Cranberry Sauce
I went to the Bright Eyes concert at Constitution Hall on Friday. The music was amazing, of course. However, concert etiquette needs to be established. I don’t care if you stand the whole time. You can dance. You can pretty much do anything except two things. One: Don’t get up from your seat and push your way down the aisle every 15 minutes. If you do this, everyone will hate you. Two, and most importantly: Don’t yell out the names of songs. If you paid more than five dollars to get in, the band is not taking requests. Even if you got in for free and it’s at a 3,500 seat theatre, the band is not taking requests. They are beyond that stage. If you realize that and you still yell out song titles, you are an idiot. People do it though. They compete to see how obscure they can get. Great. You have Kazaa. We’re proud of you.
I had my first On-Demand experience on Saturday night when I watched Ammityville Horror. That movie was stupid. If you’re looking into utilizing the On-Demand this weekend, do the universe a favor and don’t watch this movie. It will only anger you, and then you’ll complain about it to your friends, which will make them complain that you’re whining to them. It will be a vicious cycle. Don’t watch it.
I did an open mic at
I was recently reunited with the sunglasses that I’m wearing on my homepage. We were separated for several months, but now we’re back together. So, you don’t need to worry about that situation any longer.
I’m performing at the AOL Holiday Party on 12-3 with Adam Ferrara. If you work there, I’ll see you then. If you don’t work there, I think their application process takes longer than a week, so you may be out of luck.
Have a great Thanksgiving.

1 Comments:
I didn't get to the concert, but I did run into the Bright Eyes crowd on the Metro back from it. It's sad how in less then a year and a half the crowd has gone from primarily well educated young adults to legions of 16 year old girls with fucking braces and matching Bright Eyes tote bags. I'm not kidding, because I had to see that shit with my own eyes. As if Conor Oberst isn't chronically depressed enough already. Whatever; he's making mad bank nowadays.
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