6:27 p.m. - March 22, 2002
no orgasms in the tracker
Mmmm, LeTigre. It was the kind of show where I know that if I tried to listen to their music on CD, I would stomp and scoff and then make fun of whoever made me listen to it, but seeing them live was just fabulous, and I'm not even being sarcastic (well, maybe just a little by using the word 'fabulous', but that's all, I promise). They had a video projector set up in the background that had videos that supplemented the music perfectly. I have to say, though, that I was the ONLY one of my entourage that did not leap out of the venue screaming �I wanna marry Kathleen Hanna! I wanna marry Kathleen Hanna! and have paroxysms of hysteria the entire way home. (I told Chelsea before we even left that she was NOT allowed to have an orgasm in my car. (Is it coincidence that this morning my car�s engine died?)) mm, anyway. Sweet show.
And it would figure that for the Death Wears No Pants project, I would write a depressing story about someone dying of some terrible disease. I did, rather. I don�t want my friends to look at that when they�re in college and go, �oh, I forgot that Hannah spent the better part of her high school years anxious and/or depressed�, although I guess I really didn�t, only the first year. It would seem as such, though...
Also, I really, really, really like the baked spaghetti with butter and garlic at Dave�s Italian Kitchen. And their chocolate mousse has liquor within.
Fin.

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