Although some nights I'd rather be with my girlfriends sipping prosecco in a wine bar somewhere (preferably one that sells slivers of fancy cheese and smoked almonds and such) I often find myself in a grubby bar watching SuperCrash set up for a show. It's almost always some place that has Lone Star tallboys in a can and a shot special involving gelatin but sometimes it's a bar with a decent variety of beers on tap and the specials involve whisky shooters served neat.
Such was the case on Saturday night, when the S'Crash boys rocked out at Hanover's in Pflugerville. It was my second weekend in a row at Hangover's, err, Hanover's. I'd gone to a Humiliator's gig the week prior. I like that the bar has ample parking and a large stage. The sound is good and loud enough to please metal bands, as evidenced by my need to buy earplugs.
It was at this week's show, however that I realized I had become a rocker girl and didn't even know it. Sure, I recognize band members and their significant others when we run into each other at Spec's (hi, Ken!) and I've gone to backyard BBQ's only to realize half the Red River world was also attending but I hadn't really felt like I was a genuine member of the scene.
That all changed on Saturday night during the Humi's show when I spied a flyer taped to a speaker. The flyer was a photo of me and the Humi's bassist from the week before and well, what can I say except a picture tells a thousand words.
Many thanks to Rachel for the photo--you RAWK! And Jeff, much love, much love. And if I ever need to take a rest on a picnic table bench you have my permission to snap silly pictures of me.