(I am pissed off and way grumpy. In fact, I am so grumpy, I may win the grumpypants away from Chris W.)
I am in Cincinnati. There are no visible race riots, but it is raining and that has kept the crowds down. I am in a hotel that smells of old soggy business travelers. As Tom Waits wrote, “and you take on the dreams of those who stayed there before you.” The curtains in my room are a color that, well, the closest thing I can come up with is cotton candy, not the blue kind, but the shocking pink kind. I can feel myself getting a tan from their eerie glow.
The fucking “i” key on my keyboard is working intermittently. This may not seem like a big deal until you try logging into a machine with the username “iglazer.” God, do I hate laptops. I also have begun to hate cell phones. Not because you can never get signal when you need it, but because we all have become to attached to them. I hate the sound of their ring. I hate listening to other people’s conversations and then them getting pissy at you for looking at them as they blab away. I hate that people (and I am guilty of this too) forsake those who are with them for some squawky voice on a tiny plastic phone. I just hate the social implications of cell phones. Write a fuckin’ letter!
PS I think that I have sufficiently proven my grumpypantsedness… hand ‘em over Warner.
I am in Cincinnati to do a floorshow. Those of you not in a business where there are floorshows, lemmie splain them to you. You, the vendor, sit a little table and have some collateral and some give-aways. People come by pretend to be interested in what you have to say and what your collateral says, and then strips you bare of your give-aways… consider it collateral damage. Worse yet, the person I am supposed to be sharing this hell isn’t here… so it is me and only me. I am paying for my sins… worse yet, I am paying for the sins I have yet to commit. What a Jewish condition.
Kudos to Ken for introducing me to a band called Lemon Jelly. They bare not relation to Green Jello. They do, however, bravely ask the musical question, “What do you do in the bath?” Check them out.
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