Got a tattoo last night. Nothing flashy, just a small buddy tattoo with TGB and after Girl Charlie already got hers. Nothing fancy, just a little stamp to remember a night we'll never forget.
|I'm the only one who remembers. I am fucking Pepperidge Farms.|
There are tattoos I get because they mean something, others are pieces of art I love having on me, and then others, like the above, are stamps that won't let me forget that have stories that are way more interesting than the piece itself. Aside from having my feet puked on, that night in Atlanta was a top ten night in a lifetime full of top ten nights. Don't try to do the math, it'll hurt your wee brain.
I'm skipping your shitty Spotify list and listening to a kid I fell in love with at a coffee shop in Ohio. I was a baby comic visiting friends and I wanted to keep working material so I hit a few open mics. This one was a mixed music/comedy/whatever open mic and after my set this kid (17 year old at the time) got up and within a minute of hearing him I clicked record on my digital voice recorder. He's an old soul if ever there was one. Since then he's put out a few albums. Go check out Tom Evanchuck. He's bluesy, rockabilly, good for the soul music.
It's taken me an hour to write this shit because Windows is being a cunt so I must away now.