My computer decided to play a neat game with me all day yesterday. I call it "Magic Mouse." The mouse is functioning, and you can click on things, but it's invisible. You get to waste time trying to guess where the mouse is. It's almost like playing blind man's bluff.
So I didn't get to put an entry up yesterday.
In my haste to put up an entry, I forgot a good half of my week-end. I completely forgot to mention the show we went to in Arlngton. It had five bands and it was only six bucks. The biggest bitch was finding the place (the Greenhouse Room in the Something-Or-Other Cafe. I'd have to ask Dirk about it since he was the one who spotted the show in the CityPaper), and finding parking. Once that was done, the show started at nine. Apparently, they were performing a play before nine.
Aaron, Sonia, Derek, and I went to a restaurant next door. It was psuedo gourmet restaurant that also served fries. Silly place. They took too long to bring us our food, but the first band was still setting up when we got to the show.
The bands whose names I know for certain are Lickity Split, The Goons, and Cherub Scourge (I have no idea how they came up with that one). The Goons and Lickity Split are really popular -- Lickity Split opened for Rancid when they were last in town. It was a fantastic show, they had tables for people to sit at if they didn't feel like moshing. I don't mosh. I think it's stupid and irritating and I wish I could kill everyone who moshes without any consideration for the folks standing around them. But I'm not bitter.
There was an old man standing up near the moshers, screaming like the rest of them. Seriously, the guy was at least 65, wearing a janitor's uniform and sporting a mustache. After the show, he took off the top of his uniform, revealing a sunken-in chest only partially hidden by a white tank top. I had this overwhelming urge to ask him what had possibly drawn him to this particular music genre.
Most of the people there are my age or older, something I didn't grasp until halfway through the show, when I looked around and saw the amount of people drinking (and this place was really strict about carding). I hate people who go to shows and talk about nothing except how old they feel.
This girl (who kept bumming lights off of me), came up and told me how pretty my hair was. I assumed she was being sarcastic (yes, I have very high self-esteem, thank you), but you don't tend to run into much sarcasm at punk shows. The people at punk shows tend to be pretty straighforward, sincere people. Go figure.
Besides, she wasn't the first person that week to tell me how nice my hair looked. I may or may not have mentioned the guy at Tower who stopped me and told me how good my hair looked (actually, he complimented me on how nicely it was cut, and how well it went with my face). Dirk was pissed and wanted me to point the guy out so he could beat him up. I'm almost certain Dirk was kidding.
But you can all refer to me as "Rapunzel" from now on, as a tribute to my nice hair.
I'm kidding.
The rearview mirror fell off my car. I came back from practice on Saturday and found it sitting on my front seat. I was less than pleased, to be quite honest. We didn't put it back on until Sunday, Because Track Auto was already closed by the time we got home.
I almost forgot to mention the fact that we've promised the Goons a copy of our E.P., once we make it (or the demo from practice, whichever). If they like, they'll get us into any show they play in the area. I like having connections, don't you?