Okay, this is completely out of the blue. I’m listening to radio paradise as I work and not only do they play a long lost 80’s favorite of mine: “Hey St. Peter” by Flash in the Pan, but then, THEN they play “Camel Walk” by Southern Culture on the Skids. Holy shit is this a station for me or what!?
Video link stolen from .
I haven’t actually seen Avenue Q, but I have heard it since Ronya owns the soundtrack. It’s one of the very few musicals I can stand to listen to, (probably because it’s a musical that doesn’t take itself seriously) and this is one of the best of them, animated with what I believe are World of Warcraft pixels. (warning, while the animation is SFW, much of the lyrics being sung Are Not)
Now if only someone would do a version of “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist”. 🙂
So Bif Naked is lying across my face and…
Wait, let me back up a bit.
This weekend was fanTAStic. Can we say that together? The emphasis on the second syllable is important. Say it with me now, the weekend was fanTAStic.
Went to the Bif Naked concert at Coyotes last night. Tammy called me up halfway through the day and offered me a spare ticket. I told her “yes” but secretly waffled about it. I’m finding lately that jumping on “yes” is as good a tactic as any to get past my apathy. First say “yes” *then* spend hours waffling about whether or not you really want to go. And if you find you really don’t, then you can call up an cancel with prolific apologies.
So I waffled, as I was tired and had already had my fill of “Lots Of People” the night before. I wasn’t sure I was in an appropriate mood for dealing with a smoky, crowded bar. Honestly, all I wanted to do was nap the whole day away. Plus I knew Bif herself wouldn’t get on stage until eleven and likely would play ’til one, and I had work in the morning.
I called Ronya, told her of the invite and my wafflization… Ronya called me an idiot, advised me I wasn’t *that* old yet, and told me to go, reminding me that I will have plenty of time to sleep when I’m dead.
That’s Ronya for you.
So I went. Met up with Tammy and her friends at Tammy’s place, left my truck there and took a cab downtown. It was just after seven and the bar was still half empty, and we knew Bif wasn’t going to be on for quite a while, so we walked a few blocks over to the Vietnam Restaurant for some iced coffee and spring rolls.
Mmmm… spring rolls.
Arriving back at the bar we found (much to our complete Non Surprise) that all tables and other good spots were taken and being jealously guarded. So, knowing we weren’t going to be sitting anyway, We grabbed a few drinks and threaded our way to the stage.
By the way, I know drink prices are inflated during Stampede, but DAMN. I ordered a double rum & coke for myself and some kinda beer for Tammy. I handed the waitress a twenty and got back three bucks in change. From that point on I kept a nervous hand on my wallet, never having known thieves to be quite THAT bold.
No kiss, no lube, no reach-around. Just a burning, bleeding hole and a few coins left in my pocket. Ouch.
We stood at the front of the stage, dead center. There were a couple of people in front of us but that was it. I spent the rest of the night about three feet from the stage.
It was damned hot an close in that bar. They had a huge window open at the back of the stage, which I was thankful for. An occasional breeze would waft through. They closed that window before Bif came on, though, and in my mind I shouted “NNNnnnoooooo!”. The place was already near body temperature as it was.
We’d skipped all the other opening bands but managed to park in front of the stage in time for Crop Circle, a group I’ve never heard of but one that a friend of Tammy’s was apparently very familiar with. She knew all the words to “Mexican Cock Fight”, which I believe is their hit single, and she was so exuberant in her participation with the band that the lead singer came by after their set and awarded her with their CD signed by all members of the band. The fact that she was bouncing like a pogo stick and kept falling out of her bodice may have contributed to her appeal.
The lead singer of Crop Circle was quite enthused about the crowd and the crowd’s reactions. He could also tell the place was just cooking. At one point he handed out a large (2 liter?) bottle of water to the people in the front and instructed them to pass it around. It never reached me but I probably would have passed on it anyway.
The girls were completely unashamed in their reasons for inviting me and John (the only other male in our group) along: we were creep deterrent and crowd guard. John and I were okay with blocking any guys trying to push their way through, but we were pathetic at stopping any girls. It’s okay, though, as the ladies in our group were more than capable of elbowing female invaders out of way themselves. And, quite honestly, I didn’t want to get involved.
