Nick O. Tine and Al K. Hall

When we used to ride the school bus, there was always a fight over the tape deck. (Claire and Will and Mat, none of whom read this site, coincidentally, will remember this.) The kids in the back wanted to play their Metallica and country/western tapes, which, while being types of music I enjoy on my own time, became awful and repetitive torture when played over the bus stereo, all the time. Sometimes the little gang of us in the front of the bus (the above three, and I, and lovely people like Ross) got to play our tapes, this was always a privilege, and we would hook up Will's discman and play Sublime, or something other.

One morning Will stuck in a tape, and it was all good until Side B when suddenly something came on that was taped over what we had been listening to: a hokey country kids' song about our heroes, Nick O. Tine and Al K. Hall. The entire bus (filled with 30-some kids) shut up and stopped throwing spitballs and yelling obscenities and all the other creative things we did to fill time, and listened in shock (and awe, I'm sure) as this squeaky man's voice filled the interior with the adventures to be had with the above-listed gentlemen. Will had no idea how the song had gotten on there; to this day it remains an unsolved mystery.

I think of them today as I get ready for work, hungover, the day looking just as humid and sultry as yesterday. It's going to be interesting watching me load kilns today, I tell you. And really, I did nothing but stay in with my room-mates and drink red wine and smoke some dope (I mean, lovely oregano) and play Canasta til I was in no shape to make the phone call I had been planning (and I feel like the real dope for missing out, I'm sorry babe) .. oh man.. and take photos on my camera that I don't remember. It's great living here, really...

Now to try and not fall over in the ditch on my walk to work. Tonight: detox! home-made tuna sashimi with Sarah! that's right...