Judging by the phone call I just recieved from the Tumor headquarters, there’s a rip roaring party going on over there. AT just gave me his famously curative recipe for a screwdriver. It involves counting and some basic arithmetic.. Sadly I lack orange juice, so juicy juice will have to do. Cheers!
My dearest wife’s parting words this evening were, “I won’t be home too late.”
Ah well, I let her out the door. What am I to expect?
So this weekend the mighty city of K-town is throwing “the largest ska festival in the nation” down at the old city.
I’m planning on representing. Now, I’m not big on the ska, myself, but Nodbob, well, thats another issue. Which brings up many conversations in his Mustang, where ska plays preeety much non-stop.
AT: “Dude, you know this music all sounds like exactly the same, right”
Nodbob: “Hippy”
And so it goes.
But this weekend, well, ol’ Nodbob’s going to make the long and ardous journey from Atlanta to the Ridge, where we’re going to spend the weekend partaking of 30 or so ska bands, and probably a lot of beer. MastaG and maaaaybe Pigpen are going to be joining us, along with the ladyfriend and whoever else shows up. Bos has expressed an interest in getting his skanking on.
Ah, skanking. I must confess, I’ve never been able to pull off a sucessful skankin’. That needs to be rectified, so I did some internetting, and came across a user guide.
So, we’re all learned. Now all I have do is find me some plaid pants, or maybe a black jacket and tie. The ubitiqous Bonnaroo hat will have to do for the headware, tho…