made from Cactus, Russel?

WEEKEND RECAP

Friday

Around 6:30, my friends Ryan and The Kidd came over to get me ridiculously baked and drive my ass to Everett. The Kidd was just taking us up there and leaving. Ryan and I would have no ride home. At the time, we weren’t concerned. There HAD to be a bus that left Everett, right? Besides, it would be a rock n’ roll adventure. Little did we know, seeing Oasis at the Everett Events Center is about the LEAST rock and roll thing a person can do.

The ride up was promising. Ryan played DJ in the backseat by spinning the best Oasis b-sides (as every Oasis fan knows, are the best Oasis tunes). The Kidd dropped us off at the Events Center around 7:45. The show had started at 7, but we couldn’t be bothered with the openers, Kasabian & Jet. I didn’t expect much hassle from the bag checkers. Why should I? The guy looked inside my bag and was set to move me along when he noticed my patches.

“Are those safety pins on your bag, ma’am?”, he asked.

“Yes. They’re holding on the patches,” I said.

“Well, you’re going to have to remove them and throw them away,” he said sternly.

“Are you serious?” I asked. “What kind of damage can a person do with safety pins?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s regulations.”

As I huffily removed all my safety pins, I muttered about how ridiculous it all was. Ryan concurred.

“Do you know how many times I’ve flown with these pins on this bag?” I asked. “They don’t even let nail clippers on airplanes but they don’t care about safety pins.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” he said again. I know it’s not his fault but COME ON! Safety pins! They have the word “safety” in the name!

Anyway, even after that little annoying incident, we entered the building in high spirits. I wasn’t drinking that night on account of my stomach still feeling a bit weak, but Ryan purchased a double-fister and, this being an all-ages show, we had to stand along the wall by the concessions stand to drink them. We could hear the irritating strains of Jet as we scanned the crowd. After a while, we realized this was the WEIRDEST crowd we had seen at a show in a long time. There were Dockers everywhere. Girls in tube tops strolled along with ex-frat boys now in their early thirties. A middle-aged woman in what appeared to be a house-frock, stood along side some younger adults with beer-in-hand. A couple of guys who looked like they came right from the office strolled by. Ryan and I wondered if we had the wrong night and we were actually about to see Third Eye Blind or something. Or perhaps there is so little to do in Everett that the entire town turns up to a gig at the Events Center, no matter who’s playing. Even with the tame crowd, cops sauntered around like giant twats with moustaches, actually HASSLING the 30-somethings. One such group was asked to show their I.D.s for the beers they were holding. Another group was hassled for a good 10 minutes by two mustachioed cops. I couldn’t hear what the altercation about was about, but it was clear that these perfectly law-abiding people were being bothered for no reason. When it was obvious to the cops that they had nothing on these guys, they sauntered away, pausing to exchange smug glances with a nearby security guard. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN EVERETT! Ryan and I were definitely losing heart by this point. As Jet finished spewing their shitty Gap inspired “rock and roll”, we went in to the arena to find our seats. We were right above the floor and had thought it might be easy to sneak down TO the floor. That was before we knew there WAS no floor. What should have been a sea of people standing around waiting to be rocked, was actually row after row of folding chairs, filled with people sitting dutifully. Some people stopped in the aisles, talking to each other. A security guard came by and told them they had to sit in their seats. Are you kidding me? No one at this show was under 20 and we were all being treated like a fucking after-school day-care. The crowd continued to weird me out. To our left was a group of people who appeared to be dressed as the Kinks. They were hanging out with Mr. Kotter. A woman in a short-shirt and cowboy hat strolled by about a hundred times, stopping periodically to put her arms over her head and cheer. More people in work clothes scrambled to find their seats as the lights dimmed. The sense of normalcy came from a small gathering of English guys around my age who were excited as hell to see some boys from back home.

When Oasis came out on stage, I knew instantly that they were not going to give a good show. Their body language was heavy. They were tired. They didn’t know where they were and they didn’t care. They stared out at a half-empty arena and decided to plow through their set as quickly as possible so they could get the fuck out of there. “Where the fuck are we?” asked Noel. “Everett!”, someone shouted. “Everett? What the fuck is Everett? Is that Seattle?” he snarked. “No. I know. I went to Seattle today. It was forty-five fucking minutes away.” Later he introduced a song by saying “Ever have one of those days where everything comes together in a zenlike fashion? This is not one of those days.” He never addressed the audience again. Meanwhile, Liam was being a twat, which I love. During the guitar solos, he would come to the front of the stage and just stand there, arms crossed. At one point, he balanced his tambourine on his head. At another point, he hid behind a stack. It was all kind of funny. But I couldn’t help but feel his heart wasn’t in it. The played only two new songs. The rest of the time, they plowed through the hits like it was a Revue. The English guys didn’t care. They sang their hearts out. It was pretty cute and the only thing that really kept me entertained throughout. Oh well.

