okay, so maybe by “the gap is closing…” that’s not EXACTLY what that means. as far as the magic jeans thing, it’s a kind of jeans with more adjectives then denim (low rise, stretch, boot cut) that my “sister” kathi calls magic jeans because when she puts them on, it looks like she instantly dropped ten pounds. again, NOT the gap i was talking about closing…although the real one involves kathi as well.

long before my current employ, i liked going to concerts. that only got worse when i got into radio and worse still when i got into ticketing. but many of you who have read this page have noticed that a good chunk of my life revolves around “traditions”. i AM a creature of habit, and certain repetitions in life can be a good thing. others can be bad, but i seek to worm those out slowly but surely (most are already gone) but one tradition that exists between me and kathi has to do with the first show i ever went to.

if you want to get TECHNICAL, the first ticketed show i ever went to was sam kinison, at the paramount (where you can find me in the opera box for carlos mencia next saturday, and for george carlin on december sixth) on june 19th, 1987 (my sixteenth birthday). but the first MUSIC concert i went to was almost a year later on may 11th, 1988…omd and depeche mode. and i’ve seen depeche on every pass through texas since.

the first time was with john mark. the second (1990 with nitzer ebb) was with my friend kym (not the person you folks have read about on here with a moniker that includes the phrase “…in training”; one i haven’t spoken to in almost a decade). every one since, regardless of other people (only on one of them, actually) has been with my “sister” kathi. others may join in next time (and are more than welcome) but this is now four shows deep. four tours. four consecutive appearances. the first in austin, and the other three in sa (hemisfair, the alamodome, then vwa). starting back in 1994 and going to summer of 2001. seven years. four shows. all depeche. that’s tradition.

but she’s getting some competition…

junior and tool.

i’ve only seen tool four times TOTAL instead of six. but three of them have been in the last year. and all with junior.

think about THAT a second…three tours through in a YEAR. all with the same person. only one behind and all caught up in twelve months. DAMN.

better hope they’re not on ozzfest next year, huh? or that depeche puts together another album REAL fast. otherwise i guess the crown might be passed. or maybe there’s some dark horse waiting in the wings to blow EVERYBODY away…

but time will tell, i suppose.

best thing about THIS tool show? it was SOBER FREE!!! by that, i mean they didn’t play their “hit” song sober, which i got WAY tired of back when i was doing college radio…not meant in that “i boozed it up” kinda way; ever since i had a wee bit to drink at chacho’s last friday, i kinda swore off the stuff for a week or so. at least i didn’t do anything too embarrassing…or so my sister “kathi” tells me. see, back to the family again. all full circle. well, it’s now damn near two a.m., and time for me to crash.

2020 note – i’ve now seen tool three more times, but never again with junior (twice solo, once with an old friend from my underground days). likewise, i’ve seen depeche mode five more times, but never with kathi (once with alex, three solo, and once with the ufc) so the gap, band wise, has widened…

Replies: 2 Comments

i’m with ya on the magic jeans, girl. oh yes, they DO have mystical powers that not even pilates can match. god bless gap.

elle said @ 11/19/2002 05:30 PM CST

I’m not crazy. You saw it. They ARE magic jeans!!

kathi said @ 11/13/2002 10:01 PM CST

last night, shortly after posting the rather hostile (and pleasantly so) “bitter…” entry, i was just about to fade away (sometimes it’s NOT better to burn out) when i heard a rumbling thud…thinking it was calum and buffie wrestling (calum slamming into the door frame of the utility room can make the same noise) i yelled out, “BOY!!! chill…”, and passed out. this morning i found out i owed calum an apology…a big hug and two biscuits later and i THINK all is forgiven…

last year i got a home equity loan…and the insurance people who came to look at the house had only one request…”lose the branch”. see, i had a tree that had partially dropped a fifteen foot limb on the yard, and i had cut it down (with a hand saw, i might add) and then laid it across my driveway (hehehe…i said “laid”) and waited to borrow a friend’s chainsaw that never arrived, and it just kinda ended up sitting there. well, the tree that did that to me last year has finally decided it needed to go; and not in the direction i thought it would.

