Earlier tonight I went out, and I was home by eleven. I've been sitting here drinking wine ever since and feel kinda drunk.
Shock and awe, yes. I know. There was a band, led by a friend, and they're really a very mediocre band in the most literal sense of mediocre. To use the input of Gyna, they're all watered down pop punk and then even moreso.
It's very frustrating, because this friend of mine, who is technically more of a long-time acquaintance, has another band that is somewhat novel, but far superior in sound and lyrics, and they just don't try to get that shit on the radio* when they fucking should because it's way better than this crap ass common sound they're trying to push right now.
So me, Gyna, and Phil headed over there, and I was bored. Thank god for Gyna, because we got it into our head that it was time for some serious B and E, and although our sights were originally on the snazzy ass video camera all alone recording in the corner, that proved to be too hard to steal, so we stole a lamp instead. Fuck you, Double Door.
And because I can't get this conversation out of my head every single time I speak with someone new, which MoLinder the Roommate and I had back in September, here is a memory which I recorded but never posted:
Me: Man, I fucking hate it when I'm talking to someone and they pretend they care at first and then just don't give a shit about what I'm saying. And then they like, give me that smile that says, "Okay, crazy. I shall turn away slowly." What, are they better than me? Fucking hipsters. Sorry I don't wear skinny jeans and flats and shoot heroin up my vagina and wander around praising horrible beers and name-dropping Murakami and talking about how overrated Che is. Am I not indie enough? Shut the fuck up.
MoLinder: You just have to stop being a goddamn Lion all the time.
MoLinder: No, don't be a whore. You can't just run up to people and be all, "Story time, raaaahhhhrrrr."
Me: What the hell do you know? [Pause] Crazy cat lady.
MoLinder: [under her breath] You're becoming one too.
Me: Ahhh, balls.
Of course, the radio is still for sell outs. But seriously, dude, you are living off of the royalties of your first band that peaked in 2000, and have never held a job. We all know you want to be a rock star. Do it with style and originality.
End asterisk rant.