I never know what kind of title is appropriate...

I mean, sure, there are some times, when the news is specific, that a title would have a good, solid purpose, informing the reasder of the context in which the information that follows is written. However, since my entries are nothing but the worst kind of mental offal, a title seems to limit my entries to the proposed topic. However, we all know this won't happen. Someone or something will set me off, and I'll begin ranting half-way through whatever salient point I was making at the time, thereby destroying my ethos, and causing Dom Deluise to choke on his soup. Lovely.

My Weekend: Friday

Well, I spent the weekend doing some very interesting activities. Friday, I was gigging with Exaggeration and Blue Shield at a bar in Boystown. It was... interesting, to say the least. However, Russ (lead guitar for Exaggeration) and I were standing outside the bar during a break, and a gay guy came up and started hitting on the both of us. Odd, yes, yet interesting. I'm very secure in my masculinity, or lack thereof, so I didn't feel threatened, but I think Russ was getting a bit squirmy, even though we were completely screwing with him. Drunk gay guys apparently miss a lot of innuendo and insults, but he was a nice guy, so we didn't "nail him to the wall," if you will. The gig was fun, in it's own way, but the P.A. system in the bar sucked more than most of the residents of Boystown. (Bah-ziing!) We also got stiffed for pay, which I blame the booking guy for, since we almost always seem to get seriously fucked when he is involved. What a douche-nozzle. Anyway, so we did the gig, which was all very well and good, and then we drove back to Matt and Dannys place, where I attempted to sleep. Apparently, I'm not allowed to sleep, as everyone kept screwing with me. Eventually I fell asleep, and people kept waking me up, so I finally pulled my knife on someone at the right time, and the fucking about stopped... which was good.

Saturday

Saturday arrived with me waking up late at Matt and Dannys place. Not late, as in 1 pm, late as in 8:45 am. Seeing as I was suppoused to be at Charlie's place at 9pm, and I was about 25 minutes away, plus traffic time, I was late. Which pissed me off. I hate being late, it just happens a lot, because everyone asks me to do everything and I feel the need to do everything for everyone. Anyway, so I made it to Charlie's place late, and picked up Charlie and Brian Johnson for some paintball madness, down in Joliet. Seeing as Charlie couldn't plan a fart after a taco dinner, he had to go back in and fetch directions, during which time I got some nice bonding time with Brian. Then, we sped off to the painballing place. Now, I don't mean sped off in the "Old Nate Bellon" definition, where I would be pulling 90-degree turns at 65 mph... but it was pretty close. We got there in good time, went in, and played some monster paintball. When it was just Brian, Charlie and I, it was a hell of a lot easier to setup some sort of fire-zone and all that. Although our communication wasn't the best, we still played very well together. As the only cat in our small group with a rental gun, I often played the role of bait, runner, or spotter, which is cool with me. In fact, on one of the forest fields, this worked out very well, and to our advantage. Charlie and I were both crawling on our bellies towards an enemy bunker postion, and there was all sorts of fire and movement going on. Well, I was laying in front, and spotting all sorts of movement about 100 ft from us, behind some brush. Everytime I would spot them and yell out position and movement, Charlie would pop up and nail the fuck out of them. It was awesome. I tell you, it may make me sound like a dork, but I live for that kind of shit. Maybe that explains why I like being a sideman bass-player better than being the lead guy... I dunno.

Anyway, so we played for a good long while. We finished up, and started the long drive home. After I dropped Charlie and Brian off, I drove straight out to my buddies place in Wicker Park... in full, muddy-ass camo, mind you. It was Kendall's graduation party, and I hadn't seen him or some of the other guys I know who associate with him in about a year. I also had a great surprise as Josh, one of the bass players I used to work with at MCC, showed up at the party. He dispelled the rumor that he had gotten married, and fed me some info. He's a cool guy. Anyway, there was a keg of Honey Brown there, which some of the people complained about, but they were still drinking it, so it must not have mattered TOO much. I enjoy Honey Brown, frankly. It's a good beer, and reasonably priced. Anyway, I drank... well, I did drink enough to give me a good buzz early on, and then I slowed down, as I knew I was going to have to leave sooner or later. Turns out that was around 11:30, as Johnny T and the crew were going to be at Lillys to watch Deuce play, and generally get drunk, which I'm down for. Deuce was good. I always enjoy their shows, and I'm good buddies with everyone in the band, which helps. I also hit Steve Blair up for some bass lessons, as he is a monster... of bass. A low-end warrior that can funk with the best of them. Oh yeah. Anyway, so everyone was there, and we had a hoot-hollerin good time. I helped Deuce pack up some shit, and then Matt, Mike and I hit the road to Shoeless Joes, to try and hit last call. We didn't make it, despite some nice speeding on my part. I got popped by Brian Johnson, and I ate breakfast and went to sleep at Hallagans. A very eventfull Saturday ended when the sun came up. Oy.

Sunday

I woke up Sunday at Hallagans house, and drove my ass home. Now is when I realize that I've driving far too much. Oh well. Got home, diddled a bit, and got ready for JR's graduation party. Now, I was waiting for Becca to show, and she was running a bit later than she told me she would, but no big sweat. I'm already known as "Nate the Late", so I wouldn't want to damage my reputation by showing up on time anywhere. So, when Becca showed up, we were off. The party was very nice, and it was good to be with everybody in a party atmosphere again. Becca liked my friends, and I think they liked her, or at least they said they did, which is almost as good. She's a sweet girl, and she was just a bit worried about what everyone thought of her, as she was s little shy. I told her that she was drinking, smoking, and dancing with us, so everyone had to at least respect her. Unlike Chalrlie and Leah, the motionless two. Whatever. It was really a pleasure to see Jon graduate from college, and I was very sorry I couldn't stay for the after party. Thats the price you pay, I suppouse.

On a related note, I would like to that those at the party that got up and danced. As a DJ, thats what really makes the job a lot more fun, as well as easier, and as a person who enjoyes parties, dancing is just a lot of fun. Who cares if you can't dance, or think you're going to look like an idiot? If you can't get up and be a doofus in front of your friends and (possible) significant other, I recommend running for President. Those guys always have a pretty hefty pole up their asses. Anyway, the following people need to remove the poles from their asses:
Charlie VanSlambrouck... that is all
Charlie should have been out on the dance floor shaking his thing more than once, but he wasn't. However, I will give him credit in as much as he did at least touch the dance floor, and jerk about in a manner uncanny. So I guess I shouldn't give him too much shit. Spirit awards go to Ryan Boyle and John Tetzlaff, for their dancing, as well as their participation in 3 Jon Robb Dancefloor Abductions! Well done, lads!
Awards also should go to "Ridunkulous" Mike Hanch, for dancing like a madman.

On another related-yet-unrelated note, chicks apparently dig guys that dance. I love it! It's a win-win situation. First off, you get to get up there and grind, bump, and dry-hump some fine lookin' young lady... and they love it! Most of them don't even care if you CAN dance, according to an anonymous sorce, they just care if you WILL dance. So as long as you're willing to make an ass out of yourself, or your name isn't Charlie or Craig, you're in the money, so to speak.

Well, back to work for me. I just realized how much I've been typing, and frankly, I'm frightened. The only thing that frightens me more than the pointless drivel that I'm spewing is anyone who would bother reading this splith. You must be some sort of sick voyuer, and you should ashamed of yourself.

But I'm having fun...