Dudes are psyched

I have got a whole lot of rant up my sleeves today but I'm not going to unleash it until later. Soon, you'll have the Pony Girl Club guide to talking to girls at parties. Tonight, we are doing some R&D at the Saloon. Yeah, it's Monday. Labor Day is just as dirty as any other Monday, if not more.

Video from two weeks ago:



Tomorrow is the Penny Lane karaoke contest, as usual. Not a lot of people are signing up so it's pretty much a shoe-in. There's money at stake. How does it make sense to not go? IT DOESN'T.

Thursday, our buddy White Devin is DJing at First Street in Encinitas. If you're into a skinny white guy in short shorts playing three hours of Pavement, hit it up. I'm just kidding. About the Pavement thing. Last time I made that joke he said he plays other stuff. I think.

Right now, I'm listening to this band from yee olde PDX, The Blow. I ran into my friend Rodel at the grocery store and he told me his wife got him into them (yeah, I dish on new bands on the produce aisle. Whatever). He also told me he feels kind of gay for liking them. He probably should, it's funky yet definitely kind of cutesey electronic stuff. Megan says I have previously grumbled and skipped past them on her pod's shuffle, but I grumble and shuffle past a lot of stuff. Why wouldn't I, especially after that casiotone for the painfully alone incident? Once, on the way to Round Table, Megan held me hostage in her car and played this one CTFTPA song over and over again and stared into my eyes like she was sucking my soul out through them. She said we were having a "moment." I just wanted some pizza, man. I just hate that guy. I think that's why the soul-sucking occurred in the first place. I even stopped mildly disliking Meathead for a minute to agree that Owen Ashworth makes Conor Oberst look like Henry Rollins.

Anyways, here's a video from The Blow:



Party time! Excellent,

'stina!