The last time I saw Bif Naked was also at Coyotes, and when we were there we hated the acoustics of the place. We could never understand what the hell Bif was singing, or what she was saying between tunes. I found the solution for that this time, though: earplugs. With earplugs filtering out the residual noise all around me all I heard was the music and her vocals. There were still times when I had trouble understanding some of the words, but for the most part I heard everything much better. Even conversations.
I’ve always had a horrible time understanding what people were trying to say to me in a noisy bar. With the earplugs in I could understand them perfectly. So it wasn’t that my hearing was bad, it was that I wasn’t able to filter out the surrounding noise well enough. Not a big surprise, really. Now I just have to remember to pack along earplugs when we next go out clubbing.
The earplugs allowed me to hear the girl behind me comment on how I seemed to have the broadest shoulders of any guy in the crowd, and could she please sit on them. I declined as politely as I could. I was already blocking the view for people enough as it was.
I was grateful for those same shoulders, and the strength of my legs, later on when some pricks decided to mosh. There’d been a warning at the start of the concert that, for safety reasons, moshing and stage diving weren’t allowed. Anyone doing so would be ‘removed’ from the club without refund. People still tried, though, and I got an idea of what tide breakers must feel like when the tide starts coming in. The pressure even hit me in waves.
Security was quick and efficient, though. They’d quickly grab the biggest offender and you’d see nothing more of him past the retreating backs of some huge red security shirts. It took them a while to identify the prime offender, though. I think it was female, but it was hard to tell. It could have been male, but it was damned tiny whatever it was, and damned ugly. And damned insistent on moshing regardless of what people around it wanted. I have to give it credit, though, it could definitely push hard. Damn near unset me a couple of times. As soon as security removed it, though, the moshing stopped and the rest of us could go back to enjoying the concert.
Bif is apparently in the studio this year putting together a new album that’ll be released in January. (why they don’t go for a christmas release is kind of beyond me, but what do I know?) The upshot of this is that we got to hear a lot of new tunes and, as she herself said, they’re “a tad angrier” than her previous album. And, as she said, there are love songs, and there are hate songs, but she’s got one on there that’s a pure “fuck me” song.
Yes, I’ll be picking up the new album.
The view from the floor was, shall we say, spectacular. Bif literally hung over us at times, and did it often. I now have an even better appreciation of just how well built she is. And while I may have had an excellent view I’m not sure it could compare with the guy in front of me who probably knows the brand name and size of her jeans now. Yowza.
At one point in the show she mentioned she’d studied ballet for 13 years, and I believe it. Thank god ballet didn’t become her life’s obsession, though.
Halfway through the concert I was struck with an idea. In a sad parody of a cell phone commercial I hit the speed dial button for Colin. I tried to get each of his favorite songs, especially
I can just hear him now: “Why the fuck does Joel keep calling me, and what the fuck is all that noise in the background?”
I recalled that, at the last Bif concert at Coyotes, Bif had walked out onto the crowd with the help of some lucky, broad shouldered guy in the front row. I admit, I had fantasies of her doing the same, with me being her main support. However, since I wasn’t at the very edge of the stage, and wasn’t going to force my way through the people to get there, I figured the fantasy would go unrealized.
Bif had other ideas. During their last tune, the ever fun cover of “We’re Not Going To Take It” by Twisted Sister, Bif either shared the shoulder girl’s assessment of me or she remembered me from the gym. Either way she chose that moment to launch herself from the stage and right onto me.
Well, to be fair, she hit about three of us, but her back and shoulders firmly impacted my chest and shoulders. Ever the eloquent and witty fellow, I greeted her and introduced myself with a succinct and efficient “Unf!”. Small she may be, but she still smacked into me pretty hard.
It took me a second to realize what had just happened, and I had just enough time to get my hands under her and, together with the crowd around me, lift her up and back onto the stage.
With that, the night ended. The band left the stage (that had already been their encore) and we made for the doors as quickly as we could. We were hot, tired, and wired. We needed to get out into the night air. And most of us had to work in the morning so we wanted to get home as quickly as we could.
The crowd moved swiftly but nobody was taking the taxis for some reason. Within a minute or two of having Bif on my shoulder (And her hair in my face. I doubt I actually had the presence of mind to notice at the time, but in my mind I like to think it smelled nice.) we were packed into the back of a taxi and on our way home.
The girls all agreed they had to take me to all their concerts from now on. For one thing I make a good mosh and / or creep deterrent. For another, apparently I’m big enough to inspire lead singers to dive off the stage with confidence.
