Remembering The Good Old Days...

I’ve been feeling nostalgic today. Thinking back on the good old days when Ug was just starting to make headway on the “wheel,” and my biggest worry was making it the whole day without stepping in diplodocus poo. Crap! I went too far back in the Wayback Machine. Fast forward.

I was reminiscing with Justin today about gas prices and how we used to remember the good old days when we could actually afford to fill up the tank without taking out a loan and promising our first born children to Exxon.

Me: I remember when gas was only a buck.
Justin: Shit, I remember when it was like ninety-six cents.
Me: Yeah. When I was delivering pizzas I could fill-up, buy a pack of smokes and a drink and still be under twenty bucks.
Justin: I remember when I could fill up my gas can for my lawn mower for under $5.
Me: I remember when we didn’t even need gas. We just walked to school. Uphill. Both ways.
(Symbolic pause to gather our thoughts)
Me: We’re getting old aren’t we.
Justin: Speak for yourself gramps, I’m younger than you.

So it went. I found myself yearning for the days when Transformers where cool and I could use my money for comic books instead of paying Visa my left nut and giving my right nut to my school loans (thus leaving me sterile and weeping every month). With the recent rise in gas prices my list of reasons for purchasing a motorcycle is getting bigger every day.

1)Cheaper on gas.
2)80% of people who ride motorcycles regularly are less likely to get therapy later in life. (This is important due to the fact that I’m one talk with my Area Manager away from losing grip on reality and retreating into Stickmanland)
3)They are cool.
4)I need to find some way to combat the feeling that I am getting old. One of these days I’m gonna find myself complaining about gas prices and “remembering the good old days”...aw, crap.

Shedding Skin

So I think we’ve decided on a name for the band. “The The” Get it? It's got "the" twice. It's a varitable goldmine. It can't fail. I...what? What do you mean? That’s absurd! No one else is crazy enough to...Just a moment. Be right back.

(Ten minutes pass)

I have been informed by the copy write people, who apparently have been watching my house and are now standing over my shoulder with brass knuckles and names such as Guido, that that particular band name has been taken. I have been asked not to make a scene. It seems we are back to square one.

The weekend was somewhere in between good and “what the fuck?” Last night my bandmate, Justin, and I went out to drink (surprise) and try and pick-up women. The first part we succeeded at, the second…all I can say is that I’m out of practice. Approaching women is hard to do when you are over six feet tall and have to walk sideways through most doorframes. I guess I am intimidating to the fairer sex, which usually leaves me no opportunity to talk to them and show them how funny, witty, and intelligent I can be. Of course the desperate gleam in my eye, from not being intimate with a woman since October, probably didn’t help my chances.

I did get to talk to a few women though, and I could feel the old charm trying to break its way back to the surface. Like a sloth crawling from a tar-pit, my cool and savvy flirtatious self emerged as the night progressed. By the end of the night I felt like I had at least made headway in my attempt at getting back into the game. Or maybe it was just the Rolling Rock. I wasn’t sure at that point.

Today I got some good news. I got a line on someone who might want to hear my songs. Apparently the woman has helped some people get noticed in Nashville, so maybe it will work out to where I can finally live the dream. I hear groupies are standard in music contracts now. This, though, could just be wishful thinking.