Happy birthdays with Wilco at Ovens

Julie and her friend Maggie came down to Charlotte to celebrate Maggie’s birthday with a killer Wilco show, which I didn’t even know about until she asked if I wanted to go (I live in world of frantic self-isolation). We tried to go to always-rockin Lupies (rockin) for dinner, but it was packed-as-usual and we ended up at some suck ass jackalope place (I give it two middle fingers up) down the road. They reluctantly gave us food, but at least the girls got some pre-game beers. Some guy’s show ticket (unbeknownst to him) blew across the sidewalk in front of Maggie as we walked up to the place, but we weren’t quick-witted enough to try to sell it back to him.

The sound was pretty good for a big room. I had a beer after the show. I think it was my first this year. Living on the edge, you know it. I think my contacts absorbed all particulate matter in the arena air, especially the pound of weed the guy in front of me constantly smoked throughout the show. He must have been afraid of being frisked on the way out.

I enjoyed having visitors, particularly ones who are cooler than I am and take me along with them to concerts. Bonus cool was that she even brought me my electric guitars and amps (I am a shitty friend and left my gear at their house for over two years), so now I can practice hard and be cool when I grow up.

John and Jemaine are worth the sub

Based on the first episode, John From Cincinnati will be worth keeping my HBO. Magic, surfers, and Al Bundy. Sign me up.

Funny in a way I didn’t expect, Flight of the Conchords had me wondering for the first few notes of the first song if they were lip-syncing Prince vocals. These guys are really good, and funny, and I already feel bad for Bret McKenzie because there is no way he’ll be as big a star as Jemaine Clement will become.

You can watch the first episodes online.

Grandfather Mountain

Call me young (that hasn’t happened in a while), call me stupid (this happens a lot more often), but I’m going to run the Grandfather Mountain Marathon with fellow running psycho Paul Martino as my final long run before San Francisco.

One might ask herself, “Why run another marathon before one you’re already signed up for?” Assuming I keep my pace moderate, this may make decent sense, as I was already planning to run 26 miles that weekend. I need confidence on hills for San Francisco, so why not do the training run with a few hundred other mountain-loving weirdos?