Last night's open mic in Portland was fun, and the bar had a great depressing/meth head vibe to it. The women's bathroom door said, "Drugs are your problem, don't make them our problem." There was a crazy older guy who was flash-dancing all over the place, doing somersaults and running backwards with high knees, that kind of thing. The bartender, while nice, didn't give me a free drink after I tipped him $2.50 on $5.50 worth of beer, played a set he really liked, and told him I only had a dollar left. He took my dollar and brought me back a 6 oz. glass of his cheapest beer. Haha!
This morning at 7:30 my phone started ringing. I couldn't find it, woke the entire band up, and finally got it. I got the message, "This is a reminder that your gas meter reading schedule will be updated to..." to which I (quietly) started yelling, "fuuuuck youuuu!" Then we slept in to 1:30.
Alright, quotes!
Steve: The super gas was the same price, so expect a little more ass kicking from the minivan this leg.
Gene: I'm doing laundry. Hopefully you don't mind if your underthings tumble with mine.
Steve: Just so long as they aren't tumbling with your sugar momma's underwear.
Gene: I think you missed the point of that entirely.
Me: Haha!
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