Dismantle Me

Yo, I'm still sick. I even had a mild fever tonight, but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from going to the Distillers show that I walked all across town to get tickets to. So I just got back, and, you know, it was okay. They'd rigged up this ill-conceived set involving red fairy lights and dangling mannequin body parts that I guess was supposed to echo the concept behind their new album, but, you know, any kind of mannequin art ends up looking pretty stupid. They seemed to be pretty proud of it, though. Brody looked like a hotter version of Barbara Ramone -- hot. Their set was pretty okay. They sounded almost exactly like they do on the album, which is lame -- it's always cooler when the band plays their set a lot faster or the singer sings it different or something. Definitely a lot of steakheads in the audience, also a lot of young girls with they moms. About 10 people got pulled onto the stage and herded out of the place for crowd-surfing.

Courtney Love showed up halfway through their set, a couple of thirteen-year-old girls scraming "Courtney!" in tow, and walked right by me up the stairs. She's actually not too hard on the eyes. And I thought I saw my friend Chris pushing through the crowd in front of me at one point, but it turned out to be some hipster doofus with the same haircut he used to have. I kind of miss that guy.

When I first got to the place, I had to pee real bad, so I went straight to the Men's room even though The 'stillers were already on and playing my favorite song. I pissed a real long time and I kind of had to fart, too, so I farted a long, low fart in the empty bathroom.

Tetley got us tickets to see Match today, so we saw that. Ray Liotta's in it, and he tells a faggot that toenails don't have nuclei. I need this!

Computer thing going okay; GNU regex library making itself frustrating. I'm reading the new William Gibson book. The main character is physically allergic to trademarks, which is a bit pretentious, premise-wise, but it's sort of an interesting story.