My newish love of beer is tempered by the fact that beer-drinking leads to beer-drunkenness, which I find deeply unpleasant. Vodka-, tequila-, and wine-drunkenness are pleasant and fun. It's merely the drunkenness that beer places upon me tends to make me stupid and incapacitated. And ridiculously hungover the next day.
It's this (and other) circumstance that caused me to cancel on poor Ted for the Sounds Like Chicken concert on the 3rd. That, and the fact that though the doors opened at 6:30, the band had 5 opening acts, and the real band would have taken until 11:30 or so to be on stage. And I had to work at 9 the next morning. And I didn't want to be the prick who, halfway through the set, had to prevail upon Ted to give me a lift home. So no SLC. Oh well.
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...and as you now know, I roll up to the venue by my lonesome at around 10:30ish, thinking I'd catch maybe a full set of the band just before SLC, and who do I hear playing el Chupanebre?
Sigh. Got most of the gig, though.
Still, the sets for the supporting bands must have been really damn short. Like, really, really short.
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