Sometimes being big is good.
So now, of course, if I ever do meet Bif Naked in the gym again I’m going to have to introduce myself as the shoulder she impacted into at her show during the 2004 Stampede at Coyotes. It might not be enough to actually identify me, as I’m sure she does hundreds of shows a year, but at least I’ll have something more to thank her for.
The rest of the weekend was equally entertaining, but in different ways.
Friday after work I went out to Limericks with some co-workers where I got into a contest with Mike ( the Dargie) on how to best start a conversation at a bar. Things like “So I was fisting this girl the other day…” were bandied about. Oddly enough, I wasn’t drinking.
From there I drove out, picked up Colin, and we retired to Mav and Tony’s place for a night of teabagging action. One night, several months ago, Tony and I set Michael up while he was away in the bathroom. We created a profile called “TeaBagBitch” and started the game up just as he got out of the bathroom. The next time he wound up dead the game merrily told him that he, TeaBagBitch, had been killed.
Well *we* thought it was funny. Nobody ever claimed to be mature in that group.
On Friday we tried to do it again, but he didn’t take as long in the bathroom this time so he caught me red handed in the act of setting up the GloryHole profile.
Yeah, uh, look it up if you want. I’m not even going to link that one.
At that point the group decided that we’d switch over to team scenarios, and whichever team lost would have to switch to using the TeaBagBitch and GloryHole profiles until they won again. Oh, and the winner got to pick the next game.
I was picking most of the games all night. Hee.
Yes, dammit, I’m bragging. I gotta be good at *something*.
Saturday was, of course, the barbecue party at our house. Ronya, miss “there’s 24 useful hours in every day”, got off of night shift at 7am and drove into town for the day. She left again shortly after midnight as she had to check in for day shift at 7am on Sunday. Now you understand why she was so unsympathetic to my protestations of being tired on Sunday.
The party went very well. I had a great time and I believe everyone else did too. It was a smaller group again this year, due mostly to people having other commitments. That’s quite alright, though. I’m getting fond of these smaller and slightly more intimate gatherings. I’m learning more and more that I’m not much of a crowd person.
I met some new people as well this year. I met Ralph’s new girlfriend who’s name, if I remember correctly, is Rachel. I could be wrong, though. I have such a shitty memory for names. I believe she’s on livejournal as Zephyra and is the one responsible for creating the poly_calgary community. We chatted at length about how small the world is as we keep encountering people in other venues who are already connected by mutual acquaintances.
I also met a couple who’s names have already escaped me. I’m sorry, but not only did I only did I only hear their name once but I was playing a video game with Kiegan at the time. At least I think it was Kiegan.
They were a very nice couple, though, and commented on how they only knew me by reputation. And apparently that reputation was all good. They said I was the only person they’d ever heard of for whom nobody had a negative thing to say.
I gotta wonder who the hell they were talking to. Obviously nobody who knows me all that well. 🙂
I wore my kilt all day Saturday. Very comfy. I would have worn it to the Bif Naked concert too but I had to put it in the wash. There were hand prints all over the back of it.
Sunday afternoon was spent picking up. A couple of bags of garbage, a couple of bags of bottles, and a whole kitchen load of dishes. I was surprised to discover we didn’t use every single plate in the cupboard this year. Definitely a smaller gathering.
This was definitely a weekend I need a couple of work days to recover from, though. I didn’t get to bed until some time after 2 on Friday and forced myself out of bed relatively early on Saturday to clean up the basement (Phil and Lisa graciously cleaned the upstairs) and prep the deck and back yard for the party. Saturday I was up past two again waiting for Ronya’s phone call from Brooks. After that I was up every couple of hours to pee. It was bizarre. I can only assume some alien conspiracy was teleporting liquid into my bladder as I’m positive no human could have consumed that much in one night. Heck, I know for a fact I still had some Dr. Pepper left over at the end of the night. All the rum was gone, though, and that troubled me a bit. I distinctly remember there being two bottles of the stuff, and I think I was the only one drinking it.
Sunday night was Bif, of course, and I didn’t get home until after one. I was too wired to sleep for at least an hour and instead spent the time scribbling little notes for this journal entry.
I don’t think I’m going to be recovered on my sleep until Wednesday or so.
I can’t believe the number of things I forgot to mention about the BNL concert. They all occurred to me over the weekend, usually while I was driving or doing something else where I couldn’t write stuff down.
