The first day of my fight against sloth

Well, well, well. I'm now officially a professional musician, which, if you want to be a pessimist about it, means that I'm really just unemployed. But let's not go there. It'd just ruin my buzz.

Now: what does one do when one is unemplo...a professional musician? The same thing we do every night Pinky: Try to take over the world! I can tell you that so far, I'm writing this blog and not getting paid for it. I'm also on my third cup of coffee and consequently, half way to my first ulcer. But there are big plans. Dave & Pete are heading south to check out a possible replacement birdvan, which, if functional, would have to be purchased, registered, and tuned up in the span of twenty hours. We've done it before. Last second panic is a wonderful thing. Of course, there's the temptation of the twelve noon brandy milk punch, but, like that Rilo Kiley song says, daytime drunks don't get anything done. So, we'll skip that.

The good thing is: I don't have cable. I can't relive the last time I was unemployed during which a strict regiment of Rice Krispies and hours of Judge Joe Brown were the daily plan. Oh...shit...Judge Joe Brown is on network TV. Must...stay...away.

Ah good: Brad just sent us a mix of what, as far as we've planned, will be the first track on the album. Daytime courtroom shows, begone! I actually haven't heard it yet, except on the in-computer speakers on this very machine, and those sound like a bad alarm clock radio, so comments based on that sound quality would be uncouth comments. But let it be said: if it sounds good here, it'll sound good anywhere. So, now I have things to do. To the family room, Pinky!