ones and zeroes

Better living through modern chemistry.

2.18.2005

two for one is some peace of mind


Lordy lord, what a fucking headache. I got wasted last night. But first let me tell you that Lucy and I took a cue from Jay's delicious-sounding write-up of Juanita's on Wednesday night and decided to check the place out. It rocked. The margaritas were delicious, and if you get there between 3 and 7, it's three dollars for a pint of margarita. Yes, that is correct, you are not hallucinating, you just read that. Wowee. Gotta get there on time next time!

Anyhow, Wednesday was the type of day that solidifies my being a waste of academic life. I had a paper due at 3:30, so I skipped my 11 and 12:30 classes to write it because I'm an idiot and hadn't done it yet. It was only five pages, and counted for very little of the total grade for the class, but yes - I managed to NOT finish it in time for my 3:30 class. That's even putting me in a favorable light. It's a little bit more like, I decided not to do it and just hang out with Lucy listening to music all afternoon. I ended up finishing it before we went to dinner, and handed it in the next day, but really, what the hell is my problem? Argh. After Juanita's Lucy got me psyched to rush back to her and Ei's apartment so we could watch (and tape for Ei) the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Special on Spike TV. I don't think I would have ever watched something like that unless I had the coolest girlfriend ever. But really the true props go to Eileen for awakening a love in all of us for Petra Nemcova, Marisa Miller, and all the SI gals that she posters up around the apartment. She's been accused many times of having lesbianic tendencies, but Eileen and Lucy are just two girls that can appreciate beauty. And there's not much more gorgeous in this world than a finely sculpted female body. By the way, Marisa Miller is a goddamn idiot. Anyway.

Yesterday after work I went to my Linguistics recitation where me, Jason, Tony, this girl with a really weird Brooklyn accent, and 2 other guys who don't give a good god shit about the class have formed a solid back-row bloc of snickering dissent. I kind of feel bad for my TA but she has to understand it's all out of love. We give her hell, cause the class is such bullshit. But I can't help it, I don't really care where the tip of my tongue goes when I pronounce my l's. I finally met up with Lucy afterwards and we headed to 2A to take advantage of the beauty that is Happy Hour. After a couple of Tanqueray tonics we parted ways so she could watch the O.C. while I went to have dinner with my dad and Nika. We went to Sapporo East, which rocked as usual, and I ate a sick amount of sushi downed with a huge Sapporo. Roooooock.

Speaking of which, it was definitely about time for some Rock, and I met up with Lucy in the ?!SNOW!? to go to Bowery Ballroom. We realized we hadn't been there since the Ray Lamontagne show on Jan. 19th, which seemed highly absurd. There were definitely a bunch of jackasses out for the show, and it was hard to enjoy Calla in the company of hecklers, but it was also hard to enjoy them cause I think they're still working out the new tunes. Yet, they played a similar set opening for Interpol and managed to really impress both of us and a whole lot of the Interpol crowd at Hammerstein. I can't wait to check them out at Mercury next month, I think it'll be a lot better than their opening slot last night.

This was my third time seeing the French Kicks, and whaddya know! They finally did it for me! I will go so far as to say that I HIGHLY ENJOYED their set. They write interesting songs and I think the lead singer has definitely gotten better at not holding an instrument. I never saw them when he was playing drums for the band, but I could tell the first couple of times that I saw them that he didn't know what to do with himself. Last night was a really great show though. The only disappointment was that after some good times with J Good Times, he got swamped at the merch table and couldn't join us on our way to Mickey's Blue Room.

It was the return of Kibbles and Bits, though only Kibbles was doing any DJ'ing at all. Mandel was throwing out all the songs you ever want to hear, as usual, and also threw us the new Spoon record, which I'm pretty sure Lucy stole out of my coat pocket while I was shooting pool. Either that, or I lost it and Del can you give us another copy? Hahaha. Beach and Daylen stopped by, but not before some random dude gave me his hip-hop CD: "I've been waiting all night to give this to the right person, and I can tell you rock out man, you're gonna like this shit." I think this was mainly due to the fact that when Del put on Nine Inch Nails' awesome song, Wish, me and the dude were both rocking out hardcore and had a couple of metal moments of eye contact.

Once Beach got there he showed me that I do not know how to play pool as well as I thought I did. I was getting drunker and drunker, the pooltable was unlocked, and he just kept beating me and beating me. I couldn't get sore though. Maybe after I clean his backyard tomorrow he'll let me try and beat him after he passes on the new British Sea Power. Oooooooooooooooooh mama.

I don't remember coming home. I came to work 3 hours late. My head is pounding. I'm having trouble eating this bagel with cream cheese. I want my mommy.

4 Comments:

  • At 4:27 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    long live petra. she is a czech goddess. plus she survived a tsunami. what a little warrior . . .

     
  • At 10:34 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    of course i didnt post that. i dont talk like that; i have the vocab of an eleven year old. come on now!

     
  • At 4:53 PM, Blogger tumblehawk said…

    You know, sometimes I really wish you people would sign your damn names. Like so:

    -eileen
    or
    -lucy
    and no being a smartass and signing it
    -anonymous

     
  • At 9:41 PM, Anonymous Peace of mind said…

    Hi! I like what you are doing. Maybe we could exchange tips on Peace of mind. You can have a quick look at http://www.wellnessmaster.com so we can exchange ideas.

     

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