I was thinking that spending my Saturday night alone, reading a book and listening to music, might be considered a little lame by some. But considering the amount of physical exertion and alcohol I've partaken of in the last few days, I'm perfectly happy to sit next to my space heater and read science fiction.
Fuck expectations of activity. Plus, my left knee is still bothering me, although my right shoulder seems to be slowly mending. Go figure.
Tomorrow I'm seeing some Dutch dance troupe with my parents at the Harris Theater in the afternoon and seeing the Loved Ones out at Champ's in the evening. Monday I plan to curse myself for not getting any work done this weekend.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Roll in the Barrel...
My left knee is paining me when I ride. Last night it was even paining me when walking. This is of a very high probability due to the relatively excessive amount of bicycling I've been doing this week. Apart from Wednesday's ride to Evanston, I rode a fair amount on Thursday heading to and from both Dana's place and Delilah's. Plus at least 30 miles yesterday before, during and after Critical Mass. And of course I never stretch, either before or after riding.
Thursday was a blast. A long blast, which resulted in me sleeping a little over four hours that night. Dana was going to come to Delilah's for Ska Night with me, but warned me to call her a few hours before to kick her ass into going. Of course, when I did she complained she was already in her pajamas in her nice warm apartment. I told her to take a nap for an hour, get dressed, pick me up, and I'd buy her a beer. She countered with me coming over and drinking beer at her place and she'd make cookies. Mmm, cookies. So I went over, had a few Tsing Taos, and we made pecan cookies with strawberry jam filling and talked. Fabulous.
I left Dana's a little after 10pm, and headed up to Delilah's. Kate had said she was going to stop by "for one drink" after studying at her boyfriend's, but I didn't see her, although Trish's friend Monica was there with two German fellows shooting the shit about German linguistics. I ended up talking with a few people I knew and meeting some I didn't about music and shit. Once space cleared at the end of the bar by the DJ booth, I sat and talked with Chuck until Ryan showed after midnight, "running on Les time." We hung out and chatted, and some of the Deal's guys showed up - well, over half the band, really, but only Corchrane and Todd were hanging out where we were sitting. Chuck got the demo of their new record and played a few songs; very nice. He told me he'll get me a copy and I can put it online. I told him I wouldn't be doing that, and he told me he'll get me a copy "and you can put it online." He also unloaded a fair pile of swag on me for WNUR's phonathon.
At around 1:30am, Ryan and I finished off the rest of Dana's cookies. I already had a half dozen beers in me, but when he suggested we have some of the Delilah's 13th Whiskey, I thought for a second and said, "Sure." That stuff is pretty damn smooth. We both just sipped our shots, not that they lasted for a super long time. The ride home seemed to go pretty quickly, but I was a little hungover yesterday morning.
Fortunately, I wasn't scheduled to be in clinic in the morning, and spent it just shooting the shit and hanging out a bit. The afternoon was crazy, though. Extra patients showing up and so forth. By the time I got out of there I was starving, and after scarfing down some food at Sbarro across the street, I didn't have to time go home before Critical Mass. Luckily, I'd at least planned for this eventuality and was wearing knee-high ski socks and skate shoes, so I could just roll up my pants to keep them out of the chain.
Mass was great. It was the annual Polka Ride. Whenever people would ask what we're riding for or what this is about, several of us would yell, "Polka!" We headed way out on the northwest side to see the Polkaholics play at the Emerald Isle.
The weather was rather mild (for a Chicago January) when we started, but it started getting pretty windy later, or after we got out of downtown and its fifty-storey windbreaks, anyway. The ride was good; I ended up talking with T.C., who I've met once or twice before.
Smithwick's was on special at the Emerald Isle, and T.C. was talking about how it used to be found only in real Irish places, but now it's everywhere, pretty much, and he commented to someone about how it's pronounced "Smithik's." Right after he said that, some girl came to the bar and ordered a "Smith Wick's." Har.
I've heard a little bit of the Polkaholics; I think we have a demo at WNUR. But their live show was pretty entertaining, especially since the crowd was pretty into it. Most of the punk kids that show up for Mass had disappeared by the end of the ride. Super-fast punk rock polka (and the chicken dance!) made for a good time. After eating some rather poor fish and chips to assuage my burbling stomach, and downing a couple of beers, I headed home, although on a more direct route than the Mass took up there.
