Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Why You Should Trust Your Instincts

I should have just bought the fucking ticket.

A few months ago, I saw that Amy Winehouse was coming to The Varsity. After being wowed by her at the Brits, which we attempted to watch on ITV when we were in London, jet-lagged and bleary eyed on our first night, I was hooked. Back to Black is an absolutely fucking GREAT album, by the way. Had I gotten a ticket, the concert would have been tonight, as it happens.

But.

Cash flow was a bit lean after our trip, and I had trouble convincing people to go with me, so I held off. Of course, Amy started getting airplay, my lame-O friends realize that I have great taste and they should listen to me, and by the time they decided that sure, we should go, she was completely sold out. Well, duh, what did you expect people?

So as an alternative, I get invited to this wine tasting fundraiser at a friend's house. Since it would be after dark by the time we're done, and presumably I would have been wine uh, tasting, I opted to ride the bus today instead of scooter, so I wouldn't have to park it and come back for it tomorrow.

Work is winding up, and I'm ready to go catch the bus to the tasting party, when some moron from another department desperately needs help figuring out how to work the DVD player in the conference room. I know! But I'm nice that way, so off I go, and it was a pain in the ass, because some other moron had turned off the amplifier, which is supposed to be on always, and while the DVD player was working fine, there was no sound, and with all the cables that connect one thing to another, it took way too long to figure out that the fucking power switch was just off, everything was fine, just no power. Now I'm late, but there are several buses, no worries, I'll just boogie on downtown and catch the alterna-route, but I gotta move, because it's in less than 10 minutes and it's a 10 minute walk to the stop. I hustle off.

I get delayed just enough by the traffic lights and the after-work traffic that I arrive at the stop just in time for it to fly by. Gasping from rushing my not-so-little tail off, whilst carrying my backpack over one arm and my jacket over another working up a most unpleasant glow in my dressy shirt and slacks, I curse the fleeing bus, and turn to the schedule to see when the alterna-alterna bus will be by, and then SOME FUCKING PIGEON TAKES A GIANT SHIT ON ME! Spoiling my dressy shirt, my jacket over the arm, and nearly a few other things as I'm hit immediately by a fit of gagging on the foulness and stench.

I phoned Boo and told him not to expect me. I wiped pigeon shit off my shirt with my jacket, and shoved the jacket in my backpack. I stomped off to the bus for home.

Some day soon, I'll begin coughing and wheezing, but we'll assume it's just allergies until it's too late, and a week later I'll be dead from histoplasmosis. Fucking pigeons.

Moral: Buy the fucking ticket when you have the chance. Worse things could happen.

3 comments:

Grouchbutt said...

That's what you get for being ahead of the curve. I do love that Rehab song. If the rest of the CD is as good, I may have to invest.

And stop making fun of your butt and and your glow.

The word verification has "frak" in it. Awesome.

Randy Wylde said...

It really is good. The only song I really dislike is "Just Friends" which is a little too Dionne Warwick for my taste. Well, and the shitty remixes at the end - Ghostface Killah makes a real train wreck in the middle of "No Good". And for some reason, we don't get the song "Addiction" in the US, unless you buy the import. The rest is a wonderful pastiche of Etta James, Shirley Bassey, and sex gone wrong, and it really works.

sophie said...
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