I just found out Godsmack and Shinedown are going to be at Pain in the Grass this year! And Iron Maiden and Alice in Chains are coming this summer!11!11!!1!Eleventy! And there is no way I have the time/money/babysitter to see all, or any, of these. Argh!
I was talking to Bad Daddy at work today about when to buy my ticket for my grand Middle Eastern extravaganza. Being of Middle Eastern descent and traveling to and fro as he does, he should know, yes? I explained that if I buy now and the prices go down, I'll be pissed. If I wait and the prices go up, I'll be pissed. Basically, I'll be pissed. When he found out how much the ticket is his advice was to buy it as I wouldn't find a better price. So, I guess I'm buying a ticket. Now I just have to figure out if I want to be extremely cranky at the beginning of my flight (very, very AM departure)or at the end (very, very, PM arrival the next day). What the hell, I'll be in the air and on the ground for layovers for 22 hours; I don't think cranky is avoidable. Firetruckin' be-yotch, anyone?
It's been hard for we poor PacNWsters since someone seems to have forgotten to dial the thermostat back from winter. Sitting at a nice 56 degrees for a June 10 kind of puts our knickers in a twist. Some adventurous soul decided he was going to glean whatever UV rays might be fighting through the overcast skies and rain showers today on our scoot-ward home from the daily grind. I saw him in my rear view mirror in his bright red convertible with the top down. (Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, dude; have you seen the weather?) Hey, more power to you. He then pulled alongside me at the stop light and, from my vantage point high upon the Planet Killer, I glanced over. As I am sure we are all wont to do. AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH! He had his shirt off! And he had moobs! Big, giant, MOOBS!! With nippies the size of manhole covers! Resting on his hairy beer gut! ARGH!
I was in Al's picking up a little of the moo juice (de-fatted and organic of course; there are more than enough hormones and cases of precocious puberty running amok in this house, thankyouverymuch!) and I noticed the turtledove cooings of a couple following me around the dairy case. Hey, young love. They can't help it if that kind of stuff makes me want to regurgitate a dinner from last year; I'm just not squishy like that. I grab the chalk water (so called by my father, the son of a dairy farmer, who still speaks fondly of ladling the cream off the top of the raw milk on the farm and eating it on his cereal) and come face to face with a, surprisingly, older woman and, what can only be described as Sasquatch's little brother. ARGH! Muscle shirt with an insulating layer of back/arm hair to keep him comfy in this inclement weather! ARGH! Get that guy some wax! A laser! Some Nad's!
Speaking of Nad's; Is it me, or is that the worst product name ever? Reminds me of the boys' inter-mural football team of our brother dorm my frosh year of college. Called themselves "The Nads" and gave some bullshit explanation of the name to circumvent the morality police (private religious university, remember} and then we all stood on the sidelines cheering, "Go Nads! Go Nads!" We were sooooo street!
Posting may be light until I get the laptop back from the emergency room. The AC jack problem ceased to be a problem. In fact, it ceased all together. I may need sedation until I get it back. It was and adventure trying to keep FB from turning reading my one of my least appropriate stickers on the way to the fix-it store. Namely, the hand in a peace sign with "Fuck Off And Die" written on the fingers. I'm such a good mom.