After the show, Ryan and I wandered around Everett looking for the bus station. We asked a few passers by for directions but…surprise surprise, no one was from there! In half an hour, the entire town seemed evacuated and Ryan and I were hopelessly lost. We found a Texaco station and asked for directions. The told us the bus station was 10 blocks away, but that he was pretty sure they weren’t running until morning. Everett. Finally, Ryan broke down and said he’d pay for a cab. Back to Seattle. I wasn’t going to argue. He was hoping we’d get a cool cabbie who would be interested in bartering with weed. We didn’t. $60 later, we were back in Seattle. Everett. Not going to do that again.

I was home (thanks to a kind Dom who picked me up from Ryan’s) at 1:00 and took solace a rerun of Star Trek TNG (the one with Hue!) before going to bed.

Saturday

I make no apologies for sleeping in till noon. It was fantastic. I’m pretty sure I needed the rest. Dom and I watched some TV and putted around the apartment until dinner time. Faye came over, we exchanged presents and then went to get some dinner at Toreros on Broadway. We got to the Nite Lite around 8:15. Cherry wasn’t there and we didn’t really know if we should ask about getting in the back room since she was the one who reserved it. Sherrard finally got up the courage to ask someone. We entered a fairly large room full of extremely random décor. None of the wallpaper matched. One wall was lined with shiny red and white cloth. Still, it was kinda cool. People began to stream in and the rest of the night is kind of a blur. Not because I was drunk (I only had 3 drinks!) but because people came and went constantly. Large parties like that are fun but also difficult because, if you’re hosting them, it’s impossible to talk to anyone for longer than 10 minutes at a time.

Matt bought me a drink I’d never had before called a Greyhound. I really liked it. I’m so picky about mixed drinks. A Greyhound is grapefruit juice and vodka and I think I like it more than vodka and orange. So that was cool.

Dom and I made out with some pretty cool gifts. Sherrard got me a great print of the “Rude Boy” one-sheet. The tagline for that movie is “Grab the future by its face”. I think that might be my favorite tagline of all time. Especially since it has NOTHING to do with the movie itself. Faye and I were very excited to give Sherrard his “Alone in the Dark” theme gift which included the movie, the t-shirt and a copy of “I Wish I Had An Angel”. He seemed pleased. Erin got me and Dom and copy of the Suicide Girls book, which I had bought for Ryan and was coveting. I actually knew what it was before I opened it just based on the size of the book. Kayobi got me some delicious, booze-filled chocolates. Faye got me the DVD of “Knowing Me, Knowing You with Alan Partridge”. I’m VERY excited about that. Love the Steve Coogan. Sherrard got Dom a book on Paul Verhoeven which is full of fantastic pictures and inspirational quotes from the man himself. Love the Verhoeven. Faye also got Dom a game that looks pretty cool called “Darkwatch”. Birthdays are nice.

For some reason, me, Dom, Borgia and Faye all pooped out around 12:30 and cabbed it back to the Hill. This turned out to be a highlight of the evening. The cabby had the radio on and we heard “She’s Got a Way” followed by “Hold On” by Wilson Phillips. For some reason, we were in a singing mood and we sang along to both, Faye throwing some sweet harmonies in to the latter number. The cabby said we sounded better than Wilson Phillips. Awesome. And all this fun was had sober. Who knew?

Sunday

I put together a book shelf while I watched “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2”. Then I went to yoga. After yoga, Dom and I watched the last episode of Doctor Who with Christopher Eccleston. I was very very sad at the end because SPOILER he turned into some other dude. Granted, it was a very clever way of dealing with Christopher Eccleston leaving the show without killing him off. And the new Doctor is pretty damned hot. But I doubt the new guy will be able to exude the same dangerous, sexy, creepy and charming British James-Spader-ness of Christopher Eccleston. Plus, I’m going to miss that charming Northern accent. Damnit. End Spoiler

Then I tried to finish the Jenna Jameson book before bed so I could return it to the library. I couldn’t do it. Despite being filled with (sexy) pictures, it’s also chock full of words and is taking me a long time to get through. I highly recommend it though, if you’re a fan (maybe even if you aren’t). She’s very well-spoken and has had a difficult and interesting life. The book is engaging and honest. And overdue. Doh!

