Okay so just got back from the Tiger Army show. Andy and I danced, we laughed (at idiots trying to start drama, and some fool slippin’ on his own spilt beer), we cheered.
And it was good. It was all good. This was my second Tiger Army show and I fuggin’ loved it. I could seriously see those guys again and again.
So many tats, so many loafers, so many mohawks. So many, many greasers.
The first opening band (called black rose something about blackness and shit like that) rocked my socks off … On opposite day.
They’d start each song with this faux slow song strumming bit and then they’d crash into this repetitive head banging shit that was. not. cool. The lead singer had pink hair and a purple and black striped long sleeve shirt under a black vest. It was the most. But I admire his persistence to try to be cooler than he actually is.
The second opening act was a group called The Briggs. They were pretty good. They have this whole pirate thing going on but the lead singer dresses like that Pete Doherty guy. And NOT ONE GUY had a wooden leg…?
I’m gonna start a group called Dragon’s breath and my pet dragon is going to perch on my shoulder throughout the entire act. Then, at the end, I’ll dedicate a song to him. His name will be Smokey.
Andy debuted his man bag tonight. It rocks. We both got these really cool bags from this army surplus store called Andy & Bax…and I got 2 pairs of jeans from the Levi’s store downtown for only 38 bucks…nothing’s gonna bring me down for like…a couple days. Really good purchases can do that to a girl.
Andy and I went out for a drink tonight at Mock Crest Tavern. It’s this shady looking tavern on Lombard with a grip of video poker/lottery machines. We played foosball. I beat him twice. He thought he had it in the bag, but I pulled it out and hit him over the head with it. He never saw it coming.
This is quite unusual for us, niether of us are into the whole bar/drinking thing, but hey. Just got back. Yeah. So anyway. Man, smoking in bars truly needs to be banned here, not necessarily for my health but for my hair’s sake. I got my hair done on Wednesday and would prefer that it keep that nice salon smell instead of musty ass smoke stench. The second you walk into a bar the smell of smoke permeates your clothes, hair and soul in like two seconds flat.
Anyway, my new favorite drink(s) is/are a Tom Collins or a Mojito. Simply delicious. The alcohol goes down smoothly and is quite satisfying. Andy always orders a seven and seven. The bartender didn’t make it quite right tonight, but she did pack the whiskey pretty tight. Hey…that ryhmed.
Must be having one of those days, people messin’ up, keep calling my babe but he’s hangin’ up. Yay for Sahara Hotnights.
Did I mention that my dad got married this weekend to some woman that he only knew for like a week? That was insanity. I felt like I was having a huge panic attack pretty much the whole time. Those crazy kids. More on that later? Maybe.
Some guy told me yesterday as I was walking to meet Andy after work: “Smile! It can’t be that bad!” First of all, how the hell do you know? Maybe I just found out that I was dying of cancer! Never thought of that, did you? What’s that….you feel stupid and inadequate? And second, in the words of Bethany C. Morrow: I will slap the taste out of your mouth. Telling me to smile doesn’t usually have the desired effect. Or maybe you like self fulfilling prophecy: You assume since my teeth aren’t on display, that I’m angry and then you “cheer me up” thus making me angry. Brilliant (imagine me smiling as I say this).