Wednesday, March 29, 2006

First, the important information you MUST have!

Photogal and I have spent the week packing, then moving, then closing the sale on our old digs and through it all we’ve basically been working our fingers to the nubby little bones barely sheathed by thin layers of skin that are themselves in grave danger of completely wearing off.

So we really need to cut loose and let off some steam.

So, tomorrow night, THURSDAY MARCH 30, we will be DJing at Liar's Club, drinking as much bourbon, vodka and whatever else we can shove down our gullets, while spinning some massive tracks full of rock and/or roll goodness.

Also, judging by Photogal's DJ name, I think you can expect lots of cowbell. And if you're super nice maybe I'll break out my Sugababes cover of the Arctic Monkeys song "I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor." No, I'm no kidding.

So, relevant facts:

Liar's Club

DJ Tankboy
DJ Cowbell

Rockin' from 9pm until 2am


Liar's Club
1665 W Fullerton
Chicago, IL

And now, some levity at the author's expense.

Obviously I am drained. Beyond drained. And the week is still only half over. So, instead of going on and on about how psychically wrenching all the recent developments in my life have been -- albeit almost totally in terrifically positive ways -- I think it's time to share some sill pictures of Tankboy throughout the years. And today, we will focus primarily on what silliness poor Photogal has had to put up with from time to time.

So first, we have this photograph as sort of a palate cleanser. I think I'm sixteen or so and this is my attempt at a self-portrait:

Here Photogal and I are in the early stages of love and she's all like, "This dude is SO cool. I'm such a lucky gal!"

However the blush soon fades and she starts to worry that the sarcastic punk is in fact a guitar-totin' hippy. (Have no fear, I did -- and still do -- eat hippies for breakfast.)

Here we are after my first massive haircut in which my locks disappeared but my Sampsonian strength did not. Photogal is happy again. She no longer fears that she is dating a dork.

Oh, but wait a minute! Perhaps she rejoiced too soon. Get a load of that shirt I'm wearing! The only thing that makes me feel good about this photo is that, compared to my brother's ridiculous shirt, my wardrobe choice is slightly less offensive. Slightly.

Speaking of my brother, and my wish not to paint him as being totally challenged when it comes to dressing himself, here he is (along with my littlest bro) looking rather dapper. The same cannot be said (unfortunately) for my own Bono meets Layne Staley look. Ouch.

And here I am, last weekend, posing with Kip’s gal Leslie. This doesn't really make either of us look bad, it just cracks me up every time I see it so I wanted to include in somewhere. This seems as good a place as any.

So there you have it: Indisputable photographic proof that a) I am an idiot and b) Photogal is a saint for putting up with me year in and year out.

So be sure to stop by Liar's tomorrow to give the lady the appropriate props, m'kay?

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