An Adventure In Jukeboxes!

I tried my first digital jukebox last night. An interesting experience, although I think I prefer the old-fashioned scrolling-through-every-single-album-to-find-the-song-you-want interface as opposed to the new-fangled touchscreen version. It was, dare I say, an indie/hipster-type venue, so there wasn’t a lot of pop on the menu, but some of their choices were bizarre, from a British point of view. Think Tank and Blur but no Modern Life Is Rubbish or Parklife? All of the Oasis albums except Morning Glory, but for Definitely Maybe there’s only one song present, and that’s Supersonic? Very strange. There’s also a search function, to get you straight to the song of your drunken desires, but sneakily, if you use this option, it costs 2 plays for a single track rather than just one. Which is a little ungentlemanly, I feel. And it’s Carrboro! The jukebox should ideally be a free commune-type affair, with hippies providing their own compositions. Or perhaps not…

(In the event, my choices: This Charming Man for Josh, Fairytale of New York, which was met with bemused indifference, damn them all, and The Human League’s Don’t You Want Me?. I never claimed to be original.)

currently playing: Stars — Celebration Guns

Arrgh!

Sometimes, I think that it’s good that I don’t live here, as I’d spend all my time in the second-hand shops. I’ve found a copy of the tape version of Substance, which has the full 12” version of The Perfect Kiss, unlike the CD version with its missing forty seconds. Somebody please stop me from going in these shops!

currently playing: Prefab Sprout — When Love Breaks Down

Let's Start A War…A Nuclear War

(look, I’m really sorry about the continued use of Electric Six lyrics. It’s not big or clever, I know, but it is fairly germane to today’s entry)

So, last night I went to a gay club in Raleigh, as the token straight guy with my friends. It was…an interesting night out; I was told by Mandy (assume spelling correction to come) before we left for Raleigh which toilets to avoid (i.e. the ones without a lock on them), and a little about what to expect.

To whit: lots of men with no shirts sweating on a dance floor. As you’d expect, really. I have to say that I wasn’t the greatest fan of the music, which seemed to follow the tried and tested formula of “stick a thumping house beat on, our kid, and change the singer every now and then, you know, for variety”, but I guess that it did its job well enough.

I can’t say that I have too many enlightening comments on the night; although it was funny to hear the girls complain about the lesbians in the corner who were just talking rather than dancing, and their bartenders are quite annoying and rude. I did feel a trifle out of place, although I know I wasn’t the only one, so that made me feel better a little.

Anyway, after discovering more detail than I perhaps needed about Mandy’s piercings, and avoiding lots of broken glass, we headed off to the essential destination after a night out: yes, the Waffle House. Waffles and hashbrowns for all! Or something. Eventually, just as the sun was coming up, we got back to Chapel Hill, ready to sleep away a rainy Sunday. And my last full Sunday here. Boooo…

currently playing: Low – On The Edge Of

Crazy Golf!

Naomi coming up the course after a successful shot.

Stacie's Dosai

See, I wasn't kidding when I said it was huge!

Fuse!

No idea what it's supposed to be though…

Woo!

Went to A YARD SALE!

currently playing: Dexy’s Midnight Runners — Geno

Inbetween Days

For Stacie’s birthday, we went to a vegetarian Indian restaurant in Cary, where we struggled with the menu (well, aside from Srav, Stacie, and Rachel) and ended up with huge amounts of food, in various different shapes and sizes; Stacie’s dosai in particular could have easily have doubled as a diggery-doo. After attempting (and failing) to eat our way through colossal amounts of Indian food, we went on to the perfect post-dinner venue: crazy golf! At 10pm!

It’s been a very long time since I played crazy golf, and I wasn’t very good at it back then, either. I surprised myself more than everybody else when I started out being quite good. Unfortunately, it was more luck than judgement; in most sports I can never learn how to repeat doing the right thing, so I varied from jammy to incredibly bad. I ended up finishing joint first with the birthday girl though (she likes it when you sing Stacie’s Mom. No, really, she does. That look of death that she gives you is an exchange of thanks, or so I’m told).

So that was Wednesday (with added chocolate cake and Collin being his amusing self. Oh, and apparently Simon is a very British name). Thursday was a lazy day again, hanging out with Srav and Stacie at the Apple Store again, before being dropped off in Borders (by myself! KID IN SWEET SHOP!). The night was swallowed up by a huge storm; huge crackles of thunder seemingly inches away from us, and lightning that lit up the sky just like day. And I was in the laundry room at the time. Eep. Thankfully, it didn’t last too long (and American washers and tumble driers still suck by the way), but we didn’t do too much else last night, aside from watching a few episodes of Six Feet Under with Collin (and me remembering how much the show depresses me).

But today! Well, not too much either, so far. I did meet up with Kavi this afternoon though, which was lots of fun. She’s spent the last year in Japan, so I haven’t seen for a long time. Bunches of hugs and animated conversation about her last few days overseas (including a drunken karaoke session and The Club With Three People). Sadly, I probably won’t see her again on this trip, but it was good to spend a few hours with her at least.

currently playing: ABC — The Look of Love

A Moment of Silence

I note with some regret that the new edition of Elizabeth Wurtzel’s Bitch has a new cover.

currently playing: Orange Juice — Rip It Up

HIGH VOLTAGE! (I apologise, truly)

On Tuesday night, a fence behind Cat’s Cradle was energised by a nearby power line that was struggling under the strain of everybody’s air conditioning needs. There was a BOOOM!, and central Carrboro plunged into darkness. Panic! Riot! Looting!

But no, everybody was very restrained, even when we pointed out that the cheesecakes in Weaver Street Market were just melting away. In the event, we did the only thing acceptable: we went to a bar in Chapel Hill and started drinking. And we learnt that a crash course in American life can be gleaned from watching VH-1, that Transformers melt in the sunlight, and that Fuse has a chalkboard in the men’s toilet, but not the women’s.

Following from afar: has Pete Doherty gone on a machine-gun rampage yet?

More to come, including crazy golf at night and…oh, I forgot, I have been requested to point out that, on Monday, a guy in a petrol station recognised Laura’s Liverpool 2005 Champions t-shirt. He mentioned something about Michael Owen, which made me think of Bonnie’s cackling laughter the day after Liverpool won the Champion’s League…

Also, I think it’s wise to spend at least part of today giggling at Ian Paisley, who has just been checkmated…hohoho.

currently playing: Bloc Party — So Here We Are