If I could be vain for a tic...

So I got a haircut before the Kow shows.

My usual stylist wasn't in, and I got a girl who didn't know me. Melissa, my usual stylist can tell what I mean by "short on the sides and back, not so much on the top."

I didn't realize until the end of the cut just how short Jessica had cut it. It looks GOOD, mind you. Just not what I was expecting.

Then she took out a straight razor for the back of my neck. And did a very good job of hacking away the old growth back there. I made sure to give her a good tip.

So, yeah, my hair's currently the shortest it's been in about three, four years.

I have, however, noticed more women checking me out these days. After I hit Swizzlesticks, I was walking to the LRT, and some good looking coeds would smile at me.

Granted, maybe they were previously, and I just had no peripheral vision to see them doing so.

Last night on the bus after work, there were no seats left, so I was standing (as I tend to when no seats are available) in the back doorway.

I was sharing this door space with a cute girl off her work as well, I assume. Slightly Asian features, black hair. You know, the kind I go for. And every time I'd look up from my book (Fluke, by Christopher Moore. Read it!), she be looking at me with a closed-lip smile. And so I'd smile/smirk back.

Short-haired Jago gets the chicks. Why didn't I know about this earlier? (And, if you guys say that you DID tell me this earlier, I'm going to ignore you...)

* * *

One of the reasons it's taken me a week to post was partly due to preparing for the concert Kow had on Saturday.

Before the show, all of us were frazzled to our wits ends, due to people not showing up where they were supposed to, mistaken directions, us sending someone for MFJ, who had decided to take a bus instead, etc...

So, we were a little late and a little unprepared for our first set.

It wasn't bad. We sang well, and junk. It's mostly a matter of we lost the stage presence we had at Fringe, mostly due to us being shellshocked.

The ESC did a decent job yet again, even though due to the technical side being all screwed up, no one in the audience could figure out where skits started and stopped at some points.

Also, having three interrogation scenes with similar character names really threw us for a loop.

Two White Guys, jugglers, did a good set. The Wombats are also funny, if long, in their improv. D! and some ESC members were grumbling about how long they took, and how "bad" the improv was.

Sure, the improv itself wasn't great, but they had the audience entertained, which was all I, as a host, cared about.

Father Dave, as always, was a great storyteller. The singer we got wasn't so great, as she kept on trying to embellish and failed doing so.

The part that sticks with me the best was, of course, the part that hurt me the most.

The show was going a little long, and Kow was finishing up with their last set. After we left the stage, the audience cheered for an encore.

We walk back onstage, and I do my usual encore schtick, lifted from the Spinal Tap episode: "Thank you, Springton. There will be no encore."

I turn on my heel and fake walking off stage. The audience boos, the rest of Kow's watching me act pompous. I turn around at the curtain, turn on my hell to walk back to the mic, and I find myself flying in the air. Apparently, there was some dust or something on the floor, and I wiped out. Huge.

The audience laughs, I bring it up again during our Hey Ya encore. ("Okay, now Jago!" "Um, I slipped." Beat. Back into the song.)

It wasn't until the next day that I realized I must have fallen onto my left arm, since I wasn't able to support any weight with it for the next few days. I went gimpy, and it hurt like hell afterwards.

* * *

Two days ago, I went over to D!s for some virtual wrestling action, and to hang out with Morgan and Ryan. I decided to bring over a 12 pack of Sleeman's, and put it out onto the porch for a quick cool.

The next day, I went back for some Smackdown, and forgot that we had left the beer on the porch.

Now, I'll admit, I stopped taking chemistry once I graduated from high school, and we were pretty tired when I left the previous day. I forgot that, while some alcohol has a lower freezing point than water, beer isn't really one of them.

So we had six Sleesicles in various flavours. I decided to let mine thaw out by putting them in D! cavernous sink and a tubful of lukewarm water. D! decided to open his and drink around the hunk of ice. At which point, we had a beer volcano happening on his coffee table.

D! decided to wait for one of my thawed beers.

* * *

Reading: Finished up Beauty Tips from Moose Jaw by Will Ferguson, a great travelogue of Canada. In the midst of Fluke.
Listening to: My MP3 mix. Although we're forced to listen to Christmas music at work, so I'm going to have to bring down some of my non-traditional music for the store so I don't go insane.
What's Trapped in My Head: O Christmas Tree, sung by a bunch of synthesized cats and dogs. Kill me.


Diego said...

Hey. I was IN the ESC portion and you don't have to tell me about the interrogation scenes. Doesn't help when people literally can't tell which scene they're supposed to be in and calls everyone "Billy".

As for the Improv? Still bad. They weren't getting laughs for the scene. They weren't getting laughs for their skill. They were getting laughs because one of them was beating THE EVERLOVING SHIT out of the other one with a foam bat. They could have been spouting soup recipes or the St. Albert phone book. Or not said anything at all.

This has nothing to do with my respect for the Wombats; they were sloppy as hell and went over-time. But then, the ESC did the show that it did, so I don't really feel like I've got that high of a soapbox. Just would rather have my comments come from my own keyboard, for once.

Anonymous said...

Now you understnad why the younger Jago always has short hair. It's been my secret for years.


Jago said...

And who are YOU dating these days, Brade?