Notes on a Friday

So I generally dont like to do too much on Friday. I normally go home and go to bed around 7pm. When you get old, you do these types of things. However, I went to a rock show last night. At Shank Hall. I have not been there since High School. They really classed up the place let me tell you. The bathrooms didnt smell like death even. I also went out to dinner. Another thing I have not done in a while. The place we ate at was more classy than the places I like to go to, like the bus station. I got there before the people I was with, and I didnt really feel comfotable hanging out with the beautiful people, so I waited. But the tuna was delicious, and the basement looked lke JustinTimberlake's living room. On the way to the restaraunt, I noticed that people dont drive manual transmission cars anymore. This make the baby Jesus cry, as he likes to have fun when he drives.Anyway, the band we went to see was pretty good. The singer/guitar player was on this kickball team I played on. He did a great job, and even did Babyface proud. More importantly however, was the fact that they had no lead guitar. They had a fiddle. They sounded a bit like Camper Von Beethoven, but a bit harder. The fiddle player sounded like a guitar while playing the lead guitar riffs, and it was crazy good. But I digress. The best part of the story came after the show. I went outside to burn one, and to wait for the rest of the people I was with. Chopper came out a bit after I did, and he was followed by 2 ladies. They were drinking all night, but that is no reason to believe that they were legal. They honestly looked like they were 17. So in my drunken wisdom, I said something like "Have fun waiting for your Ma to come pick you up." Wow. Dont say this to the self conscious youth of today. She launched into a curse ridden tyraid the likes of which I have not seen since the last time I asked a hooker to sit and talk instead of bang. So we walked to the tavern. I dont really remember much after that, and today I cant find my lighter.