Blogger has had 'issues' all day. Frustrating, innit?

So. St Pats. Good crowd, good times. But, it always is. Feels good that it was for a good cause too. We played well, and if it wasn't for a technical glitch with my guitar, I would say we rocked. See, I was using someone elses amp, a Line 6, and it has a tuner built into it, but I don't know how to use the tuner, or select the amp settings. So, during soundcheck, I had my buddy set it on tuner, and when I was done, put it back to the amp setting I wanted. Then I put the guitar down.

When we got onstage, the heat from the lights and the crowd had put the thing out of tune. And since I didn't want to mess with the amp, I had to try and tune by ear, quickly, over the din of 200 people. I didn't do that great a job.

Oh well, lesson learned.

Simon and I usually 'tie one on' during the day for St. Pats, but he had to work, so I didn't end up indulging as much, as I didn't want to drink alone. I'm not THAT big of a loser.

Last week I invited my friend Adam up for Rochester, thinking we were going to 'big it up'. He had written a review of our show at Smiling Buddha earlier this month to the email discussion list we both belong to, so I replied to that with the following. This is just to give you an idea of what I thought was going to happen, and because I think it's funny(yeah, toot my own horn, sure). Turns out, I ended up watching 28 Days Later and eating pepperoni.

"Yep, St Patricks Day. Adam, we usually start drinking at 1pm, if you want to come up for the debauchery. Last year, I ended up meeting my wife at work, with a green plastic leprechaun hat on, my baby blue pinstriped blazer tied around my waist, my t-shirt stained, a st.pats lick-on tattoo on my neck (applied by my guitar player, no less), and roses, because I thought giving her flowers might make up for the fact that I showed up at her office looking like a just-released-from-the-drunk-tank frat boy.

So, I might not be able to tell C from F at 9:30 when we're supposed to go on, due to whiskey related brain injuries. But since I suck, thats no real difference. Yeah, I'm a real pro.

Anyone else that wants to hazard the trip up, I'm sure we can arrange couches/floors/automobile trunks/strangers warm and inviting beds for you. Canadians are generous that way.

Adam, THIS time, I'll let you buy me a drink. But only because I will lack the clarity of mind to speak English, and will be cut off by the bartender who doesn't think it's right to serve the retarded."

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