Your soul. Give it to me:

Which picture of me is better? The one with the double chin (smeared with lipstick, thanks to having a big fat bottom lip and drinking without a straw) and the demon eyes? Or this one, which, to the careful observer, indicates that I probably don’t need to drink any more. Left to my own devices, I stop drinking pretty early, because I run out of money. Generosity from others can sometimes be a curse. I half half a dozen bruises and one scraped knee from that night that I don’t remember getting. Oh, alcohol, you take the pain away.

Blah blah blah… Hey, all these pictures are in reverse order. I was still slightly sensible during KMFDM. I could’ve sworn I’d been to House of Blues before, but I didn’t recognize it at all, so I guess not. Perk of having awesome husband: box seats.

See how fucking cool I am? Feh… Whatever. We’re looking down on you unwashed masses. That’s right, you’re scum! Not really, but damn. I don’t think I can handle crowds like that anymore. How did I ever go to concerts without flipping the fuck out?

I wish there was one of these within reach of my couch:

Oh, right… entire context of photos has not been mentioned. KMFDM concert. Duh duh duh. Met Steve White (he plays a guitar!) Sean toured with him last year, ’cause he was doing live guitar for 16 Volt at the time. He was charming, to be sure (or at least… I don’t remember any differently)

In conclusion, here is a picture of a newspaper clipping from sometime last month that Sean found hilarious. Wiener! Har har. Yeah, I don’t know what’s wrong with him, either.

If this post seems disjointed, it’s because I’ve been sleeping hardly at all ever, it’s 5:30am, and I can’t be arsed to be sensible. What are you going to do about it?

But this weekend shit is stressful. I don’t need all this pressure to have a good time. I kind of feel like sitting here, doing absolutely nothing, which is pretty much what I am actually doing. But I feel like I could be enjoying myself so much more effectively doing something else. I’m going to regret this later on, I know it. Tonight, just as soon as I realize that there were so many other things I could have done instead, and I missed the opportunity. Definitely tomorrow, when it’s Sunday, and it’s my last chance to get things done (before 5pm when everything closes, at that — talk about pressure). And on Sunday night, when it’s the last minute, it’ll really already be too late. I’ll have to go to bed early to wake up on Monday. Ah, Monday. When I’ll want to shoot myself in the face for having wasted the weekend.

I really kind of like sitting around doing nothing. So why does it feel like such a waste of time? Or, why should I feel like wasting time is not something I should be okay with?