The truth only hurts a little

I do this thing occasionally. Unnecessary googling.

I'll google Guy, even though his name is so common that I get way too many hits to find the real one, not to mention the fact a porn star shares his name. I'll google me, just to see where I might pop up and why. And finally, I'll google the name of the band that has the wretched cd from 1996 because I want to make sure that no one is still selling the disks that pay homage to all guitar playing ala Pink Floyd with the royal Roland Jazz Chorus and opera singing back up vocalist who hated my guts anyway.

This unnecessary googling only happens once every few months, usually when the Bloglines are slow and already searched eBay for pieces of my Gail Pittman pattern and I can take no more Etsy for the evening.

Tonight, I unnecessarily googled.

And low and behold, someone is talking about that old band.

It made it to a list of bad band names. Pretentious was the actual word.

It only stung a little until I remembered that it was pretentious, and I didn't name the band in the first place.

Unfortunately though, the name of my next band (imaginary though it may be) will be Aurora Welding. Which is equally as pretentious but has a mildly amusing drunk story to go with it.

A friend of mine, transplant from New York, came up to me at an open mic to say he had heard on the way over that a famous, rather, pivital author from Mississippi had died. She was really old, and NPR said her name was "Aurora Welding." He had never heard of her, but had I? We pondered over our many beers and decided that no, I had not heard of "Aurora Welding." What had she written? What made her famous? Why hadn't I heard of her?

The next morning, I heard for myself that Eudora Welty had died. Big fat duh. Eudora Welty indeed.

Stay tuned for an pop project with tight vocals and bad ass guitar playing sans Roland Jazz Chorus, called Aurora Welding. Bad band names will forever plauge me.