Burn my fingers burn my toes burn my uncle burn his books burn his shoes cook the leather put it on me does it fit me or you?

I am eating five pain au chocolate's (which is pronounced "pan-o-shockalots" to those of you who are inept at all things francophonian, like me...I don't even know if francophonian is a word, so there I go making things up again, but anyway...) These things are basically croissants ("kwah-sonnnn", and you have to make a surprised face when you say that last part, otherwise the French police come and jeer at you, and then you have to punch them, because they are French.) filled with chocolate, and they are SO GODDAMNED DELICIOUS. I am eating FIVE, because Beano makes them all at the godawful hour of 6:00 in the friggin' morning, which means that by the time I get there at 4:00 in the afternoon, wading in to relieve the munchkin-like people who've been standing on top of each other's shoulders to reach the espresso machine, chewing on the money to make sure it's real currency and generally running in milk-splattered circles like the circus disaster that I know and love, the damned things have already sold out.

So when I come in to find not one, not two, but FIVE left over, well, tarnation. A job's gotta have perks, right? Those bad boys are MINE.

Beano is good these days, if a little annoying at times. The expansion into the old barber shop is finished, and actually looks nice, even though I still think Janice and Margie should've kept one of the barber chairs in the corner for me to take naps in. It's definitely become busier at nights, as the new space lights the corner up like a beacon for drunk yuppies who think it's funny to loudly proclaim they know nothing about coffee and then promptly demand soy half-caffienated chocolate machiattos, and then complain that their drinks don't taste like the whipped sugar beverages that Starfucks brainwashes y'all into drinking; yuppies are lousy tippers, too, which makes me feel justified in ignoring their requests as a general rule and surreptitiously serving real caffeine and real dairy to every timid lactose-intolerant boy-child that throws their change at me. Have fun in the bathroom, jerks. Non-fat THIS.

Anyway. Despite the alarming number of preschoolers that seem to be gathering at my place of work, the stress level is kind of levelling out. Which is good. I was afraid that with the departure of both The Mormon AND The Jew, Crazy Lady and I would end up ripping off each other's limbs and beating each other to death in front of frightened coffee geeks.

By the way: Her Craziness? Still the best thing of 2007 to happen to me. No, really.

So, stuff, music-wise:

1. There's not much I can say about the Built To Spill show; it was really good, possibly amazing. Given that they showed up in Calgary less than an hour before going onstage, I was impressed. After a couple of unenthusiastic openers that pretty much counted as their soundcheck (looking like they'd all woken up from one giant nap), they tightened up considerably and kept me from punching the crust-punk next to me who kept shaking his head in an epileptic fit to slow songs like "Liar" and "Car". They're one of the few bands that still draw from their entire discography for songs to play live. Most groups seem to have a tendency to play their current releases and nothing else, whereas Friday we were treated to a well-rounded setlist; and that cover of Brian Eno's "Third Uncle"? Holy Crap. Karma has pictures here.

Also: with his hair standing on end, Doug Martsch looks like a muppet.

I am trying to find something nice to say about Attack In Black, but really, do we need another No Depression band? I'm sure they all treat their mothers very well, but I never wanna see another bearded Springsteen wanna-be in a checkered button-up shirt. Boooooooooooooooring.

2. The new Steve Earle is, well, Steve Earle-ish. Not bad. He's the only person who can play a mandolin and NOT put me to sleep. I have to say, though: the Tom Waits cover at the end is abominable. Yeesh. I can only hope I'm still as cantankerous as he is when I'm in my fifties...

3. Jesu has a new e.p. out ("Lifeline"), and, well, um...it's kinda getting old. It's still good, it's just that the whole sonic wash/wall of feedback trick is reminding me more and more of industrail bands from the 80s that had indecipherable german names, huge impossible concept albums and no melody whatsoever.

4. I described Baroness to Josh and Sophie as psychedelic blues metal, and Sophie nearly had an aneurysm: "I can understand metal, and I get blues metal, but psychedelic as well? I JUST DON'T GET IT!" Try talking to her about time travel and you'll get the same result. "The Red Album" is really worth checking out. Not brilliant, but good.

That's all for now. I gotta get up early tomorrow and go apartment-hunting (if anyone knows of a solid one-bedroom in the area for less than a thousand, please throw a rock at me), plus I'm all outta clean unnerwear again, so this is me playing one more scrabble move, reading one more JLA comic, eating the last Death By Chocolate pastry-thing and falling asleep to the sound of cracked-out boy-whores shivering while they give head for meth in my parking lot, where I'll probably dream about midgets spraying me with chocolate espresso while they steal my wallet.