September 13, 2005
Categories: Dear Diary, The Printernet, The Soundtrack . Tags: . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

I lose again

A few months ago, when I got my raise and “promotion”, one of the terms of said promotion was that when we moved to the new office, we would hire a new receptionist, and I would no longer have to sit at the front counter. This would fully usher me in to the Portfolio Administrator role, and ideally, I would cease to be everyone’s butt monkey. There would be a NEW butt monkey in town and I would have my own office with a door that would prevent everyone from being all up in my business all damned day. So today, at my belated birthday lunch (since I was on liquids on my actual birthday), I mirthfully brought this up, because we will be moving to the new office at the end of the month. But lo, my sunshine was quickly blocked by a storm I like to call The Lil’est Dictator. She rained her little booty-less attitude on my parade by saying that we should really reconsider this idea, since we will have all kinds of hidden expenses from moving and whatwith the uncertainty of the upcoming company split. Valid points, to be sure. But rest assured, she would NOT have made these points if we were talking about HER. She would be fighting tooth and nail to get what she believes she deserves. Which is everything. And BECAUSE she gets everything she wants (why, I don’t UNDERSTAND. She is NOT a nice person. Yet, everyone caters to her every fucking whim), Boss Man started taking her side. He made it sound like it would be better for my interest too, because apparently the $24K a year that a receptionist would make would significantly cut into profits for, well, those guys. I’m sorry I wanted something that a) would make my life easier, b) would make me more productive for your unappreciative asses and c) WAS PROMISED TO ME. Thankfully, the Nice One was on my side and brought up a few points such as “she would be free to do more work for me” and “I think it would help all of us”. The outcome of this fun little democratic session was that now I have to WRITE SOMETHING UP that explains why I think it would benefit the ENTIRE company for us to hire a receptionist. Apparently, the next time I get a promotion, I have to get it in writing or it doesn’t count. The Nice One volunteered to add to whatever I’ve written up to strengthen the case. Regardless, if they even decide to hire a receptionist eventually, it now won’t be until “January at the earliest”. That means that it probably won’t happen before I (hopefully) put in my notice several years from now. And then they’ll have to hire TWO people. I hope that fits into their little plans.

So that was my birthday lunch. Happy fucking birthday to me. Thank you for the gift of putting me in my place once again. I’ll take that hot fudge sundae in enema form.

September 12, 2005
Categories: Dear Diary, I'm Working . . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

contractor teamwork grassy

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead…
But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself.
You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place.
You just don't get ugly yourself – unless you have to!
How Machiavellian Are You?

September 9, 2005
Categories: Meme Crazy . . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

Buddy – you are the hypochondriac

STOMACH-GATE ’05 UPDATE

Once again, my insides baffled the doctors. They took a whole bunch of unpleasant tests and left me with only theories as to what the problem could be. I am supposed to hear the results of the tests today. Her theories included appendicitis, ectopic pregnancy, some dealy where your ovaries get caught on a ligament and then twist and twist back, causing a bruise, and a complication with IBS. With the snagged ovaries, she said she has no way of knowing if this happened once the ovaries twist back, but if that’s what happened, the only thing I can do is wait and heal. She did say that she didn’t think it was anything immediately life-threatening, because, if it were, I would probably have a fever and be throwing up.

The doc put me on a liquid and soft food diet for the next 24-48 hours (depending on how I’m feeling). This is a bummer because you can’t put a birthday candle in a bowl of broth. At least the real party isn’t until Saturday. However, on account of my health) or lack-there-of, perhaps I will do a bit less of the tying on than in past years.

Later today, I will hear the results of the tests. Her leading theory is that it’s something related to my IBS. Ah, lovely. My attractiveness points are skyrocketing. Come and get ‘em, boys.

Today, I definitely feel better but my guts just feel sore. Which is a weird feeling. At least my appetite is pretty low. Otherwise I doubt I would be OK with just feeding myself hearty cups of tea and snack packs.

TOMORROW: OASIS with the illustrious Ryan!

September 8, 2005
Categories: Dear Diary . Tags: . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

mont salami ammeter collaborate terse abusive

WEEKEND RECAP: THE CONCLUSION

MONDAY

Ben, Dom, Sherrard and I arrived at Seattle Center in reasonably jolly spirits. We parked Ben’s car, paid the ridiculous parking fee, and wandered toward one of the many entrances. Around that time, Ahe called me to inquire after my whereabouts, for she was already at the main stage waiting for the Decemberists to play. Having never had a problem before, I told her I would be there momentarily, right after I picked up my ticket. I had forgotten that Will Call was on the other side of the Seattle Center. So, being the little nerds we are, we made jokes about quests and riddles that must be solved in order to enter Bumbershoot. I definitely found it strange when we arrived at Will Call, and there was a sign which read “Send only one representative up to the window, bring two forms of I.D.”. Funny, I thought I was just picking up tickets to an event, not the dossier of a top secret government official. So up to the window I went, and handed them my driver’s license and credit card. After a few minutes (!), the lady handed me my ticket. Ticket? I ordered TWO tickets. One for me and one for Dom. That, I thought, is why my credit card was charged $36 plus a service fee. Is THIS the service they were talking about? I told her that I definitely bought and paid for TWO tickets. I even got an email confirmation for said transaction which I foolishly did NOT print out because of my pathetic human faith in the robots that run the system. She asked “did you buy the tickets on the 25th?” “Yeeeeeees.” “Oh. Well, apparently, there were some computer glitches with a number of orders that day. Yours must have been one of those orders.” Ok. Any respectable business would have then said “So here’s the other ticket you ordered. Have fun!” She did not do this. Instead, she “offered” to take my credit card and call the “head office” to see if she could find a trace of the other ticket. Meanwhile, some other poor girl was going through the same bullshit at another window. She kept asking them if she could just get in there and check her email to show them she did, indeed, buy her ticket. This, again, should have been reason for them to admit mistake and just fucking hand the things over. But nay. 15 minutes later, I was called back up to the window. “I’m sorry, ma’am, we can’t find the other ticket”. “Um. Ok, how do I get my money back for the other ticket I paid you guys for?” “That’s a matter you’ll have to sort out you’re your credit card company.” “I have to call my credit card company for your computer glitch?” “Yes ma’am”. “Can I buy another ticket from you for the original, pre-day of show price?” “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” I’m sure you’re real fucking sorry lady. This was my queue to stomp away from the window and begin an impotent string of obscenities as I stormed up the street. I realize it’s probably not that particular lady’s fault, which is why I didn’t yell at HER. But, who’s fault is it? And what kind of dystopia of customer service do we live in when I have to track down retribution for a mistake that Bumbershoot ADMITS to have made?

