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Interludes

2004-05-29 - 6:40 p.m.

Hot Topic Shirt I'm Currently Enamoured With: Bullet Bill

Listening To: DB, Jem, Magnetic Fields

Quote: "I hate it when little people come shooting out of bigger people unexpectedly!" - Andrea

A time for interludes. Or was that intranudes? Probably interludes, since I just made up the word "intranudes".

Yeah. So I guess I should start at the start. The David Byrne concert. As expected it was awesometabulous. Ben, Andrea and I met up with my mom and Don in Concord and visited Nanny for a while. She called me a "Ninny" at one point and that pleased Ben to no end. Afterwards we went to Margarita's for dinner. As you can imagine, my mother and Ben were crushed about having to eat Mexican food and drink margaritas. We met Rich and Julie at the restaurant. File this in the "bad planning" cupboard: Drinking beer and eating mexican food before having to sit down for 3 hours where you don't want to have to get up and miss a single second.

But I'm a trooper, so when nature called I just ignored it for a little longer while DB sang his penguin-shaped heart out just for me. Well, me and I suppose a bunch of other people. The opener was some Argentinian girl who was really good ("the kind that Jimbo would like" - Ben) but sung 98% in Argentinish or Spanglish, or whatever the hell it was. She was good. She was no Si*Se, but she was good. The show started off quietly with DB's new song from Grown Backwards, "Glass, Concrete & Stone" but it didn't take long from there, roughly around "I Zimbra" for things to perk up. And by the time "Naive Melody" dropped unto us, with its bizarro yellow and black color scheme and DB moonwalking around backstage, people seemed to be on their feet. Well, I should say Rich was on his feet. He was actually, no joke, the first person to stand, and stay standing, during a song - though the toad like gas bag behind him hooted and gurgled about during the whole song. I didn't hear her. Ben and Andrea did. But if I had heard so much as a nagative peep from her during my favorite song she would have gotten a knuckle sandwich right in the ol' duodenum. Rich pointed out such concert-goers as Jade Kendall, Nick Franke, Winter, Nub, and Katie Roache. Man, I see Katie at the oddest times. Anyway, soon after Spartacus Presher started the "standing upright" movement all the hippie hipsters (not including Hippy Dan, who had no part in the evening whatsoever) started bouncing around the room and when Rich went off to join them I knew we lost our little boy to the cold cruel world. Except we didn't. He came back. And we were glad. Because by the time he did, sometime between "Road to Nowhere" and "Once in a Lifetime" the whole juke joint was a-hoppin'! We ran down front (past all 11 rows that were seperating us from said front) and stayed there for the rest of the concert. Heaven? Heaven is seeing David Byrne play "Heaven" by himself on stage with just an acoustic guitar. Also, I hear it's a place where nothing ever happens. But I'm still checking on that. So the moral of the story? The concert was so good that I'm going to the Portland show this coming Sunday. It's official I think: I'm a groupie. Sadly, they threatened to disembowel us if we took any pictures, so now pictures are to be seen from this show, but I shall try again in Portland! But if my remarks about the tour aren't enough to whet your whistle, check out DB's tour journal!

The next morning was Andrea, Hal-Y and me having "Brunch with the Bristows". And by "brunch" I mean lots of bagels and fruity drink treats from Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. It was a teary affair. You know, since it was the last time Hayley could go to the R.M.C.F. until the fall. Alias was . . . Alias. Alias was Alias. I don't really know what to say about it. There's no way I'm going to be able to remain spoiler free until January. Fucking JANUARY?! But I will say this: Jack "Pimp Daddy" Bristow has got some 'splainin' to do!

And then Andrea and I drove Hayley to South Station. Which was fun, since each of us all thought the other two knew the way to South Station. Except none of us did. Except we knew, "it was near Chinatown." Which. You know. Doesn't really help. So we called Kelly at work and she told us how to get there juuuuust fine. Which made us like Kelly. But then Kelly went out that night and well . . . you'll see . . .

And now . . . an Interlude!

Schadenfreude. Do we all know what that word means? Well, I can't fucking hear you, so I'll just say what it means. It means taking pleasure in the misfortune of others. I'd be a liar if I said I haven't experienced a shade of schadenfreude ever once in a great while . . . or every day. But today we're not going to talk about schadenfreude. Nor are we going to talk about Schwarzefeldenkirschetorten. Though, I wish we were, since I love me some Black Forest Cake. No, we're going to talk about the opposite of Schadenfreude. I don't know what the proper German is, so we'll just call it FrauWeinerSchnitzel. (You just know I'm scraping the bottom of the comedy barrel when I steal from Samuel French's patron saint, Tim Kelly. And thank you Rick and Monique for being the only two souls alive that get that joke. Assuming Caroline Dawson doesn't read my site. Which I think it's pretty safe to assume.) So yeah, FrauWeinerSchnitzel can be "feeling misfortune due to the pleasure of others". And man do I have a serious case of FrauWeinerSchnitzel against Kelly. Aaaanyway, seeing as I've never met an intro I couldn't stretch, let's just cut to the chase. Kelly Shumway is one lucky bee-yotch. And I know she has no issue with me saying such a thing because she herself knows it to be true. It seems her cousin was instrumental in helping to set up Nomar Bowl. You know, Nomar Bowl, Nomar's charity cosmic bowling fun time extravaganza? Yeah. I think you can see where this is going. Kelly, with her male escort Jim, got to attend said Nomar Bowl and actually mingle around the bowling area with celebrities and players. And this is why I hate her. [Although, I kind of owe her for something that will remain off the record. Right ol' pal Kelly? Right?] But back to me hating her. Sure, not every player from the Sox could make it. But most could. The important ones could. I think you can see where this is going. Sure sure, she met Varitek and Ortiz. Sure sure, she rubbed shoulders with Daubach and Theo Epstein. Sure, she even got up-close, but not so personal, with Ben Affleck. BUT SHE GOT TO MEET JOHHNY DAMON.