The lucky and talented fellow from the “thriving metropolis of Camrose, Alberta”, as he put it, who got to go up on stage and play drums through a brief excerpt of “Alternative Girlfriend.” He’d brought a placard to the concert begging Tyler to let him play drums for Alternative Girlfriend and had held the thing up for half the concert before BNL noticed it. Actually, I believe he mentioned that his wife was there and held the placard part of the time for him, when his arms got tired.
BNL eventually saw the placard, read it out to the crowd, and then said “Dude, you asked to play for the one song we’re not playing tonight.” But after some brief banter they finally decided to let him come up and play anyway. They ran through about half the song with the guy very enthusiastically playing the drums. And he was good, too. I think his name was Jason, if I remember correctly.
So, Jason from Camrose Alberta, if you’re out there: Kudos to you for having the balls to ask, the luck to be accepted, and the skill and fortitude to actually play on the spot in front of tens of thousands of people. I think BNL was impressed as well.
And because of him I got to hear at least half of “Alternative Girlfriend” which is one of my favorite BNL tunes. So extra Kudos for that, Jason. You rule.
I also noted a number of people who actually had their cell phones up over their heads for certain tunes. It was some cell phone ad come to life, but I guess with all calls free after 7pm it’s not all that outrageous to let your friends at home listen in to the concert with you.
One thing that took me a while to figure out, and I’m almost embarrassed to admit it, were the people who looked like they were doing jumping jacks with their phones. This only happened before the concert, while everyone else was sitting down. Some guy would be talking on his cell phone and would suddenly stand up, wave his arms once or twice, and then sit back down and resume his call. I didn’t figure it out until I finally overheard one guy say “did you see me that time?” Then it dawned on me: he had friends somewhere else in the Saddledome and was trying to help them locate him on the floor of the stadium.
I was intrigued, and had Wildor and Sandy had their cell phone with them I might have been doing a few jumping jacks of my own.
Another thing that struck us both about the concert was the sheer number of mature people in the audience. Sure, given that BNL have been recording for 14 years it’s safe to assume that a lot of their fans will, like the band, be in their thirties. But as Ronya put it, there were “definitely some Moms and Dads” at the concert. Hell, I’m pretty sure there were some grandparents too.
Ronya nudged me and nodded towards one mid-fifties gentleman in the row ahead of us.
“At least you aren’t as old as him yet.”
I didn’t quite catch on to what she was talking about until I noticed the gentleman’s ears. He had already put earplugs in, a good hour before the concert started.
True, I’m not that old. Yet.
The concert itself wasn’t too loud. I’ve been to concerts where I literally had to get my date to call a cab for us because I couldn’t hear the dispatcher through the phone. I’ve also been to concerts where the ringing in my ears didn’t stop for days. BNL was loud enough to fill the arena, no problem, but they weren’t so loud that I had any trouble hearing. And while my ears were ringing as I went to bed they were perfectly fine in the morning.
I went to see Hellboy Friday night with C&C, Phil, Lisa, Chris F, Gary, and Joe. While we all seemed to enjoy the movie we all also felt it lacked something. Having already read several reviews since then I found myself agreeing with several points:
Aside from Hellboy himself most of the characters weren’t very well developed. One reviewer went so far as to declare two of the three villains as having no dimension whatsoever, and I find it hard to disagree. The villains were pretty simplistic in their emotions and development. We could have used a lot more interaction with them.
Of course one of the villains couldn’t speak, but they should have worked with that challenge instead of just giving up on him entirely. Instead they just focused on how creepy he was and left it at that.
C&C and I talked about the film on the way home, as I was giving them a ride, and we agreed that the film was much like the first X-men movie in that they had a lot of background to establish, and all the background left little room for the rest of the story.
One thing’s for sure, though, Ron Perlman was fantastic as Hellboy. I do hope the movie is successful enough for a few sequels as I suspect they will only improve with the background already established. I also hope they do them before Ron becomes too old for the role.
"How do I do a film called 'The Old Mill' when I don't have an old mill?" "Well, first you've got to change the title."
So I’ve been missing my workout this week because I didn’t have the truck. Stupid, isn’t it? I can’t work out unless I have a vehicle to get to the gym with. But that’s pretty much how it works. There’s just too much to carry.
I did get a bit of an incidental cardio workout last night, though, after the Barenaked Ladies concert.