So, this being the day of the show, the ticket prices have gone up TEN FUCKING DOLLARS. Dom kindly suggested that he just go home so I don’t have to buy another ticket. But I didn’t let him do that. I just bought another exorbitantly priced ticket for a festival that used to be free, and asked the cashier who I should call to voice my outrage about having to buy another ticket. He told me, and we entered into the pit of the hippie and frozen banana hell that is Bumbershoot.

I checked the time and saw that if we tried to see the Decemberists, we could stay for, maybe, one song before having to head over to the comedy stage to get in line. So instead we opted to buy lunch in the Centre House and cut our losses. Or rather, MY loss, and everyone else’s misfortune for being around a crabby Jessica.

By the time we got in line for Patton, I was feeling a bit better. I was still outraged, but Patton is Patton and I knew that, barring any further fiasco that would prevent me from seeing Patton, I would be ok. We were in line at 1:30 for the 3:00 show. That may seem ridiculous, but, trust me, it was necessary. After a while, Chris and his friend (whose name STILL escapes me) showed up, followed by his friend’s girlfriend and about a billion of Ben’s countless acquaintances. A few of us played cards (with my fan-made Serenity playing cards that I procured at Comic-Con. Joss’ face is on the Aces. Yes, I am a NEEERD). Andrew showed up to try and jump the queue. We did not have a problem with this, nor did any of the other hundred of people in line who’s friends were doing the same things. However, since we were at the front of the line, and because Andrew has that shifty look about him (just kidding, Galoo!), a security fellow told him he couldn’t cut. WHAT? Andrew was sent away and we never saw him again.

At 2:45, they began to let people in for the show. It was around that time that I noticed a small gathering of people on the other side of the door. Who are they, I wondered? Well, Sherrard told me. They are people who paid EXTRA for their tickets in order to receive VIP bands that allow them to get into places FIRST, regardless of how many people are in the proletariat’s line. Ah. I see. Bumbershoot is REALLY sticking with the original “music for the people” concept, aren’t they? AAAAARG. Anyway, the special people went in and we filed in after. We still got fairly decent seats, however.

The first comic who came on did not identify himself. It’s ok. He was occasionally funny and mentioned about 100 times that he was from New York. Isn’t it funny how different New York is from other parts of the country? Like, say, Seattle? That guy thought so.

Next up was Paul Gillmartin, who is none other than the Paul of Dinner and a Movie with Paul and Anabell. Yes, he is a twat on that show. Here, he was pretty funny. He did a character (Who’s name…guess what…escapes me), in which he was a Republican representative on a tour of liberal events to field questions. At first, I thought he would be taking questions from plants in the audience, but after a few questions, I realized that these were real questions from well-informed, liberal Seattle-ites, and he was giving off-the-cuff, conservative prick answers like “George Bush doesn’t hate black people. He just doesn’t think about them” and “the reason we care more about fetuses than babies that are already born is because we don’t know whether or not they’re gay yet”. I liked him. But, the whole show being only an hour long, I was eager for him to get off the stage to allow for more Patton time.

Patton. Was. Amazing. He did a few of the jokes from his album, but he always does some new stuff and he always treats each individual audience as, well, an individual audience. He also said he LOVED Seattle audiences because they’re the only ones in which every single person actually gets his jokes. He said Seattle is a beautiful city made of “unicorn tears”. He said that because of this he needed to prepare himself for touring in places like Idaho, so handed out some cards with some heckles on them and had people read the heckles after he finished a joke. Good stuff.

You know, comedy is such a BROAD subject. It doesn’t seem right that someone like Dave Coulier or Ray Romano can be considered a comic because that puts him and Patton in the same field. And they SO aren’t. Patton is more like a liberal unifier with some jokes. When I see him, I feel better about the world. If someone with those ideas can be put in a position to speak to large audiences, and maybe just one little girl or boy in Indiana or somewhere will see him and change their minds about Bush, we just might be ok. After his set, the audience gave him a very earnest standing ovation, and he thanked us profusely and humbly left the stage.

