Exile in basementville

Lucas and I have been exiled to the basement while a bunch of chattering women-folk throw C a bridal shower. I really hope she has a good time. In the meantime, we're down here, and I'm watching Lucas hurl his toys all over my newly cleaned basement. Oh, and Kirby's down here, too. So, with all of that in mind, what follows are random observations about being exiled to a basement in East Point, GA:

-"Tommy Boy" is less funny than I remember it.

-Safe Auto Commercials suck on a profound level.

-Instead of taking his toys out of the tub to play with them, Lucas has emptied the entire tub, climbed inside, and is now playing with all the toys within arm's reach of the tub from inside it.

-Getting licked in the armpit by a puppy feels quite strange.

-Kirby is terrified of a dancing puppy toy. This strikes me as very funny.

-I need to find a place to put up our dart board.

-"Every time I drive down the road, I wanna jerk the wheel into a bridge abutment!" would have been so much funnier if he had said something about a drug overdose.

-Apparently I'm being equated to a used microwave upstairs. Hell of a game!

-My son Can't decide if he wants to eat a cracker or a drumstick.

-And now he has discovered the magic of banging that drumstick againt one of the hollow iron support pylons for our house. At least he's not eating it anymore...

-There is a Calendar for 2005 on the wall of our basement. This calendar is courtesy of a chinese restaurant. I would be nice if it were current, or if that restaurant were still in business.

-Everything in this room is free game to be smacked with a drum stick.

-An asthmatic fat guy and a hyper-active two year old dancing like crazy to Dexi's midnight runners. If anyone else were down here I'm pretty sure they'd be laughing their asses off.

-Beer is out. This does not bode well. Fucking Bible belt...

-So much ice cream, so little spoon.

-Midwestern people are funny; as are their accents and dietary selections.

I have about ten minutes of bettery power left, so this is it. Just know that we are still trapped down here. If we don't make it, please tell C I love her and need her more than air, and make sure that no one lame gets any of my instruments.

Pray for me.

My very important thoughts on a show you didn't attend...

And I know you didn't attend it because hardly anyone did, which is just sad, really. I'm feeling self indulgent today. Humor me.

For my birthday, C got me tickets to the Trail of Dead show this past Monday night. Secret Machines and Dropsonic opened up.

Dropsonic: was billed by the masquerade as the best local band in Atlanta. I disagree. Even on the cramped, backlined stage in Hell they could have put forth a little more energy. I will admit their singer's stage banter was pretty funny, but all that tells me is he should be a comic and not a musician. As it was they were an utterly forgettable Muse ripoff.

Secret Machines: were quite good. I don't recall ever hearing them before Monday night, although they apparently have a single in radio circulation. I looked up a few videos of theirs on youtube after the show, and I can say they are much better live than recorded. The performance was bombastic and hypnotic at some points, but much less psychedelic than their records, which in my opinion is a good thing. Sparse lighting and driving pulses of music gave their performance a very high-concept edge. Fun to listen to, but nothing to write home about, really.

...And you will know us by the Trail of Dead: were fucking incredible. Someone told me recently that I use too many adjectives to be trusted, so I will try to keep my exclamations to a minimum here, but good God those boys can rock. First of all, the whole band was mingling with the crowd during the first two bands, which is always cool of a national headliner I think. They played an awesome show, with a good sprinkling of Source Tags and Codes (still their best album) tracks throughout. The show was unbelievably loud, which was entirely expected and appreciated. There is really something to be said for a musical performance so loud your eyeballs shake. The show itself was a nice reminder of how much fun smart punk can be.

My attention span has waned, so I am ending this now.