Wednesday, September 22, 2010

A gig, a chew toy, and a food fiasco

So have I mentioned that I used to be in a rock band called
{Macho Grande}?
Yep, that happened.

Classic band story...Jimmy quit, Joey got married, shoulda known we'd never get far... Anyway, we've been defunct for awhile but I've been playing music lately with my BFWB {boyfriend w/o benefits} Brendan. He's really my bff and an insanely talented musician. So we got asked if we wanted a gig at the cool, divey east

village 11th st. bar last night and we decided to go for it. Not bad for our first bar gig and all our peeps came out to show the love.
{cue warm fuzzies!}


Amongst the crew was Dubs, who came to see The-bro but also moi, since he wrote me a note asking if he could a) come watch and b) be the bro who drops his pants in the front row. {swoon!}

Actually, I really have one motto in life for my friends/acquaintances: DBB.
Don't. Be. Boring.
Dubs is definitely not boring. In fact, homeboy even has his own language. His friends call it Dubsingo. Some examples include:
Bro's UP! -- Let's go!/Sweet!
Bro's down -- no bueno/not good/bummer
SWANZ! -- yes!/AWESOME!
Bicepulates-- apparently this is just "biceps"

Yeeeah. Thanks for taking that journey with me. Now you can say you've learned something today. I think I may need a Rosetta Stone to decode his emails...

Anyway, it was cool that he came out and he was very complimentary about my singing. He even told me I looked hotness in my Chuck T's (Converse hi-tops) the other night at his party. Bro's UP!

So, chewy ended up leaving early. Okay, it WAS 12a on a tuesday...but the rest of us did not seem to realize this. He hasn't been feeling well this week so it was nice that he even stayed as long as he did. And, fine with me, as I haven't been in the best of shape either, with my newfound diagnosis of acid reflux and, as of this week, slightly high blood pressure. (wha??) But I refrained from having this medical discussion with him, so as not to achieve Golden Girls status.

I'd love to say I ended the night in a classy, responsible way. But alas, I ended up here:
Ah, the illustrious Crif Dogs.
Here's a tres flattering shot of me getting my tater tot ketchup'd.

Don't worry friends, I also downed a Costco-sized corn dog. I'll refrain from posting that shot of me- not my classiest moment.

This should undoubtedly do wonders for my reflux.