Bad With Names
Let's start this one on a downer note....
I was driving home from the gym last night, via the liquor store to buy a 6 pack, and I called my uncle to ask if I could use his washing machine today after work. Well, it was during that phone call that I found out that my grandmother had a mild stroke yesterday morning. Mades the washing machine, liquor store, and thoughts of the perfect ass of a girl that goes to my gym seem a little trite. Thankfully, she seems to be OK, as much as you can be for having a stroke. When I talked to my dad later, he said he'd just left her at the hospital "devouring her dinner." I'm taking that as a good sign. Also, the fact that he said the doctors think it was very mild, and while her speech is slightly slurred right now, otherwise she seems OK.
But it made me think, as these types of things invariably do. My nana is someone who I've (subconsciously until now) felt was my only real grandparent. Both my grandparents on my mother's side passed away before I was born, so I never knew them. And although my grandfather on my dad's side is still alive and vigorously kicking, we've never been nearly as close as me and my grandmother are. So, yeah, this was pretty scary. But fingers crossed, everything seems fine.
...
With that in mind, I did still go out last night. Went over to the Revolution Rock Bar to see Munk play. RRB is a new rock club that's in the odd location of the financial district downtown. It's also way too nice inside to be a rock club. And really, what respectable rock club charges $5 for a Sam Adams? Don't they know we musicians are poor? But the sound in there is good, it's a good sized room (even if it is filled largely with late after work suit and tie types, and the bartenders and waitresses...well, let's just say cream of the crop.
Munk was good, but that's no surprise--he usually is. However, during the show, I ended up chatting on and off with a couple of people that I've obviously met before. But, as per usual, I didn't remember. I'm notoriously bad with names/faces. First the guy starts talking to me, and it's obvious I must know him through Dan and by extension probably the Arden St. house. And Andy knows him as well, and since he also lived at Arden, I'm wondering is this gay roommate Scott? He is acting a little flamboyantly. So just as I decide that yes, it probably is, he mentions how the guitar player from the band after Munk had been hitting on his wife all night. So, no, it wasn't gay roommate Scott. His wife also recognized me from Arden (she said so) and I have no idea who she was either. But if it was from Arden St. then that's really no surprise. Milk was not the drink of choice during those late night parties. No one was too concerned with strong teeth and bones.
...
Ha! You know as much as my job is really only a job to me (as opposed to a "career" or anything), I do still feel an absurd sense of pride when I do something well. And I totally kicked ass on someone's XML this morning. I was all like, "Your delayed reports aren't coming in as delayed reports? Others have been working on it for a day or so and can't figure out why? Let me see that. (5 minutes later) Your problem is (explanation.) BOOYAH! Where's my raise? Send in the pleasure girls, I have a love explosion for them!"
OK, yeah. It's been a long week.
1 Comments:
Sorry to hear about your grandma, but I'm glad she's okay! Grandmas rule!
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