So people,
Last night was everything that the doctor ordered to cure you of a lack-of-rock-induced-coma of boredom. Seriously, the bill was one of the best I've ever played on. We were amazingly lucky to get THISWAY (possibly the greatest band alive) as well as our new friends in Bishop Allen, who are, in a word, hot. Thanks to everyone who came out and made it as good as it was.
The only downside of the show came when this chick whom I do not know, but who for the time being we will call Bitchy O'Poopiepants, came up to me to start beef about my shirt. Now, I'm wearing a "Team Wendy's" t-shirt that has a silly football scene on it and is, in a couple words, pretty damn sexy. Furthermore, no one should ever be offended by this shirt. It would be like being offended by a kitten wrapped in a towel. But Bitchy O'Poopiepants thought it was a perfect time to come up to me, a stranger, and start some shizzit:
B O'P: Um, you really should read Fast Food Nation (subtext - "you're a moron")
Me: Uh, ok. I did read Fast Food Nation
B O'P: And you
still wear that shirt? (sigh) (subtext - "monster")
Me: Yeah, it's a fucking t-shirt
B O'P: (sighs) gross (storms off)
The reason I write about this is not because I'm all that bothered by her completely inappropriate self-righteous overly PC bullshit comments, but more so because I wish I had something better to say in reply. Like "I'm
sorry, my 'If you believe you can change the socio-economic policies of major international corporations by interrupting me when I'm speaking with a friend I haven't seen in while then please do so' t-shirt was in the wash", or "you know what? You smell like farts." But unfortunately all I could muster was that it was, in fact, a fucking t-shirt. Life is, of course, terrible.
Anywho, enough downers. Still high on our rock hangovers, Fooled By April is about to head out this minute for the confines of a Brooklyn recording studio where we will hopefully make the magic happen. I'll try to update our progress as often as I can for those of you interested (hi mom).
