That’s right, fuck you! In the past two weeks. I have lost my PowerBook G4 (Granted is an ’04 – but aren’t Macs supposed to be the indestructible beasts?) to… to what? I actually have no idea. I was running Panther OSX and decided that I should upgrade to Tiger so I could take the new beast (MacBookPro) for a tune up since the fan or, god forbid, the hard drive makes this awful crunching noise that is progressively getting worse… so I pop in the disc in the G4, says to restart so it can reboot to install. Turns off… stays off. The battery had stopped holding a charge but that wouldn’t be the cause of an epic fail such as this. Insult to injury is that the OSX disc isn’t even mine…

So that was fucked, and this morning I go to shut the lid of the MBP and the beast began to growl something awful. to be honest it scared the christ out of me because it was dark and I had no idea what the noise was or where it was coming from. I located it. Opened the lid, and manually shut it down for the sole reason that I would have been late to work otherwise. So I’m just praying to the panda god that it decides to function semi properly upon my return.

And now, at work, with a BRAND NEW (2 weeks old) iMac. 4GB RAM 1067 MHz with a 2.66 GHz Intel Core Duo & 750GB of HD space the fucking thing froze on me (in Adobe of course) right before I could save. Behold! What is irrefutably know as the ‘spinning beach ball of doom.’

So… had to screen shot the damn image, which itself wouldn’t even save, so I had to email it to myself. What. Thee. Hell. Computer!? And as I’m about to force quit it all THEN my computer says “Performance update available.” I’m sitting here staring at my computer thinking “you son of a bitch. Couldn’t have told me when I STARTED YOU!?!” *shakes fist angrily* So i had to take the screen shot and live trace it. Which worked… but it still sucks.

Roommates iPod failed the other night too. WTF Apple? Luckily I was able to fix it, because I reign supreme. Get your shit together, kplzthnx.

Oh!
So last night, I gigged. And it was so weird. I (without an inflated ego, thankyou) felt rather famous or something for lack of a better, less pompous term. I apparently played REALLY well, which is good news, I couldn’t hear shit. But people were stopping me outside on the other side of the block saying good job and other random shit that is always nice to hear. There was a guy up front the whole of my set who resembled a Chip & Dales cowboy dancer. Not because of his looks, but the way he danced. Like Superstar meets Kandi Raver meets Justin Timberlake…. No joke. Then some old dude grabbed me and hugged me and said thanks. And a few others starred me down and/or complimented me. Success? Sure. Why not.
And the best part of the night was this short happy(read: probably high) looking guy comes up to me, says thank you, killer set, the norm. etc. And then goes “I drew a picture of you in my head because that’s what I saw in reality.” …..? I wanted to say that the music was too loud and that I misunderstood him. No, that is actually what he said. Instantly I got the image in my head of something resembling this:

or this:

But I think I prefer the first one… I said thank you? and made my way through the group of disgusting drunk people.

EVERYONE was on drugs. And I swear to god, these two girls that came up to me for “requests” were COMPLETElY underage (this isn’t a high school dance bitches) or I am getting very old… Another girl stopped me outside and was asking me about raves and DJing and high as a kite. A few people I knew as well… Thursdays are apparently the new fridays, because who needs sobriety!?
Later on the same two girls who wanted to make a request (which wasn’t anything I’d even heard of…) were giggling and eying me coyly. One nudged the other and she scooted up to me with a sheepish grin on her face and asked “Do you want to dance with me?” *Flash back to lesbian fest in Boise where every single girl at the party literally wanted to get on me (I’m not trying to be a glorified cunt here either)* I said “Sorry, I have to go soon” and feign a look of disappointment. Moments later I look over and they’re doing some form of interpretive dance up and down each others bodies…
Hyperskunk tried to perv. I wish he would get a girlfriend for more than 5 minutes so he’d leave the rest of us alone. Has tits? Check! – okay I’m into it! I don’t need/want bookings that bad. No concept of personal space or the fact that maybe a few girls out of the lot, myself included, don’t get self esteem boosts from being groped and man handled at your leisure.

Nothing else to really say we came, I played, we left, Crack-in-the-Box, home. 3.5 hours and sleep and now I’m here. The End.

Also: I notice I used a lot of parenthesis when I speak (Clearly, I feel like I have to explain and clarify things because not much of my life makes sense).