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:: 10.18.2002 ::

(listening to: AC/DC: Back In Black)

The Pointer Sisters' Slow Hand VS. Spoon's Everything Hits At Once

[rock and roll aint noise pollution, rock and roll aint' gonna die] :: So, every time Miss Rodeo America heard Spoon's "Everything Hits At Once," she swore she'd heard the song before. Come to think of it, everytime *I* heard the song, I thought I'd heart it before too. So we racked our brains, and she finally came up with that one Pointer Sisters song. You know, I want a man with a sloooooow hand, I want a lover with an easy touch... Anyway, so I found the song, and totally hear a similarity. You might think me crazy, so just listen for yourself.

We're off to get food, it's really strange that the sun sets at 7:00 now, it always feels late at night by the time we get home.

(7:10 PM) :: (link)

:: 10.17.2002 ::

(listening to: Hayden: Live At Convocation Hall)

Dan and the passed out homey.

[the cat sleeps in the sink and the heater smells like autumn] :: The first night I was in Los Angeles we went to the skankiest, stupidest bar on the Sunset Strip: The Saddle Ranch. It's this western themed bar straight out of Urban Cowboy, my favorite Travolta movie, and was chock full of lame idiots from the valley and rich idiots from Orange County. It was the perfect campy L.A. activity for that Friday night, even though beers were $8.75. They have a mechanical bull that's been featured in some Levi's ad as well as on a couple TV shows, but sadly it was broken that night. So, we grabbed some drinks and fought for a seat outside and watched the idiots get drunk, and then drunker, until they were passing out left and right.

The big activity of the night is for the girls to go into the men's bathroom when they don't feel like waiting in line (hee-hee, how funny!). All the guys kinda camp out in there as yet another place to hit-on sloppy drunk valleys. The music was a blasting mix of 80's hair metal and hip "now" music (White Stripes, Strokes, Vines, Hives, etc), and all the waitresses had big fake breasts and talked with fake Texas accents. It's the kind of place aspiring actresses work in order to meet the right people, so they're super friendly and call everybody Honey.

A lot of drunk people decided that we were their friends that night. This group of Marines with really bad tattoos were just hooting at every girl who walked by, until their pal passed out next to my friend Dan. They kept kicking him yelling "Wake the fuck up homey! Homey! Wake the fuck up!" It was one of the funnies things I've ever seen. The guy was so woozy I don't think he quite knew where he was, so Dan put his arm around him and I snapped a couple pictures.

It's the first time I've felt like being in Memphis while still on the West Coast.

(9:30 AM) :: (link)

:: 10.14.2002 ::

(listening to: The Jim Yoshii Pile-Up: Homemade Drugs)

[shit hits fan. again.] :: This nightclub bombing in Bali is so horrible, I can't think of anything noble to say about it. Reading the paper has become scary again.

On a lighter note, we were horrified on Saturday to find one of our favorite out-of-the-way suburban thrift stores full of scenester kids. They took all the good stuff before we could get to it, so from now on I'm watching my back. Stop following me, East Bay scenester kids!

(11:23 AM) :: (link)