"Vintage Frames Tend to be Brittle"

This weekend was fucking non-stop. Well, Friday was a waste. Work has been weird, Leanna is a psycho but why does that come as a surprise? Her and her mom Lisa haven't been showing up since Thursday when Leanna had a meltdown triggered by... wait, I'm not really sure. All I remember is her calling different people, crying, and then giving me a hard time. But it was a snow day! I slept in until 11:30, downloaded the Los Campesinos! record (please, get it), went to work sometime... We closed early and then I rented Michael Clayton which I haven't gotten through yet... but I want to. I napped at some point too, but I forget where. Mr. Tischler lent me The Story of B and that's been a crazy kind of ride.

I stayed up too late that night and after five hours of sleep, Saturday morning headed into Wilmington for the mock trial tournament. The whole thing was unnerving and I left shaking. The one testimony I got to deliver was cut short by the prosecution attorney during his cross of my character... He was a fucking asshole and I refused to shake the whiny prick's hand. All the while I'm trying to get together last minute details for Alex's surprise party...

Which was fucking successful (surprisingly.) I even had one beer. A lot of people showed up, Alex was surprised (but he expressed it in typical Alex fashion - awkward silence. We love you for it.) TV Dinner performed and we were spot fucking on... best show yet. I have to do more down there. It was a fun night, lots of chit chat (the good kind) and warfare. Thanks everyone for input/help/coming. There was a sleepover, we watched Bottle Rocket. I sweated through my sleep and woke up disgusting at around ten til twelve.

We watched videos on Youtube (like usual) until 12:30 when I realized, shit, I need to be at the courthouse in an hour Christian seeya later, Alex wait here I'm taking you home because I have to go to Hockessin to give Liz her mix and to say a quick hello anyway. I made it to the 1400 block of King Street in time to find out that... we were prosecution so my presence wasn't even needed anyway. I sat it out though, in the jury box, bored as a cardboard box until five o'fucking clock. Brads picked up a gavel and I'm proud of him. The last thing I felt like doing was going to see the Loved Ones.

I drove home (In Utero) after saying fuck this to the parking garage rebate line. My dad offered to drive to Philadelphia, thank books, and Mimi unloaded our two extra tickets on Matt Pannell and Andrew Peters, two Oxfordians I haven't seen in maybe a year. I still wasn't all that excited. We got there, the First Unitarian Church, Amateur Party played... they were good. Wawa, coffee, finally got excited. I was cool and talked to Mike Sneeringer (drummer of LO) without being like OHMYGOD!, something that is very hard for me to do (remember that time the Chariot were in Repo Records? Yeah.) He was buying a Red Bull and was telling me about vintage frames. We both have the same plan for our Ray Ban Wayfarers! Ergs were good, didn't play "Ben Kweller." Gaslight Anthem surprisingly impressed me and made me realize something. They said that they were psyched we could still do shows in a church basement, ten years running, without ever being shut down. R5 fucking rules, they run an amazing ship. They've brought me some of the best (music-related) times of my entire existence and brought me into a whole new world. I'm really thankful for that whole fucking operation. The Loved Ones, wow, they really bring out the punk rock in me (erm...) I stagedove two songs in and pissed off no one. I sang along when I knew the words (Mimi knows every fucking one)... throughly enjoyed every minute of their set. I think they did too. I saw Ron from fucking Veneva and we talked. He's so nice. I do miss that band.

Thank God for Philadelphia, Punk Rock and Dave Hause,
Joe