The concert itself was fantastic. The opening acts were, quit frankly, forgettable. I can say this because, well, I’ve more or less forgotten them. I do remember Ron Sexsmith, but most of what I remember was my struggle to not fall asleep during his set.
He is, apparently, one of those performers that a whole lot of other more famous and successful performers site as being one of their influences. But apparently you have to be another artist to appreciate him because either his stuff is really boring or it just went right over my head.
BNL were much more engaging.
Thanks to Ronya‘s coworker we had floor seats, twelfth row and center. We were far enough from the stage to be able to see the whole thing at once but close enough to be able to see the expressions on the performers’ faces.
The boys have definitely become more fit over the years. I remember pictures of them being pudgy, round guys in their early twenties. Steven Page in particular used to be a very round guy. Now they’re all… fit.
Jim Ceeggan, the bass player, is actually kind of scary. He looks like he doesn’t have a single ounce of fat anywhere on his body. He’s like the visible man, the model doctors have to show you all the muscle structure of the human body, except that he’s covered in skin. Doesn’t prevent you from picking out every single muscle moving in his arm, though.
And his bass solo was waaaay cool. Definitely the highlight of the show for me.
I love the fact that the band did more with their show than just play a selection of hit tunes and bow. They played games with each other, and with the audience. They bantered with each other using lyrics from popular tunes, Steve and Ed held a rhyming challenge with each other, they performed a mini game show with a randomly selected audience member, performed a marvelous acoustic version of “The Roadrunner Theme Song”, and for one encore introduced a tune as being “from the first album” before gleefully leaping into a very faithful rendition of Duran Duran’s “Rio”.
And they did eventually get around to singing “If I Had A Million Dollars”, although they pretty much let the audience take over partway through it. I think they would have had a riot on their hands if they’d tried to leave without performing that one.
They had a nice mix of their best tunes in along with their newer stuff. I confess I enjoyed the monkey song better without the video.
The warmup for the incidental cardio workout started when BNL took the stage. Everyone at floor level immediately stood up and remained standing for the entire show. The ensuing “limited-space-not-quite-chair-dancing” gave my legs a bit of a warmup and workoup. My calves definitely felt it.
After the show Scott, Ronya‘s coworker who got us the tickets, wanted to try and get some of the band members to sign some stuff for him. We had to go back to his car to get it first, though, and everyone was in a huge hurry. They all wanted to get back before the band left.
In truth we needn’t have hurried as the band were reportedly having a big end-of-tour party and weren’t going to be out for hours. But we didn’t know that at the time.
Instead we power walked to the cars, swapped bags and stuff so that Ronya could catch a ride back to Brooks with Scott later, and then power walked all the way back to the opposite side of the Saddledome.
This was not a short walk. Nor was it slow. These kids were dead set on not only making it back before the band left, but they were also competing with each other to see who could walk the fastest.
Guess who walked the slowest?
But I am impressed with myself. I kept up and didn’t have to stop. I powerwalked fast enough to more or less keep with the crowd and while I was definitely breathing hard I hit a pace that allowed me to just keep moving indefinitely.
This is a big change for me. While it still takes a lot of effort and heavy breathing to get me moving (I am, after all, still over 300 pounds) I can now achieve a certain pace and just keep going. Breathing hard, yes, and definitely sweating hard, but moving without the need to stop and catch my breath. Big, big change.
I think the cold night air helped quite a bit as well. If they could chill our gym down to somewhere just over freezing I suspect I’d perform a whole lot better. I overheat so easily doing my cardio and the air in the gym doesn’t seem to move at all despite the plethora of ceiling fans.
I’m actually rather surprise at how tired I’m not today given that I didn’t get to bed until after 1am last night. I’m not saying I wasn’t bagged this morning, because I was, and it took a supreme effort for me to haul my ass out of bed. But I’m not falling asleep at the computer and I was sure I’d be nodding off by now.
And for tonight… Hellboy!
"See, I scared him. He's shaking." "No, he's masturbating." "Yeah, but it's out of fear."
I’m currently listening to Dido‘s latest single, White Flag. I saw the video a little while back. It’s positively rife with possibility. There’s a rich story in the background that you can fill in as you see fit, but will likely have many of the same themes throughout your story as others will have in theirs.
It’s also very well acted by one Mr. David Boreanaz of Angel fame. I’m sure this isn’t news to anyone but me, but I still thought it was cool to see him. Although I don’t think he looks quite as good outside of his Angel persona.
