11-08-2002 - 02:46
so...it's saturday night going on to sunday. last night after i got out of work, i called wendy. she wanted to know if i wanted to go out to a bar or two and being a friday night and all and me having to work the next day, i decided that i'd have to go.
so, we went to a bar that was fairly scary. there was really really bad keroke. then we went to another bar with slightly better music and more people. so, wendy and i drank a bit. ran into people we knew. found a really hot guy that wendy wanted his number. this prompted me to walk over to him and ask for his number for her. while he was deciding if he wanted to give a stranger his number, wendy walked over. so, we are all standing/sitting there chatting and i end up talking to hot guy's friend. well, hot guy's friend tells me that his band is playing next weekend. he plays drums. so, this guy draws me up a quick map of where his band will be playing, and gives me his business card. i now have his work fax. his work number. his work email. his work pager, and his home email. and yes, i told him i'd email him and i did so today. if he replies, i'm going to have to inquire about his hot friend...then possibly do a little matchmaking.
after the bar, wendy and i went and picked up john and his friend mike. we went back to wendy's, and hung out there. john accidently burnt my arm with his smokey treat. we listened to elliot smith and the toadies quite a bit. then we all fell asleep scattered about wendy's living room.
woke up. drove home. got ready for work.
went to work. came home.
now i'm sitting drinking tea and watching some really odd movie about some irish guys starting a soul band.
i want to be in a band. i've talked to john about it. perhaps i'll get an audition.
i need to make plans for my two days off. i hate having tuesdays and wednesdays off. hmmmm....
"we know of an ancient radiation that haunts dismembered constellations...a faintly glimmering radio station. while frank sinatra sings "stormy weather" the flies and spiders get along together. cobwebs fall on an old skipping record..." -cake