I tend to not check my email on the weekends. Chalk it up to laziness or bored overload during the work week or the fact that I steal my internet connection from some neighbor named "Yugo" so the speed of the web on my computer is, well, I'll put it this way: you remember 2400 baud modems? Yeah. A lot like that. The result is returning to work on Monday and having an inbox filled with eVites you ignored, words of the day you already knew, and ads promising to "enliven yuor gentials." So you go through, reading, deleting, asking the Men's Wearhouse to stop, please stop, sending you emails for clothes you've never been able to afford, even though that guy who kind of looks like Paul Reiser's gruff uncle assures you you can, and then you come across an email titled simply: "best news ever." And you know what, it is. Or it isn't. I'm on the fence.
Long story short: Mike Tyson is becoming a gigolo.
Alright. I may not know the inner workings of the feminine mind (correction: I don't) but I'm going to venture a guess here: if I was a single woman, vacationing in Vegas, I probably wouldn't want to spend money I should be dropping on an ill-advised Craps session to bed a cannibalistic sociopath who sounds like Dakota Fanning with a lisp. (Added drawbacks: tattoo on face; convicted rapist.) Not really a dream suitor. And yeah, I know: he's supposed to be working at Heidi Fleiss's "Stud Farm," so nobody's going in there to find Prince Charming, but you'd assume that Tyson would be, well, an off-putting man to see in a situation like this. It'd be a lot like going to a whore house and seeing Tania Harding, sitting there in lingerie, smacking a lead pipe against her palm, with a veritable mustache of herpes sores. In other words: not good. In fact, the oppostite of good. We call that "bad."
But for a guy whose career has gone from "Most Feared Boxer on the Planet" to "That Guy Who Tried To Eat That Other Guy's Ear After Threatening to Eat Another Guy's Children" to "Wait? That Guy's Still Alive?", I suppose you could see this as a step in the right direction. As far as off-putting hilarity is concerned, he's doing a fantastic job.
Other things I must mention today: We'll be in Los Angeles tomorrow night, playing Spaceland, before we have the unfortunate chore of driving back north the day before Thanksgiving. That drive should take roughly as long as our trip from Philly to the Bay took, give or take a day or so, but we haven't played the city of angels for a while, so we're going to brave poor timing and a Tuesday night show for the love of it. Then: no shows till New Year's Eve. So we've got time to work on new music, which we've been doing for a few weeks now, and it's going rather well, thanks for asking. For now, I work a triumphant MonsFriday and wish my Mom a Happy Birthday. Enjoy your truncated week.