody, the lyrics, his godawful voice...arrrgh...how a completely brilliant band like Sloan decided to record such trite is beyond me. But the rest of the album is good. I would say "go get it" but you know that already so I'm just wasting my time. And hey, I'm not getting any money out of it. But if you do, go to a local CD store (I suggest CD World in Dallas if in the area) and get it because those kids at the counter need their money for weed like everyone else. Avoid corporate moguls. They just use it to hire prostitutes with or spike their coffee with cocaine. Or for their import cars. And that's not cool. So support the local scene, maaan. It's your friends on the line, and mine.
I sound like a fruitbat. I swear I'm not as pissy as I seem. But I should probably lay down for bed soon, otherwise Monday is going to be REAL fun.
This right here is the coolest man alive. His name is Gary Welch and he plays bass for The Katies. He is generous with the words "shit" and "damn" and has a tattoo of Angus Young on one arm. With horns. If a man can wear cowboy boots and say "Houston, I'm happy as SHIT to be here tonight", he has my respect. Confederapop at it's FINEST.
I heard "Fancy" by Reba McEntire on the radio today and actually got tears in my eyes. What a great song. Everyone should hold Reba a little closer to their hearts.
Amanda wrote the beginning of the much-discussed INDIE PORN that we have procrastinated writing about for like 6 months now. I swear, this is the best thing you will read all year. Easily.