Not that you know it. Not that you even have clue as to all the things I’ve intended to write about in the past few days. Even now I have to go prepare sustenance for my husbandly friend, but I implore you to check out the new hotness
from my favorite TV genius and yours, Joss Whedon. You won’t be sorry. Truly you won’t.
On Tuesday the Hubs and I went to the National to see Weird Al. We saw him a year ago at Innsbrook. I must say I enjoyed the experience more sans mosquitos.
We’ve both been Weird Al fans for a number of years, and now we’re both old enough to admit it. The guy…well…he’s kind of a genius. We both went through an “I’m so cool that I only listen to artisitcally “relevant” music deemed so by their
use as soundtrack music in indie movies
approval by people I deem cooler than me
status as something that nobody in the room/at the party/in the conversation has heard of/thought of liking/managed to consider ironic before I enlightened them”
stage. As for me, I still listened to whatever the heck I wanted to, but being a DJ kind of ruined me for a while. I will say now that if I ever (and I don’t think I ever did) but if I ever said a single ill world against Weird Al I totally take it back. Because that guy knows how to party.
With Stormtroopers:
And in a fat suit:
If you’ve never seen him in person, treat yourself. Even if you’re not a huge accordian music fan, he’s got infectious energy…guess it comes from being so “White and Nerdy”
