Reasons For Coughing Blood At 2AM

You know what’s fucking sweet?

Well, lots of shit, but I’m going to regale to you the tales of the last… I’unno, thirty-six hours or so.

So, I’ve moved gas stations, right, lotsa training stuff. Friday was my last training day. Friday night was a ska show in Vancouver. Saturday morning at nine was my first solo day. Those are the parameters. Good stuff.

Charlee jumped on the ska show wagon on Thursday, so super psyched at having someone go to the show with me. I get off work, buy some used boots from the military supply store for twenty five bucks (dude gave me a frequent buyer card, fskin’ sweet), go home and prep, prep… take forever trying to find my skinny tie… ahem. Grab Charlee.

Bit back, I snagged some plaid pants for eleven bucks (five ninety-nine and up rack, shweeet), have my boots strapped on over them. Got me my Popeye shirt, skinny tie, suit jacket (hello Midsummer Night’s Dream and Dropkick Murphys buttons on the lapel) and crazy checked hat. It has storm trooper helmet button, chibi Mickey Mouse button and a Pokémon one. Crazy hat.

Whatever, drive out to Vancouver, new stereo in the car and everything (got it installed Friday morn’).

Parking is ridiculous.

Shark Club, where The Valuables, followed by The Kiltlifters (of whom remind me of some Community Records bands), followed by the headlining Rude City Riot, is two blocks from the library, where Charlee had to do some shit. Pass by Pat (singer of mi hermano’s band), loading shit up into the Media Club, kiddy corner to Shark Club. Library’s already closed. Whooo. Hang ’round and grab some Japanese fast food… mmmmmm, tempura.

Drop off shit, grab tickets just in case, from the Shark, swing by Media Club to watch The Turn set up. That was cool. Charlee hadn’t seen ‘em live ever, yet, so yeah. And we grabbed some free tickets from mi hermano when they were done, farkin’ awesome.

Oh, and then I skank through the madness of The Valuables and Kiltlifters, meet some people, have a lot of fucking fun, hellooooo covers of Bob Marley fok’ yeah, and we grab some swag, drop it off, and Media Club. The Media Club’s like a shoe box, in shape. Bah. Turn’s setting up, find my cousin (s’cool), and friend I knew of his. Listen to some awesomeness, rush back to the Shark for Rude City Riot. Rude. City. Riot. That was awesome. Even Charlee danced some and shit. Farkin’ sweet.

New boots = fuck my feet.

Show ends, one in the morning.

Work Saturday? Nine in the morning.

So I’ve traded numbers and infos with people, which is awesome, met people. Saturday hung with Ren and watched shows and shit (B, double E, double R, U, N, beer run!) ’cause we were both tired, drive her home and Joe comes over for out-of-the-blue late night jam session. Which was sweet. ‘cept I thought I had work at nine in the morning.

I don’t.

I just got home from showing up at nine in the morning.

Got time to read my steel module now, wooo.