Man, are you missing some great snow. By the time you claw your way out from under the mountain of depression and bedding the snow will probably have stopped. You should know that it's the fat version of snow. The kind you are lead to believe is gonna be falling on Christmas day when you're a little kid. Unless you grew up in Florida. Nobody there tried to trick you into thinking there would be the fat kind of snow on Christmas morning. Which, being from Connecticut, is pretty freakin' weird to me. Snow was a major motif throughout my childhood. But by the time I got moved to Florida, I was old enough to know that almost everything anyone had ever told me was probably either a lie or misinformation, so I didn't really spend much time wondering what the little kids in Florida got told when they asked their parents what was gonna happen on Christmas since they didn't have any snow or chimneys. Maybe kids in Florida overall get lied to less? And since lying is bad, that must make Florida good. Which pretty much blows up all of my other feelings about life and how mine would have been so much better if I had never been moved to Florida except that I wouldn't have Florida to indiscriminately blame for some of the various shortcomings I suffer from. Some might say that I have at times placed a value add on the state of Florida which is not directly proportional to the consequences of my actions. But lucky for Florida, I don't live there anymore. So Florida doesn't have to feel like I am discriminating against them or any portion of their population while they are busy electing people to run their state who are not interested in living in the 21st century and are only more than happy to do that for them.
In related news, my life's dream of being the oldest living cigarette smoker has been cut short by an indeterminate number of years. Now, I know what you're thinking. And I agree. Three to four thousand dollars a year is a small price to pay for a real quality case of lung cancer. But after 21 years, I guess I've grown impatient. So I quit.
What's that? No, I'm not gonna bore you with a play by play of the withdrawl. Partly because I have trouble spelling the word. And partly because, aside from thinking about how much of a sucker I have been for the better part of, oh my entire adult life, I don't really feel much different. I might be a little more sleepy. And I might have a more consistent level of energy throughout the day. But there's no way to be sure because I've gotten so good at neglecting the way I feel by making sure I looked cool. Anyway, fortunately there are lots of important news stories to read over at the Huffington Post should I get the urge to have a puff.
And speaking of important news, the Casey Shea band will be either opening for or playing after The Prigs tomorrow night at Glasslands. While you're there singing along and dancing along to our good friend and guest drummer Jamie Alegre (The Dig), don't forget to buy a t-shirt and a couple records for your cousins back home. They'll thank you for the music and the clothes. And the Casey Shea band will thank you for the ability to eat.
And speaking of boooooooring! If you know people in any foreign countries, please tell them that the Casey Shea band will be playing with the Wakey! Wakey! band in London, UK later this month at a place called The Bedford and another place called The Relentless Garage. How a garage could get to be relentless is beyond me. Apparently the people in the UK aren't native English speakers. Anyway, if you go looking for the website for a venue called The Bedford in London, UK and then click on the calendar where it says "January 19th, 2011", you might be confused when you see the following listing ...
... But I'm not worried. When Wes Verhoeve says there's a plan, there's definitely a plan.
Mwah!
M
