on the accomplishment scale of 1 - 10

i got a .2 today

I cannot concentrate for the life of me.

I spent hours on the phone with people and it all amounted to nothing

I saved $2 at quiznos, so that was nice.

and now my co-worker is blasting latin jazz and I cannot hear myself think and all I want to do is finish these five tours.

its 6:30

and i feel like I have 5 hours more of work to do today

and what am I doing?

writing about it in my blog.

that's the funny part.

if I were a Simpson

I WOULD BE THIS ONE.



and you?
who are you?
ch-ch-check it out.
the simpsonmaker
http://www.devilducky.com/media/41026/

party like its 1999.

thanks to my new friends over at William Morris (the proverbial 'man' when it comes to booking) I got in free to the Imogen Heap show at the El Rey last night. I saw David Spade and Julie Delpy. Not a bad live performance, but I was disenchanted with the staggering amount of burly looking females shouting "YOU GO GIRL" during Imogen's set. Sort of a killjoy.

then, we headed over to the Roxy.
and I saw Prince. and he looked exactly like this (I think it was the same jacket)





he was playing guitar and singing backup for "Tamar", his newest protege.
at one point he yelled out onstage "I need ice cream! get me ice cream!"
and then he took off his jacked and unbuttoned his shirt.
I was standing next to Queen Latifah.
what a night.

the money pit

still no gas (or showers, or cooking, or heat, etc)

and I came home last night at 1:00 am to a delightful inch of water that covered my bathroom and hallway floors. it was seeping into the bedroom and kitchen as well.

a flood! a deluge!

in my new apartment!

in the words of kevin, my flood rescue comissioner: "your apartment is a massacre"

back in business

I am back.
true to Lindsay style, I have hit the ground running.
I am now working on 4 - 5 tours for March. I am the 'default' booking agent for 7 artists.
i love it.

but do you know what I do not love?
that my gas in my new apartment got shut off and its freezing and I haven't showered.
plus, I ate lentils and apples for lunch.
yes, I am a hippy.
just for today.

ok i lied. they come in quadruplets.

I woke up this morning to 8 boys in my house.
Four of them were named Matt.
Matt Mayott. Matt Maust. Matt Aviero. Matt Hopper.
Count em. There's 4.

and I am off to California tomorrow -- two nights in SF -- then to Long Beach
My traveling companion is Matt Mayott (pictured here)




See you kids soon.

note to self

The Old Spaghetti Warehouse is not the same as the Old Spaghetti Factory.

The latter is a nice - yet kitchy - family style Italian dining experience.

The Warehouse, however, is not quite that. The Old Spaghetti warehouse is Salem, Oregon's pathetic mock-up of the much nicer chain establishment. Think cafteria dining - meets dime store decor - meets t-shirts sloaganeering such phrases as "In Pasta We Trust".

Danielle and I drove down to Salem today to take our youngest sister, Candyce, out for her birthday dinner. We braved the elements (there is quite a storm) in order to take her out for a Spaghetti dinner -- her personal favorite.

Unfortunately for all parties involved, the replacement of the word "factory" with the word "warehouse" made a big difference. We were greeted with uncomfortable bright lighting, an oversized and ugly dining room, and a few scattered tables made with bed frames (not the S. Factory lavish Italian looking bed frames - these were more the type that had belonged to Ma and Pa Kettle.)

I would like to tell you that the prices were good. They were fair at best.
I would like to tell you that the food was good. It was, in fact, terrible.
I would like to tell you that I had a great time. Nonetheless, I did have a good time.

Its good to have sisters who will giggle about birthday dinner fiasco's with you all the ride home.

go here:
http://www.thesurrealist.co.uk/slogan.cgi

type in your name
and get your clever marketing slogan.

mine was:
"ONLY A FOOL BREAKS THE LINDSAY"

I love it.

new year, new job, new city, new home

Yes, its true.

I am now a resident of Long Beach, CA.
I don't know my address yet (ask Erica). but I have an apartment. I've just never seen it.

and...
I have the best job in the world.
yes. tis true.





I am officially the In House Booking Agent for The Militia Group.
A better label with better music and better people (and better pay, and health benefits...).
I couldn't be happier.
I get paid ot book bands! I didn't think this was possible. HA.

oh, and I get back on Sunday. we should PARTAY.
Red Room?
anyone?

two by two

The Daves.
they call me every day and are the best listeners I know. and they really love me and believe in me and have neverending delightful things to say. they also hate that I compare them to each other. they don't have much in common - but they are the most constant sources of communication in my life. I love the Daves.

The Matts.
My sister has her own set of Matts (hers are Matt B's. Mine are Matt M's).
My Matts do not have much in common at all. The one thing that is true about the Matts is that they constantly baffle me. I don't think I will ever figure either one of them out. I have spent more time worrying over the Matts perceptions of me than most other people. For some reason, I love them both dearly and they love me occasionally. And they have the strangest way of showing it.

The Erics (Trine, Trickett, Tobin)
All good looking, relatively charming, dark haired, pompous little boys: the whole lot of 'em. The first two have been nothing but a rollercoaster. The third -- well, I don't really know him yet so he doesn't count. But if he's anything like the others (and he probably is) then I am steering clear. Erics are trouble.

The Phils.
I have PHIL tattooed on my back (its short for Phillipians). I like my tattoo, but I do not like Phils. Too many years of twenty something (and teenage) angst spent on the Phils. You are no good.

And then there's Drew.
And there is only one of him.
And he is an anomaly to me.