March 16, 2004

Saturday Night's All Right for Truckin'

As promised in my last piece I decided to keep a running diary of the
evening's festivities to report to you all. The plans included going to a
wedding engagement party and then off to the show. In preparation for writing this I took a series of notes to work from. Unfortunately, when I washed my jeans, the notes got swept up with them. Anyway, I've been able to patch together the evening fairly well despite my liquor addiction. Here we go:

7:15pm - My roommates and I left the apartment in separate vehicles and rolled over to my girlfriend Sonya's house. The plan was to pick her up and then move on to the "party".

7:30pm - Through the power of Tivo at Sonya's house, we spent about 15 minutes watching the amazingly funny "Charlie Murphy Hollywood Stories" skit from a recent episode of the David Chappelle show on Comedy Central.  This particular one was about how he (Murphy) used to party with and on occasion beat Rick James' ass back during the early 80's.  The phrase "I'm Rick James, BITCH!" would make its way into the conversations many times for the rest of the night.

7:50pm - We piled up into Jon's van and followed the directions to the party. While on the way, that nauseatingly popular JET song comes on the radio prompting this exchange:

Me: Does anyone really like this song?

Ryan: The liberal media does.

Me: Them again?

Ryan: I'm Rick James, BITCH!

I guess it was funnier at the time. Let's just move one.

8:00pm - The House that IKEA built. Living here in the South and rarely venturing out of city limits, I've only heard of the trendy yet affordable home furnishings that can be purchased at one of their stores. Apparently, the hosts of the party must have a direct line to them. This place was decked out in that stuff. Considering that most of my home furnishings are supplied from my friendly small-business crushing Wal-Mart, I was impressed and a little jealous. Just a little though, I am a guy.

8:10pm - After getting a quick tour of the place by our friend Chris, we guys settled into our roles by standing in a corner, sucking down beers, and talking sports. The topic of the night was the upcoming baseball season and plans for our own fantasy league.

8:50pm - I'd like to say that the topics gradually progressed to more
intellectual endeavors like politics and the  War in Iraq, but it was mostly about baseball with a few "I'm Rick James, BITCH's!" thrown in here and there.

10:00pm - Can't say too much good or bad about the party. It was a nice gathering of people in their late 20's. Nothing exciting happened. I had four free beers and now it was time to go. I smelled Southern Rock in the air.

10:40pm - We arrived to downtown Athens right as the usual college crowd started to converge upon it. We stopped off at Achim's to get some quick eats before the show. They had a special of an order of fries and a 12 ounce draft for $1. Sometimes I really love this town. Inside, they were playing a Talking Heads concert on one of the TV's.  The concert prompted this exchange:
 
Jon: Didn't that guy become a huge asshole.

Sonya: Yes.

Me: I'm Rick James, BITCH!

Once again, you probably had to be there and have consumed several beers. Don't judge me.

11:00pm - We finally got our shit together and made our way over to the Georgia Theater. The Theater, like most other landmark musical venues, is a total dump. Of course, where else are you gonna go to catch a kick ass southern rock show.

11:05pm - I earned some serious dork credit standing outside the Theater trying to get a smoking fish sighting, but the damned flash on the camera decided to selectively work. Fuck it.

11:15pm - We cram into the Theater and it's packed with trendy local concert goers, some die hard southern rockers, and frat guys. The place was full of ass clowns. We made our way to the bar and order a couple PBR's. I take a look at the merchandise table for a moment and then we stake our claim to a spot. Unfortunately, so had the other 500 people at the show. Well aware of the perils of being in a crowded, old building during a rock show (See: Great White), we found a spot close to the exit yet close enough to get a good view of the show and the bar.

11:20pm - Sonya and Jon, who both came somewhat unwillingly, already looked like they were going to cry from all the smoke and frat boy ass clowns in the room.

11:30pm - The Truckers hit the stage hard and fast. I quietly thanked God that I wouldn't have to entertain Sonya and Jon any more than necessary. Looks of dismay and regret are hardly the response you like to get when trying to entertain others. Look at your face right now and you know what I mean.

11:50pm - On my way to the restroom, the bouncers were throwing out a group of frat guys who were wrestling in the balcony. Did I mention the place was full of ass clowns already? Anyway, I was thinking about how great it would have been if one of the frat guys had been able to toss another one over the balcony. I could just see some guy with his UGA hat careening down into the crowd below with his Bud Light still in hand. Would the Truckers even stop playing?

