Blackberry. Oh, that's right. I've got a Blackberry. I got the Pearl, which I think is the smaller version. I don't have a full keyboard. Fancy, huh? Normally, I'm not one to go for a fancypants cell phone. I need neither a camera nor an MP3 player, as I have both of those things already. And I certainly don't need an FM radio.
The problem I had, however, was that all of the cheap or free phones had all that extra bullshit and it seem to make them bigger and clunkier. It's like cell phones are trending backward in a way. The Blackberry Pearl ended up being only $10 more than the least-tolerable other phone T-Mobile had to offer, so I said, "Fuck it." It scared the bejebus out of me when it arrived last week and I only just got my interwebs and eBays on it Monday, so the jury is out. As a phone it seems to work better than my last model. It took forever for calls to connect for some reason. It seems to do alright for now, I guess.
Broken Social Scene. Despite waking up at 4:30 a.m. on Monday, I somehow managed to suck it up to go to a late show at First Ave with Macho Man and the World's Worst Wing Woman. We went to see Broken Social Scene, who I last saw at the 400 Bar in early 2004. I was so close to skipping it. In addition to the epic tiredness, I had no money for drinks and that always makes me feel like I don't want to go. My ticket had been purchased weeks earlier, but um, not drink at a show? Are you a Communist or something?
Turned out I got a major boost of energy at the gym and then I had extra time at home to have a drink and then another drink when the others showed up at my place. When we got to First Ave, Macho Man sold the extra ticket WWWW had and she bought us drinks with the money. Score!
But oh, Broken Social Scene. I can't remember the last time I was so geeked up after a show. I still am today, even. I figured I'd gotten my $20 worth within the first half of the show. I'd been listening to them a lot lately, but I can't understand why I sometimes go so long without listening to them at all. And I love them in every incarnation -- Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning's solo stuff, Stars, Apostle of Hustle, Metric, Feist, that new guy's band that I can't remember the name of ... I suppose Emily Haines's solo stuff counts if you're going to include all the others. And Amy Milan's solo album. Fucking Canada. Is there something in the water up there? Here's a little "KC Accidental" for your listening pleasure.
Broke. Just like everyone else, right?
Blah. This week is dragging. Last night, I could have sworn for a while that it was Thursday. WRONG. Christ. It's only Wednesday. How am I going to get through this week? I'm so. fucking. tired. I certainly won't be getting to bed early tonight. It's always nearly 9:00 by the time I get home from yoga. Then I have to shower and eat and watch the debate. I should do dishes, but ... maybe they can wait until tomorrow. At least tomorrow is Thursday. We're getting there.
Black Beans. My current food obsession.
Boots. I've busted out my tall, black boots for the cool weather. They make me feel kinda bad ass. And they look quite good with a skirt. If only I had occasion to wear one of my short, plaid, pleated skirts with the boots. But, if you'd hearken back to the section on "Broke" you'll know I have no place to wear said boots with said skirt. Then again, who said I can't just wear that shit at home?