I felt pretty good after that, but I wanted to try and stick around for Eugene Mirman who was up next. For some stupid reason, they required everyone to evacuate the theatre before bringing in the next group of people. Obviously, if I went back outside and got in line, there is no way I would have gotten back in. So we tried something I’d done successfully a few years back. We hung around the bathrooms, pretending to be waiting for someone. It didn’t work this time. The big beefy security guys said that EVERYONE had to leave the theatre. OoooooK. What’s with the tight security? Just as we were giving up on the dillydally, Eugene Mirman walked RIGHT past us. I froze, trying to think of some reason to get his attention. I had nothing and he was gone before I knew it. Oh well. We lost Ben to his other friends and stood around in a daze for a while.

Finally, we decided to kill some time in the beer garden before Okkervil River. Mmmmm. $5 MGD. $6 Mike’s Hard Lemonades. They taste so much better than the reasonably priced versions. After a while, Sherrard noticed Ahe and her friends on the other side of the garden. We stared at her for several minutes attempting to get her attention but it wasn’t working. Finally, I decided to play “creepy stalker” and call her on her cell phone. I told her “I’m looking right at you,” in my best lecher voice. It would have worked better if cell phones didn’t have caller I.D. Eventually, she saw us and headed over. Our group of 15 corralled in the middle of the garden until a table opened up. One of Ahe’s friends was a PERFECT gentleman and insisted that I take his seat because he couldn’t let a lady stand. How often does THAT happen from a young male? Like…never. Unless it’s Dom. And he HAS to do that or else he’ll look bad. This was a guy I just met and it left quite an impression. Thanks, guy. I do wish I could remember names. Eventually, Team Ahe declared that they were tired of Bumbershoot, and headed off back to the Hill. Team Brugos sat in the empty chairs for a while and then it was time for the parting of ways. They were off to see some One Reel (fuckers) short films, and we were to take in some Okkervil River. On our way out of the beer garden, we passed…EUGENE MIRMAN, who was smoking and talking to some people. We paused for a bit but I could still think of nothing to say other than “Hey man, you’re jokes make me feel good inside” and so we departed.

Two songs into the Okkervil River set, we realized that they were drunk and definitely did NOT give a fuck. They were speeding and sassing through their set and, as Sherrard noted, playing their songs in album order. If they didn’t give a fuck, neither did we. Fuck you, Bumbershoot. Mostly. Sherrard is going to email Patton and request that if he comes back to Bumershoot next year, he should also play a venue outside of the ‘Shoot so that his fans don’t have to be subject to metaphorical sodomy just to see him. I hope it works.

We opted, instead, to buy Sherrard a birthday dinner at the best little Pho house in Seattle. After Pho, we pushed it a little too far by getting a drink at the Jade Pagoda, when really, we should have all just gone home and slept. This was confirmed the next day when I realized that I’d left my tab open at the bar when we left. As drunk as I get, I’ve NEVER done that before. And this time, I’d only had ONE drink. That’s how mentally exhausting this weekend was. But fun. Definitely fun.

September 8, 2005
Categories: Dear Diary, The Soundtrack . Tags: . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

yellowish to white

I love this. Although I'm not convinced that Micha Barton eats anything solid. Including lettuce.

September 7, 2005
Categories: Hollywood Side Show . . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

Feel good concussion (part 1)

WEEKEND RECAP

FRIDAY

Boss Man decided we needed a little company retreat, so my Friday started on his speed boat with my co-workers. We cruised around Lake Washington and had a grand old time taking turns being pulled in the tube behind the boat. Everyone had a grand old time except for the Lil’est Dictator, that is. She refused to put on a bathing suit because she thought it was “weird”. She also, apparently, can’t swim (file that bit of information away for a rainy day…) and was afraid that the “life jacket” wouldn’t effectively keep her boney, 90 pound ass from sinking to the bottom. Whatever.
Later, I had dinner at Palermo on 15th with Faye, Borgia, Ben, Dom and Ben’s piece du jour. :P
After dinner, we decided to play drinking games with the movies “Out Cold” and “Orgazmo” (the unrated version). Sherrard hated “Out Cold”, which is perfectly reasonable. It’s a silly movie with a cliché plot. Faye and I tried to figure out what we liked about it and the only explanation we could come up with is Zach Galifianakis. So there you have it. “Orgazmo”, on the other hand, was a hit with everybody and there’s no denying its brilliance. All I have to say about the “unrated version” is that I don’t understand what the hell the MPAA is doing. The only new bits we noticed were a few extended humping scenes (how much humping is TOO MUCH?) and a few little noises here and there. Weird, man. Anywho, it got late and Faye was supposed to meet Borgia at a bar with his friend who is deathly allergic to cats, so she couldn’t come to my house. Sherrard, being hammered at this point, challenged Dom to an Atari duel, but it never panned out and he left with Faye. I went to bed.

