You're the last day of April every year

Well that was a weird night. One minute it's all Vogons and spaceships at the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, then I recall traipsing from one side of the CBD to the other AND BACK, landing at the European Bier Cafe` then sucked by the unforeseen gravitational pull of a Blueline Medic gig, running into various random people on the street then to Bimbo's for the habit-forming chocolate pizza which I'll have to watch that or say goodbye to my svelte physique, discussing something esoteric with Thommo and then is that, they're not, THEY ARE! and Thommo and I slink off into the night. What happened after that you'll have to direct your queries to the parties in question.

Why is this time of year so packed? You think you've got a handle on the year, then it thickens or distends or coagulates and you're left with an altogether denser and less chewable proposition. All this by way of saying that the two events just announced clash horribly with various other things, but that not Mr Cantwell, not Gene Hackman nor any other authority figure short of God himself could keep me from them.