|
|
McDude's Kind of CoolTo old for a four way |
|
� �
|
� 2005-03-03 - 10:44 p.m. I arrived at the Oasis before the Futureheads show. G-money hands me a beer as I walk into the kitchen. I hear him say, �So!� as I grabbed the beer. This could have gone on for a while, but I decided to end it by asking if �So!� was his new catch phrase, or if I owed him an apology for something. He quickly informed me that he said �What�s Up�. He just said it so quickly it sounded like �Tsup�. But it sounded like �So� to me. We then said it back and forth to see who could say it so it sounded like, �So� and �What�s up�. We soon left to find a cab. Talkshow his two St. L friends were going as well as G-Money and myself. We decided to take one cab. Of course Mr. Anderson the smallest guy gets in the front seat. That left the remaining four of us to cram into the back seat. At what age is it no longer cool to cram 4 guys into the back of a cab? It�s not like we couldn�t afford to take separate cabs. Talkshow and his slender friend Butch fit nicely on the driver�s side of the hump. However my stocky ass and G-money didn�t fit as nicely on the passenger side. G-Money sat on my right leg, as I had to rest my arms along the back of the seat around G-money and Butch. My back was aching and my shoulder began to hurt. We were in the cab for only 15 minutes and it was absolutely miserable for about 10 of it. It was all for nothing because G-Money didn�t have a ticket and when we arrived the show was already sold out. So he immediately hopped in a cab to return to the Oasis. While we were waiting for the show to begin I reached up to scratch my eye and noticed how you can see the outline of your fingers and also what�s behind it. I often imagined as a child that it was x-ray vision. I imagined mastering my x-ray skill and using it to solve crimes and peep into the ladies room. Now I can only use it for a conversation time killer. I brought it up to the crew and soon they held up their hands following my lead and said, �yep!� Forty seven seconds successfully killed. There always seem to be several short girls at the shows I go to. Short would be 5 feet or less. I counted at least 10 girls that were less than 5 feet tall at the show. One hundred and eighteen seconds killed. I�m sure there is a good sociological explanation. After the show started a girl that reminded me of my ex started hopping and singing while pumping her fist in the air. She stuck out among the heads merely nodding to the beat. I then daydreamed her as a young child. I pictured her as a four year old jumping and twirling to her mother�s music as her mother laughed and encouraged her. Now she can�t listen to music without exaggerated movements. She probably felt the need to move so much to let everyone know that she was a huge fan, that she dug the songs more than the rest of us. That�s cool I guess. If she was such a hug fan she should have arrived earlier to get a spot near the stage. My struggles lately at work made the following lyrics hit home. Like this entry? Vote for me here!
|
