It's like a fucking comedy of errors up here some days...
You know how it is, sometimes you just feel like a big, goofy, screw up...
...And then you hail to the king.
So I went out to my first local show last night. That hot girl who has a boyfriend anyway that I melt over and consistently make a fool out of myself in front of gives me this flyer on Tuesday for a show Wednesday. Slick, I'm thinking. And then later in the day I met the nicest guy I think I've met in a long time, Aaron, and the way I was talking about him Hoover asked me if I got his number and we were going steady yet. But it was weird, he was just this overly nice punk guy... well, I was talking to him about the show, asking where it'd be and what the scene was like and such. He told me basically where it was, and I figured I understood, with my basic knowledge of city landmarks. So I saddle Hoover up and head off to it, a little late because fuck... when did the last show I went to start on time? So we're waiting for the bus, and the bus is late. Okay, fine. We'll be like... a half hour late, okay, no big deal. So then we get to the bus terminal, eventually, then Hoover's like... 'okay, lets go' and heads off in the opposite direction to what I was told. But he tells me he saw his friends band there, and it was somewhere down this other street. So I don't want to question it... he's spent more time here than me, so I go with him. Oh, totally the wrong way. And somewhere along the way, I lost $15. I'm lucky I had a 5 I'd forgotten about in my wallet or I wouldn't have gotten into the damn show at all without finding another bank machine.
But yeah, we were wandering around looking for the place, and I could hear in Hoovers voice that maybe he was more into just going back home than looking for the place, but fuck that. I wasn't going to force the issue, but I would have stuck around anyhow. If there's other punks around here I want to damn well meet them. We ended up finding the place, and Hoover stuck around. It was in this basement that a church seems to use, and reminded me a lot of a Brantford show. A lot of young 'uns making me feel old. And of course, I was the most outrageous looking bastard there. Fuck, punk's gone downhill so bad... if you're wearing a skate shirt, baggy pants and turn your hat backwards you're fucking hardcore, it seems. Geez. But then this huge dude came up to us and started chatting it up. He was like 26 or something, in a band we'd just missed, and trying desperately to get us to come back to another show, he was probably tired of kids who just stand there tapping their foot too. I know it'd sure piss me off if I was in a punk band and the audience was a bunch of cocky snot nosed bastards who can't be pleased or riled into any action.
So a couple of bands, and the girl who I've irrationally been fucky over (acutally, there's an explanation in the journal), Alana, finds me. And fuck, I have a hard enough time hearing her normally when there isn't screaming blaring out of a PA... oh she speaks so damned softly... so I just outright said to her (and probably sounded like a jerk doing so), 'look, I'm not going to be able to hear a damn thing you say.' She didn't look impressed, heh. Well, it was the truth, and it beat me nodding my head pretending to hear her and guessing at what to say back and being a total tool.
Okay, the band finishes. I find Alana at the foosball table where, oh, get this... she challenges me. Fine, okay, you don't know what you're in for. And she didn't. I was up on her like 7-3, and asked if she was going to start giving me some resistance, and that I'd warned her... you know, basically being a typical male jerkass, sadly. Oh yeah, I was like, "Aww, I warned you, you know. I totally majored in foosball at university." And she says to me, completely deadpan,
"I majored in sociology."
in a way that made me feel like the stupidest guy on earth. Especially when she came back from the massive deficit to beat me by one frigging goal on the table. Every time, there's something dumb I do or say. And it's totally just her. There's a minute portion of the population that I can't predict effectively, and she happens to be in it, for some reason.
What was the other thing? Oh yeah... after the game, I find Hoover, and next band was up already and saying to him,
"God, I want to bone her."
and he's like, "You got her number?"
"Huh?"
"To phone her?"
"Phone her?"
"What?"
"What did you say?"
"Did you get her number, to phone her?"
"No, she's got a boyfriend."
"Then what are you talking about? About phoning her?"
And I yell out, "No, I said I want to BONE her!" really loud, only afterwards wondering if she was anywhere around still. Thank God, no. Later on in the night and back at home I'd mention how I'd like to clone myself so I could be nailing her in every hole at once, and that her name spelt backwards was Anal-a. He thought that'd be a great way to fuck up when I talked to her next time... just blurting out something like that. I think he was pretty dead on there.
"Uh hey... I've been thinking about it, and you know... your name spelt backwards is Anal-a, heh. Get it? No? Then bend over."
So I'm 90% retarded, that's the moral of the story. But fuck, she keeps coming back for more of my idiocy, so I must be doing something almost right, eh? Maybe my dumbness is cute or something, fuck, who knows?!
Back, oh God yes, get back Loretta.