Christopher tm Herdt (cherdt) wrote,
Christopher tm Herdt

8-Ball and Lager House

This morning I was hacking up phlegm as if I were a smoker, thanks to a couple of fine evenings at crummy bars: the 8-Ball Saloon and The Lager House.

Friday night I went to the 8-Ball upon the invite of holyrood. I spent a lot of time talking to her neighbor, in spite of the fact that it was very loud and I was losing sobriety aggressively. oktiger was downstairs looking for some other friends, and advised me to check out the bands upstairs. I turns out that I probably should have, since two of the four bands featured leighton. I also hung out with Big Kevin and oktiger, although I found myself compelled to leave once some of our comrades-in-cups started talking fashion.

Saturday morning, mrrranda and I went to the Farmer's Market and bought lots of soup ingredients: squash, pumpkin, beets, tomotoes, and lamb. I've picked four soups that I am going to make for the first time this week. If any of you are soup fans like I am, I noticed that Borders store #1 has Soup on sale for only $5.99 (or maybe $6.99) on the display racks in front of the store. I highly recommend it--it is essentially The Soup Bible repackaged. Plenty of vegetarian recipes, and more that can be made vegetarian by substituting vegetable stock for chicken stock.

We went to David's Books, and I was highly amused by all the Hardy Boys Mysteries that I used to devour in early grade school. I flipped through an old copy of the first novel, The Tower Treasure, and noticed some ball-point drawings in the back. "Greg's been in trouble with Daphne" showed a boy, Greg, covered in lipstick kisses. The next page featured "Somebody," a sad-eyed boy, possibly Daphne's ex-boyfriend, as the next page featured the text, "Greg you old boy I bet you can't get her off" in a practiced cursive hand. The last drawing showed Greg and Daphne kissing in an awkward, two-dimensional noses-colliding sort of way. The book was owned by a boy named Stephen, so I am unclear how he is involved in the Greg-Daphne affair, other than as its recorder.

I highly recommend taking a look at the book if you get a chance to drop by David's Books.

Saturday night was the Bob Log III show at The Lager House. This was my fifth time seeing the mysterious Mr. Log, whose face is never seen. It was a good show. I especially liked it when he announced that the guitar upon which he played "The Fastest Song in the World" cost him $16 and he would really appreciate it if Mr. Soundman could turn that green knob or maybe the purple knob on the board way up and make it sound like a $42 guitar. flastron and I were standing near a bunch of guys who were all very keen on Mr. Log's musical compositions and performance, and there was a sense of camaraderie based on this shared interest. One of them even informed us that Mr. Log used to perform sans helmet in a band called Doo Rag, and suggest that we check out their album, Chuncked and Muddled.

The crowd naturally wanted to hear "Clap Your Tits" and "Boob Scotch," but Mr. Log told them those cakes were still in the oven and you had to let them bake. Mr. Log asked that we remind him to drink after every second song, because he would forget otherwise and his thirst would not be quenched. (He later said, "Screw that math shit, just tell me to drink after every song.") He also asked that we provide him with drinks, but to set them far away so that he would not kick them over. One fine gentleman purchased a Scotch on the rocks and was waving it in front of Mr. Log's helmet. "There's always one guy," said Mr. Log, "in the front row, waving around a Scotch on the rocks." That's a harsh way to treat a guy who buys you a drink, but I guess he should have known to set the drink on the stage, where it would not be knocked over.

Mr. Log was accompanied by a cabaret show of sorts. Two young ladies who went through at least 4 costume changes for our entertainment danced in lewd-yet-humorous fashion to either arouse or amuse the boys (I noticed I was laughing more than most). Although the crowd was definitely testosterone-heavy, there were a couple young ladies who were willing to put cheap plastic cups with ice-cold Scotch over their bared nipples and shake, thus creating the legendary Boob Scotch. Someone suggested that Mr. Log dunk something of his own into the Scotch for the ladies, but he declined, saying "Boob Scotch is great, but no likes Scotch once it's had a penis in it."

Somehow, perhaps mislead by the vinyl "Change Your Clock, Check Your Batteries" sign hanging on the fire station, I decided it was time to Fall Back. I changed all the clocks Sunday morning. Good timing, because after such a long weekend, I sure could use an extra hour of sleep. This worked out great until this morning, when I arrived at work an hour late.

I watched two movies yesterday, Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Peeping Tom. I was somehow convinced that I had never seen Fast Times at Ridgemont High and, therefore, did not share this common experience with my peers. However, upon closer examination I realized that I had seen it before--in fact, probably twice before--and just didn't remember it clearly. I watched it again anyway. Peeping Tom was excellent, and the documentary on the DVD, A Very British Psycho was excellent as well. The author of the screenplay, Leo Marks, had been the head of SEO's codes and ciphers during W.W. II. One of the people they interviewed about Peeping Tom was listed as an "Ex-Critic," which I found hysterical.

fasinfunny called to interview me for one of her seminary classes, to find out what I thought about church, God, and religion. I was a little wary of this conversation, as I know this is one area where she and I do not agree. But it was an interesting hour-long conversation, during which I was forced to put into words some ideas that have been vague thoughts. Why did I stop attending church? Why did my beliefs change? What are the failings of the church and what should its focus be? Have I had a religious experience? What are my greatest worries and greatest pressures, and how do I cope with them?
Tags: bob log iii

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