on saturday (don’t you just LOVE how my timeline jumps around) i heard sawing and found out my neighbor was getting her trees, and to a degree, some of MY trees trimmed. when i walked out to talk to the guys, and was walking back in, i noticed the half of the fork that had lost that branch a year ago looked totally dead, and hung over a small corner of the house. “shit,” i thought to myself, “that’s gonna go anytime now…i need to just cut that half off, ’cause the MUCH larger (twenty to thirty feet from the main trunk and fifteen inches around) half still looks okay.

now i know why i’m NOT an arborist…

the noise i heard last night was the aforementioned MUCH larger half splitting the trunk right down the middle as it came to a some what airborne resting place…THE ROOF OF MY HOUSE!!! there doesn’t appear to be any damage, but time will tell. a quick call or two found that cost on removal is around $500+; but the more i look at it, the more i’m pretty sure i can do this…i just need three things…a few hours, a friend about my strength level, and a chainsaw…

hello, jim…

the salutation on the phone call once i found out he had the free time…

“dude, just come over…bring the chainsaw…and let’s work out our tensions of the last few years destroying a really big, dead-ass tree. then i’ll buy you lunch…”

fuck dionne warwick…THAT’S what friends are for…power-fueled destruction, fun, and brisket at the end. and then i go to the office, work a bit, get my tool tickets (providing they did make it in today’s mail), and split to sa…do i know how to party or what?

…so, jim arrived around 10:30. chainsaw in hand. i was chilling with copper in the den when i heard the rumble of a diesel engine in the driveway…which was odd, ’cause jim’s truck ISN’T a diesel. it was a tow truck. here to haul that blue piece of shit out of my driveway (those of you who know the story can appreciate this). and here i thought the day couldn’t get any better…

“as we discussed, the city had a hearing and this was declared a ‘j.v.’ (as in junk vehicle…not second string high school athletics); so this man’s gonna haul it away,” said the guy from the city, motioning towards the man in the tow truck.

“how much is it gonna cost me?”, i inquired. “nothing,” he responded…”it’s your tax dollars at work”. “is it wrong to hug another man in public?”, i asked. “well, if you don’t, i’ll get this car out of the way faster,” he fired back.

deal.

then it was chainsaw time…we chewed through the teeth on one chain completely (i bought a new one, though) and it took another of my vacation days since we started at 10:30, but didn’t finish ’till 3:30 in the afternoon. no blood, no tears, but plenty of sweat…partially from the nervousness when we dropped a big limb (about 18 feet and 450 lbs) that i had secured a rope to and i had to put all my weight behind it so it didn’t crush in the corner of my roof (but if they hadn’t moved that car this morning, that would have crushed it. DAMN…maybe i should have told them to come back tomorrow on that…) and partially from when we had to flip over the thick part of the fork that HAD been leaning up against the roof, which was about twelve feet long and twelve inches thick and was still alive and wet enough to weigh about five to six hundred pounds…tilting that up on end and over was just fun.

when it was all said and done, we reduced about a forty foot high tree with significant house-threatening (and fence-threatening) spreadage to a two foot stump. perfect for the leprechaun to perch on as he tells me what to do…

ah, mondays…the day where your job inevitably doesn’t even ask the courtesy “piña colada or wild cherry?” question and simply rams it in ya, prison-style, and trusts that you’re man enough (or woman enough) to take it. my little turking came courtesy of our tech support gent deciding he didn’t wanna work today, so in addition to the calls that lap over onto my extension when he is here, i got all the ones he would occasionally bother to pick up as well. there weren’t a LOT, but there were enough to remind me why i don’t technically (pardon the pun) do tech support here, or anywhere else, for that matter…and also enough to remind me why i didn’t apply for said position…
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so, saturday night i FINALLY go back to work…at a hockey game. and half the crew is new. and it’s puck night. if i EVER needed a drink after work, this would be one of those times…but somehow, someway, it seems i ingested enough booze on friday to effect my digestive system pretty much ALL day on saturday; so i ruled that out, bailed on dinner with junior and amber, and went for something else that sounded a bit more tempting and i could see becoming a tradition…

breakfast and billiards, booze-free

okay, so maybe the “booze-free” part won’t become part of the TRADITION…but a pre-eight ball trip to ihop was nice, plus it let me see two of the stereotypical ihop folks that didn’t make my first list…

1. “the guy”: not “the token gay guy”, you understand…every ihop has one, and he’s usually the manager…he’s always in the short-sleeve, dilbert-style dress shirt with the “i bought this at wal-mart ’cause it looked fun” tie and a gut that reflects he takes full advantage of the free employee meals that managers get. you just get the impression the son of a bitch could SNAP at any second.

