Good Monday, soldiers. Let's get a good solid pimp out of the way first thing in the morning: we're playing a set tomorrow night at TT the Bears in Cambridge with Duresse and The Working Title. Scamper hits the stage at precisely 9:50pm, so it's a rare opportunity to see us play this early and also to witness what will likely be the last occasion of me wearing full-length pants on stage during a show. I'd prefer if you don't ask my reasoning, but let's just say it's going to be all short-shorts and/or hot pink culottes (depending on the season) from this point forward and leave it at that. Uh uh uh - don't you worry your pretty little heads about the "whys" and "whatfors." Just sit back and enjoy the pale, goose-pimpled skin.

In other news, it's mini-vacation time for me. I'm not actually writing this from work as is my usual wont, but am in fact typing these very words on a wireless laptop from Patrick Swayze's love hovel on a secluded island off the coast of Madagascar. I'll say this about Patrick - the man is a giver.

For reals, before the really crazy time in my life starts next week (full time miserable day-job worker, full time student, full time mediocre rock musician), I'm just taking a few days to take a deep breath or two, get my head together and just relaaaaaaax. Although I'm trying to keep it all mellow and Jack Johnson-like, I do have a few plans. This vacation, I will:

- Get a professional massage from another man for the first time. Seriously. Vinny (the most metrosexual of my acquaintances) strongly recommended a guy named Sam with the only caveat being "You have to be okay with being rubbed by a bizarro version of Moby." As long as he doesn't smear tofu on my back or play that crappy "We Are All Made Of Stars" shit in my ears, I think I'm secure enough in my masculinity to make it through the experience unscathed. But of course I'll let you all know.

- Ignore all of Keith's emails and phone calls. Nothing relaxes me more than irritating Keith.

- Bring all my change into one of those machines at the supermarket that counts it up for you and give you dollars for it. Am I the only one that is absolutely in love these things? When you pour that jar of a year's worth of pennies and nickels and you get a little ticket with actual money on it - cha ching cha ching cha ching. It's like I'm in an incredibly lame version of the TV show Vega$ starring the late Robert Urich.

- Start to clean up my basement and then within five minutes become completely disillusioned by the sheer mass of crap that I have inherited from former roommates and bands that have shared the hallowed mildewy walls of the current Scamper rehearsal space. It should be noted that I have attempted to clean the basement approximately 342 times in the last two years, only to immediately give up and watch cartoons. This vacation shall be no different.

- Not write funny or interesting journal entries. (Obviously)

And... that's all I've got. Give me a break - I'm on vacation. See you all tomorrow night at TT the Bear's.