Bad News....

So, as expected Saturday turned into a complete shit show.  3+ hours in the sun, at a baseball game, drinking before, during and after.  Lousy game, they lost.  Seats were pretty good.  So after the game we head over to Cambridge to catch the show.  Stop on the way for a Red Bull and get to the Lizard Lounge a little early.  Who cares, what the hell else do we have to do.  Shoot the shit with Max (the bass player who's a friend of a friend).  Send a quick text to L2 to see what she's up to.  I know she's busy but I figure what the hell, worth a shot.  She texts back the she's in NH and can't come (obviously).  

So the opener is a band that doesn't have a singer.  No one sings for their entire set and they basically play elevator music on an organ, a drum kit and a bass.  It was more than a little bit painful.  I feel bad saying it, but honestly unless you're like this super awesome jazz band (which they indeed were not) get a singer and don't play elevator music.  I had been in the sun drinking all damn day and it was everything I could do to try to stay awake.

The Amity Front came on and played a good set.  We were right next to the "stage" at the Lizard Lounge (which means just off of the carpet where the musicians stand) and got a little friendly chat going with Max and the guitar player between songs.  When their set was done we urged them to play an encore, but they informed us that they were not allowed.  The band that followed had their amps and distortion too loud for a venue that small and basically blasted us out of our seats.  This was a good thing though, because at this point we'd moved on from beer to shots of vodka.  Thats right.  Shots. Of. Vodka.  Apparently the Russians are rubbing off on me.

I remember leaving the bar.  I remember getting in a taxi, but that's about it.  I'm thinking I MAY have given my cabbie WAY too much money.  But I really don't know.

At any rate, I apparently made it home.  I woke up with most of my clothes on, facing the wrong direction on my bed with my cell phone at my feet.  I took stock of my situation.  Wallet.  Check.  Credit cards. Check.  Phone. Check.  Phone.....fuck.  Who did I call?

I had 10 missed calls from the Russian at 230 AM and one call that I PLACED to the Russian at 145.  Details are sketchy, but I gather I called her and invited her over, and then passed the fuck out before she got here.  I texted an apology the next day, and she said she understood and didn't care.  I'm not convinced that is the truth, but in all honesty my transgression may be a blessing in disguise.

That is pretty bad though.  I also found a call that I placed to someone I had NO business calling at that time of the morning, and I can only hope that she didn't pick up because I can't even imaging what I would have said to her.....The good news?  No calls to L2, or anyone else that I really care about for that matter.

Million Dollar Invention: Cell Phone with a breathalyzer.  This way if you blow above a 0.1 you can't call people.  I would buy this.  You would too.  You know it.

Spent yesterday on my couch recovering.  Feeling a little down about...well everything, but I'm thinking it has a lot more to do with the amount of alcohol I ingested this weekend than anything else.

Today I have to call all of my cousin's shit head friends about his bachelor party.  I called them all 2 weeks ago and they were all supposed to get back to me to tell me whether or not they're coming.  No one has.  I can't tell you how much this irritates me.  But now I need to call them all again and pretend I'm not irritated or mad or anything else.  And if they're all cheap pricks and say they can't roll with the bachelor party plan?  Well then I'm going to have to think of something else, because no doubt they won't be offering any ideas.

Wish me luck.