Tonight was Motley Crue up in Manchester NH. For weeks I'd been joking with Del (my friend who was going with me) that we'd probably just blow it off, neither of was really caring about going. We've probably seen the Crue together close to 10 times. Anyway today came and we decided we were actually going to go despite feeling old and lame, we knew we'd have a blast once there - Manchester just felt farther away than it is. Then Del calls 30 minutes before we were supposed to leave and backs out of it all together. He'd had a couple beers this afternoon and now just wanted to go to sleep. Don't laugh too hard - you'll feel the same way soon enough.
So with Lori headed to the Cape there was nobody to drag along now that I was almost close to being psyched to see them. I end up staying home and watching the finale of Six Feet Under on HBO. And cry. And bawl. And sob. Fuck I hate that show, it can be so torturous to watch sometimes. I've never watched a show that can make me feel so depressed - but it does it so well I couldn't ever kick the habit. Great episode, could be their best ever. But I'm glad its done, cause Entourage just makes me laugh. Thank God.
So I must ask myself, when did I become such a tool that I blow off Motley Crue to stay home, watch TV and cry? Oh yeah, thirty some odd years ago. D'oh!