As is the usual way of Seattle, I headed to the Mike Doughty show alone last night and ran into people that I knew. Those people were Holli and Casey, who I ran into at the last Mike Doughty show at Neumos, and who are together now and cuter than a whole mess of buttons. We then came across two more of their friends, and at Holli's behest squished all five of us into the photo booth at the Showbox.
Dear Mike Doughty,
Thanks for coming to visit us again. How come you weren't wearing your hat?
I have to ask you not to play the Showbox again. It's too big for Small Rock. Small Rock just kind of disappears in ceilings as high as those. Also, we were pretty spoiled here in Seattle by the Bumbershoot performance of "Hungry Like the Wolf". Please play "The Gambler" forever.
But seriously, the Firetruck/It's Raining Men remix was just freaking amazing. You could tell who in the room had listened to "Smofe and Smang" because the people who hadn't were just plain confused. If you ever find yourself in need of a tambourine player, you know who to call.
love,
me
I have been a total slug today, and so instead of doing all of the things I'd planned to do, like go buy milk to make soup, I'm going to stay home and eat pizza. I'm actually a little fuzzed about going out right now because I'm still a little tweaked about the crazy late night doorbell ringing incident--even though I know who it was and that he's harmless, and I wouldn't have answered the door anyway, well...in the end I'm still a single girl who lives alone and it would be a couple of days before people noticed I was missing. And that's not something particularly fabulous to be reminded of. So if you need me I'll be at home, willfully not cleaning my apartment or cooking.
(Also, you should know that Cat and I are famous. And that even cool people appear in public with major fashion don'ts sometimes.)
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