The Devo cover band was good. Good, in cover-band terms meaning that it bared a resemblance, however slight, to the original. but I honestly couldn’t figure out why something like that would even exist in the first place. The Heart cover band was just as pointless, but their outfits were clearly higher-budget. The Joy Division cover band didn’t go on until around 1 a.m., and we stopped caring and left long before they even started.

We went to a place called the Beauty Bar. Just me and “the girls.” The walls were bink and glittery. I hate glitter, but I left because of the music. We got there just in time to hear a twerpy guy and a girl who looked like she was trying very hard to look like she doesn’t have rich folks try a hard-core rap act. It was painful, but the kids at the bar seemed to like it. Was I the only one who wasn’t getting it?

Austin was a pretty good trip, even if it was only one day. The band we drove from Dallas to see sort of sounded like the Kinks and was actually worthwhile. And it was good to be away from Dallas for a night. But the whole thing made me feel old. We were around a bunch of college kids who were very much into themselves. The way you look seemed to matter a lot. My friend Jenny introduced me to her friend Jenny, who looked me up and down, rolled her eyes, walked two steps ahead of me and stood there… facing away. Then she went to greet they two guys walking in who looked exactly like RUN-DMC in 1984. The glitter freaked me out and I was stone sober.

I had to face it. I am old. Too old for the Beauty Bar, at least. Lisa cracked a Milli Vanilli joke and I died laughing, but the kids stood around looking confused. Milli Va-wholli? Sickening, yes. But it was still the highlight of my night. The Beauty Bar was more of a hell than the hell-themed bar we had been to earlier, with Baron Munchausen playing on the screens. I wished the Baron would crash through the wall on his cannonball, grab me and take me back.

Tonight, I’m back in my home with my kid and my pets. I’m sure I’ll sleep pretty well with a refreshed sense of perspective. Knowing that I have a life with depth and purpose. That I’ve worked hard to have something to live for other than myself. That I’ve learned that there’s more important things than acceptance. And knowing that I really know who I am. And that makes me a lucky guy.

Popularity: 2% [?]

I blacked out last night. When Lisa asked if I was ok, I said, “Not as long as the two of you are against me.” Creepy. I don’t remember a thing.

I fell asleep eating peanuts.

Popularity: 2% [?]

Have you ever seen a million bats swoop around in the middle of the city before? Well, that’s how I spent my anniversary.

Somebody else's bat video

I think I’d like to eat a bat someday.

I just finished reading the “Illuminatus! Trilogy.” It took me four months to read. At eight hundred pages, it’s easily the longest cosmic joke in the world, except maybe for the Bible. How long is that one again? And unlike the Bible, it isn’t even funny. I highly recommend it, because I don’t want to be the only one wasting my time on this crap. I can’t help myself. Once I start a book, I’m compelled to finish it. Sometimes bad books redeem themselves at the end. It’s gamble I lost this time around.

Popularity: 1% [?]

So, I’m sitting at home last night… alone. The baby just fell asleep, and I’m desperately trying to drudge through the second book of the Illuminatus! trilogy. There’s a knock at the door.

There’s a skinny black kid in the middle of my yard with his hands up in the air like I’m planning to shoot. “Hey man, I’m not here to rob you. I’m here as part of a program to help people like me get back on their feet.”

I asked him what he meant by “people like me”.

“Let me ask you something, sir. What do you consider the major problems of the inner city?”

I dunno. Aren’t most of their problems major ones?

“Tell me sir, do you believe in second chances?”

I must be a sucker, because the next thing I know, I’m handing him a check for more than $100 for magazine subscriptions. A hundred bucks! Am I just stupid or did I really think I was getting a deal, because he initially tried to charge me $250 and then told me it was his first day and wasn’t good with math when I protested? Seriously, I’m never opening my door after dark ever again.

The guy was a pretty good salesman, though. He played the part of recovering crackhead really well. Plus, I’m one of those people who really feels sorry for telemarketers and people who have to sell magazines door to door for a living. If it weren’t for my sudden relapse of common sense, I wouldn’t have cancelled the payment in time and my magazines (supposedly) would be off in some inner city shelter for battered women.

It’s not that I’m not altruistic or anything. I donate money to charity every year. But I got online after he left and this wasn’t a charity like the guy at my door told me it was. They just hire rehabilitated juvinile delinquents so people like me willthink they’re helping somebody out. Besides, I think that battered women would be just fine without a copy of Women’s Health magazine in the lobby every month. No matter how you look at it, it just wasn’t a good investment.

Christ. A hundred dollars is a lot of money. I’ll never let a stranger with white lips and crossed eyes into my house from this day forward. Oh, and I think I’ll buy a gun.

