| Your Boobies' Names Are: Abercrombie & Fitch |
Tired today. Couldn't sleep until 5 and the phone started ringing at 8am. Argh. No, Mom, I don't know what time I'm going to Troy's birthday. And no, I don't know what time the rest of the clan is arriving either.
Last night's 'gig', was, um, fairly artsy. It was on the campus of our university and I alternated between feeling like I was somebody's Mom watching a school Christmas play and feeling mighty cougar-like. Leigh and I couldn't even look at each other in case we started giggling. We laughed so hard on the way home that the car shook.
Our friend's band was pretty decent, I guess. But when you follow a celloist who looks like he's had his stick broken a few times, and two guys from Hamburg singing the Beatles (She waaaaz yust zeventeeen...you know vaat I meeeen.), it's not too hard. Sadly, Dave got a little too into his solo on 'Back in the USSR' and popped a speaker. At the end of the day, it was about supportiing a friend, right?
