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Went to see Jerm at the Carousel Lounge again last night. Jerm was in fine form, but he also had another performer (who I won't name) doing a set in between his. Oh, jesus. I was convinced that we had died in a car crash on the way over, and we were in Hell, listening to this terrible parody of a folk singer do the same song over and over again. I wasn't planning on drinking much that night - the Carousel only serves beer, but you can bring your own liquor - but, damn, was I happy that Dave had brought a bottle of Bushmills. A big bottle. By the end of the night, an empty bottle.
After the show, we consoled ourselves with some warm glazed donuts from Mrs. Johnson's, went home and zonked right out. This morning, so hurting. Pretty useless all day today; I tried plunking away at w3x (my little web-based issue tracker), worked on a little web scam, and watched some Zatoichi, which rules. Also tried to figure out what we're doing with the back yard, which is turning out to be a larger debate than I had expected. Maybe we should just turn it all over and let what grows there, grow. Bah.(June 22, 2003 08:41 PM)