so after meeting the polish soul brother who wears his bass a little to high on his chest and makes disconcerting orgasm faces while he plays we rode home in silence for a while until we found ourselves on the topic of a certain clown that we know.
actually, we don't know him. that's the problem.
but really, since blogging is all about honesty, only one of us has any desire to know the nameless clown. i mean... know him.
so our conversation was led down the path of what it means exactly- to be de-clowned. is it about taking of the enourmous shoes and red nose... or is it dirty?
in other notes... seriously, saw a great band tonight. reminded me of my former life's career goal to go on tour with james brown. on further review of my non-existent musical ability, i thought it might be more reasonable to one day play the cowbell in a band someday. until i saw this band with a nationally renowned cowbell player, and cut short my dreams. back to the office. :)
no joke about the band though. bad-ass middle aged latinos (and token pole), guayaberas and all. even those of us who ruthlessly mock the painfully white salsa geeks couldn't keep our asses in our chairs.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment