Smile Politely

Let the sausage juices drip down your arm

I don’t know about you, but I’m glad last week is over. It was fun seeing bands and getting liquored up and talking to some people I haven’t see for a while, but that Pygmalion festival can really wear a person out. Don’t get me wrong, it was great while it lasted, but it’s also probably a fine deal that I have a job and therefore can’t play grab ass all day every day and just have fun. My old ass can’t take it anymore.

I’ve taken a more holistic approach so far this week, replacing Red Bull and vodkas with beer and trying to get to bed before three in the morning. So far it’s worked, but I have a bad feeling about this weekend, since I can usually only hold down the beast for five days or so without getting bored.


This is in no particular order or anything, because you know, forming a narrative can be tough and I’m just not quite up for that sort of deal.

There was a moment watching Hum where I thought to myself, “Man, I wish Matt (Talbott) was here. He would really enjoy this band.” I quickly realized he was actually in the band, but still, it’s not like he’s ever seen it from the vantage point I had. Either way, I decided I was just then feeling the effects of the two cans of Red Bull I thought were a good idea to drink … and possibly the effects of the seven or eight whiskeys I’d guzzled before I actually got around to the energy drinks.

I’m just going to say it. I’m not a big fan of pouring shots into my beer. I am, however, a big fan of any bathroom that is labeled simply “shitter.”

It was nice to see the guys from Dinosaur hanging around after their show. I saw J. watching the Big Freedia show, which I must say, was pretty weird. I also saw Murph hanging out on the back patio for a while. I’m sure most people in other cities just call him Murph, but in Champaign, I feel obligated to call him “the other Murph.”

“Wagon” is still a great Dinosaur Jr. song and the album it’s on, Green Mind, is still as good as the first time I heard it.

I think my buddy, Ward, would agree, but maybe not. There was a time on Saturday night when he was about a quarter of a second away from pouring a beer over his head. The only thing that saved him from the beer bath was that he didn’t happen to be holding a beer at that particular moment.

Come to think of it, I thought he looked somehow different.

I really like rock shows that last about an hour. The longer ones are great, but my attention span just doesn’t play along some of the time.

I should really never drink Red Bull and vodka again. Obviously, this isn’t the first time I’ve said this, but I invariably end up feeling terrible the next day. The taste inside my mouth is not a carnival either. It’s like a pack of rats ingested a movie-sized box of Sweet Tarts, ran it through their infested intestines, and then crapped what was left into my mouth as I slumbered.

Thankfully, switching gears, here’s my favorite picture of the weekend, Eric and Oscar enjoying a little of the Dinosaur Jr. Please enjoy it for the sentiment and not the quality of the photo.

Vodka Ronnie, or possible Ron Mexico, burned my finger with a cigarette on Saturday. I always get those two guys confused. I’m not sure if they are real, or even the same person. The blister on my finger, however, was very real and also kind of sore on Sunday. He made up for giving me a third degree burn with buying me a shot of tequila, which I was totally fine with at the time.


Actually, I could have used that title to talk about most of the Hum shows I’ve been to, but since there were several ladies at the last one, it’s not quite as appropriate, so instead, I’ll mention something else. I got some sausage from my pal, Josh, over the weekend and let me tell you, he really knows his stuff. He had a bunch of different items, but I opted for some spicy Italian and also some Lap Cheong.

It was a delight, to say the least. After I had the packages in hand, I sped home and threw them on the grill, which was already prepped and hot. About twenty minutes later I was a very happy man. The only incident to mar the festivities was when a sausage broke and showered my arm with its hot, savory juices. Fortunately, I licked most of it off before it could form yet another blister.

Wow, that whole last section seemed sort of dirty, even though it really wasn’t.


When I was a kid, I was scared pissless of Turkish prisons after I saw a movie called Midnight Express. After seeing this little clip, I’m now also scared of Turkish movies about anything. Is it the best death scene ever in a film? Is it the worst? Doesn’t really matter; it’s just great. Also, it apparently takes forever to actually die over there in Turkey. I had no idea.

I didn’t overact that badly when I was playing cops and robbers as a kid. In case you’re wondering, I was usually a robber. Go figure.


  • Baseball playoffs start tomorrow. One game to decide your future is really strange, but even stranger to me is that I’m at the point where I actually like Chipper Jones. Seriously, I used to hate that freaking guy and now gradually over five or six years I sort of like him. His real name is Larry. Priceless.
  • Taking three dogs to the vet on the same day is not a good idea unless you want to be really tired and in a pissy mood for the rest of the day. Our vet is swell though.
  • Hey, it’s only three months until Christmas. Wow, there really never is a good time to stop drinking.

Buona sera, senorina, kiss me goodnight.

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