Halifax, or rather, an unfortunately small percentage of Halifax was let in on a great little secret tonight: Portland Oregon's The Joggers are fucking awesome!

Although the show was in remarkably poor attendance, (a band that nobody's heard of, very little advertising, nine steep dollars.) the band crooned their way through a fantastic set, which I might describe as startlingly charming, or shockingly adorable. All that and they also rocked solid. They've been compared favourably to Weezer and Polvo. I'm not sure if I entirely agree, but those being two good bands, and the Joggers being a third, equally good band, I doubt anyone's feelings would get hurt.

I almost didn't go. Mike told me to go. He told me. And I'm glad I listened.

In other news: With the exception of the amazing set put on by those wonderful Joggists, the Joggers, tonight could be best described as nothing short of bizarre. Wait, not bizarre, stressful. Wait.. less like stressful, and more like the feeling of someone pulling on a single strand of your hair for three and a half hours, but it won't break, it just keeps pulling, and it's... Excruciating. Yeah, that's it. I think I need to learn the fine art of walking away from a person who's company you have no interest in. There's only so much Toronto scene-dropping that a man can take. But all was not entirely lost, I mean, I have a renewed appreciation/enthusiasm for people who are capable of talking to me from a regular distance, like, not directly into my eardrum. And, really, I would probably be disappointed if I were to die never once having had someone spill their beer all over me. At least that's taken care of now. Check. Off the list.

Hey, I can sympathize with being new, and with not having fun.
I can't sympathize with brattyness.