I don’t mean to sound all super cool and hipster on you guys, but Ted Leo and The Pharmacists are playing this evening at 6pm at the Virgin Megastore in Union Square. Since I’ve listened to “Timorous Me” about 600 times in the past three days, I hope to go, but it’s at 6, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to leave work that early. Crap.

Ted Leo fucking rocks. If you’re looking for something to do, you should definitely check it out (it’s free!). It’s the exactly the music I would make, if I were much more talented and much more cool and much, much less chubby. Also, I love the falsetto shit, since I too have a beautiful falsetto voice. Although mine is not quite as good as his. And he’s a much better guitar player. Did I mention he’s thinner?

For listening material, in addition to “Timorous Me”, check out “Where Have All The Rude Boys Gone”, “Dial Up”, “The High Party”, and “Me and Mia” (from his new album, Shake The Streets, to be released today).

But seriously, you should go. And if you see a fat dude in yuppie work clothes rocking out amongst a sea of hipsters, alternatively throwing punching in the air and violently rubbing his crotch (what can I say? the music moves me), swing by and say hello. I’m not saying it’ll be me, but it’s nice to be friendly anyway.

I still don’t know if I’ve calmed down enough to write about this, but perhaps it’ll be cathartic.

AGAIN, an elevator in my building is being refurbished, causing major wait times for an elevator. This is going to continue for ten more days.

It’s very hard for me to express how angry this makes me. I tried before on Friday, but the fact is that I’m just not good enough of a writer, so I’ll break down my time this morning nice and simple like.

9:00 — Already running late for work (which I must be at by 9:30), I hit the “down” button on the elevator.

9:00 – 9:04 — Listen to the whole song of Weezer’s “Say It Ain’t So”. First elevator arrives, but, as it’s packed, I can’t fit in. The elevator leaves and I hit “down” again. Let out angry grunt and begin pacing.

9:04 – 9:09 — Begin pacing back and forth more quickly, slowly building up rage. “Without You” by Motley Crue comes and goes. Still no elevator. Become determined to write letter to building manager, asking him how the fuck it could possibly take ten fucking days to redo the interior of an elevator. Elevator comes. Again, it’s packed. Twitching and involuntary spasms affect my right side, as the door closes. I hit the “down” button again.

9:09 – 9:14 — Would willingly commit any hate crime, even against fat Irish Catholic men with bad facial hair. Pacing now frantic; sweating. Thoughts turn to murder and electrocution. Put on early Beatles songs like “Love Me Do” and “I Want To Hold Your Hand” to help calm down. Doesn’t work. Hands are beginning to hurt from being so tightly clenched. Finally, elevator comes which is roomy enough for me to enter. The collective murderous rage in that elevator could have taken over the entire Northeastern US by force, with nothing but butter knives and rubber bands.

9:15 — Get downstairs to see that it’s raining. Reach into bag to get umbrella, and realize I left it up in my apartment. Blood starts pouring out of my eyes. Knowing it would take about as long for me to go upstairs to my apartment to get my umbrella as it would for me to go to my mom’s house in Philly to grab one, I walk two blocks in the rain. Steam is coming off my body. I burn down four buildings in two blocks, and eat two toddlers.

And of course, since it was raining and underground steel trains that never get wet can’t function in dampness, the trains were packed with angry, wet people and the commute took an hour.

Worst-morning-ever.

Now all I need is for my doctor to call and say, “Remember how I said you didn’t have any STD’s? Well, long story involving a series of hilarious adventures short, you have four of them. My bad dude. Oh, also you have heart disease.”

Worst-morning-ever.

And writing this didn’t help – now I’m even more pissed off.

I’m going outside to pick a fight.