my sweet weekend

Do you want to know what I did this weekend? No? Too bad.

Friday was the Popfest in SF. The Ricksha club seems OK. I couldn't help being sad that I wasn't there to see the Television Personalities. I got the inside scoop that the reason the TVPs can't get into the U.S. is not because of Dan Treacy's criminal record, but because he keeps showing up smashed to his visa appointments. But the Razorcuts/Sportique side project thingy played again, which was great. Those guys are so cool. They gave a shout out to Sac! I, of course, got medium hammered and proceeded to segue from talking to Gregory Webster about the London bombings (he lives in Oxford), to the subject of discrimination against Muslims and then to pretty much accusing his home country of being more overtly racist than the U.S. and then telling him the stupid story of how a guy in a pub smacked me and no one seemed to be rushing to stop him from kicking my ass. Poor guy. I plan to pursue a career in diplomatic relations some day. The rest of the bands were decidedly not my cup of pop tea. Pop shows are different. Everyone is dressed casually and no one is getting wasted.

Saturday was the sci-fi con at which No Kill I: TNG played. The organizers of the con thought it would be a good idea to shut everything down at like 4:00, pack up the booths, tell everyone to go home and then say, "oh, but come back because bands will be playing at 6:00". Great idea. There was no one there for the bands, of course. I snuck in with an amp to avoid paying the ten bucks (which went to charity). Stupid charity. TNG KILLED! Killed, I say. I can't believe that no one was videotaping it because my descriptive gifts fail me when I try to describe it. I had a couple of great interactions with the nerds at the con, including a high school kid dressed as an old-school Klingon (before they had the butt-heads). I was laughing about the nerds to my friends, but lest they think I was being cruel, I pointed out that I often used to sleep with a Star Trek novel under my pillow so that I would have dreams about Kirk. How old was I when I used to do that? That's classified information, ensign. No Kill I: TNG needs to play at least once a year from now on!!!!! That's an order. Oh yeah, there was a "guitar comedian" named Hunter Hill. I want to write his name so when he googles it, this will come up and he will see that everyone there thought he was the biggest douche on the planet. This is a guy who probably worships those stupid fucking songs that Adam Sandler used to sing on SNL. His idea of comedy was singing a song about tittyfucking and making fun of carnies and homeless people. I'm sure it goes over big with his frat brothers but it was painfully unfunny. It was sad. And his little square sorority girlfriend sat there videotaping it and pretending that it's great to have a boyfriend that sings a song about you coming in your eye and cleaning it up with your panties.

Then we rushed to the Not Not Fun showcase in Davis. These kids are just as cool as I hoped! They're not like the kids in Sac who just sit there sourly in their hundred dollar jeans under their 60 dollar haircuts and never crack a smile. They are like all of our friends ten years ago. Funny, friendly, and cute. Their bands were entertaining and good. I hope that they all play in Sac a lot. Thanks to whoever hosted the show at their house. They even had free BBQ and beer.

Sunday I went up to the Yuba. This spot at the river really puts Sac to shame, which I hate to say. But hey, that's the beauty of Sac, drive a little over an hour away and you're at a beautiful blue-green river in the mountains, with naked Germans and hippies everywhere. Brew said that last time she saw two naked hippies toasting each other with champagne. Sweet! Maybe Brew can post directions to this spot for those who are interested. It's worth the drive.