SATURDAY

Woke up feeling ok. Man, I miss that feeling. Dom and I watched some more Deadwood and Battlestar Galactica (THANK YOU, Ben, for getting us caught up on the new season of B.G.). Then I got a hair-brained idea that I should go to Value Village to look for brown coat. If you can’t guess why I would do that, I’m too embarrassed to tell you. Faye begrudgingly went with me. I didn’t find anything, but Faye found several cute tops that will aid her in her new persona: adorable urban cowgirl. Faye and I split for dinner with our fellas. I convinced Dom to take me to Ballet, a delicious “Asian” restaurant on Pine. Well, it’s delicious to me. Apparently, their meat dishes aren’t as orgasmic as their vegetarian ones (their mock chicken, while resembling unappealing and floppy dark meat, is tender and flavorful). Anywho, after dinner, Dom and I squeezed in one more episode of Deadwood before I rushed off to the Satellite with Sherrard to meet Ryan, Faye and Borgia. And thus the debauchery began. At the Satellite, the normally ok (but NEVER great) waiter was clearly in a bad mood and decided to take it out on our table by, well, completely ignoring it. For the first round, Borgia had to go up to the bar. After that, if we were lucky enough to get the guy to come to our table, he would inevitably leave before everyone got their orders in. I’m sure it only pissed him off further when he would return with the drinks and the person who got left out would then order something else. He only served us too full rounds and we were there for several hours. Meanwhile, he was attending to other tables like they were giving blowjobs for tips. Needless to say, we wanted to stiff him a tip, but without the proper change, we ended up giving him 12%. After that we decided to hit the Comet. We sat at one end of one of the big tables. After a while, a group of people took up the other end. Not a big deal. But then Ryan, Sherrard and Faye, who were all sitting on the same side of the table, got up at the same time to take care of their respective business. Not 5 seconds later, this girl, who already had a chair of her own, sat down in Ryan’s chair. I leaned over and said “Excuse me, that chair is taken”. She kind of glanced at me and then turned her head back toward her friends. She didn’t get up. I leaned further and said, a bit louder “Excuse me! My friend is sitting there. He just got up to go to the bar”. I looked at her friends for help. She was clearly wasted. And frankly, I was getting a bit drunk myself. Her friends looked back at me as if to say “We don’t even really like her. You’re on your own.” Finally, I got Drunk Girl’s attention. She looked at me like I was being the biggest bitch on the planet, gestured to the three empty chairs and said “Fine! You can have ALL the chairs!”. Then she sat in the empty chair on the end of the table and pulled Ryan’s chair right next to her. I tried to explain AGAIN that people were actually sitting in those chairs mere seconds before she sat down. Obviously, she was here when they were here so she would have no reason to doubt me. But she didn’t listen. So I just waited for Ryan to return. He did, and had to pull his chair away from the Drunk Girl and back to our side of the table. I told him what had happened. Later, the Drunk Girl got up and I told Ryan he should pull her chair closer to him. He did and that was when her friends decided it would be fun to fuck with her. They told him to tell her he knows “Brady”. When she sat back down, she missed the subtlety of the fact that her chair was now right next to Ryan, and he began to tell her about how he knew Brady. She believed him right away. Apparently, it was almost too easy. Especially since this girl was hammered at Brady’s wedding as well and wouldn’t have remembered Ryan if they’d made out in a broom closet. For all she knows, they DID. Wacky. By the end of the night, Drunk Girl and Ryan were best friends and she was never the wiser. After last call, we were ushered out by the Comet staff and decided that we weren’t tired enough to go home. Nay. Instead, we NEEDED to go to Faye’s house for a Dance Party right then and there. After a quick stop to QFC for some not-at-all needed beer, we headed over to Faye’s. On the way, Sherrard, who was carrying a 24-pack of bottled Weinhart’s, tripped. As he toppled to the ground, he instinctively held out the box full of glass to cushion his fall. Miraculously, only two or three bottles broke. Sherrard was embarrassed, but honestly, with the state we were all in, it could have been any one of us. At Faye’s, we began the dance party with the classic Nightwish song, “I Wish I Had an Angel”. Fans of the director Uwe Bole might recognize this song as the closing number in “Alone in the Dark”. Next up, Faye put on the ever-popular Brit Pop mix that I believe she made for A.J.’s birthday two years ago in an attempt to make him realize the genius of the English. Somehow, we got on the subject of the classic Disney film “The Electric Grandmother” and the rest of the night turned into a google party. Things got fuzzy. The next thing I knew, I was attempting to take a nap on Faye’s couch, when she clearly just wanted everyone to leave. Ryan and Sherrard convinced me that I could make it home with their help. Once inside my apartment, I saw that it was 4:30 in the morning and I knew that if I attempted to find my jammies, I would surely wake Dom. So, my drunky brain rationalized two options: 1) Sleep in my bed in my clothes or 2) Sleep on the couch in my clothes. For some reason, I decided the latter was preferable.