2. the reforming club chick: forced into indentured servitude to the pancake gods by her parents who figured if little miss what’s her name is gonna come in at all hours and likes to be up till the sun comes up, she might as well make some money at the same time…and not in that way. don’t get me wrong, she WILL bounce out of there eventually and be available for lap dances at the not-so-clean “gentleman’s club” near the airport within six months or so…but for now, she’s easy to spot as well, by the black bra underneath the required white blouse, and at least one piercing visible…usually an inner ear thing, although occasionally the eyebrow, which they make her cover with a band aid…great, now it doesn’t look she’s into body mod, just that her boyfriend has temper issues. good call.

then it was off to shoot some stick with josh (meant strictly in the billiard sense of the phrase). no humiliation, save for making our ninety pound blonde waitress show that she could break more manly than he could…but this time it wasn’t a shut-out…best of seven, and i won four to three…and it was even and even split there, too…each of us got one in the “win” column by the other sinking the eight too early…all was level. except the volume of the music…that was CRANKED.

shooting pool in texas always has to involve loud music (loud enough to where you can’t hear your mobile phone in your own pocket, unfortunately…but never mind that now), and if you go to the right kinda places where the TVs DON’T outnumber the staff OR the tables, then you’re pretty much assured certain tuneage will be your background…look for:

1. hotel california – the eagles

2. ANYTHING by stevie ray vaughn

3. at least two aerosmith songs

4. at least one current rap song – and if you look around for more than two seconds, you can EASILY spot which patron programmed it in…and a hint. it’s more likely to be the drunk white girl pole dancing with the cue than one of the black patrons egging her on…not that i’m complaining, of course…depending on the size of the white girl, of course.

5. sweet emotion – aerosmith

6. something by AC/DC that the drunken mullet head at the table next to you will try to match vocals on note for note…probably best to avoid breaking your cue over his head, though. for one, it’s a guarantee that you won’t be welcomed back…for two, how long did it take you to find a cue even remotely close to something resembling something that rhymes with straight? don’t let it die like that…

7. country music – but something so commercial, so played, that even i recognize it and can at least join in on the chorus.

8. the ‘what the fuck?’ tune: usually britney or n ‘sync or something that is thrown on either by, or by the friends of, the drunk white girl in number four…either have some ones or some shots ready for this one, too…again, depending on the size of the white girl…

9. the grunge anthem: okay, i admit i kinda like some of this stuff, too…but this is getting back to mullet boy’s pics, coming up on the rotation…it’ll be pearl jam, or soundgarden, or alice in chains…and the cue will become a fender strat for a minute or four…as long as he doesn’t windmill the solo, this can ride out smoothly…

10. the token modern rock song – rage or koRn or disturbed or something else made by angry white people, for angry white people, even if they don’t know why they’re angry…or aren’t completely sure they’re white. but this kinda music is kept to a minimum in pool joints for some reason…

next time you go to do the eight ball thing, see how well i do on this…and out of curiosity, for my foreign readers (i.e. OUT of texas) does this vary? other than brother stevie dropping off the list, of course…i figure that’s more regional…

Replies: 1 Comment

I don’t know whether to be more frightened because you were spot-on, or because the lineup doesn’t even change for karaoke night. (Or so I’ve heard… not that we’d know…)

Posted by kathi @ 11/11/2002 07:35 PM CST

as the days get shorter, they also somehow get longer. i dunno; i guess living out here all by my myself and coming home to an empty (at least, human companion free) home kinda gets lonesome this time of year…but with days like this, you have to find happiness somewhere. and like many a man before me, i have found it in one of the more manly ways…

breaking shit.

yes, while i am thirty-one, slightly over average intelligence (arguably) and college educated, i still get the giddy, boyish tingles when i hear something shatter into something irreparable…as long as it’s not an element of my life or something. not people. not relationships. THAT would suck. i’m talking about material shit.

