It was Opening Night for the high school football season and the local bible college’s mating season. This means that the trip to Al’s and back for pizza had to negotiate heaps of spawning teens, including at least one schoolgirl dressed up as a schoolgirl and one Studio 54-style disco queen imitation. Both of which probably cribbed from 20-year-old rock videos.
Back on the patio it was the Vanguard University Fall Festival of Repressed desire featuring mostly a sausage party of uncomfortable and well-scrubbed young gentlemen in button-down shirts and pressed jeans. One ethereal model/bunhead type was cornered by no less than five hopeful future pastors as she shyly gave them her cellphone number, in a Montana area code.
Bible students apparently block SMS messages as I was unable to send homoerotic messages to brianenigma in a timely manner while they were clustering.
JE played his also well-scrubbed songs and some covers. Over this portion of the evening, dear reader, I must draw a curtain. Suffice it to say that genericus went GAAAAAAAAAAH at least twice.
Ever meet someone who was between channels? You know, like he had missed out on what kind of human to be, and was stuck between two variants and spewing static and confused signals? Yeah, like that.
I’m a lot nastier than I want to be. I bet you are, too.
Don’t put another dime in the jukebox
I don’t wanna hear that song no more