So there we were, on stage and happy with the ol' geetar and our so BFF Dave rockin' out at the first bar we ever played. We rifled through the set. We introduced the band, which is always funny because there's only two of us.
And then it happened.
"And I'm, well, I'm the sorta singer," we blurted out, inner turmoil unleashed for all to see. Then Dave started playing a song we'd never heard before, then we couldn't decide what to play next, then a large black woman came up to the stage and told us to watch her purse.
Then the lights came up, and we lobbied for one more song. Then we played the one more song, but with the lights on and most of the bar walking on the stage as if we weren't even there.
And then it was 6:45 a.m. and we were definitely awake, remembering the dream we had about draining our first six foul shots in a row, and then missing the next four.
Don't even bother. We already have them figured out.
Oh for the days of Winona Ryder dreams.
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2 comments:
hahah u crazeeee
And now, back to work at the most ridiculous job ever...
Boss' Secretary: Did Boss call you?
OMS: Yeah.
BS: Well. She told me she called and talked to you and asked if you told me and I said no you didn't tell me that she called.
OMS: OK.
BS: Well. I was surprised that she called. She said she called her line but I can't control that when I'm not at my desk so than she called you and talked to you and when she asked me if you said anything to me I said no.
OMS: Yeah.
BS: I normally talked to her when she calls in but this time she said she talked to you and told you when she'd be in the office. But you didn't tell me.
OMS: Right.
BS: Well. You normally tell me when she calls. It's just. Well. Can you just tell me when she calls next time? Thanks, dear.
OMS: (Watches BS waddle away).
The End.
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