I am - Joe, hear me roar.
I want - to be a rockstar when I grow up.
I have - a gorgeous wife and enough money to live.
I wish - I had the will to practice rudimentary piano technique regularly.
I hate - pedal steel guitar used as filler in country songs.
I fear - Trace Adkin's popularity.
I hear - Big Head Todd and the Monsters with a horn section.
I search - the internet for even samples of the "New" Waylon Jennings CD.
I wonder - if the Tampa Bay Rays are going to find a way to win the series.
I always - get angry while watching the Cowboys play.
I usually - forget to pick up my drink cups after I'm finished.
I am not - that skinny.
I dance - like a 30 year old white guy.
I sing - in the car, loudly, daydreaming the whole time.
I never - can figure some people out.
I rarely - play video games.
I cry - at stupid stuff, like Shania Twain songs I've played in bands.
I am not always - willing to work hard.
I lose - my cool when family picks at me.
I'm confused - about some plotlines in CSI.
I need - to relax and not freak out about things so easily.
I should - write some new songs.
I dream - of being a nationally known songwriter.
I TAG - lobiwan, nevercountsheep, and daniel.
Showing posts with label crazy go nuts random stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crazy go nuts random stuff. Show all posts
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Well, Shoot. I Think I'll Blog Now.
What a crazy weekend.
Friday night we went out and met some folks downtown for dinner and had a great time talking above bad hair-band rock and dodging drunks at the meat market, er, restaurant. Those Rellenos were tasty. Margaritas were potent as well.
Yesterday, we met my mom and sis in Brighton for lunch. It seems that is becoming a routine. I like it, except I'd really like for them to come see our apartment. It's not that scary to drive into town!
Last night, we went to see Drive By Truckers at the Fox in Boulder. The Felice Brothers opened up with a rousing set of slurry, gravel-voiced cajun-country-punk songs with lyrics about murder, drugs, and drugs. It was an uplifting experience.
They traded lead singing duties, and most remarkable of the opening bandmembers was the drummer-a ringer for K-Fed if I ever saw one. "Rocky Mountain Highhhhhh," was his chant during the set. Whee. F'n Stoner.
The 'Truckers were a decent band. Quite versatile in their shift from traditional country styles to Three-Guitar 70's Rock, complete with rousing singalongs; odes to Mama, who ran off with a trucker. And also, they had a chick bass player.
Did I mention I quite possibly had a contact high?
It's quite odd to me, and my lovely wife, how the cities and counties and states can implement a public cigarette smoking ban only to turn their collective eye away from illicit marijuana smoking at concerts.
And it makes concert goers who partake turn into obnoxious a-holes. I couldn't hear the guitar solos over the incessant "Whooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" emminating from Sir SmokesAlot behind us.
We made it home safe and sound, after battling slight driver-paranoia and an overwhelming urge to get some munchies.
Today, at home group, something clicked. Katrina contributed a point centered around asking God, "Why?", and even if we don't get to know the answers when we meet Him, we'll be too awed we're in the company of God to care "Why". In the car on the way home I took it a step further and asked if we could be amazed by God and forget about "Why" then, why couldn't we be amazed by God and let Him keep track of "Why" in the present?
It's probably over-simplified, but it makes for interesting discussion.
Okay, I need to haul my carcass to bed.
Friday night we went out and met some folks downtown for dinner and had a great time talking above bad hair-band rock and dodging drunks at the meat market, er, restaurant. Those Rellenos were tasty. Margaritas were potent as well.
Yesterday, we met my mom and sis in Brighton for lunch. It seems that is becoming a routine. I like it, except I'd really like for them to come see our apartment. It's not that scary to drive into town!
Last night, we went to see Drive By Truckers at the Fox in Boulder. The Felice Brothers opened up with a rousing set of slurry, gravel-voiced cajun-country-punk songs with lyrics about murder, drugs, and drugs. It was an uplifting experience.
They traded lead singing duties, and most remarkable of the opening bandmembers was the drummer-a ringer for K-Fed if I ever saw one. "Rocky Mountain Highhhhhh," was his chant during the set. Whee. F'n Stoner.
The 'Truckers were a decent band. Quite versatile in their shift from traditional country styles to Three-Guitar 70's Rock, complete with rousing singalongs; odes to Mama, who ran off with a trucker. And also, they had a chick bass player.
Did I mention I quite possibly had a contact high?
It's quite odd to me, and my lovely wife, how the cities and counties and states can implement a public cigarette smoking ban only to turn their collective eye away from illicit marijuana smoking at concerts.
And it makes concert goers who partake turn into obnoxious a-holes. I couldn't hear the guitar solos over the incessant "Whooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" emminating from Sir SmokesAlot behind us.
We made it home safe and sound, after battling slight driver-paranoia and an overwhelming urge to get some munchies.
Today, at home group, something clicked. Katrina contributed a point centered around asking God, "Why?", and even if we don't get to know the answers when we meet Him, we'll be too awed we're in the company of God to care "Why". In the car on the way home I took it a step further and asked if we could be amazed by God and forget about "Why" then, why couldn't we be amazed by God and let Him keep track of "Why" in the present?
It's probably over-simplified, but it makes for interesting discussion.
Okay, I need to haul my carcass to bed.
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