Dido really knows how to set me in a melancholy mood. And I like melancholy moods. Don’t ask me why, I just do. I really enjoy them.
SFTG & Colein’s “Lean On Me” is another one that gets me every time. When it comes up on my headphones it’s nearly impossible for me not to close my eyes and daydream.
Which, of course, isn’t good as I’ve been falling asleep all day.
Don’t ask me why. I went to bed reasonably early last night, slept right through the night with nary a toss nor turn. I woke shortly after the radio turned on this morning and lay in bed for a good half hour gradually waking up before finally getting myself out of bed.
I didn’t feel exceptionally tired. I felt like I’d actually slept. And yet here I sit nodding off every half hour or so. Can’t keep my eyes open to save my life.
Good thing I managed to stay awake during our Town Hall meeting (soon to be renamed pending company wide suggestions) at lunch today. They served us pizza, which is now sitting in my stomach and decidedly not digesting. Yay for stomachs filled with lead heavy lard, bread and cheese.
I’ve got my second cup of tea brewing beside me at the moment, this in addition to the massive cup of coffee I started with this morning. Nothing drastic, pretty standard fare really, but the caffeine isn’t keeping me awake. At all. I’m just sleepy and jumpy.
I read at least two other people’s journal entries about people having an unusual time trying to sleep last night. I’d chalk it up to something to do with the season but one of those people lives in Texas.
I think tonight I’m going to try to get to bed early. I probably won’t, because I almost never do, but I might as well try anyway.
"You're not the anti-Christ. You're only a malcontent who knows how to spell."
Went to see Bif Naked last night.
I am so baked.
Between trying to get some extra work done and trying to elude the sultry lure of the sainted Xbox I’ve been getting to bed, on average, about a quarter past midnight. Then last night a small troop of shaven head lads settled onto a quartet of uncomfortable bar stools to watch a strong and talented woman play the crowd like a fuzzboxed guitar. I didn’t get home from that until nearly 1:30.
There are advantages to being small. I’m aware, in a distantly objective way, of many of them. Things like being able to fit into ordinary cars and being able to buy clothes at virtually all retailers. One I hadn’t thought of before, though, is the ability to walk on the shoulders of your audience so you can sing from their midst while still actually being above them.
That was cool.
When Bif reached into the crowd the first time I saw her lean back and haul hard on one of the hands she’d gripped. At first I thought some rabid fan had decided to Not Let Go and she was trying to break free. I started to scan the crowd for the bouncers, wondering if they were near enough to help. But then Bif, still singing, got her point across to the guy who’s hand she was gripping and managed to step out onto people’s shoulders using the guy’s hand as a steadying support. She did a number of tunes that way, standing on the people she was singing to.
Like I said, it was cool.
The sound quality wasn’t great, unfortunately. A lot of the time it was difficult to pick out the words to her tunes. I think they gradually worked I out as the show progressed, though, as the words were almost clear by the end of the show. Or maybe I’m just getting old and less able to pick through loud rock tunes.
Of course, by the end of the show, the audience was singing as much as Bif Naked herself. At some points even more. For their first encore the band broke into a brief rendition of Enter The Sandman. Bif only sang the first word. From that point on the audience sang the rest.
They ended the entire show with a song I thought might have been a bit before Bif’s time… then again I don’t know how old she really is. Everybody in the audience was familiar with it, anyway, so it really didn’t matter. Nobody had trouble remembering the words to Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It.”
The show ended shortly after midnight. I arrived home shortly after 1. Ronya had arrived earlier in the evening and left this morning to teach a CPR class. She left to go back to Brooks later in the afternoon. At least I got to kiss her goodbye this morning.
And now I’m baked. Totally freakin’ baked. First clue that you’re not a young man anymore: you can’t stay up past midnight every night and still make it in to work in the morning. I almost considered calling in sick. If I hadn’t had so much waiting for me, I might have.
"You CANNOT make friends with the rock stars. That's what's important. If you're a rock journalist -- first, you will never get paid much. But you will get free records from the record company. And they'll buy you drinks, you'll meet girls, they'll try to fly you places for free, offer you drugs... I know. It sounds great. But they are not your friends. These are people who want you to write sanctimonious stories about the genius of the rock stars, and they will ruin rock and roll and strangle everything we love about it."