Ok, so it's another night at the Kitty (yes, yes, and one more day up in the canyon, and one more night in Hollywood...), which went well enough. I decided to do an all George Michael set that consisted of "Father Figure," "I Want Your Sex," and "One more Try," the last of which was clearly the worst because I haven't listened to that song in so damn long my rhythm was all fucking off. I don't know how many people noticed, 'cause the applause was generous, but that may have just been cause the vocals were decent or just because it's me and by the time I did that last song, the listening audience was primarily the people I knew. LK had boomed around midnight and busted forty-five minutes later; I was vaguely reminded of Push, Nevada....

ANYWAY...on the way to and from home, Boys for Pele was in the CD player, so I hit the 10 with "Mr. Zebra" and by the I got off the 5, doing about 90 most of the time, it was "Hey, Jupiter" and there are these fucking big ass chunks of rock in the road. I'm like, what the fuck, right? So I bust the U at the light on Glendale and there's a white van that has fuckin' plowed into the wall that splits Hyperion/Glendale at the end of bridge. So I try to cruise on by slow so I don't kill any assholes wandering the street or something and front end of this van is all crumpled and shit...it was fucked up.

Anyway, none of that shit matters to me 'cause I got last week's Ed to watch and hopefully Sunday's Sopranos as well. Yay television. Also, thanks to the wonderful, ever-lovin', great-smilin', hot'n sexy Nobody, I got Tori tix for next month at Universal, so I'm stoked. Spent the ride over to see her (and later to get the tix) listening to Under The Pink, which is always pleasant. I appreciate the fact that driving is giving me time to actually listen to some of the CD's I've acquired, 'cause lord knows I can't seem to make the time in the shower or while I'm online.

So that about covers this Monday. Maybe tomorrow something more substantial will come together...?