Wednesday June 3rd

Greetings Everyone,

The inherent laziness of summer has hit me like a steam roller. And while I considered changing the name of this blog to the Weekly Routine, alas, I already bought the domain name. But I will do my best to fit blogging into my unimaginably tight schedule. Maybe during the commercials of Price Is Right. I have been home for exactly three weeks and have accomplished a great deal. However, I remain unemployed. Any readers with connections do not hesitate to pull some strings. I am not opposed to human trafficking or operation of underground dogfighting rings, but discretion is appreciated. But a more recent event saddened me much more than my lack of employment ever could. And that brings us to our Daily Topic: THE PHISH CONCERT

For those of you that don't know, Phish is one of my all-time favorite bands. The band has been on an indefinite hiatus for the last five years but reunited for a summer 2009 tour. One of their first stops: Fenway Park, Boston. This concert has been sold out since the first ten minutes it was announced, but being a devoted fan, I stopped by on my way home to check out the scene. However, as I wove my way through tens of thousands of ecstatic concert-goers, the energy and the positivity of the crowd overtook me and I had to get inside. I scalped a $50 dollar ticket for $15 dollars and made my way to the gate. Along the way, I was offered several things including: Russian-made semi-automatic weapons, a mail-order bride, a submarine ride (if this means something else please tell me) and several hippie newspapers. However, upon reaching the gate, I was told that no backpacks were allowed inside and there was no place to check my bag. Torn between hiding my bag with my $1,200 computer in it in an alleyway in Boston, I begrudgingly and dejectedly sold my ticket for $20 dollars to a man selling jello-shots out of a cooler. My backpack heavy with electronics and sorrow, I found a seat on a cement loading dock across the street. As I sat alone and listened to the notes of Phish's rendition of the Star Spangled Banner float over the green Fenway walls and a rainbow appeared in the sky to my right, even the most whacked out, tie-dye and Birkenstock wearing hippies there probably shed a tear for me. "What is the moral of the story," I thought while sitting there listening to the drifting notes of the guitar rise and fall in the dimming summer light, watching a 35-year old man tuck a bag of weed into his shoe. True fans don't need a seat with a view, just one where you can hear. At least that's what I'm going to keep telling myself.

Peace,

-ROF

Daily Food: Bertucci's

Daily Activity: Tenis

Daily Song: Anything By Phish

Daily Attire: Flannel

Daily News Everyone Should Care About: Rising Interest on Nations' Debts May Sap World Growth

Daily News No One Should Care About: Stripper's High Kick Gets Club Sued

Daily Life Goal: SEE Phish in Concert

Daily Complaint: Allergies

Daily Drink: Gatorade

Daily Studies: Videography

Daily Movie: Across the Universe