So my sis-in-law is pestering me to ask THAT band to play at her friend's venue.
FAT CHANCE.
Anyway, I'm friends with them, not their new big shot manager, Mister 'I-was-the-manager-for-Neil-Young.' Wanker. Unfortunately they're pawns now, and cocky egocentric ones at that. It's all about fame and money, at least for some of them, and that struck me as low class. I didn't care that they drank warm beer for breakfast or wore dirty socks every day for a week. It was the greed in certain band members' eyes at the sight of wealth that turned me off. Regardless of that, I'm not about to call them up again and be like 'hey, do a favor for my sister in law.' Yeah, no. In fact, I really really hope the manager blows them off, because if THAT band does a show THERE, for my IN-LAWS... It'll be bad news, people.
I laughed it off, but Sil insists they can pay just as much as the large venues pay. Right. And where are they getting all this money? Mommy and daddy's credit card? Waitressing? Get real, kid.
Furthermore, I'm annoyed that they didn't care about the band last year, or the year before that, back before they were sell-outs giving in to celebrity hysteria. But now that they're popular, now that they have stamps of approval from Rolling Stone and David Letterman, now they like them. Not to sound like an elitist music snob, but... Posers! Go back to your Euro rave crap parties before you break a heel in the mosh pit.
7:23 p.m. - 2007-12-12