I gotta say, it was quite enjoyable to watch the President get booed as he threw out the first pitch at the Nationals game last night.
Today, I completed my first-ever tasks related to plumbing. I removed the old nozzle from the kitchen sink and replaced it with a new, properly-aerating one, and I also replaced the handheld sprayer with one that has all of its components and therefore doesn’t just trickle water haphazardly about. I’m handy!
Combined with our newly-replaced-by-landlord bathroom sink, all of our fixtures now work properly. Hooray!
The Eagle-Tribune published a follow-up story on the iPhone thefts, which is mostly a “how they did it” article. Read it here.
It also features a photo of my old (and clearly now ex-)manager dressed up in Arraignment Orange.
One of my managers when I worked at the Apple Store Rockingham Park was arrested yesterday for stealing 332 iPhones from the store with his accomplice and Rock co-worker. (The former manager in question is the younger of the two mentioned in the article.)
I feel that this makes a good excuse to break out something i have not broken out on this site in a while (and certainly not since I bahleeted the old posts forever), the Implied Fuck You Letter. Not that I’m suggesting anyone fuck themselves. Maybe I’ll sub-categorize this as an Implied I Told You So Letter. Anyway.
Dear Apple Retail,
That’s what you get for hiring managers from Best Buy.
As mentioned, The Woodrow Wilsons played two shows this weekend. Both were generally a good heap of fun. Friday was Blastfest, which essentially consisted of the Whitehaus moving itself to the Cambridge YMCA and having a hoot. Sets were short and it was pretty much like a hit-and-run barrage of bands and poets. We played for about 15 minutes. The whole show was very loose and so even though mistakes were made, I didn’t seem to care and I doubt anyone else really did either.
Saturday night, we played at this fun little divey bar in Somerville called Razzy’s. A band called One Happy Island asked us to play, and so we did. They were pretty good — pretty eclectic, sort of like a goofier version of us in a way. When we got there, the top portion of my hi-hat stand turned up missing. I feared it long gone and knew we didn’t have time to go back to Chris’ place to grab his stand, so we drove quickly to Guitar Center and I bought a new one. It was on sale for $90 (which is less than I was expecting to have to drop) and basically a 8- or 9-year newer update of the one I already had. I had sort of been wanting a new hi-hat stand anyway so this provided an opportunity to get one. Naturally, the missing piece turned up in Chris’ closet when we drove home after the show. Of course. Ultimately, we ended up playing a really nice set that I liked a lot. One of our better performances to date, I think.
Next up, the highly anticipated show with our good friends (and some former bandmates) Harris at O’Brien’s in Allston on April 3. I can’t wait for this show. The show might have some awesome surprises if certain things can get pulled together in time.
In lieu of having anything of interest to actually say, I’m going to promote this weekend’s Woodrow Wilsons shows. Friday at the Cambridge YMCA and Saturday at Razzy’s in Somerville. Please do come see us play our “orchestral pop”, as The Dig deemed our style to be.
Check out the WW’s myspace page for full details.
I didn’t realize this since I haven’t lived in Wisconsin for just shy of 20 years, but I have always lived in a state where Patriots’ Day is a holiday. This is notable because only three states observe Patriots’ Day: Massachusetts, Wisconsin, and Maine (because Maine was originally part of Massachusetts).
An interesting fact!
Ladles and jellyspoons, say hello to Starka, our new dog. She’s a pit bull and boxer mix, about a year and a half old, and comes to us by way of the MSPCA.
She is patently adorable and will kiss you until you cannot physically stand it anymore. This will certainly occur before she tires of it.
Kindly go fucking fuck yourself.
P.S. The Harwich Mariners existed before the Seattle Mariners, and I know that the New York Mets actually GIVE their old home whites to the Hyannis Mets, proving your whole argument is bunk.
P.P.S. do not fuck with the Cape Cod Baseball League, or I will find a way to destroy Major League Baseball.
This kid has already done more “work” than Dan Grabausakas ever has (or will) for the MBTA. He should be given the MBTA GM job immediately, just after Danny’s public hanging at the Parkman Bandstand.
Finally, I can utter the words “I don’t believe in this God character” or “I sure do disapprove of the way God handled that situation; he should be ashamed of himself” in Our Fair Commonwealth without fear of a year’s imprisonment and/or forfeiture of five hundred bucks. The Globe says so.
Also, I can be a Communist if I so desire, or engage in trampery, vagrancy, or vagabondage.
One of the three most memorable moments, to me, in Favre’s career, along with him running across the field like a 5 year old after winning the Super Bowl, and waving to the crowd after the last game of the 2005 season when we all thought he was hanging it up.
Sometime in September or October or whenever the NFL TV gods decide I am worthy enough to watch a game all the way out here in Boston, I will grab a beer, sit down in front of the television, and watch a player whose uniform number is not 4 start at quarterback for the Green Bay Packers. The last time that happened, I was 14 and not permitted to drink beer, so I was probably drinking a Mountain Dew, and Don Majkowski had just lost his Majik.
I am profoundly sad. Brett Favre changed the way I view football, and in conjunction with Charles Barkley, sports in general. In 2007, my appreciation of football was sparked to a level that it may not have ever reached before, and that was 117% due to Brett Favre and his approach to the game that made him always appear to be 8 years old in the backyard having the time of his life.
There is and will only ever be one Brett Favre, and I consider myself honored to have been able to watch him play for our beloved Packers.