Yesterday, work was so mind-numbingly dull, conversation turned to planning my good friend/boss/cube mate Matt’s upcoming birthday.
I’ve taken it upon myself to make sure people know they are coming to Rock. Out.
And you know what that means: Bouncy House, yo, Bouncy House!
Seriously, they have enough room for it in that big ass back yard of theirs, and it is fairly inexpensive – so what’s to think about?
Well, except for one thing. Our friend Tom’s helping me out with the plans, so I brought up the Bouncy House idea and he was all, “fuck yeah!”
But Tom being Tom - as usual - needed to take a good idea and run with it one step further…
“Yeah! And we can get strippers, too! Wait, how about strippers in the Bouncy House!”
I humored him and I rolled my eyes a little bit and all the time imagining the sign we’d have to post outside:
Because suddenly my head was filled with sounds of:
Pop … pop!
Pop. Pop! Poppopopop!
And then a lot of screaming as be-thonged women in pasties and fake violet contact lenses got their stilettos stuck in the plastic floor of the Bouncy House trapping them like cockroaches on those sticky roach-paper traps unwilling to jump ship and leave their heels behind.
And I was all, “Jesus Christ Tom, that’s a terrible idea. I’d want to get my deposit back. Sheesh.”
Some people just don’t see the big picture, you know?
So, after my last entry, in one of those IM conversations the kids are always having mister bee accused me of smoking the pot and listening to the Floyd like some 70’s dorm room throwback experience and I was all “yeah, that’s me, ann-frank sitting in the dark shower just grooving to The Floyd man, getting ready to throw the hair dryer in the tub to see what kinda laser show I get going. And man, those water proof wrapping papers are a fucking miracle.”
And err, I meant “rolling papers”.
Which should tell you people how much I am into The Pot these days.
Speaking of hippies, my pal Macy’s dragging me off too see a bunch of Jam Bands tonight. She said she’d go to see the jsbx with me but I would have to go see her favorite band in the whole world with her sometime.
And they just happened to be playing this weekend.
And although her favorite band in the whole world is not a Jam Band, they are playing sandwiched between a couple of fairly popular Jam Bands which means we will be sandwiched between many different worlds.
Mainly patchouli drenched neo-hippies trying to get their groove on and guys in backwards baseball caps trying to seduce girls sporting tube tops into a make-out session on their Lincoln Park Party Couches.
Okay, okay. I haven’t even gone yet. There’s a wee bit of a chance I could be you know, exaggerating. And this makes my pal Macy look unlike the supercool lady she really is and just because I am not into the Jam Band/Party Couch scene I should really be more tolerant.
And I am. Sheesh, I mean, I am going after all, right?
The things I do for my jsbx.
Good gravy, y’all.