It was one of those days. Fueled by coffee because sleep is for the weak, I spend a good chunk of the morning stuck in traffic, fill a work day with everything that can go wrong, sit in traffic on the way home. Make a five minute pit stop to eat a slice of cheese before heading over to get my brows waxed. Come home and find out that I have to be somewhere.
I had cancelled any sort of pending plans I would have had tonight on account of being sent to Vegoose this weekend. Plus, I have (get this) a speaking engagement tomorrow morning. So I'll be racing across town to catch a flight with the hope that I can get to Sam Boyd Stadium in time to catch Dr. Octagon.
Anyhow, what I forgot was that I had made arrangements last month to see Darker My Love. So, I had to unglue myself from SoapNet (General Hospital is actually exciting again) to get to The Troubadour in time for a 9 p.m. set. I ended up stuck behind a brutal car accident, but still managed to show up ten minutes before the band's set. I went up to the lounge so that I could sit on a plush couch and watch without having to deal with people poking and shoving around the floor. Everything was great until the hipsters had to invade the lounge and begin talking really loudly throughout the duration of the set. From what I gathered, the people talking knew the band. I think I would rather have no friends than friends who came to my concert to sit around and gossip.
I caught one song from Heavens. I dug the CD, so part of me wanted to stick around longer, but then there is the rest of me and she hasn't packed yet.