Gosh. The horrors of depression have left me with nothing to say 'cept some tacky remark about Liza? How sad. Let's see, I took my suit that I can't fit into to a tailor. Standing in front of 3 strangers, my beer/icecream/burrrito gut straining the waist of the pants, as well as the jacket buttons barely able to meet (and no, I didn't get huge muscular shoulders in the past few years, it's my gut. IT'S MY GUT!) with the woman tailer shaking her head ominously, saying it might be tough, as the fabric is "crap." Great, I have a crappy suit. Even happier now, I ask if maybe I should just go on a diet and save the money on altering the suit. At least they laughed. "So my suit is crap, eh?" I ask. She looks puzzled as she continues feeling the fabirc in the back, and I realize, ahhhhhh, an accent problem. Oh New York. "You mean its' crepe, not crap, right? I don't have a crappy suit, do I?" She laughed, and tried to enunciate "crape, crape." OK, not so depressed. My suit is fine, I'm just fat and it'll only cost 60 bucks to make me look good again.

In other news..... a pal sent me a link to Matmos on WFMU - some live recording from a few weeks back.