So let's review. I mean. It's ok. I definitely wouldn't have wanted to be there. Because, let's see:

I hate cosmic bowling. Except I don't.

I hate the Red Sox. Except I don't.

I hate Brian Daubach. Except I don't.

I hate Joh . . . oh I can't even bring myself to fake type it. We all know I don't hate Damon. Sigh. Anyway. On with the pictures.

See, you just kinda hate her here

And now you're like, "Ok. That's not cool. I more than kinda hate her now."

. . . I don't even know what to say. Well, I know what I can say. As usual, Theo the Camera Hog has to try to horn in on Johnny's face time. That and I think this would be a far superior picture if you cropped Theo and Kelly out. And photoshopped a tiger suit on to Johnny. I think I need some serious psychiatric help. No, I know I do.

Anyway. Yeah. So that's how that goes. Went down to Newburyport on Wednesday night. Got to meet Brad's sparklingly charming (not to be confused with "Simply Charming" ) roommate Tucker. That kid is like a big ball fun wrapped up in a shining bag of coolness. And by that I mean to say he is not. Anyway, we got some pizza, tried watching the Stella DVD, but Brad's tv is six kinds of fucked up, so that was a bust. We met Bryan and Natalie at The Grog around 8:30 along with a gaggle of their friends. All of which (save Pete) said to me, "Wow. We can't believe how much you look like Caleb." As much as this gave Brad much joy, it simply caused me to gut them all with a one of those fake plastic swords they use for club sandwiches. No muss, no fuss. Anyway, the MC for open mike night didn't show, but those guys played anyway. It was fun. I managed to finally clarify that it wasn't Bryan, Natalie, Allyson, and/or Caleb that were mad at me for not being able to come to Bryan's party last Sunday, it was my Aunt Barbie that was pissed. What-the-fuck-ever. Can you sense how much I care? I don't need to link to the reason why I couldn't go. Merely SCROLL UP and see that I was visiting Nanny and then at the David Byrne concert. I made Bryan and Natalie cd's for the visit and they seemed happy about them. Then again, they haven't listened to them yet. Maybe they'll hate them. But somehow I don't think so. On the ride home back to Dover I became more and more aware just how much I hate that ol' ho Claire at Sprint.

- "Say it ain't so, Zach!"

It's so Claire. It's so so.

And now . . . an Interlude!

Remember how ol' TC was watching "Home on the Range" all by himself in a San Francisco movie theater last week? And I surmised that he'd have a single tear running down his cheek? Well, it seems I underestimated him. I get the idea it was way more than a single tear. Read on:

- How "Home on the Range" Ruined my Life -

A review by Tim Curtis

In retrospect, I really should have seen it coming. Maybe it was the poor kids in the theatre, I don't know. But friends, this movie was as bad as they come. I haven't witnessed characters this awkward since the Olsen twins in "How the West was Fun."

Trying to come up with an apt description of this garbage they call a movie has me at a loss....yellow journalism? Not quite. Thinly-veiled communist manifesto? Perhaps. Although the 'Animal Farm' comparisons are obviously misguided.

What we really have here is a star-vehicle for Rosanne Barr. But that vehicle is broken down, with no wheels and in need of an oil change, comrades. And not just because she's "heavy-set" either. Because she

sucks, that's why. In this movie, she plays a cow. Wait, you probably already guessed that part. Is she type-cast or what?

What makes a good animated movie, besides kick-ass computer graphics apparently, is a good soundtrack. And let me tell you that the music in this movie was worse than WUNH at 2am. Seriously. With Tim McGraw and Bonnie Raitt headlining the score, I winced through every song. How my heart pangs for yesteryear, and the 'Songs of the South".

This movie, the last all-animated film for the Walt Disney company, took 9 years to make. But only 76 minutes to ruin my life. I did like the popcorn though, so overall . . . I give it a B+.

Home on the Range. It makes the combined suckitude of Oliver & Company and Aristocats look like the grand majesty of Robin Hood.

Kudos TC, kudos. Excellent and eye-opening review. That said, I think it's uncanny how much that goat in the picture looks like TC. Frightening really.

