What a weekend it was, indeed.

Thursday:

Upon returning to Lee County from Montevallo on Thursday, I decided to take Wire Road back to Auburn. Just as the sun was going down, I passed a pasture, and right next to the road was a shanty with two large oak trees next to it. I just had to stop, and I snapped the following two pictures:





Thursday night I was treated to a crisis over at the Ryder-Webb connection. Apparently, the water heater overheated and exploded. Not even in the way that most water heaters explode. Typically, only a pipe in the water heater actually bursts. Not in this case, the actual tank exploded. This effectively turning Ryder's living room into a swamp. It featured standing water, bad smells, humidity, real steam, and even a little tributary running out of the closet and into the living room. It was just like being in an actual swamp. It was so cool.

Friday:

With only the exception of a jam session at Richard's house, Friday sucked and there's nothing more to report.

Saturday:

Saturday, it was time for some Green Lemon. The show at the Olde Auburn Ale House was completely bad ass. They played the new hit single "Shoestring", as well as "Intergalactic intercourse" which Matt particularly liked a lot. My favorite part of the night, however, came when Green Lemon treated the audience to their rendition of Simple Minds' "Don't You (Forget About Me)", better known as "that song from The Breakfast Club", complete with synthesizers and a crowd sing along. It was indeed an awesome show.

Pictures from Green Lemon:













Sunday:

Sunday arrived, and it was time for Wilco. Chandler, Matt, Richard, and I made our way up to Birmingham with Britney and David following closely behind.



We arrived in Birmingham at 7:30 PM. We were just in time to miss the opening act, which I was more than thrilled about. I was in no mood to catch some shitty singer/songwriter or whoever the opening act happened to be on that night.

We parked and made our way through the rain-soaked streets to the Alabama Theatre. Under the marquee, a crowd comprised of nothing but hipsters, sadgirls, and one dude wearing a Kavu visor had gathered to await the Co of Wil.

We went inside, and after some confusions with our seating arrangements, we settled in to watch the show. Since it was Grammy night, and since Wilco hadn't seen an Alabama venue in EIGHT YEARS they rocked it properly with extra awesome sauce. Don't believe me? Check the set-list dyke-face:

The Late Greats
Theologians
Poor Places
Hummingbird
Muzzle Of Bees
I'm Always In Love
At Least That's What You Said
Jesus, Etc.
Via Chicago
Another Man's Done Gone
Ashes Of American Flags
Heavy Metal Drummer
I'm The Man Who Loves You
I Am Trying To Break Your Heart
Handshake Drugs
A Shot In The Arm

Encore I:

Misunderstood
Kingpin
Passenger Side
California Stars

Encore II:

Spiders (Kidsmoke)
I'm A Wheel
Political Science
Something In The Air

Unfortunately, my position in the audience did not allow many good picture opportunities, but I did my best:







Needless to say, it was a terrific show. Even better than the Bonnaroo performance. I guess this might be due to the fact that I actually knew who Wilco was this time around, regardless it kicked ass.

On the way out of the Alabama Theatre, in hopes that we could find the on-ramp to I-65, we followed some dude in a BMW with a license plate that read "SEA NCAK", presumably a reference to the band The Sea & Cake. I followed him for awhile, but when it became clear that he didn't know his way to I-65, I started making random turns. We ended up at a razor wire surrounded, ghetto ass, Norfolk-Western railyard. After Matt suffered a near-nervous breakdown, I got back on the main road, and we eventually found the interstate.



I guess while were on the subject of license plates, I told Chandler that would post this picture from a couple of weeks back.

Monday came, and I opted to forego my one scheduled class in lieu of some much needed sleep. I headed back to Montevallo at around 3:00. I decided that, for a change, I'd take Highway 280 back up to the smelling shithole that is Montevallo. This was a huge mistake, as Highway 280 is the worst possible route of travel to the aforementioned shithole.



I did, however, manage to snap this pic of the Coosa River whilst on my journey. I guess you have to see a silver lining in every cloud. Shortly thereafter, however, the silver lining encountered its touch of grey, as the Dead would say, when I became lost in Wilsonville. Remind me to never see, think about, or go near Wilsonville ever again. Wilsonville makes Montevallo look like Paris.

That's all for now.