Lyrical Genius

My sister and I have this pact to start making more of an effort with our lives. We're trying to do things together on Friday and Saturday nights, our only free times. This just makes me think of that Will and Grace episode where Will says, "But we don't do things." Yeah, but we're trying to.

Since I'm usually exhausted, freezing, and starving after I get off my super-long Friday shift, we've been going out to get hot food Friday nights. Of course, since this is Lent, we're limited as to where we can go, for Catholics aren't allowed to eat meat on Fridays in Lent. One time we went to the Irish pub and got hot toddies and fish and chips (so delicious! Hot Irish whiskey with honey and cloves is a wonderful, wonderful thing!). This past Friday, we went to a pizza place I'd never been to before, since it's on the opposite side of town from where I live.

"It's a nice family place," my sister told me, "and sometimes they have live band performances."

So we go, since greasy veggie pizza sounds life-affirmingly appetizing when one has not eaten in nearly twelve hours. When we arrived, we immediately felt out of place. There was a performance going on, and the restaurant was filled with hipsters come to see it. In our sweats, my sister and I didn't really fit in.

We tried our best to ignore the very loud hubbub around us as we debated whether or not to get a pizza that included artichoke hearts, so the only phrase I heard from the girl on stage was "fucking chihuahuas." I cracked up because I had no idea what the context of that was. I still have no clue.

Then, most unfortunately, the night's main band start playing. Now these guys were not just an amateur hipster band who had never before performed in front of people. They were a hipster country band without any smidgen of musical talent. Each of their songs started exactly the same, and they sang in a terrible, fake Southern twang. Their lyrics were atrocious, to say the least, and included the following: "we'll all get high, and we'll all go to jail," "we'll go to Chicago, and we'll all go to jail," "you smell like raw sewage," "I want to drink a whole bottle of whiskey," and "we tried to shit, but we could only fart." It was very painful to hear. Prevalent themes included getting high, masturbation, and prison, so I muttered snarkily under my breath, "Clearly their inspiration for their lyrics is taken from daily life."

By the sixth song, I could not handle it any longer, and I yelled at my sister to pound her beer so that we could escape. On the bright side, the pizza was quite delicious, but I won't be going there again unless I know in advance there are no hipster stoner country bands playing to ravage my ears.

Here's hoping for a better Friday experience.

XOXO
Gossip Ghoul.