Thursday, August 19, 2004

Gotta moooove!

Not much time this morning since I have to bring in Photogal's dog, the oh-so-tiny Lucy, into the vet for an ultrasound as we continue in our quest to uncover and define that which has been ailing her over the past few days. Add a dinner/meeting of the minds between Photogal's mom and my mom tonight and I think it's pretty obvious I gotsta get me to work as fast as I can. So instead of discourse that was meant to be well-constructed before fraying out into a rambling shambles you instead get a few sort thoughts presented in the ever popular "I'm-addicted-to-PowerPoint-bullets" style:

Remember my friend Hope the mud wrestler I mentioned yesterday? She sent me a link to some pics from her match. Kudos to the "Aladdin Sane" face-painting and the good showing (at least photographically) in the ring. Even bigger kudos to her ex-boyfriend for posing with some red-headed pierced hottie. How do you get back at a hot ex? Pose with another hot girl and get your picture on the same page as your semi-naked hot ex wrestling another semi-naked hot girl. That’s hot.

"That’s hot." I've got to stop saying that and realize that I'm just not going to turn it into a catchphrase that will wash over the Midwest in a matter of weeks. It just ain’t gonna happen.

Why did my friend Kip call me at 1:45 this morning and leave me a message that he was riding in a rickshaw down Lake Shore Drive and had just witnessed some car flipping over as it tried to take a turn to quickly in the rain and boy was he glad that it wasn't me and that's why he was also glad that I didn't drink and drive and God Bless me and say hi to Photogal and Betty the Beagle? I have no idea but I love that kid. Also, I am glad I turned my ringer of before going to bed so I have the story stored for posterity.

I have rediscovered Adorable’s unbelievably great song "Homeboy." It's got a really melodic bass line entwined around its verses and then explodes for the chorus. It’s perfect for playing in-between The Killer and Duran Duran in a DJ set. That's hot.

I did it again! No more "that’s hot" damnit!

Finally, it can be a pain to deal with booking agents in this town. I'm setting up a bill with some friends and tried to get some other bands I respect on the bill. Their agent said cool. I said how do you want to work the money? Their agent said give 'em a small guarantee versus a percentage. I gave all the money details (the club takes a percentage of the door, I take a variable percentage from the bands -- between 15 and 20 for a local show -- for setting the night up, blah blah blah) in the interest of full transparency and just got a really rude and terse e-mail back. This wouldn't be so distressing a) if I hadn't worked with this person for years and was caught a bit off-guard by the curtness of and the profanity within their response and b) neither of the bands I asked to join the bill are exactly the strongest draws in town. I offered the slots to them because I like them and don't think they get enough exposure. Hell, one of 'em is from way out of town and hasn't played here in over a year. Oh well...that's why I should learn to stick with bands that, when at a lower-level, don't employ "management" or "agents."

Okay, that’s it. I’m off to work. But just so you don't think I'm a big ol' grump I think I should show you this latest picture of my first nephew.




I'm glad to see my brother is setting my nephew up for ridicule at an early age so he'll better weather those tough teenage years. Seriously though, as goofy as that hat actually is, when viewed in tandem with that baby is it not the cutest? I want one!

All together again, "Awwwww...."

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