All hooked up.

As if I hadn't already cemented my status as a walking cliche--just another blogger with a digital camera--this weekend G and I fully attached ourselves to the teat of the 21st century by getting real-live cellular service. So now I'm just another B-burg former hipster with a blog and a digital camera who is constantly connected to buzz, the scene, via my cell phone--which is ALSO a digital camera, of course. I'm heading over to J&R Musicworld right now for my I-Pod and oversized headphones, I'll pick up the ironic t-shirt and case of PBR's en route. Text me, m'kay?

Jumping Christ. Next thing you know I'll be blogging about all the events I attend and name drop about who I met/saw/went home with. [Like CMJ Bloodshot Barbecue Saturday, the highlight of which, for me, was seeing the Meat Purveyors--whose lead singer I (and Dana and Zeebah, drop, drop) succeeded in pissing off by singing the line "...you...get offa my cloud" when she yelled "Hey", and whose bass player I did not get to know, but instead had a lovely chat with the man with whom she is currently sleeping. That covers met and saw, as far as who I had sex with afterward, well, I am a one-man woman. Although I think I might have had a chance with Dana if she'd finished that last Rheingold and hadn't received a better offer from the Waco Brothers.]