Well we’re all moved in at our new place, and we’ve already got company. We picked Mom up from the airport tonight.

One peculiar feature of Atlanta is that people drive here from many miles around to fly because it’s cheaper. Sometimes they drive as much as 300 or 400 miles. As our previous College Park residence was very close to the airport, everyone uses it as a parking lot while they are out of town, which is why Mom was here to fly elsewhere.

When she got in the car she and my girlfriend talked about the fact that I tried to convince mom that my girlfriend had picked up a second job as an exotic dancer. Neither is easy to fool anymore, but I still get them from time to time.

I told some girls at the bar the other night that I was afraid of the ocean because my dad got eaten by a shark when I was small, and that before becoming a musician I wrestled lions and bears at the circus.

I guess it’s really selfish to tell people stupid shit and then laugh at them when they figure out it’s a lie, but its a lot of fun.

After the gig in Nashville last night I said to the 3 other guys in the car “Well let’s go around and say what we thought was good and bad about the gig.”

I could almost hear everyone mentally going “Aw, man…”

It sucks when someone says that sort of thing and means it. Every time I am in one of those situations, a little bit of my soul gets crusty and falls off, never to return.

Meetings of any kind also do this.

Are you ready to JAZZ? Show your tits!

I got up around 12:30 with an impending sense of that “Holy shit I overslept” feeling. Since the early gig was at 3 and in the park across the street from my house, I had time. I put my bass on, grabbed my box of cables and assorted horseshit, and walked over to the park.

There was a bluegrass band playing when I got there. A lady stopped me as I was walking toward the stage and said “Excuse me, what kind of music will you be playing?”. I took that to mean “Please, no more bluegrass.” I told her I didn’t know yet, and kept moving.

I left my bass and horseshit with the sound guys at the stage and strolled around the park a bit. It was an arts festival, with booths set up along Rugby Ave on the far side of the park from my house. I walked along and got a look at the various art that famous College Park had to offer. There were a few little paintings that were okay, some truly boring lino cuts, and various knickknackeries in the obligatory wood.

After a good wander about, Mike and Francisco made it down to the park, and it was almost time to start. We waited through a jazz band with a kick ass 15 year old kid drumming. He really sounded great. His dad the bass player was also good, and the guitar player was tip top, but the old guy on trumpet and vocals was fairly awful. They played a song called One Note Samba which should have come with a complimentary sharp knife for stabbing one’s self.

In case you’d like to be a jazz master, I found the chords and lyrics to this song here.

After I regained consciousness, we took the stage and set our crap up. We played through a few tunes, finished up with the theme to the Jeffersons, then Mike and I left to go get a burrito. As I was dropping him off at his car after the burrito (which was delicious), my friend Mellie called and said that Angie Aparo was at Chastain and forgot one of his guitar straps. I threw a few spares from around the house into the car and headed to Chastain Park ampitheatre.

I found the right gate with Mellie’s help, and parked backstage, straps in hand. She led me to the dressing room where Angie picked the strap he liked out of the set. Mellie and I sat on the floor while Angie and his band chatted it up. He was talking about how he once had done an opener for a famous lesbian singer/songwriter and he thought her crowd had felt cheated that he was male.

I said “Maybe if you had like some plaid flannel covers for the CDs they would have bought some”

He said “Huh.”

The dressing room fell silent. I only talked to Mellie from then on.

I followed Mellie as she ran some errands around the ampitheatre, picking up this from Will Call and delivering that to the production office. I told her she was wearing me like underwear. I didn’t want to get left anywhere by myself and ushered out of the backstage area, and besides, it was fun to scamper around with my all access pass.

Don’t choke on your brie out there, folks!

After a while it was time for Angie to go on. He was fantastic, as he is. His fucking voice is just unbelievable, and I say that completely literally. I am unable to believe that anyone can sing that well. He is absolutely the best singer I have ever heard, and I’d rather listen to him than all the Celine Dions and Mariah Careys in the world.

Once Angie’s set was over and Edwin McCain came out, it was about time for me to go play my gig. I went backstage with Mellie to the loading area where my car was, gave her a hug, and left, driving with my lights off so they couldn’t be seen in the ampitheatre.

I could hear Edwin singing it up inside as I drove away.

Selling stuff on eBay is kind of a pain in the ass some times. Whenever I sell something I get a lot of wierd emails from people, usually asking if they can either come look at the item or come pay for it in cash.

I think it’s because people want to win an auction for a $50 vase by bidding $65 for it, then come pick it up and haggle the seller down after the fact to $45. That’s horse shit. Also I’ve heard that people are printing fake cashier’s checks thse days as well, so now I only accept Paypal.

Paypal is your friend! Shut up and use it, foolish emailers!

People also enjoy emailing me with a lot of reasons why I should just stop the auction and accept their cash offer rather than letting the auction run its course. I tell them no way. I like the excitement of the auction.

Someone offered me $400 for a car that I eventually ended up selling for $300, but they were probably going to welch on the $400 when they got to the house anyhow.

I’m wise to your new-fangled internet tricks, people.

Tonight as I was packing my room up, I found my bottle of vitamins on my fridge. There was a bit of peanut butter stuck to the side of the bottle because it’s a little tiny fridge and I usually manufacture my PBJ sandwiches there on the top of it. I decided to wash the bottle off before I packed it.

I took it in the bathroom and gave it a scrubdown, removing all peanut butter traces. I opened the top to see if any water had gotten in on the vitamins inside. None had gotten in, but I noticed in the process that the vitamins smelled like vitamins.

I don’t like that vitaminy smell. I decided to get my girlfriend to sniff the vitamins too so I wouldn’t have to smell their wierd scent alone.

I took the jar to her.

“Smell these” I said, handing it to her with the cap off. She gave a polite sniff at them.

She looked at me after smelling at the vitamins with that “Yeah.. and?” look on her face.

“No, SMELL them,” I urged. She put her nose in the bottle and gave a hearty sniff, looking at me again.

“They smell fine.” She said.

“Aw come on.. SMELL THEM” I said. She put her nose to the bottle again and gave a mighty snort like Al Pacino’s character at the end of Scarface. I started cracking up, and she looked quizzically at me.

“I just made you smell vitamins three times!” I exclaimed.

I laughed myself silly, and referred to her as “Vitamin Smeller” for the rest of the night.

Yeah, she puts up with crap like that.

Hee hee, vitamins.

Hey, that smarts!

Well, tonight I completed the much-anticipated Riddick: Escape from Butcher Bay. I was assured by all the gaming web sites that it was fan-fucking-tastic. It was more like fan-fucking-stupid.

First of all, Vin Diesel’s voice is so ridiculously gravelly that it’s hard to listen to his voiceovers without imitating him. Couple this with the corny lines in the game and you get a whole plate o dumb. Mmmm, mm!

Example: “Me and pain are old friends.”

You and corny aren’t exactly mortal enemies either, chief. I can’t knock Mr. Diesel too hard though, he’s probably making quite a nice living for himself. I certainly have been known to ham it up on stage in return for a dollar, so I can’t talk shit.

One other annoying thing is that for most of the game you can’t pick up the assault rifles you encounter along the way, forcing you to off your opponents with screwdrivers and whatnot. Some people probably find this an engaging challenge. I find it a pain in the ass. I like mowing people down in video games. All this sneaky-stabby business is for the birds.