multiply that by one hundred if it’s stuff that ISN’T mine…

…and by a thousand if it gets to travel distance to impact.

in the words of mike t, “destruction is fun”.

amen, my brotha.

they’re doing some major construction in my building, so they’ve set up this cool, wooden shoot from the second floor to a dumpster slightly down a hill…so, you get some speed going before your “trash” hits something good and solid. so, when you’re doing monitors, or the always explosive keyboards, it’s really, really, REALLY cool. something about breaking shit that isn’t yours makes up for the other bad shit in your day…you get to work out your aggression, you get to hear that magical breaky noise, it’s just all good all around.

which reminds me of the ONE time kramer really let me down.

okay, so there were several…bad predictions about my life that were just horrific. but in the boy’s defense, he has written down the wrong YEAR on my chart config, and since we fixed that the son of a bitch is more accurate than an east coast sniper rifle (ouch). but there was another, non-astrological let down…

being my size guarantees that when your friends move, you will be roped into helping more times than a guy who both drives a truck AND works at a cardboard box factory. for some reason, this only happens with my male friends…female friends, girlfriends, my sister…NEVER a moving request really. guess i know who really loves me, huh? but i digress…

so, when kramer moved into an apartment complex one time (not all of his residences have been of the double-wide variety…he DID once take a stab at a home without axles, but let’s keep that amongst ourselves) we arrived to find that something had been left behind…a very tacky, very brown, vinyl recliner. and he wanted it GONE…which is odd for a chair that could be wiped clean easily if need be, which with kramer’s lifestyle…well…never mind that now. let’s just say it’s a handy feature.

my thought? drop the fucker over the rail of the balcony then pick up the smaller remains and tote them to the dumpster. but he wouldn’t LET me. he didn’t wanna wake his new neighbors. he didn’t wanna look THAT white trash (keep in mind, he WAS moving into a more urban dwelling to try and be, in a phrase, NOT so much of himself…an experiment which obviously failed). my argument was, “how many times do you have the chance to throw a big-ass, ugly-ass chair onto a parking lot from a second floor railing?” but he wouldn’t let me. and the opportunity has never been there since. bastard.

but today kinda made up for it…i don’t know how many of my female readers understood this one, but the guys KNOW what i’m saying. breaking shit is just fun…and when it’s ORDERED by your boss that you do it, it’s even better. because then it’s constructive destruction…and that means you did right by kinda doing wrong. you’re satisfying your bad boy and good boy sides…the yin, the yang, the…okay…i have taken this WAY farther than it needed to go. it’s always a bad sign when i babble to the point of annoying myself, isn’t it?

Replies: 4 comments

yeah, i read on friday that christina aguilera smashes stuff to relieve tension and stress…kinda like she’d probably feel when she sees how badly i spelled her last name…but she hasn’t told us where her other two piercings are, so what do i owe her? come on, christina…show me yours and i’ll show you mine…

Posted by sean (i write this stuff) @ 11/11/2002 07:11 PM CST

some chicks like breakin’ stuff too. nothing like a satisfying *crunch* or *crash* or even better, a *shatter*.

Posted by topenga @ 11/11/2002 06:09 PM CST

i’m right there with ya brother.breaking shit rocks!

Posted by shane @ 11/11/2002 05:14 PM CST

Double-wide life rocks! I’m with Kramer!

Posted by Porn Star @ 11/10/2002 12:11 AM CST

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so, this was my monday part ii…and by that, i don’t mean this is about monday, just that tuesday seemed like another monday. so, after a lightweight dinner and heavyweight booze (texas road house actually has margaritas bigger and quite possibly STRONGER than chacho’s…still don’t know if they’re worth the $16 they charge, but they were pretty fucking good) i head home to a dry spell…

now, the term “dry spell” is not meant as some criticism of my sex life, you understand…it’s meant LITERALLY. allow me to explain (who’s surprised?)

on her last “bender” through the house (and hopefully THE last, but never mind that now) copper did some docu-shredding again, this time to some mail, which was all worthless junk mail, political ads, and the utility bill.

