You know, not everyone in the music industry descends upon Austin for the SXSW Music Conference. Somebody’s got to hold the fort down. After all, these records ain’t gonna sell themselves. This is my minute-by-minute account of March 18, 2010.
9:30 am: I’m here 30 minutes early because I had to be up and at the DMV by 8 am. Wondering who in Austin is still up drinking from last night. Office is eerily quiet.
10:30 am: Still the only one here… I think.
11:18 am: Chase a dog around the office in an attempt to remove a mail order package from his mouth. Sorry J. Roger from Phoenix… let me know if your corners are bent.
11:43 am: IMing with my cousin about who it would be creepier to get hit on by (if we were girls): The Fonz or Alex P. Keaton.
12:12 pm: Make a list of fake band names. Entries include: The Shittybutts, Sweet Love, Mike Watt’s Sweaty Socks, The Super Falcons, The Burnin’ Blazin’ Mississippi Madmen (feat. Dennis DeYoung), Tugboat Crash, Doucheslayer, Cocks-A-Fire, Wicked Neptune.
12:32 pm: Get a call from Kris Chen who is either drunk or psyched. Or both.
12:35 pm: Mentally count all the people I know who are at SXSW.
12:42 pm: Get a phone call from mom to tell me that Red River is “off the fuckin’ hook.”
12:45-1:40 pm: Stared at a paperclip.
1:45 pm: Ride the elevator a couple of times.
2:00 pm: Download a program that makes my digital photos look like Polaroids. Psyched.
2:03 pm: Realize that 99% of the fun of Polaroids is waiting for the pictures to develop. Bummed.
2:12 pm: Debate telling coworkers about my plans to time-travel.
2:45 pm: Watch #2 seed Villanova squeak out an embarrassing overtime win over #15 seed Robert Morris. Almost call the university to demand a refund of my tuition.
2:50pm: Sit in Patrick’s chair. Try to sign a bunch of cover bands. No one buys it.
3:01pm: Check the Bro’d Trip twitter account to see if Adam is going on without me.
3:05: Decide to take my own Bro’d Trip… to the deli.
3:25-3:55 pm: I think I just took a nap.
4:05 pm: Think about taking up cigarettes again.
4:06 pm: Think about taking up grass again.
5:00 pm: Look up Facebook profiles of girls who dumped me in high school.
5:10 pm: Look up Facebook profiles of kids I beat up in high school.
5:30 pm: Use a Google application to determine the distance of my nightly jogging route. Feel great that it’s 1.2 miles. Immediately feel awful that I felt great over 1.2 miles.
6:15 pm: Count the emails I’ve received today: 16. New all-time low.
6:25 pm: Laugh out loud at email #17 from one of our SXSWers that simply reads “Fuck you.”
6:29 pm: One minute to go.