Last night I called it quits with R. It was surprisingly non-awful. I mean, there are more fun things to do than break up with people. There's a baseline awfulness to breakups, fo shizzle. It will never be more pleasant than having a cavity drilled or a trip to the DMV, and even that's about as fun as it gets.

Apparently she called everyone I know down here to find "the real reason" why I didn't want to date her anymore. I love how after millennia of being lied to, women often seem to feel like your stated reason for not wanting to date them is never, ever, ever the REAL one, even (especially?) when you're being totally candid. I'd like to thank my male ancestors for saddling me and my fellows with the accumulated resent of hundreds of generations. Thanks, guys! I owe you one. (Although maybe I bear a little bit of the responsibility myself, too. Just a little.)

In other news, we had a gig this morning in Zephyrhills. I was expecting two bubbas in a field, but no, there were about 500 bubbas in a field. We played five songs. That's after driving for an hour. The event coordinator rushed us offstage because we were "too loud." (The median age of our audience was probably in the high sixties.) We were replaced- I am not joking- by a gospel yodeller. She got up onstage and remarked on how when she was eight years old God gave her the gift of... being able to yodel the gospel. I think she might have confused herself with someone else, because I know yodelling, yodelling is a friend of mine, and you, ma'am, are no yodeller.

It's probably just as well. I didn't feel like competing with the "drama group" that was doing the puppet show on the other set.