My dad is playing a gig and he asked to borrow Kris' bass amp. I just thought that was noteworthy, since I started out using HIS amp, which is about as old as I am. Glad to help.

Today, I went to see a band called "Tad" at a show called "Pain in the Grass". It's a free, all-ages show that occurs every week during the summer in Seattle. While walking there, I got seperated from the rest of my group at a stoplight. While I waited, a small person dressed emo-style started a conversation with me. He asked me if I the people across the street were my band. I suppose he heard Kris discussing 660 programming with me before the split. "Yeah," I said, "I guess we are." "What kind of music do you play?" was the next question. "Ohh...a kind of electronic experimental thing," I waffled. I really hate this question, and it's the first thing anyone asks when they find out you're in a band. "Oh, let me guess," said Mr. emo, "GOTH, right?" *sssssssspang!* His close shaven head collided solidly with the "Push to cross" button. Well, no, I just imagined that part. "Nahh...not really. We don't have a chick singer or anything," I said lamely. "That's how goths dress, right?" He indicated my black pants, boots, shirt, leather jacket. "Sort of like this," I said, waving my arms around, "but with more metal stuff. And makeup." I ran away, to catch up with my GOTH homies. Brian in his black trenchcoat and Kris with his artificially black hair. Hmmm.

At the Tad show, our little dark colored group was indeed in the middle of a cluster of very darkly clothed, sometimes lacy, sometimes spiky shiny metal and tattooed people. What the hell is going on? Well, at least we get to meet scary looking chicks this way. However, most of us aren't quite somber enough. Kris yelled "Eat Meat! Fuck Vegetarians!" at the round Tad singer (whose name was "Tad"). The shiny purple short haired chick with lots of eyeliner standing directly in front of me emitted something which sounded like "Got enough hormones?" Well, that's fair enough. I'm not a big yeller myself. Do I find myself taking her side because she was attractive? ........yup! Do I recognize that and compensate? Yup. Later, some little girl with big braces came up to Brian and said "Can I touch you?"

During the show, this homeless-looking guy, around 40 or 50, sun damaged skin, kept asking the young females in the vicinity to look at his dead raccoon. He really had one. Wrapped in plastic, and stuck in a garbage bag, he had a dead raccoon. Near the end of the show, he took it into the mosh pit. Then he heaved it up on stage, sans bag and plastic. The band stopped playing. "Hey, that's a real raccoon." said Tad. "That's not cool. We're done." And they left. Our own front man, Brandon, has, in the past, swung a dead cat around by its tail for a photography project. Blech. But, if Seattle crowds are prone to this sort of thing the experience may come in handy. Anyone throws anything at us gets it back.

We got our food. Brian had ordered a 6-egg omelette (the other size was "12-egg".) which he could not eat much of. He DID, however, eat hash browns until it hurt. They give you unlimited hash browns at Beth's. I was eating scrambled eggs with diced ham. Naturally, the conversation at the table turned to vomit. Vomiting after eating 10 hot dogs and drinking 10 beers. Thank you thank you. I managed to finish my splatter of eggs and ham. Ugh. "Sorry for smoking and ruining your meal," said Julie. "Oh no, that's okay. Please continue with your discussion of vomit."