Now, the weekend. It's been lame. The Decatur Celebration sucks an awful lot if you're under 30 and not drunk. Unless you're really into old bands or greasy food. Still, I spent most of the weekend there. The good points:

• The Chicago Voice Exchange - they're just talented people. A little group that does remixes of songs from the fifties about cats.
• That dude who sang "Amazing Grace" at the opening ceremonies.
• That tiny bit of the All 4 One concert I saw - I wasn't thrilled, but they sucked less than most.
• Silver Boy - a guy who dresses all in silver and pretends to be a robot. I think he's on crack, but he does a nice job looking robotic and standing really, really still for extended periods of time.

Nothing else was all that great. It was hot, and moths kept landing on Michael's shorts, and there was many a slow-moving old person. And people I know were selling crappy souvenirs.

Random voice mail is, indeed, fun. I fully intend to send others random voice mail at some point in the near future when the phone is not in use. I also fully intend to change whatever my current message is on there at some point in the near future when the phone is not in use. It's nice to have goals.

I sometimes dream that I'm at Busch Stadium whoring for J.D. Drew. Then, for no apparent reason, I get to hang out in the announcer's box with Joe Buck. I think that the least realistic thing about that dream is that Drew would need a second job as a pimp - he makes thousands per inning, I'm sure he can afford drugs, etc. on his own. Maybe that whole thing stems from my comments about how it would be really funny if McGwire told that guy who caught his 500th home run ball that he could buy and sell him.

And why the hell would I be whoring at Busch Stadium when there's all of East St. Louis to be whoring in? If I'm going to commit a crime at Busch Stadium, I'm going to steal a picnic table from Homers Landing.

The cat likes it when I write songs for her about what a huge dork she is.

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