45 minutes until BNL Boston tickets go on sale. I'm sitting at my computer chair, playing Christmas carols on the mandolin. That's better than earlier, when I was waiting to log into the Ladies Room, singing a Blue Rodeo song. "Begging You To Let Me In," duh. It took about a half-hour for me to even get onto the site. I hope I can get on quickly so I can leave to head on tonight's great adventure, which could involve up to five Canadians, getting an 18-year-old into a bar, and my making a fool out of myself while sober, as usual. Or, we could just head out to to the shopping capital of Boston, eat way too much crap, and...wait, I'll prolly still make a fool out of myself while sober. Just around different people.

Fack! My mandolin playing has just turned into Dueling Mandolins! And at least in comparison to a CD, I'm nastily out of tune. Yeppers, I sure am. Oh...CAPO. I can't say I have a mandolin capo.

Fack again! I shouldn't be strumming with a thick silver bracelet. Ouch. It's my St. John hook, the Caribbean version of the claddagh. I shouldn't be typing with it either, because it's extremely annoying. Hi, my name is Rusty, and I can't type today!