I’m still knitting and crocheting last minute items for the show. Sometimes, I stop myself and wonder…why? Will it sell? Am I living a pipe dream? I guess I’ll have to wait and see.
I took a break last night to go to a concert with my husband. We jaunted down to Fort Lauderdale for a triple bill. Islands/Happy Mondays/Psychedelic Furs.
Here’s the deal: I was a big Mondays fan back in the day, and 24 Hour Party People is one of my fave movies. But it’s just Shaun Ryder and some scrubs now, and it was a sad show from them. After the show, when we left, I saw him sititng by a hot dog cart, texting. Maybe he was checking with his dealer or putting out an APB on Bez. If you remember the Madchester scene, you’ll understand. If not, I’m talking gibberish to ya.
The Furs, however, were pretty freakin’ awesome for an oldies act, and this is my third time seeing them in 23 years. Yes, I’m an oldies act, too.
It’s like this: Richard Butler is like a skinny version of Alan Rickman crossed with a fictional college professor I want to bone in the worst way, he wears a pair of glasses like my new Dave Brubeck specials, and he has the energy of a 16-year-old on stage. I wish my best friend had been there, because we would have needed a drool cup.
That is all.
But wait, it’s not: Midway through the first band, I saw my deadbeat ex boyfriend who cheated on me standing around, and I have never been so happy to be with my husband. As if I wasn’t anyway. I used to make some bad choices in life, and one of them was staring me in the face last night. And looked a like a 50-year-old woman. Oh wait, he is.
Okay, here’s another shot of some of our wares on sale this weekend:
I think I’m doing so much extra this week because I know there will be a massive let down when this is done, whatever the turnout is. Despite being stuck here in the velvet cage, I’ve been producing all summer. And knowing I won’t have anything left to “look forward” to is a massive letdown.
Let me be completely honest: after Saturday, I don’t know what I am going to do with myself. I made a call about a job this week, and am waiting to hear back. It’s only a one-day a week consulting gig. I can’t find anything else. I still don’t have a car.
So, with the exception of going to see Zombieland on Sunday and cashing in my change to see Whip It with my best friend next week, I got nothing.
I can honestly say I can’t take another year of the velvet cage, peeps. I simply can’t. I wish I could be more humourous or deep, but I think I lost those particular brain cells about four months ago.