It got better...

Saturday did get better. Sam informed me his friend who has a recording studio had asked him to come see one of the bands he'd been working with.

The band was playing at a local pizza place where a couple of my high school friends work, so I insisted on tagging along.

Because I'm still a little wary of firefox crashing and killing my post, I'm copying over my description I sent a friend via email earlier today.

Pizza was awesome, brick oven-baked, garlicy and lots of different cheeses.
Alcy list included a bunch of snobby stuff we'd never heard of and: PBR. No Miller, no Bud.
Sam & his friend got something that had a very citrusy aftertaste, which Sam's friend didn't like. So after washing my nommy pizza down with PBR I finished off the orange beer too.
The band, who's name I couldn't begin to spell is a mix of QOTSA and Clutch, with a dash of Muse vocals. Also, the drummer is a friend of mine's son. And we sat in the booth RIGHT IN FRONT of them, so yeah, I pretty much couldn't hear squat after the first 5 seconds other than WOOSHWOOSHBANGBANGSTRUMDOOTWOOSHBANGEDOUBLEBASSOFDOOM

Anyways, we had a very good time, and the Red Rocket (my car) has been towed to my fix-it-men.
In the meantime


Thomas said...

She can take the car to the doctor, but won't take herself!


ooooh kitten...

Dana said...

Pizza sounds wonderful, band sounds deafening and sorry to read about the rocket. What's the prognosis? (Nothing serious or seriously expensive, I hope).