So, tonight, I seriously threw my back out picking up a sock. A fucking sock. Granted, it was wet, and a little heavier than usual, but still. It weighed maybe 5 ounces. After I picked myself up off the floor (writhing in agony, of course), I finished loading up the drier, put my coins in, and nearly crawled across the parking lot to my apartment, where I commenced to call my mom the paramedic. Her professional advice? Take some ibuprofen, drink some beer, ice my back, finish my laundry. Done, done (Delirium Nocturnum is delicious), done, and nearly done.
Then, to add (literal) insult to (literal) injury, I decide to go on myspace a little and check stuff out. I figure I need to leave a comment for my old friends Rock Plaza Central, saying that they need to play in KC sometime. A couple hours later, I get a comment back, saying that they were just in Kansas City. They tried to play it off as being one of their worst publicized shows, but still, as a fan, it's my duty to know these things, I really dropped the ball there. It was A WEEK AGO. 7 DAYS. I feel like a grade-A doofus. I failed. It would have been infinitely less frustrating to see you guys play on Monday, compared to what I actually did. So if you're reading this Chris Eaton and Co, I'm sorry. I will make it up to you. Next time you head this way, I've got a place for everyone to stay. I can even hook you up with a place to play! If you like barbecue, I know a couple good places. If you don't, I know a good Indian place, a couple awesome Mediterranean places, good pizza, some decent bars, and have a number of friends I can bring to a show. Need a sax player? I'm your man. Need a scratch guitar player? I can do that too. Just watch out for the laundry rooms in this town. They're killer.