Monday, February 25, 2008

In which he's living surgeon's hours....

In which he's living surgeon's hours....

Damn. I don't know about you guys, but I'm a candyass. And when I run this many days (lost count) on as little sleep as I've been getting, running as much as I have makes Tommy a dull boy.

And to be honest, I wasn't all that sharp to start with. Think the flat end of a putter, and you're halfway there, Sambo.

Today, there was work. And there was a floor strip, which is never a lot of fun. There's a buzz from the wax and stripping chemicals, but it's not a fun Dean Martin kind of buzz. It's more of a Mickey Rourke, I gotta have this to survive, kinda buzz. With all the inebriation, but no inflated sense of self-worth.

However, there was Sitar food, featuring the creepiest waiter of all time...a post perhaps for when I'm not so ever-loving tired.

And there was Henry Rollins in Knoxville. Which is just a sight to see. Again. Complete with guy tripping balls and having to leave pretty much in the arms of his buddy, who'd taken his friend out under threat of bodily harm from the row behind him....



Purple Monkey Rutabega.

Edit: Holy Florking Schnit, The Sitar's website is the snazziest thing I've seen outside the year 1998. The website is more exciting than the restaurant itself. They ought to feed you inside the website, if such a thing were possible. I'm not too fluent on this internet jazz, as witnessed by my using pretty much the same template since 2003. If ever there were a site crying out for a "Feed People from the Interweb" web app, it's The Sitar's..


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