April 04, 2005 - 4:23 pm
My laptop went poop the other week so we had to wipe her clean and now I'm still downloading things and realizing how many special settings I have that I have to reset. Grrr...
In other news, things are going well. I'm kinda super freaked out about how in the hell I'm going to get everything done. Damnit. C'est la vie. Things at work are good. I got Kim a job after the whole Peter debacle. She needs people and money right now, so I figured da club was the perfect place for her. I was right.
Speaking of da club...
About twice a month or so an act comes to da club that is really memorable. Sometimes it's because they put on such a fun show I'm glowing with happy all night (Lady Sunshine, Joe Weaver), sometimes they're such awesome, talented people that you just feel lucky to meet them (Sheila Jordan, Fathead Newman), and sometimes it's because they're just..um...well. Hrm.
Last Saturday we had Michael Wolff and his band, Impure Thoughts. I didn't really get to meet them before the show, so the first part of the night was really pleasant. They are pretty good and Wolff's past comedy experience makes for good transitions. I did meet the bassist (who was so sweet he made my heart grow two sizes too big) and the drummer (also pretty awesome), and briefly met Wolff between sets, so I figured they were pretty cool guys.
Except for the tables (teeny little indian drums, way cool) player. I saw/smelled him from afar. He had a horrible combover and body odor that could kill a pair of oxen on a warm day. He drank Black Label all night and was slurring and hugging people (the horror!) by the end of the night.
Anyhow, I thought it was weird that they only had tank tops for sale, and that they had a pair of Wolff's eyes on them and said "Impure thoughts" and all that. Until I saw what happens when Wolff gets some wine into him...he turns into a supercreep with tics.
I was going to title this entry "Michael Wolff is a creep," but I don't think he deserves specific mention in this category. After all, the world is filled with Kerry Kochers, right?
Anyhow, he offered Lauren and I free tank tops, but kept trying to get us to try them on for him. I informed him kindly that "we're not a Hooters, buddy!" and that my boss would "stab him with the sheer pointiness of her fury if he didn't lay off of it. It was hard to be serious, though, because when he's not playing or singing, he has pretty bad tics. Afterwards he parked himself at the end of the bar and kept trying to convince Lauren to go to the Vu with him. When she kept bringing up the fact that he has a wife and kids, he was like "I'm on the road." *tic*
It was one of the only times I've seen Susan stay at the club that far past the end of the set when she wasn't playing chauffeur. I guess she didn't trust awesome sweetness of the drummer and bassist to counter the body odor and creepiness of the other dudes.
Thank you Susan. Thusan.
