People,

As promised, here's a brief overview of what FXA was up to on Saturday, day two of the rockingest weekend this side of Sir Derek Rockingham, Earl of Rockford's, swinging rockanalia rock bash of 1758. Now that was a hype joint.

SATURDAY

FXA split into two groups for the drive to NYC because, well, we hate each other. More specifically, Pete hates Gordon because Gordon likes me better than him but I actually like Jordan the best although he likes Pete who in turn thinks he smells. It's complicated.

Anyway, Pete, honorary FXA'er Brendo Frendo and myself set out in the rockmobile (Brendo Frendo's 2002 Saturn - you gotta start somewhere). The ride down was relatively uneventful, although a couple things happened which would gain significance later. 1) We started a very annoying game whose ground rules were that everyone in New York looked like The Nuge and that 2) looking like The Nuge was actually a requirement for being granted the right to live in NYC. We proceeded to spend the entire time we were driving on the island of Manhattan pointing out people like elderly asian ladies and asking "Hey dude....is that the Nuge?!?!?" The whole goal was to fool the person you're asking into thinking you actually have a serious question for them and then you hit them with the Nuge. Stooooooooooopid.

Anywho, the show itself was great. It made me agree with the timeless sentiment of Shaggy that our New York fans, especially the shorties, are "our angels, our morning angels, closer than our peeps you are to us." It was great to see the old crew as well as a few new faces, including the lovely Shannon and Lauren, whose dancing and singing along made Irene Cara look like a ham-fisted Carol Channing. They also claim to read the journal, so they prolly aren't right in the head, but as the Rain Man says "they were very good dancers."

After the show we decided to drive home. Yikes. Brendo and I headed out in the Saturn alone because apparently Pete and Gordon had sorted their issues out and now everyone hated me and Brendo Frendo, although they claimed it wasn't personal. Ah well, screw them. They missed out on four and a half hilarious hours of delirious Nuge jokes, culminating in our determination to create a slapstick sitcom that combines cloning, the CIA and complex moral and bio-ethical isssues. We're going to call it "The Three Nuges." Good stuff, right?

We finally rolled back to the Somerville rock house at 6:30, and as I hit the pillow after such a whirlwind of rock I only had one question, "Am I The Nuge?" I decided I must be and sleep came as easily as beating a three year old in a bike race....