SUNDAY

Despite Dom kindly relocating me to the bed at 9am, I was still very much in a bad way when I was woken up at 11 with a phone call from Ryan. We had decided the night before that we would have breakfast at the Canterbury and I figured, at that point, that coffee and greasy food could only help a bad situation. Breakfast was great and hit the spot. After breakfast, I was badly in need of a nap, but there was no time. Dom and I had domestic things to do like buy bookshelves and go grocery shopping. We went to Target, but half way there, I realized that the sooner I got home and back into bed, the more likely I would be to actually DO SOMETHING that evening. So we bought a few essential groceries at Target and sped home. I definitely felt better when I woke from my nap. But after dinner, I was ready for another nap. There wasn’t time, however. Karaoke was calling. Dom and I met Ben outside of the Bus Stop, where we sadly realized that it was no longer our little secret. There were NO tables left, which isn’t surprising considering there are only, like, 5 tables in the whole joint. Luckily, we ran into our friend Rob in the street and he tipped us off about a place called Vito’s on Madison where he was headed after he “put [his] face on”. Sweet. We called the necessary parties and made our way over there. It’s a great little bar with a delightfully Mafioso atmosphere. We were met by Elyse, Gene, Andrew, Brugos and his friend who’s name escaped me because I’m an asshole who can’t remember names.
Ben, Dom and I were the last ones standing, and we headed back to the Zookster pad. Ben was staying over to ease the Bumbershoot situation the next day. For some reason, we decided to watch Reefer Madness the Musical in fast forward (i.e. only our favorite numbers) before going to bed. This resulted in me having “Listen to Jesus, Jimmy” in my head for all of Monday.

I will get into Monday tomorrow. I’m having a lot of trouble getting through this update on account of work being busy and because of having to welcome a new Baxter ailment to the fold: unexplained stomach pains! That’s right. Last night, I was getting some sharp pains in my lower abdomen. I assumed it was cramps, but as they worsened, and nothing seemed to dull the pain, I suspected they might be more. I could do very little about it but curl up into a tiny ball on my living room floor. So much for my friend’s birthday party. Sorry, Ryan. Anyway, this morning, they aren’t much better. I think I’m just used to the pain at this point. But it still hurts to walk or breath. So I’m going to the doctor at two. I can say this about my body: it’s never boring. But it does everything it can with each passing year to tell me that I should never ever pass these genes on to another human being.

September 7, 2005
Categories: Dear Diary, I'm Working . Tags: . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

Too much

The long weekend was, well, long. I am working on the update but also got slammed at work. And my head hurts. I think I have a 4 day hangover. Details tomorrow.

September 6, 2005
Categories: Dear Diary . . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

gullet anonymity tailwind

I think I finally did this meme correctly. Bold the ones that apply to you. Replace the ones that don’t. I think the idea is to have this get to someone eventually who doesn’t change anything so the entire doc is bold. What a strange cosmic convergence that would turn out to be.

