I’m pleasantly surprised that I got this “switching servers” thing to work without too much swearing or hair pulling. One lil’ problem I had was that while I used an anti-spam plugin before, all the spam comments that I thought had been deleted were actually still roaming around in my mysql database. All 9000+ of em. I didn’t have enough phpmyadmin prowess to figure out a painless way to delete the bulk of them at once while keeping the legitimate comments, so that process was kind of a huge ass pain in the bum. I think a lot of them are still there, actually.


Armchair Apocrypha

The only thing that made me happy yesterday was receiving Andrew Bird’s new album in the mail, Armchair Apocrypha. (Also, I think the redesign of his website is byootiful. Thank you, Mr. Web Dude.) This album is awesome. Because. BECAUSE. ARGH! AWESOMNESS. Listen to some new tracks; isn’t it awesome? Yes.

I had no more adjectives to give you.


I saw Mew last Thursday for my first concert-going experience in a while. And they were great. But I was really tired. And thirsty. A sip of my friend’s noxious rum and Sprite did nothing for me except make me hate alcohol even more than I already do. Mew is a magical band, but I think they’re better experienced with enough hydration and not while standing next to a girl screeching, “I LOVE YOU JONAS!” after every song and singing along during Mew’s biggest hits, or the songs I’d rather hear come out of Jonas’s mouth more so than the girl next to me. Not that I don’t understand her enthusiam…because I do. Just. God. I dunno.

Ever since I turned 21 I’ve felt like an old bearded dude trying to get young whippersnappers off his lawn. Damn kidz.

But I have to see Andrew Bird at Webster Hall on May 17th and pray I don’t stand next to a screaming Andrew Bird-obsessed fan.