Saturday Night
Saturday nights... SP and The1"P on college radio. Although I've missed a lot of Saturday night gigs over the past ten years, I can think of no better way to keep myself out of trouble. I've had a lot of hosts do the show before mine, but it's only been since Ube (and later, Tobe) took over that I've really been friends with the 10:30-midnight host. All manners of horsing around have taken place:
http://www.zippyvideos.com/5915715502725346/uber_parties_hard/*gilbertswitzer]uberpartieshard.avi
Every now and then I like the surprise the SP guys and pick up a pizza on the way to the station. We'll flake out in the lobby and eat while T'n'T trade off at the console. All three of us love the station and treat it with respect, yet sometimes I feel like a little kid left home by myself for the first time. "Hey guys, let's get really crazy....and get a pizza!". Plus, it's fun to surprise friends with little presents sometimes. So last night, I did.
I often have a lot of records and CDs with me, so I try to get to there before they shut the elevators off. I had plenty of time last night, but a big social event had just finished, and the entire first floor was shoulder-to shoulder with formally-dressed people. And what's worse, the coat check tables were blocking the elevators. Great.
I don't like big crowds at all, and my regular-joe clothing really made me stand out in this one. I guess I could have turned around, left the building and re-entered through the basement, taking the stairs to the fourth floor. But the elevators were right there and I knew they were still on.
I attempted to navigate my way through the crowd, carrying this big bag of records and a large pizza. This was difficult, and I wanted it to be over quickly. I stayed polite with everyone. No shoving, and I always excused myself. But the longer I was stuck in there, the more I just wanted to get out. I'm not particularly good at hiding emotions, so I'm sure this was obvious to people around me.
Then this chump in a suit says to me "30 minutes, or it's free".
Huh?
Oh, I get it. Let's poke fun at the pizza delivery guy. Look at him in his cheap clothes, fighting to meet his deadline so the boss doesn't take is $6.80 an hour away. Hee hee! Look at him try and scurry through the crowd! Go lil' guy, go!
You're a classist, elitist piece of shit. Go fucking kill yourself.
http://www.zippyvideos.com/5915715502725346/uber_parties_hard/*gilbertswitzer]uberpartieshard.avi
Every now and then I like the surprise the SP guys and pick up a pizza on the way to the station. We'll flake out in the lobby and eat while T'n'T trade off at the console. All three of us love the station and treat it with respect, yet sometimes I feel like a little kid left home by myself for the first time. "Hey guys, let's get really crazy....and get a pizza!". Plus, it's fun to surprise friends with little presents sometimes. So last night, I did.
I often have a lot of records and CDs with me, so I try to get to there before they shut the elevators off. I had plenty of time last night, but a big social event had just finished, and the entire first floor was shoulder-to shoulder with formally-dressed people. And what's worse, the coat check tables were blocking the elevators. Great.
I don't like big crowds at all, and my regular-joe clothing really made me stand out in this one. I guess I could have turned around, left the building and re-entered through the basement, taking the stairs to the fourth floor. But the elevators were right there and I knew they were still on.
I attempted to navigate my way through the crowd, carrying this big bag of records and a large pizza. This was difficult, and I wanted it to be over quickly. I stayed polite with everyone. No shoving, and I always excused myself. But the longer I was stuck in there, the more I just wanted to get out. I'm not particularly good at hiding emotions, so I'm sure this was obvious to people around me.
Then this chump in a suit says to me "30 minutes, or it's free".
Huh?
Oh, I get it. Let's poke fun at the pizza delivery guy. Look at him in his cheap clothes, fighting to meet his deadline so the boss doesn't take is $6.80 an hour away. Hee hee! Look at him try and scurry through the crowd! Go lil' guy, go!
You're a classist, elitist piece of shit. Go fucking kill yourself.
posted by the baron ash von foolishness at 11:01 AM
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