Tuesday, December 03, 2002

CD: Dandy Warhols, "Thirteen Tales From Urban Bohemia"

Tonight the snow was so bad you couldn't see twenty feet in front of you. This happens every once in a while here in Buffalo. First, you hear a little something about some snow, then you kind of forget about and go about your daily business. In most other cities the grocery stores are packed with people trying to buy bottled water at this point. Buffalonians, however, are astute. They know that a steady diet of chicken wings, pizza and the occasional tailgater's feast insures that their body can go three, four days without nourishment. Being trapped in your house for half a week--which happens once a year now--is no problem as long as you have cable. But there was one strange thing I saw that grabbed my attention on the way home. Through the cloud of swirling snow I spotted a man running across the intersection of Main and Salt wearing nothing more than jogging shorts. No shirt, no shoes, no s***! It's 20 degrees outside and there's eight inches of snow! That must be one heck of a frat.

"...and I'm just about to kill someone if I don't buy that notebook!" --Guy who put me on hold, talking to himself

No comments: