Yesterday was Mark Black Day.

Yesterday was Mark Black Day. Mark Black is a friend of ours who was in town for twenty-four hours. We had a party at Bloomfield House, and bands played in our basement–The Break-Up and A/V.

The B-B-Q portion of the evening got off to kind of a lame start. Nobody brought food because everybody assumed everybody else was bringing food, but then some people started arriving with veggie dogs and we managed to get things on the go.

I was sitting on the picnic table in the beautiful Bloomfield backyard when I got pooped on by a bird. It must have been some sort of birdy shrapnel bomb because I got bird poop on my head and on my arm and on my shirt and on my shorts and on my leg. We looked up to the sky to try to spot the B-52 bomber of a bird that had dropped its load on me, but all we could see was a lone balloon, floating very high and far away.

I tried to convince Ian Hart that I’d actually been hit by a slowly-leaking toothpaste balloon, and that it would be quite healthful for him to lick it off, but he didn’t go for it. Finally I said, “Well this is quite the indignity” and went inside to get cleaned up.

I did a head count during The Break-Up’s set and there were roughly thirty people down there. I thought The Break-Up sounded awesome. I’m gonna put out their CD on Swordfight. A/V’s set was fun too; people danced as much as the low basement ceiling would allow. “The End Of Sex” wound up in a bit of a pig pile, and the song ended with me being squashed underneath Mark Black, but I managed to gasp out most of the closing lyrics before nearly suffocating to death.

Later that night a bunch of us went out for Chinese food. I got my revenge on Bird Nation by eating one. The other ten people at the table were all vegetarians, yeah well… you bet I ordered the chicken balls.