Anyway. Spent most of yesterday in Concord visiting Nanny. Have I ever mentioned how much I love driving on Rt. 4? With it's lush antique stores and lack of passing lanes? It's really quite majestic. Nothing makes time fly by between traffic circles like a well-placed secretly racist trojan horse. [And I will stake $2.75 on the fact that Tim Curtis will enjoy that reference probably more than any reference I'll make for the rest of the year] Yeah, Aunt Linda was there the whole time I was there and then my Mom and Don came when we were leaving. One of the nurses told us that Nanny isn't doing so hot, which we knew, but she's acting like she is because she doesn't want us to worry or get upset. That Nanny. Yeah. So. It's been kinda rough the last few weeks, and unlike all the times before, we can't just hope in our heads that it will get better. Because it's not going to. And I guess that's why I decided against going to Albany at the last minute. Which is where I should be right now. But I wanted to visit Nanny more this weekend, because if I don't, I won't be able to see her again until Friday. Which, you know, is annoying. But I'm a Ninny, so what do I know?

After leaving Concord yesterday I figured rush hour, on a Friday of a holiday weekend, and during a torential rain storm would be the best time for me to decide to make an unplanned trip to Manchester to visit Beth and her boyfriend Ryan. Well, I mean, it wasn't unannounced. I called beforehand. So all parties could be mentally prepared for everyone else. Well, not prepared enough to not lock my keys in the car, which is what I promptly did after parking my car at their place. There place was huge and I really liked it but that like will be fleeting since they are moving to a different part of Manch in a few months. I finally got to meet Sweeney, their cat, after hearing so much about him. Not to mention having had a Polaroid of him on our fridge since Beth put it their back in March. Sweeney makes Kenichi look docile. What am I talking about - trees make Chef Chen seem docile. But Sweeney is definitely a firecrackin' powerhouse. Nothing stops him. He is truly a ghostly streak when he gets running around the house. Which, to be honest, I'm not sure if I ever saw him stationary. And yes, I know my instinct is to hate white cats, but he is splotched with other colors and is not pure white, like satan's agent himself, McLaughlin's old cat Snowball. God that cat was evil. Anyway, Ryan was very cool and for a while I was waiting for Allen Funt to come out and announced I was on Candid Camera (and yes, I understand I could have made a more "fashionable" reference and refer to the MTV show with the inappropriately placed apostrophe and that bastion of soul sucking shittiness known as Ashton Fuckwad, but I chose not to, so there). I got along really well with Ryan as it seems we have read many of the same books and like much of the same tv/movies. I didn't dare give him the dreaded "NewsRadio" test, as it would have broken my heart had he not passed. [For those just joining us, the "NewsRadio Test" is pretty much when I posit anything having to do with NR to someone I have recently met and if they respond in the least way negative or argumentative to any of my thoughts or opinions on NR, or NR itself, they are done for and there's no coming back. Hey, I didn't say it was a fair test. Although, I usually do allow the concession that Season 5 is difficult to watch because of you know what that happened to you know who.] So yeah, I got along really well with Ryan which is a shock enough in itself since "Zach", "got along" and "one of Beth's boyfriends" aren't words that usually appear in the same paragraph together, let alone a sentence. Anyway, we drank beer and watched Stella. Not a bad way to kill a few hours if I do say so myself.

After I left Manch I met Kate, Jahannah and "other" Kate (their roommate) at Quigley's and hung out there for a bit. Jahannah and "other" Kate went out to Brewery Lane (which "other" Kate had a problem pronouncing and kept calling it "Blueberry Lane", which any LA peep will tell you makes it infinitely more funny). I followed Kate back to her new place in Kittery (which is vomit-inducingly close to the not-so-dearly departed Sheriff's place). I like their new place, despite the fact that it's on like the 37th floor of this apartment building. We watched the rebroadcast of the Sox game, mostly so could get to see Ortiz's grand slam, while Austin conned us into eating "other" Kate's frozen pizza. And if you know Kate and I at all, you can imagine that very little work had to go into Austin conning us into eating the pizza. And then Kate and I tried desperately to make sure "other" Kate's mind didn't wander to the subject of pizza when she came home from "Blueberry Lane". This was much harder than you may think. I didn't get to bed last night until around 3 and got up before 6, which might go a way in explaining why I'm a bit cranky.

And now . . . an Interlude!

The proceeding is a paid advertisement from Peter Farmer showcasing why the candidate he is supporting should win . . . the thing that his candidate is running for . . . or something. I don't know. Just read it:

Bush?

Kerry?

Coitus!!!

Tim Coitus for town assembly. Can I make it any more clear? We live in a country of vast wealth and crippling poverty.

(subliminal . . . Tim Coitus . . . subliminal)

New Hampshire is a state of unmatched beauty and untold filth.

(subliminal . . . Tim Coitus . . . subliminal)

Dave Matthew's Band has corrupted a generation and David Byrne has enlightened one.

(subliminal . . . Tim Coitus . . . subliminal)

So if you care about America vote for Tim Coitus!!! Town Assembly, Jaffrey, New Hampshire.

Truly Yours,

Peter D. Farmer

Tim Coitus For Town Assembly Campaign Manager

Man. I don't even think I have control of this joint anymore. Oh well. Hope everyone is having a happy slappy Memorial Day weekend!

It's been real,

Ingo

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