Played some baseball this afternoon in the hot, hot Oakland afternoon across the street from the big ALASKA gas station where the homeboys hang out and blast thumping bass all day long. We didn't need to bring a radio. The grass was all muddy in the outfield and I dove for a ball and got my pants all covered in mud. I missed the ball too.

The Punk77 site has a really nice feature on punk rock bubblegum trading cards from Holland. Why can I never find these things at thrift stores or antique shops?

I have convinced myself that thrift stores in Canada are chock-full of vintage-ish hockey t-shirts and decor. Someday I will have to investigate.

Toast has become my new afternoon food. Sitting on the steps out in front of the warehouse snacking on a couple slices is incredibly relaxing for some reason.

Amen, brother. I have a sneaking suspicion that JtB and I will get along really well when I'm in Providence on my birthday.

Our show last night went well, it featured the world premiere of our quicktime cover of Anything, Anything, and ended up being one of the highlights of the set. There was a guy in full football gear being led around by a guy in leather chaps. I thought it was hilarious, they were sitting there at the bar chatting away, but the guy was wearing a football helmet in addition to his padded uniform.

I remember in high school all the football players had to wear their jerseys to school the day of a game to pump up the school to kick some ass, or something like that.

This week has been busy, and pretty stressful. I've come out of this mindfog and my moodiness and I'm looking forward to dinne tonight in the city, perhaps a walk up some hills, avoiding the fog, catching a pint. Weekends were made so that Friday nights exist.

I now have a greater respect for Joel Selvin, the pop music editor at the San Francisco Chronicle. His review of the N'Sync shows in Oakland over the weekend rightly pointed out the wrongs, and obvious money making scams, of their evil marketing techniques. Showing commercials between acts is bad enough, but charging for disposable cameras the ticket says "Cameras Not Allowed" is inexcusable crap. While the other papers around the bay congratulated the five tacky-dressed boys on their wholesome image, Selvin voiced what many like myself have been saying since they appeared. Commercials, product placement, and more commercials. I can't wait until they follow startups and fizzle out and die.

In a related story, I was driving down the Nimitz freeway by the Coliseum in Oakland on Saturday morning, when, in heavy traffic, a ruly CHP officer stopped his motorcyle in front of my car with a "stop in the name of love" handsignal, while others of his ilk did the same. A silver tour-bus made its way around my car, across the 5 lanes of now stopped traffic, and exited with its police escort. That's right, N'Sync had been within ten feet of my car. Let the high pitched screaming begin. I wish I would have realized what was going on in time, so I could have done my duto to flip them the bird. Goose and Maverick would have been proud.