Opening Up The Hermit Cave

The Steitzeseses are in town, the Steitzeseses are in town!

Also, in case you forgot, there is a reason why you’re not supposed to eat White Castles when you’re drunk at 2am. I’d temporarily forgotten this when Dustin and Niki left for a moment (this is to be expected when you have friends over for late night drinking and live only a few blocks away from the nearest White Castle) and returned with a Crave Case, but now that I’m awake and uncomfortable, I think I’ll write it on the whiteboard or something to make sure I remember for next time. (I’ll have to write it around the pear picking its nose that Courtney drew, as well as the ever-growing list of 2012 hipster band names [currently containing suggestions from Stephanie, Mike, and some guy who looks like Steve-O].)

I think we’re supposed to do coffee today, and I spent the better parts of the Seattle trip and last night not shutting up about the Mud House. Do you guys know how great the Mud House is? Have you been listening to me? It’s so great that when I go there for lunch in the middle of an extra long day at a job I hate and end up sitting next to suburban assholes who can’t understand why antique stores on Cherokee aren’t open the same hours as their neighborhood Kohl’s location, I still leave there feeling revitalized, like I’ve been on another planet for the past 45 minutes, and am ready to face yet another shitstorm because of the stuff I just put in my belly and, since I keep my head down and read the entire time, my brain. Everyone is so nice and it’s such a gem of a place that this city is lucky to have.

Again, and I really hope you know that I’m saying this for your own good, if you’re in St. Louis and you’re not going to the Mud House, then you’re an idiot and I feel sorry for you.

It’s becoming increasingly common for me to be social on the weekends. Back when Graham closed the restaurant on Saturdays, we never did anything. Yeah, he got off work at 10:30 on Fridays, but dudes, I wake up at 5am for work. There is no way I’m staying awake past 11pm on a Friday night without incentive like friends being in town or a show I have to review, and even in those cases, I have to come straight home from work and take a nap before anything happens. I’m also not the social director of anyone’s group of friends, so if anyone wants to hang out, they pretty much have to invite me/come over and drag me out of the house. It’s not that I dislike my friends, but it’s very easy for me to forget that life goes on outside of my immediate sphere of perception, and on most nights, I choose to perceive Netflix and the Internet.

Lately, though, with Graham’s schedule changing and people wanting to do stuff, I’ve been coming out of my hermit cave more often. Last night we had people over. Tonight I have Angelica’s Girl’s Night and Stephanie’s birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEPHANIE!!!!!!!!!!!). I think there was something tomorrow but now I forget what it is, which means I’ll end up starting the Craig Finn review* in the morning and then watching the last of Sherlock season 1 while Graham sleeps until mid-afternoon.

WAIT. I’m supposed to get a treadmill tomorrow. Nate never responded re: instructions for putting it back together, the existence of a metric Allen wrench, or a solid time for us to come over, but I’m still super excited! See you later, fatassery!

*Nada Surf review here. Spoiler: is dumb.

Also, I get to review books now! I’m already halfway through Mike Doughty’s The Book of Drugs and will start Alina Simone’s You Must Go And Win sometime in February. I have the feeling that if the flux capacitor is ever made available to the general public at a reasonable price, I’ll have to tell 13-year-old me that criticism is something you can do as, like, a thing. She’ll love it.

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About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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