My brother had to get stamps for some bills that he had to send out, so I tagged along with him and his girlfriend to the general store. As we were waiting in line, a stock guy pushing a loaded dolly tried to pass. The next thing I know crates of Gatorade and cigarettes are falling on my brother's chica, injuring her ankle. The manager of the general store rushed over, worried as hell. He offered her a free t-shirt (so she wouldn't sue), but she declined and gave assurances that she wouldn't be litigating. My brother did get his stamps comped, though (total value: $3.75). And in related news, I found a finger in my pina colada.
Beaches. Without Bette Midler.
Finally saw the beach today. Ah, it was nice. My brother dug a hole and sat in it. No sunburn...yet. And I saw parrots (not at the beach).
Smack is on me tonight, guys.
When most people think of Hilton Head, they think of two things: jazz and Thai food. We went to a jazz club tonight. There I had some excellent Seafood Thai Curry. And both my cousin and brother-in-law sat in with the band for a few songs (on alto sax and drums, respectively). They each did a great job. Really swingin' cats. It has been a long time since I've seen some live jazz. This club was devoid of smoke, which kind of killed the atmosphere. When I go to a jazz club, I fully expect to remove about 3 years off of my life expectancy. Bummer. But hearing the music, I was reminded of one of my favorite "Strangers With Candy" quotes, said by Jazzy - the hep jazz cat stereotype band teacher: "There's only three things I know that can cause a person to wail so mournfully: Lack of heroin, someone makin' off with your junk, and not havin' heroin."
Okay, here's another one: "Charlie Parker once said to me, 'Jazzy, shut up and give me some heroin.'"