on that note, allow me to add that i went out last night, in part, to celebrate election day being behind us…i have NEVER been so slammed with political bullshit since i left the hightower show a couple of years ago. when i stayed up at the office late on monday, i called the house to check messages around seven and found i had SIX…five of which were prerecorded “vote for me” messages. rest assured NONE of those motherfuckers got my vote…but i digress…

so, the utility bill was due on the first, but what with koRn and halloween and all it just didn’t happen. when i went to drop a check for it this weekend, i couldn’t find the bill but discovered it’s remains up under the couch; though not enough to get the amount…thus kinda reinforcing my decision to ban her from full house access when i’m not at home. i figured since we were out of the summer months, the bill couldn’t be much over two hundred, if that, so that’s what i wrote the check out for.

well, due to the size and assumed ferociousness of my canine tribe, the city doesn’t read my electric meter…i do. and when i forget to turn in my slip, they just guesstimate what they figure it should be, which in this case was WAY heavy, and my september bill was $231.

how do i know this with no bill?

well, when i got home from my late office night and many political messages i discovered a notice of pending disconnect saying i owed $231, but in little letters added “plus 10% late fee”, thus making it $254. if you’re LESS than fifty bucks in the hole to the city, they float you…more, and they disconnect you. i didn’t know this. i figured i was floatable. especially with the highlighted phrase “if you’ve already paid or made arrangements please disregard this notice”, and since their balance didn’t reflect the check i had dropped off, i figured i was actually okay.

then came tuesday night…LATE tuesday night.

i get home and due to the vast lake of booze i had sucked out of the world’s largest margarita glass, i had to hit the head. once nature’s call was answered i hit the handle and got no response. “fuck, my toilet’s broken” i thought, and wandered out to take care of the dogs. i got them food, played with them a bit, but decided freshening up their water would be a good call. i dump out the half bowl they have, turn the kitchen faucet, and NOTHING.

NOW this REALLY sucks.

i go out to my front door (which i never use save for when food’s delivered) and there’s a disconnect notice. it says i owe the $54…PLUS a $25 re-connect fee…PLUS a $150 deposit. grand total $229. will you be using pina colada or wild cherry scent to lube me up for this one? so i had to use my jug of ozarka to take care of the dogs and brush my teeth, and then passed out. the only semi-good thing was i thought the city offices opened at 8:30 (it was actually 8:00) so i slept in a bit…but i still think this was pretty fucking ridiculous….although not as bad as some of the $1000+ debts that i’ve seen austin folk run up to their utility company over a period of MONTHS; try that in lockhart sometime…i DARE you.

yesterday i went and saw the movie jackass. when i saw the mtv show was being made into a movie, i had NO interest. hell, i don’t think i’ve ever made it all the way through one of the shows…how the fuck am i supposed to make it through a ninety-minute movie? this point was re-emphasized about half way through the intro scene. TONS of laughter all through the theater…and i was just sitting there. “am i THAT old?”, i wondered. “am i THAT out of what’s funny today?”

nope…just had to wait a bit.

by the end of it, my face hurt i laughed so much. i can’t tell you ANY of the names of the jackass crew, with he exception of the three i knew going in (johnny, steve-o, and wee man) but other than that i have new found respect for these folks and their own version of “art”. okay. NOW i sound old. so, fuck it, i’m gonna ruin a scene for you…

he stuck a hot-wheels car in his ass.

one of the guys, who’s name i can’t remember, put a little blue corvette in a condom, lubed up generously, and parked it somewhere i can only hope the artist formerly know as the artist formerly known as prince never parked a little red one…but let’s face it, he probably has. then he went and got x-rays done.

“i was partying with some frat boys and passed out…i haven’t been able to walk right ever since”.

upon discovering what was “lodged” in the place where only the most trained of customs agents (or hookers) can find it, the doctor phoned a colleague (or his wife..but someone) and was explaining what he was looking at and getting kinda creative with the history of said photo. then he came out to tell the young, sick lad, what to do….

