Feb 27-point-five, 2008 :: Surprise!
Blake and I walk into the indie-rock burrito bar. The room is full of scruffy hair, black jeans, elaborate tattoos and vintage sneakers. A contingency of emo kids barely old enough to buy their PBRs sulk stylishly in a corner. The Rent Boys play on the jukebox. The air is layered with ten coats of obscurity and the smoke of a thousand Parliament lights. We move toward a table of 30-something musicians discussing a re-mastered Cheap Trick album, and Blake strikes up a conversation with D, merch-guy and guitar tech for a grammy-nominated, hometown cookie-monster-vocal metal band gone international.
Blake: We're getting married!
D: I'm going to jail!
Blake: ...Um, Wow...
D: Yeah. Wow to you too...
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