Sooooo…the other day I wrote about scrambled eggs. Not only did I write about them, but I included a pretentious title, too. I wrote about scrambled eggs because my plans to write about something else fell through, and there is apparently some mechanism in my brain that makes me write no matter how boring the topic floating around the polluted murk in my brain might be. This is not to say that I don’t support my opinion on scrambled eggs. I do, wholeheartedly. I just want you to know that I know how stupid that was to write, and for that I am very sorry.

If you didn’t happen to read it, don’t even stress. I’m boring, some vacation plans got cancelled, there were scrambled eggs, I’m boring, end of story.

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE. If my scrambled eggs story weren’t enough to convince you that I am really one of the lamest individuals you read on an even semi-regular basis*, know this: I recently passed up an opportunity to accompany a touring band to a strip club because I wanted to go home and sleep. Stephanie convinced me to go to some show on Monday. Her friend is the tour manager for this band. I’d never heard of them but apparently they get airplay on 105.7 The Point, so my lack of awareness can be attributed to my own snobbery instead of their general obscurity.

Anyway.

The tour manager friend was a nice guy with a friendly, confident handshake. I’m a sucker for good handshakes. If a large dude can shake my hand without:

a)     Treating it like a dead fish or
b)    Crushing the bones inside of it

…then I consider his social skills to far exceed the general population’s. So even though I was out past my bedtime and at Pop’s, a place I have not been to more than twice since my bad old days of staying out until sunrise and not noticing the lingering stench of sour beer and dirty jeans, I had a decent time. I realize that I have a tendency to seem weird and anti-social around strangers, but I guess I wasn’t totally repellent because I was invited to accompany everyone to the gentleman’s club next door (ahem, there are such clubs in either direction, you stay classy East Side!). Which I declined because I was tired. Also I had a deadline to meet, but mostly, yeah, I was tired.

“How was your night?” I asked Stephanie the next day.

“I may not have slept,” she replied.

Well. I’d rather sleep than do pretty much anything, but I have to admit that not sleeping on a school night because you’re hanging out with some band at a strip club is way cooler than almost anything I’ve done lately. Although I did get to do an interview earlier for a band playing at LouFest. It went well. A lot better than I expected, but I was sort of freaked about never having conducted an interview before and therefore expected to just stare at this person until he got creeped out and left. We talked for about an hour without me realizing it, although now that I listen to the playback, I realize that he may have thought differently. Not that it was uncomfortable or boring, but hey, Dave? You know how you say that I laugh like a combination of a crazy person and Herman Munster? I may finally have to admit that you’re right.

*Words cannot express how grateful I am to everyone who reads this on even a semi-regular basis. My hit tracker populates more and more non-St. Louis IPs every day, and every day those visits get longer. I have no idea why any of you like me – or possibly hate me to the point of obsession, I don’t really care because for this purpose it’s basically the same thing – but I hope that I can say something of merit that is slightly more interesting than scrambled eggs.