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Club Absinthe - December 7th, 2006

There is a giraffe that lives in our rehearsal space. It is purple with black spots.
It is about 8 inches tall, and squooshy. To the best of my knowledge, it does not
have a name. It looks cute, but believe me, it is one surly mofo.

This giraffe has a tendency to spontaneously fly across the room during our rehearsals,
often colliding with instuments and heads. Mostly Steve's head. Occasionally it
is known to make a last-minute, mid-air dodge past Steve and out the window, ending
up in the parking lot. I am assuming that it does this as part of it's ingenious,
death-defying escape plan. After all, I'm sure many people would happily plummet
several hundred times their height only to land on a massive concrete slab if the
alternative was to have to listen to us practice.

But I digress.

Anyway... lately the giraffe has been stowing away in our cases and coming out to
shows. And, as might be predicted, it has continued it's habit of Steve-Based Head
Collision. But at this particular show, disaster struck...

While in the middle of my solo in Chronodermis, the fuzzy little bastard (The giraffe,
not Scott) went screeching across the stage, made contact with it's favourite target,
then did a rather impressive flip, followed by a barrel-roll, and a quick dive into
the mini-disc player which contains our backing tracks, directly onto the pause button.

Being the "professionals" that we are, we soldiered through and just kept doing what we
do for an extra two seconds or so while Steve unpaused the machine.

The giraffe has been banned from all future outings.



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