Monday, December 02, 2002

Unhappy auto equation:
1 drunk drives 50mph into Yours Truly x silver 2002 Forester (totaled) on 4/21/02 + 1 insurance company of 15+ years = 1 golden 2002 Forester on 5/1/02 + rates raised 500% as of 12/16/02 due to "losses."
Fun with math.
*new factor*
+ 3 cheers to Lawyer Tom who just called me to say OK, I'll call Geico (chosen new company of bandits/insurance agents) and get your rates even lower... he completely rocks, I hope.

My Krist Novoselic story, from this past Saturday night.
His average white band, Eyes Adrift, played Mohawk Place and although it was crowded several people I knew were heading towards the bar, having heard enough of them.
I was standing to the side of the stage, next to Krist, trying to get a good angle of the three. Suddenly I was noting that the band was boring, that Krist (memories of when he was Chris float to mind, until the fateful SPIN assignment which had him heading to Bosnia, his heritage and a neato new first name) looked into eyes (adrift) about the room and that Curt from the Meat Puppets was barely functioning.
The x-Sublime drummer broke a drumstick and the beer tech (yes, I wrote beer tech) was trying to lift it up before Krist stepped on it. Unsuccessful. When he took a step forward I grabbed it.
I asked the beer tech, So you're the beer tech? And he said Among other things, not proud, not mad.
The set was nearly over and Krist bent down to ask me What was the name of the opening band? I said I don't know, I got here for you, I'll find out.
Asked a nearby boy and didn't trust his answer so I asked a girlie, who handed me The Hook Generation cd. I pointed to it and Krist took it and placed it on his set list. I sensed the girlie agitation so I told her that he had it. He thanked The Hook Generation, graciously, and went about his bass business when I noted the band had taken a more classic rock turn.
The girlie's cd was now on top of the giant amp next to Krist. They finished. He walked by me, took my hands in his and said Thanks and good night, eyes adriffffft into mine.
They skedaddled out the bar and then signed autographs for about half an hour before their bus roared away to some joint in Pennsyltucky.
The End.
I hear there is a gigantic bouquet for me at the newspaper office, two different people called to tell me so. I bet they're from Krist.
I'm kidding.
The flowers exist, but I don't think they're from the former Nirvana tall guy.
All rock stars should love me, but only because I make them look oso much more rocking than any other photog in the music documentation racket.
In my most Perfect, Humble Opinion.
Self-love love.

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