It takes me forever to get up and get moving. My stomach has been yelling at me for an hour, and still I lay here, enthralled in my powerbook and trying to think of things to do. We had a little mini-show on my birthday where it was basically like a live practice. It really exposed our flaws, and shows we are not nearly ready to head out on the road. It was a good mix of mistakes that we made, none too serious, that reinforced some of the topics I've wanted to discuss with the band. Also keep in mind, that from the beginning of the night to the end, the amount of time between "audience" decided shot-breaks decreased exponentially. It was vodka too... blegh.
I'm not used to having nothing to do. I think it actually makes it harder to get out and do the few things I'm supposed to be taking care of. If I had a car, these tasks would be done immediately. But since B and I are left in the original Binns' Inn all day with nothing but peanut butter, Fatty Klaxon and the Undeclared dvd's, we sit around and let time waste away into the San Diego dusk and dawn. There is plenty of whiskey involved.
Today is a Mexico day, I think. I would like to initiate some practice before we cross the border and hang out with our favorite Tijuana bartender Gloria for the evening, but it seems there's a rift! We will see if this is one more day thrown away or if we/I make some use out of it.
I just heard Fatty whine, and that super chunk honey roasted peanut butter seems to be calling my name. One last thing, "Scent of a Woman" is an incredible movie. I'm glad Ryan wouldn't stop talking about it until I finally watched it. Now I want to see it again.
It's hard to argue that this isn't the fucking life.