Spinach blasters
I contracted
some kind of virus over the weekend. My first thought: contaminated
spinach! But I don't think I had any; in fact, I sort
of stopped buying the bagged spinach because I always forget
to use it before it goes bad. This is the gamble of buying
produce. And what an exciting life it is.
Despite the onset of illness, I still went over to Janice's
new apartment for dinner, which was lovely. Against better
judgment we then proceeded to Boat for Tom's
birthday. Tom announced his comic work will be getting publishing
in an anthology by Fantagraphics.
Not bad, they were always my favorite alt-comics publisher
(close second: Drawn
& Quarterly). By this time I was either guzzling whiskey
or honking into tissues which made me such a charming guest.
I woke up Sunday feelin' fine ... for a little while.
 What's
up with this delayed-reaction thing with hangovers? I felt
okay when I got up at noon, but by 2PM I was ready to hit
myself in the head with a steam iron just to knock myself
out. Maybe it was the last of the alcohol leaving my system
that left me vulnerable to malaise. I took a bunch of allergy
medicine, which is notable mostly for its ability to put me
into a coma-like stupor. I slept the rest of the day away,
missing the Atlantic
Antic, which I had been pitching to everybody I talked
to last night. I wanted to see The
Fleshtones, both because they are always fun, and also
because I'm afraid they'll die before I get to see them again.
Speaking of rock, Friday night at Michelene's was absolutely
ridiculous. Something about that dank cellar resembles Your
Parents' Basement When You Were in High School, and thus seems
to bring out the juvenile goofball in its attendees. Kevin
Shea (People)
decided his subject for between-song banter would be "Penis,"
and he pretty much exhausted this topic by the end of their
set. Kevin has taken to wearing berets and several pairs of
sunglasses while playing, which tend to get flung into the
air by his convulsive drumming. The Solution: tape the headgear
down. This led to a veritable line of people going up and
taping various stuff to Kevin while he continued to play.
What a pro. for some reason Kevin broke into "Sunday
Bloody Sunday" which prompted normally mild-mannered
ToddP
to grab the mic and belt out the tune with the help of Christopher
from Parts
and Labor and some other audience members.
When Stay
Fucked took the stage (uh, corner), instead of standing
still and watching the band, the crowd got into it like they
were the Circle Jerks circa 1983. At one point a bunch of
guys came up and lifted Hank's drum kit off the ground while
he continued to play, which was nice for a spontaneous prank
on the band. Even ToddP, normally restrained, was animated
all evening. In between bands he put the Jackson 5 on the
PA and tried to encourage patrons to join the "killer
dance party in the basement!" SF refused a second encore
at which time, it was announced that a local spot was having
a special evening including all-you-can-drink booze and all-nude
strippers from Jersey, all for $15 a head. I passed on this
anthropological curiosity but I'd still like to hear what
that was like.
At least I managed to have my fun before this cold totally
kicked me in the butt. I even considered staying home today,
but in the end it's far less trouble to go into the office
sick than it would be if I had skipped it today. Of course,
the real reason one stays home when they are sick it to prevent
one's coworkers from getting sick. But I totally want to get
these people sick.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
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