“go to the doctor (sorry, guy…and you would do WHAT for a living, again?)…tell no one. (points at cameraman) he already knows…that’s one TOO many.”

good to know he was as concerned about the boys rep as the boys ass.

and that’s just one segment.

so, if you’re that part of the population that laughs at people when they bust their ass (approximately 92%, by my estimation…figuring in the sightless and all) then you’ll enjoy this one. and you don’t even need to do the courtesy of stopping to make sure their okay. ’cause if they WEREN’T, it would have ended up on the cutting room floor. which brings to mind another, more scary thought.

what bonus footage will the dvd contain?

a wet, grey, slightly nippy saturday night. perfect get stoned and fuck like bunnies kinda weather. unless, of course, you’re spending the evening alone like i was. then that plan doesn’t quite work; thus enter josh (no, not that we’re THAT kinda friends…that whole “both of us are straight” think kinda hinders that, thank christ) so it was off for that more tame of manly evenings…pool, booze, and mexican food. the latter of which was just a cabana closer, so never mind that now…

what i learned was that with the right mix of booze and smoking i can absolutely wipe up the table with josh. that was nice (sorry, boy, but it was). then after two hours of slaughtering him at eight ball, it was off to cabana. and that’s where it hit me.

my mind can be a dangerous thing. sometimes things just pop into it for no reason and this is typically where they end up. last night a phrase went through my head and i thought to myself, “man, it would suck to hear THAT on a first date…in fact, that would kinda make it a last one, too”. and from there, it was on.

so here’s your sunday six pack (a couple of them, by the time i was done): a list of things that if they come out of her mouth on the first date, it probably needs to be the last one, too…for that matter, i should hope this stuff doesn’t clear the lip line EVER…

1. the waiter’s cock. but hey, at least it SHOULD mean you get the meal for free…and if not, with skills that poor it should have been the last date anyway…

(oh wait…i meant for this to be things she SAYS on the first date…my bad. let’s start over)

1. “you’re the first guy i’ve been on a date with since i…you know…’got out’ and all”.

2. “another beer? hell yeah!!! my sponsor says i need to slow down but what the fuck does she know?”

3. “…and that’s how i learned the difference between an ‘indictment’ and a ‘conviction’.”

4. “oh shit…i think that’s the guy that used to be my pimp.”

5. “they are SO not kidding when they talk about how addictive that heroin shit is…”

6. “you’re not a cop, are you? ’cause if you are, you HAVE to tell me since i asked…”

(and as a bonus)

7. “i think that busboy was one of the guys that tried to help me break that gang-bang world record…”

(okay, so that last one might not really be the kiss of death…)

here’s a six pack of things to LOOK for; but let’s be honest about the possibilities of life going this well for you, ya know?

1. “i NEVER do anal…well, not on the first date at least…”

2. “and so when my eighty-nine year old uncle jasper dies, that distillery is all mine…”

3. “you’re the first guy i’ve really felt attracted to since i switched to mainly being a lesbian”

4. “i KNOW they look fake, but they’re really real…check ’em out.”

5. “it might just be the margarita talking, but my room mate tyfany’s been looking for a guy for us to have a threesome with, so if you’re not in a hurry to make it home…”

6. “and since that little mishap getting my tonsils removed when i was thirteen, i have no gag reflex at all…”

(oh yeah…and the bonus for THIS half…)

7. “my birthday…my mom’s birthday…and my dad’s birthday. six little numbers, one little lotto ticket, and now i never have to work again…”

Replies: 3 Comments

quit over-analyzing & take what you can get… ;)~

😜said @ 11/04/2002 10:43 PM GMT

but see, that could be numero ocho on either list…if the girl’s wanting to practice on YOU, that’s a very good thing…but if she’s implying you know how to GIVE a killer blowjob, well; that’s just wrong…

sean M said @ 11/04/2002 09:50 PM GMT

8. “i think i need pointers on how to give a better blow job. would you help me out with that? i mean, practice makes perfect, right???”

😉 said @ 11/04/2002 05:25 PM GMT

so, there’s some comedian, or movie, or whatever that josh tends to quote about not being “that guy”. as in the guy who goes to the show and is ALREADY wearing the shirt of the band that he’s going to see. don’t be “that guy”, he says. well, apparently your average koRn fan hasn’t heard that bit, because i swear about 5,000 of the 9,000 and some change at the show i worked last night were wearing koRn shirts…
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