08.19.01 - 9:56 p.m.

For a while, I thought it was the 18th. But no, I am completely a day behind. Which is stupid, because I've been parceling and scheduling out my time all weekend so I should have been on top of what freakin day it was. But no. Again, I amaze myself with my totally space-cadet world.

But then, I'm completely impressed with my ability to navigate this city, something I've only mastered in the past few months living downtown, and to also give decent navigation when Moom is driving while also fearing for my life as she slams on the brake once every 30 seconds.

Weezer tickets went on sale yesterday, and even though I know they can't sell out the United Center in a day, no one will be around for the show and I'm not sure I want to go there with me, myself and I. It would be completely different if it were at the Metro, but head out to an arena by myself and rock out in the corner is not always my idea of a good time. Oh well. I am destined never to see Weezer again.

And even without Mikey Welsh, who has joined the celeb breakdown bandwagon and as far as I know is still under psychiatric care in Boston. Where oh where is Matt Sharp when you need him? He could swoop down from the rafters in a cardigan cape and stage a triumphant return.

I am making no sense whatsoever. My beard is my makeup. I sound like an unintelligible British man who's been drinking too much Scotch. "I've been at the gentleman's club for too long!" I'm Old Blind Catfish. Or Fat Louis.

Hey! I am Fat Louis! And here I was making that stupid surprised cat face all weekend just because I thought Moom would laugh.