01. I like to bake.
02. I can be VERY LOUD at times.
03. Elijah Wood is funny-looking.
04. But not as funny-looking as Denise Richards.
05. I’m not a one-contact-wearing freak! Though I’m not sure I know what this means.
06. If I have no other make-up on, I must at least wear eye-liner.
07. And chapstick
08. I understand that “a lot” is two words.
09. British accents are sexy.
10. Scottish ones too.
11. I love getting things in the mail, but it’s excruciating waiting
for them.
12. I find spiked heels ridiculous and unnecessary.
13. I am addicted to caffeine.
14. I like to go barefoot around the house.
15. I prefer skirts to pants.
16. There’s someone out there for everyone. More than one person, in fact.
17. I am a fan of the guy-on-guy action.
18. I’d rather daydream/zone out instead of paying attention.
19. I have a gay hairdresser. Or at least I did, before she went on a trip to Australia and went straight. What?
20. And I wouldn’t let anyone else cut my hair.
21. I get cold easily.
22. People think I’m flirting when I really just love to joke.
23. Love makes everything better.
24. Respect/trust is important to me.
25. I read other people’s blogs obsessively.
26. Though I’m not sure I would call it “obsessive” since reading blogs is totally accepted as part of our culture now.
27. I hate fighting with anyone.
28. I’m weird.
29. I’m glad I’m not addicted to any harmful substances.
30. Except for caffeine.
31. And salt.
32. I try to be good, but usually end up failing.
33. I procrastinate. A LOT.
34. I need to do some laundry.
35. I prefer email to the telephone.
36. Gel pens are cool.
37. Even though jealousy is pig-headed, sometimes it’s nice when your boyfriend gets jealous of another guy.
38. I wish every day was a good day.
39. I’m a horrific speller.
40. I hate dance clubs.
41. I really enjoy thoughtful gifts, even if they cost nothing. Still, I’ll like almost anything just because the person took the time to pick it out.
42. Thomas Lennon is my favorite member of The State.
43. There’s no humor quite like random humor.
44. I consider Amazon.com both a wonderful convenience and the bane of my bank account.
45. Most of my dreams consist of someone or something trying to kill me.
46. I was a guy in a dream one time.
47. I wish that more of my dreams were about me getting it on and less about people trying to kill me.
48. Reality Television is a blight upon humanity.
49. But I’ve been known to watch such trash as “High School Reunion”, “Blow Out” and “Being Bobby Brown”.
50. David Bowie is a golden god.
51. Whoever decided only girls are allowed to wear dresses has
obviously never seen Johnny Depp in a dress.
52. I long for the day when Joss Whedon one again has a show on TV.
53. But I’ll still watch lesser TV shows and complain about the good-old days.
54. I’m tired of worrying about shit.
55. Sometimes I think I might be a little bit gay.
56. Because I definitely think naughty thoughts when watching Starbuck on Battlestar Galactica.
57. Though I try to eat plenty of vegetables, the temptation to eat mostly carbs is often overwhelming.
58. I may be a pacifist, but I often have violent urges. Particularly toward my co-workers.
59. I need to be more patient with others.
60. And also with myself.
61. I HATE it when people steal my damn pens.
62. I don’t understand why I can like the music my parents like, but
they can’t like the music I like. Is it so hard?
63. I like making people happy.
64. I hate it when people complain too much.
65. Which is kind of ironic considering that I complain nigh constantly and with an almost artistic flair.
66. I sometimes practice my answers to interviews for when I’m a famous filmmaker.
67. And wonder who in “The Biz” would be friends with me.
68. I have never spent more than $100 on any one article of clothing.
69. Though I sometimes wish I could. Particularly when passing the Betsy Johnson store downtown.
70. The Fox and the Hound is the best Disney film ever made.
71. I don’t immediately hate a book just because I have to read it for school. Because then I wouldn’t have been an English major.
72. Marry me, Joss Whedon.
73. Now that I’m being stifled by The Man, I feel like I’m missing out on so much internet fun.
74. It’s easy for me to slack off and get distracted.
75. Independence is important to me.
76. I laugh way too much ALL THE FUCKING TIME.
77. Harrison Ford was once sexy as hell. Now is he old and dating a skeleton.
78. I am still immature.
79. I love talking to new people, but I HATE small talk.
80. When the wind is blowing really hard, it hurts my ears.
81. I love bad movies almost as much as I love the good ones.
82. I never want to be an eighth grader again.
83. Calculus frightens me.
84. I’m afraid of being boring and annoying – because sometimes I am.
85. Someone needs to put Rob Schneider out of his misery.
86. I LOVE movies.
87. Hair is VERY VERY IMPORTANT.
88. Contemporary metal makes me want to bounce my face off a telephone
poll.
89. I laugh whenever someone says the word “poop.”
90. I refuse to use the word “panties” in earnest.
91. Or the phrase “make love”.
92. I wear glasses.
93. I am amused easily.
94. I wish President Bush would go away.
95. I believe that nobody has the right to criticize anybody else’s
country. All countries have major issues.
96. All of my limbs are still attached.
97. Sometimes, I hold it until I have to run to the bathroom or I won’t make it, but I can’t run because the movement will dislodge the pee.
98. My respect for a male actor is automatically increased when they really commit themselves to a drag queen role.
99. The funniest part of ROTK is when Pippin sings his butt rock song.
100. I used to be a night owl, but now that I work 8-5, I can never seem to get enough sleep.

August 31, 2005
Categories: Meme Crazy . . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

chimera british postage anatomy

Holy Christ on a Cracker! I just talked to my friend Ryan and apparently for my birthday present he got me…a ticket to see Oasis at the Everett Events Center on the 9th!!!!!

I hadn't purchased a ticket for myself for a couple of reasons, not the least of which being what happened the LAST time I went to see this band. I literally almost died. Twice. First, Faye's life was endangered along with mine. We were driven up to the show by a drunk, emotionally wrecked “friend” who didn't reveal to us his inebriation until we inquired as to why he was tailgating a BUS. Later that evening, I was nearly trampled by moshing frat boys and I had to crawl to the back of the Paramount, losing, in the process, my favorite maroon cardigan. Needless to say, this incident colored my feelings toward large concerts, the aforementioned “friend”, and Oasis themselves who did nothing to quell the rambunctiousness of the crowd. (I guess I was spoiled by punk rock acts like Avail who would actually refuse to keep playing if anyone in the audience was hurt by or in danger of being hurt by another person).

Regardless of these past feelings, I am now finding myself pretty damned excited for the show. Maybe Oasis live will be redeemed.

Thank you, Ryan! And Happy Birthday to me!

August 30, 2005
Categories: Dear Diary, The Soundtrack . . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

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