A lot of women buy shoes or something to cheer themselves up.
I buy books and music.
Which, can be an expensive habit this time of year when the weather is so fucking blah you want to poke people’s eyes out with a spork just to kill a few minutes of time ‘til the spring Equinox.
Which means I buy a lot of used books and CDs.
I couldn’t find any of the brickpit recommendations I was looking for, which was sad.
But then I got all happy to find a CD by a band called Fu Manchu I know my boss/friend Matt at work listens to and I know the great libboy is all ga-ga about because he’s just looooooves that “classic 70's stoner-guitar fuzz rock sorta-metal masterpiece about boogie vans and surfing” stuff.
Do you think libboy might own secretly his very own a Boogie Van with a surfboard rack on top and a ethereal Unicorn Mural on the side?
Anyway, the point is while I was perusing the used CD bin, I came upon a Reigndance CD.
Reigndance, yo, Reigndance.
You know, that crappy grungy band that fellow Andre (you know, Andre, New York cast – all that hair?) from the very first Real World was in?
The band that was supposed to be catapulted to Super Rock Star status by this new and edgy never before seen reality programming called The Real World?
Anyway, I found the CD which made me snicker but then I bust out into all out laughter when I picked it up and looked at the cover and scribbled in that unmistakable sharpie style was:
Have a better time next time.
It was autographed. people. Personlized. And now in the used bin. That’s not surprising, because there music was sucky - but trading in your personalized Reigndance CD for like, an O-Town single?
Didn't that 2-3 minutes with Andre looking into your eyes, scribbling your name mean anything to you? I mean, he signed it love and everything!
Damn, Mary-Kate. That’s just stone cold.