12:00am - Is that weed is smell?

12:02am - Definitely weed.

12:15am - About 45 minutes into the set the Truckers finally start playing songs I recognize from the Southern Rock Opera CD's.

12:30am - Jon gives up and calls it a night. I guess he finally had his fill of being bumped into for the night.

12:40am - A group of frat guys get worked up again and start shoving each other. This one was a classic example of the frat mentality. Here we go:

Frat Guy 1 is shoving each of his brothers as they come by in that tough guy "hey bro, I'm not gay, but I need to touch men" kind of way. So he does this to three or four of them as they pass by and they all ignore him. Frat Guy 5 catches the shove a little under the ribs and is instantly irked. He shoves back in the friendly "fuck off jerk-off" way. Frat Guy 1 takes instant offense and goes right to the sucker punch in the back of the head maneuver. As with all drunken frat guy fights, they both go at each other arms-a-flailing. I wish I had it on tape. Anyway, frat brothers 2-4 break it up pretty quickly and bitch out Frat Guy 1 for a moment.

12:50am - Security opts to go ahead and send Frat Guy 1 home for the evening.


1:30am - Can't say anything much happened for the previous 40 minutes other than watching the crowd get worked over by the music. They introduced a new bassist, but she rocked just as hard as the rest of them. By this time Sonya and I are toast and ready to go. I was a little disappointed that at 27 I was too tired to hang for the other 30 minutes. I guess I'll never know if they close the show with a 12 minute version of "Free Bird". Point and laugh if you wish.

Are you still with me? If so, let's move on.

Losing My Manhood

Like most guys with reasonably good intelligence, I refuse to believe that there isn't any "minor" repair that I can't handle. Of course, there is always trial and error involved. One such example took place this last weekend when I offered to change out the windshield wipers on my girlfriend's car. Since I've only owned cars built in the 1980's, this has never been a problem for me. In fact, the windshield wipers on my car come off with little more than a concentrated tug and the help of a screwdriver. This is not the case with her three-year-old Corolla.

The windshield wipers looked easy to replace, but that was about it. As I opened the package with the new wipers, a couple of screws fell out as well as a funky metal hook and a plastic hook. WTF? Anyway, I examined the directions and felt that I could confidently change out her wipers.

Ten minutes later she's staring at me from the kitchen window as I mimic the mental state of a 100-year-old man at a hip hop show. After admitting I was in over my head, she decided to just take it to a repair shop. I still can't help to think I was emasculated by a tiny Japanese import. What happened to vehicles you could work on? It actually makes me feel somewhat grateful for my Oldsmobile, except for the whole leaking oil and no heat problem.

Losing My Hair

Contrary to what television has always told me. Losing my hair was the best thing that ever happened to me. Women find me more attractive, I became 23% more athletic, and I'm more confident than ever! Really.

I used to have long hair in college and I kind of let my physic go. Although I was never fat, I looked very similar to the pot head goons portrayed in your favorite horror flicks, long hair and a round gut. As I got older, I decided to let the hair go and get a shorter look. Without all the cover to hide under, bald spots made their appearance. I remember what bullshit it was to be going bald at 22. Of course, over the next few years it worsened.

I found myself always at Great Clips because my hair never looked right. Sometimes it was too curly, sometimes it was flat. The kicker was when my dad noted that he had more hair than me. Thanks Pops! Eventually, I decided it was time for drastic measures and I shaved my head. If all else, it was a great way to shock the shit out of my co-workers.

Thankfully, I have a perfectly round head and I haven't grown my hair past a centimeter sense. Deciding I wasn't going to be chubby and bald, I started playing racquetball again and working out. I gained about 20 pounds of muscle and lost a good chunk of the gut.  Some more genetically gifted people may have lost all of their gut, but the probably wouldn't have lost their hair either. Thanks to the smooth scalp, diminished gut, and the money I saved from not buying pills, treatments, or haircuts, women actually talk to me. How about that Cy Sperling?

Anyway, this is my shout out to the balding guys. Don't cry yourself to sleep looking for the miracle cure, shave your head and kick some ass. And if anything, the tough guy at your local bar might think twice before messing with you.

On a side note, my back hair has increased by 40%. Should I wax it or just shave it?

That's it. I'm done till next time. Take care and feel free to email me at jacsv76@hotmail.com.

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