Atlanta, You Sweet Bitch
Well, Atlanta, you didn't let me down. You were one sweet bitch. Last night we played at The Roxy, which is a fantastic theater down here. Half an hour before showtime there were, no joke, probably fifteen in the audience. Needless to say, we were not happy. The theater holds about a thousand, so that's 1.5% capacity. Not an auspicious way to start the evening. Slowly but surely people trickled in, and by the time show started, I would say we had about three hundred people there. By no means impressive, but at least enough so that you couldn't necessarily hear individuals in the audience muttering, "This guy sucks." They had to shout to do that.
The show itself was really fun. I guess it's true what they say about Southerners and their hospitable ways. Only a couple yelled random shit at the stage, and I only had to call two people "fucking retards," which is good for me. Normally, the first twenty or twenty five minutes of the show is me screaming obscenities at the audience. Last night, probably only the first twelve minutes, so that was a considerable improvement.
Showalter was very funny - most of his act was devoted to talking about the Gnarls Barkley song "Crazy," and what a "fresh sound" those guys have. After the thirtieth of fortieth time he said it, it got very funny. Afterwards, I caught up with an old high school friend named Donna, who I haven't seen since we graduated high school. I won't say when that was, but suffice to say, it was 1988. Donna looked great and was unabashedly hitting on Showalter the entire time we were out. The fact that she had her three month old daughter strapped to her in a Baby Bjorn made the experience a little uncomfortable. She didn't have a three month old. In fact, she doesn't have any babies, which lead me to conclude she has a barren womb.
Also joining us out was my friend Valentina, who I met a while ago in Athens GA. She's a student at the University of Georgia, and apparently she is NOT from Argentina, and in fact seemed angry that I thought she was from Argentina. Apparently, Valentina hates Argentinians, to which I say, "Welcome to the club."
All in all, it was a pleasant evening, which I capped off by going to my hotel room and reading Tom Clancy for two hours before bed. Yes, I read Tom Clancy. Not only that, I read it off a pdf file. Does that make me lame, or does its very lameness make me, in fact, incredibly cool? I think we all know the answer to that. Anyway, here's what I look like at the Hyatt in Atlanta: