2004-07-21 - 2:01 a.m.

Saw Marty Allen tonight. He just keeps getting better and better, and I honestly believe in him, and I'm quite positive that he believes in all of you.

The Roommate and I met at Great Scott, home of the show we were seeing. SEVEN BUCKS TO GET IN, which was fine when we learned that Pabst was going for two bucks a bottle, but then they ran out of Pabst and all of a sudden it's $3 Bud bottles and the whole SEVEN BUCKS TO GET IN factor becomes increasingly uncool.

The first band, senator something or other, was kind of jokey, which in theory was fine, but all the jokes kinda bombed. Had they tried the same concept at my age, it probably would have been better, so I'm reserving judgment, but at the moment, their act (deliberate word choice) came off as way over-rehearsed, like two high schoolers doing Monty Python but understanding only three quarters of the jokes. They did do a cover of Just What I Needed, and with a bitchin' harmonica solo, but when the (ex) and I did it, (in my opinion) we had a better guitarist and a way better singer, as well as a better understanding regarding how to do a song as a joke but a song but a joke but a song. And they ripped off my dusty but trademarked G to Em to C to D medley. Apparently that's a trial horse, but I thought it was pretty original at the time. Oh, well.

The one thing about the band that I really liked was that they, I guess in consolation, had two go-go dancers in short skirts. I liked them. The Roommate and I hung back, away from the stage, and she didn't mind that I stated unabashedly. Although I guess I was a little abashed--I didn't crane my neck or anything.

Marty ruled when he got on. I mean, if you haven't seen him play, and you all of a sudden learn that he's playing, but you have plans, see Marty instead.

Seriously. I don�t want to spoil the surprise so I won�t say anything else.

When he was done, the Roommate and I dug in, and were ready for the next band. While I was waiting, I ordered another Bud from the bartender, who I had tipped well, and he took my took my ten dollar bill and gave me two dollars change.

My goddamn luck. I asked him about it and he swore I gave him a five.

There's no arguing. What, am I going to argue? I said my bad (what a lame thing to say) and sucked down my beer.

And racked my brain. The Roommate was talking to me about something, but I was paying lip service attention, which made me feel worse because I don't want to do that. Did I really give him a five?

Did I? No! I gave that shithead a ten. I know for a fact that I gave that asshat a ten. I was quite conscious of how much money I had on me, 'cause I was already over my budget. I know I gave him a ten.

And all of a sudden I 1) feel like an idiot for losing the faceoff with the bartender 2) the night immeadiately loses its luster over the incident, and 3) I get all paranoid over the pettiness of it all and feel like a Costanza.

I saw Marty (and not just Marty, but a guy who just got offstage) outside when the Roommate and I went outside for a butt, and I froze. I was still mulling.

It sucks to mull. People don't know you're mulling. And you can't help but mull when you give a guy a ten for a beer and you get two bucks back. And unless you�re a member of the Society of Gifted Conversationalists (application still pending), any attempt at explanation is going to backfire. But you need to be the bomb at the same time, and this social combo resulted in yet another deer in headlights highlight for me, and the next band started, and Marty and the two girls he had been talking to before I became their inadvertent interloper, disappeared inside, and he followed them, which of course stoked my paranoia, and all of a sudden the 66 pulled up, and just like Allston, the Roommate and I were on it.

The Roommate and I got a beer at Charlie's, where apparently Tuesday night is karaoke night. We watched some winners and smiled at each other, and then it was late and busses suck when it�s late and I thought I saw the 86 go by, and she was wearing flip-flops, so I got a cab but he was one of those awesome cab drivers so I was obliged to give him a good tip, and here I am, quite a few dollars short, but happy that I every now and then have a very worthwhile guy to see play on a Tuesday, and a Roommate that really wants to go, and makes me.