It’s gotten to the point now where I have some administrative things to do this weekend. General upkeep and the like. The two big glaring items on my list were to do my laundry and to get my hair cut. Operating on the assumption that I can only accomplish one meaningful thing per day, I had to choose between the two this morning. Which would it be? Would I lug a heavy bag of smelly clothes down the street to the laundromat? Or would I take a subway to Midtown to sit in a comfy chair while wearing a goofy smock and have someone pamper my hair?

There were six people running the barber shop, all of them from the same Russian family. Only one spoke English, the eldest daughter, so she was running around translating for everyone.

(Note to self: learn how to say “Oh my God! You cut off my ear!” in Russian.)

Fellow intern Ben and I were soon off to see Sonic Youth play in Brooklyn. There was a problem to be solved beforehand - we had no tickets. I hopped on Craigslist and had it taken care of in ten minutes. I’m an internet champ.

We were meeting two different people before the show to buy their extra tickets. We met the first guy at a bar near the concert. The exchange was over and done with in 30 seconds.

I called the next person we were to meet for a ticket and her beautiful Australian-accented “Hello?” nearly knocked me off my feet. She was waiting for us right outside the show. We were still a decent ten minutes away, so we hurried right up. Pretty Australian girls shouldn’t have to wait on scrawny white boys. Once we got the ticket from her I thought about asking her on a date to Outback Steakhouse but thought better of it.

Ben and I walked through security where we were felt up by big scary men much stronger than both of us. There we were - McCarren Park Pool, a huge bombed-out swimming pool that has since been adapted into a music venue. It was quite a sight. Four million hip kids standing on the floor of an empty pool, swaying to the rhythmic feedback of Sonic Youth. Kim Gordon danced like a loony on stage while Thurston Moore gave his guitar a supreme punishing. It was intense.

They played two encores before I went home tired and pleased, both with the music as well as my snappy Russian haircut.