Popularity: 1% [?]

I was out to lunch with my advertising reps the other day. My account guy and the creative director. They told me I was a hard person to peg. What did that mean? They said it was because:

A. I have big tattoos. By the way, I got another one on my chest recently. You know, to balance with the one on my arm. It’s fantastic. Three traditional-style roses with my daughter’s name on a banner weaving through the flowers. I showed it to them. My account guy winced.

I was joking with Lisa the other night that rose on my shoulder represented her because it was completely detached from the other two. She didn’t think my jokes were so funny that night.

B. I’m restoring old bikes in my free time. In fact, I have six Schwinn BMX bikes in the garage, and I’m currently working on two. One is a 1968 Schwinn Sting Ray Lil’ Chick for Lisa. The other is my 1983 Schwinn Thrasher I had as a kid. The creative director thought said I was weird. I’ll bet she rode a Huffy. The other night I took some rubbing alcohol and some aluminum foil to the chrome on my Thrasher. It’s so shiny now you’d think it was brand new.

C. I play the ukulele. Now why would that make me hard to peg? The ukulele is probably the happiest instrument in the whole world. You can’t not smile whilst listening to a ukulele. I dare you. I feel great when I play it and it makes my daughter giggle. You can’t buy that kind of joy. I’m also pretty good at it. But then again I’ve played plenty of instruments in my life. Like the drums, piano, cello, sax, and the tuba for about a week. Not many people know that I was a music major my first year at college. I’d like to try the mandolin once I master the uke. As of today, I am good at about five songs. But I’m practicing every day.

D. Given all of the above, I am the marketing director at a successful hospital. So what? You have to be some kind of loser or on drugs to do what I do in my free time? I drink a little absinthe every now and then… okay, often… but that’s about it. I even bought a sweet wormwood leaf shaped absinthe spoon from France. It makes the whole experience even better. I can honestly say that it has not made me hallucinate. Not once. But at the very least I can have a cool spoon to add to the ambiance of the ritual.

E. I chose to have lunch at the Jewish deli rather than the Stoneleigh or Nick & Sams. They said that none of their other clients choose cheap places to eat. Well, what can I say? I’m all about the atmosphere.

…and they said it was the best lunch they ever had.

I told them that one day they would understand. When Lisa, Betty and I ride by on our shiny vintage Schwinns, wearing black tank tops so our tattoos show, with our tiny instruments strapped to our backs for impromptu jam sessions and bellies full of delicious matzo ball soup. Ah, sweet bliss.

Popularity: 2% [?]

That’s all I have to say. I was thinking about why I hated Jason Mraz, just like you do. And I think it was just because he was an arrogant guy who got famous. And I was just jealous that he got famous and rich and gets to be on VH1 sometimes. But I think I’ve come to peace with it now.

His music is cheezy and stupid to us, but every fourteen-year-old girl in America seems to like him quite a bit. He found his niche at least. And don’t you wish you could do something like that with your name?

He was arrogant and kind of a douche in high school. But there were a lot of those at our school. And I don’t remember a single one, except Mr. A-Z. And that’s just because he’s famous. And good for him for turning it into an asset and going into a career where he can grow into his own ego. If all of us were this confident with ourselves when we were in high school, we might all be famous too.

I’m over it. I’m tired of all this hate.

So go for it, Jason. Do your thing. Just don’t get too close. I want to stay where I can listen to some good music in piece.

Peace.

Popularity: 3% [?]

It was hot this week. Miserably hot. The thermometer in my car read 103, but I believe that it melted in the intense frigging heat of being left in an uncovered parking lot for many hours. It definitely feels hotter than 103.

Even the camels I pass on the way home from work have given up. They were just sitting in their shaded field, heads on the ground, and humps on fire. The steam was incredible. But they didn’t care. They could always go inside if they wanted to.

Their enui disgusts me. These camels live in a nice air conditioned estate built just for them, with large bay windows along the east wall so they can watch the sun rise over the lake from their barcaloungers; and murals that cover the south wall depicting early 20th Century labor struggles. They don’t do much all day but eat grass and bore the egrets that come to bathe in their pond.

Thanks, Tripp and Rachael for coming to visit me and the family. And for drinking Tito’s vodka with me in the kiddie pool while we squirted water at each other’s breasts with the baby’s bathtub toys. And for making me listen to Dizzee Rascal. And also for going with us to T&A sports bar and the T&A breakfast buffet, even if it did suck. And getting drunk at the baseball game. Oh, and the Indian food at the Krishna temple… even though it gave me the craps.

Popularity: 2% [?]