I've become a little bit addicted to John Roderick's columns in the Seattle Weekly, where he writes about life as a mid-level rock star and bandleader of the Long Winters. You don't have to be a musician to enjoy it.

The band could not reach a consensus on whether they were individually hungry. I extolled the virtues of [local restaurant] "Ranay's" and made a final endorsement of it even as we were driving past, but the suggestion was greeted with two whimpers, a look of confusion, and an exhalation of breath. OK, done.

But as SOON as we walk in the door of my place, two-and-a-half minutes later, the rabble starts: "Can we order a pizza?" "Is it OK if I open these chips?" "Can I make some pasta?" The enterprising bandleader, a well-known singer, opens my pantry, discovers my canned-chili depository, and says to the room, "Who wants chili?" Four hands shoot up.

Nirvana bassist Krist Novoselic also has a blog there, but it's all political and not nearly as fun.