This morning I met Laura W. up at Orange for breakfast. It was good, as was the custom juice. I came home, and despite having slept over eight hours last night, napped for over three hours.
Laura G. sent me a myspace message yesterday apologizing for being MIA and say we need to talk and she'd call me sometime today. Why do I feel nervous?
That post I started yesterday morning is going to have to wait a little longer, as I feel too burnt right now to sit and write well.
Thursday was a blast. A long blast, which resulted in me sleeping a little over four hours that night. Dana was going to come to Delilah's for Ska Night with me, but warned me to call her a few hours before to kick her ass into going. Of course, when I did she complained she was already in her pajamas in her nice warm apartment. I told her to take a nap for an hour, get dressed, pick me up, and I'd buy her a beer. She countered with me coming over and drinking beer at her place and she'd make cookies. Mmm, cookies. So I went over, had a few Tsing Taos, and we made pecan cookies with strawberry jam filling and talked. Fabulous.
I left Dana's a little after 10pm, and headed up to Delilah's. Kate had said she was going to stop by "for one drink" after studying at her boyfriend's, but I didn't see her, although Trish's friend Monica was there with two German fellows shooting the shit about German linguistics. I ended up talking with a few people I knew and meeting some I didn't about music and shit. Once space cleared at the end of the bar by the DJ booth, I sat and talked with Chuck until Ryan showed after midnight, "running on Les time." We hung out and chatted, and some of the Deal's guys showed up - well, over half the band, really, but only Corchrane and Todd were hanging out where we were sitting. Chuck got the demo of their new record and played a few songs; very nice. He told me he'll get me a copy and I can put it online. I told him I wouldn't be doing that, and he told me he'll get me a copy "and you can put it online." He also unloaded a fair pile of swag on me for WNUR's phonathon.
At around 1:30am, Ryan and I finished off the rest of Dana's cookies. I already had a half dozen beers in me, but when he suggested we have some of the Delilah's 13th Whiskey, I thought for a second and said, "Sure." That stuff is pretty damn smooth. We both just sipped our shots, not that they lasted for a super long time. The ride home seemed to go pretty quickly, but I was a little hungover yesterday morning.
Fortunately, I wasn't scheduled to be in clinic in the morning, and spent it just shooting the shit and hanging out a bit. The afternoon was crazy, though. Extra patients showing up and so forth. By the time I got out of there I was starving, and after scarfing down some food at Sbarro across the street, I didn't have to time go home before Critical Mass. Luckily, I'd at least planned for this eventuality and was wearing knee-high ski socks and skate shoes, so I could just roll up my pants to keep them out of the chain.
Mass was great. It was the annual Polka Ride. Whenever people would ask what we're riding for or what this is about, several of us would yell, "Polka!" We headed way out on the northwest side to see the Polkaholics play at the Emerald Isle.
The weather was rather mild (for a Chicago January) when we started, but it started getting pretty windy later, or after we got out of downtown and its fifty-storey windbreaks, anyway. The ride was good; I ended up talking with T.C., who I've met once or twice before.Smithwick's was on special at the Emerald Isle, and T.C. was talking about how it used to be found only in real Irish places, but now it's everywhere, pretty much, and he commented to someone about how it's pronounced "Smithik's." Right after he said that, some girl came to the bar and ordered a "Smith Wick's." Har.
I've heard a little bit of the Polkaholics; I think we have a demo at WNUR. But their live show was pretty entertaining, especially since the crowd was pretty into it. Most of the punk kids that show up for Mass had disappeared by the end of the ride. Super-fast punk rock polka (and the chicken dance!) made for a good time. After eating some rather poor fish and chips to assuage my burbling stomach, and downing a couple of beers, I headed home, although on a more direct route than the Mass took up there.
This morning I met Laura W. up at Orange for breakfast. It was good, as was the custom juice. I came home, and despite having slept over eight hours last night, napped for over three hours.Laura G. sent me a myspace message yesterday apologizing for being MIA and say we need to talk and she'd call me sometime today. Why do I feel nervous?
That post I started yesterday morning is going to have to wait a little longer, as I feel too burnt right now to sit and write well.
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