Have you heard that I love me some Pixies? This blog loves Pixies. And indeed, I love the Pixies. A lot. I might have memorized every song and every line of chatter from their every album in the years between middle school and college. I might have seen them 3 times on their reunion tour. Yeah, I might be a CRAZY HUGE FAN.
Last week, I was able to physically embody my huge fan-ness at a show right here in my fair town. My enormous belly and I (and the FYD) took in the Lost Cities tour, to hear the seminal album Doolittle performed front-to-back (along with some B-sides and two encores).
So because I love this band so, I've no critical capacity to go blah-de-blah, the mix was good and they were off during La-La Love You or whatever - and can only say that it was a treat. A treat to be in the same space as these four musicians, who seem to truly enjoy each other and performing to people who enjoy them, and a sold-out auditorium of loyal fans, all with ear-to-ear grins on our faces (and no small number of pregnant ladies!). There was no veneer of cool, no posturing, just fun. Which is odd for a performance that begins with a showing of Un Chien Andalou.
I will say that the visuals behind the band were beautiful. And while I thought I might be banished to the balcony by the LOUD, the mix was so balanced that I was able to keep my ass down on the floor (the venue handily provides seats on the same plane as the sound guy, so I was able to sit and stand and sit and stand and sit and very very gently dance during some of my most favoritest parts). So I got some OK photos, but here are some from a pro. Gorgeous happy-making celebrate good times, come on!
xoxo, A
p.s. I am having a baby in two weeks. HOLY FUCKING SHIT.
Please accept my apologies for the gluttony that lead to the consumption of all of your fair city's pizza pies. And consider this a shot across the bow for our next pizza-plunder, likely to take place in early July.
Sincerely,
A.
[Seriously. It has been a long time since our last New Haven adventure, and the FYC really went crazy this time. We had a special guest (the FYD's rockin' friend Ryan), went to a ska show (we were out until 1!) and went out for pizza twice in oneday. And had gelato and cannoli in between. That has to be some kind of (gross) record. Little A. enjoyed it (but enjoyed the aquarium visit the next day even more) and even bonded a bit with her Grammie and Pop. All in all, a good, if gastrointestinally-damaging, 2nd Mother's Day weekend for me.]
(And to make up for the extreme tardiness of this post, here is a little photo album.)
Help please! I have not purchased new music in...years. Literally. The last new album I bought was Dangerously in Love (came out in 2003? Are you kidding?). I got it with an older PJ Harvey album and probably some Neil Young or something even OLDER.
Am seriously stuck in the not-nows. Is there any good music in the now? All I hear about lately is Lady Gaga, and Taylor Swift. The Kermit-lady just makes me nervous. And everything seems like bleep-bloop-bloops or soaring ballads with lyrics about standing next to my high school locker and then there's that gargle-y angry stuff the boys listen to before putting on their black hoodies and scaring...um. Me.
Yes, I am saying "KIDS AND THEIR DAMN MUSIC!!!"
What do grownups listen to these days? Do I have to get iTunes? Are there actual albums being recorded these days?
Dern gosh dern it what's this noise coming through the thingamajammers? Lemme turn up my earbobs!
Anyway, I appeal to you, fair reader: please recommend some musics. That I might stream into my ears, full-album style, if possible.
Thursdays are always Very Good Days. I take the day off, and tote my dote around from Fun Thing to Fun Thing. The only bad thing about Thursdays is that we have to have Wednesday before that.
Wednesdays suck.
Wednesdays are the day that we endure. Like for most everyone, it is the longest day of the week, filled with obligations and meetings and babysitter and no time for lunch and blaaaahhhh.
On this week's Wednesday, I had to go to a meeting in beautiful Auburn, Maine (seriously, folks, Auburn is a shitehole). I was totally unprepared for this meeting and spent the last moments at my house cramming figures into spreadsheets and flipping through unintelligible (to me) construction submittal documents. Ergh argh. No time to get coffee beforehand even.
But then on the drive to the meeting, I discovered I had this old mix CD in the car stereo. I hit play and it was a deep dive. An old mix from an old boyfriend with old songs of half-remembered lyrics that I sang at the top of my lungs.
Like this.
Chills! Like my darlin' E said to me the other day, I forgot how much I like music. I forgot. I just stuck the car radio on the easy adult contemporary station (except when they get too far down the twee singer-songwriter path, then I change it to classic rock) and forgot. But goddamn, music. When it is good. It is just...like...better than coffee. Well. Maybe not a SUBSTITUTE for coffee. I still sure as hell stopped at the Dunkin' Donuts on the way home. I had the rest of Sucky Wednesday to get through, after all. And so we did.
I can't say enough how much I enjoyed Texas. I don't know what I was expecting, but what I got is basically what you would get if you programmed the Star Trek fantasy room* to create for me the perfect Texas weekend. Herein is my proof that the entire atmosphere was made up for my benefit.
We landed and SH picked us up in a pickemuptruck with her ranch dog, Picarino, in tow, outfitted in a neckerchief for our amusement. We were a little peckish and found ourselves a Chick-Fil-A and got to eat it in the car! Next we pulled up to the most charming Texas ranch, which we reached by a series of private seeming roads with many a cow-barrier**. When we got in I took a quick nap while everyone else settled in and had some drinks. I missed the sight of motoboy pulling lettuce and radishes for our dinner, but there is photographic evidence of such. We had a lovely meal of pulled pork cooked on the BBQ and later, a nice vista of all the farmland from the porch. Again, totally arranged for my viewing pleasure, must be.
I remember when I was in fifth grade, I had this lazy afternoon daydream that I suddenly believed was my new reality. I'm sure we've all had this delusion at some point, whether it be a result of college drug binges or too much time alone etc. I was surely convinced that I was the only living breathing human and everything around me was now constructed for me to experience, and perhaps someone or something out there was monitoring my advancement. No, you never thought this yourself?
At any rate, I was feeling this again, but much more pleasantly so, in Texas. Driving through the little main street of Fredericksburg, with its antique shops and glass shops and candle shops, it was as if someone had created the perfect little Hill country town for our amusement. We climbed a big old giant rock that looked like the surface of Mars, thanks Disney-Texas! We went to a lovely little farm house restaurant called the Herb Garden where a little orange kitty kept getting chased out (and sneaking back in) and we ate delicious locally grown foods flavored with herbs from outside the window. Then we drove out to Luchenbach, an an entire town that consists of a dance hall, a bar, a gift shop and an outdoor hat shop and stage. Thank you German settlers for constructing something so perfectly Texas and quaint for me! We had a few bottles of beer and I danced with my sweetie, then he had a little more beer and we got better, and we all generally enjoyed the open air and all the really talented two-steppers in the crowd. Also, motoboy bought a hat from a man with a wonderful Texas twang who said that he had been making hats for over 20 years. Good casting SH!
Oh and they also had constructed these charming wineries for our enjoyment, we visited three of varying taste and style. The best one was the Becker winery, because it has a really grand tasting room and a generous amount of property. Our host had arranged for the Lavender Festival to be going on at the same time as our brief visit to the winery. Delightful!
However, the whole Texas as my wild west fantasy playground thing was only dampened (literally) by the fact that us midwesterners brought our wet spring weather with us. But I have a feeling that the weather was also probably arranged (read: rain dance) by our hosts so as to throw me off the track of the perfect Texas weekend they had prepared in our honor. Ha! Fat chance! I got you guys good!
So what I really learned was this - Texas is awesome and if I had to go live there for a job or something I wouldn't mind too much. As long as I can live in this nice hill country place of which I know.
So back in the city, Friday night came along and I had guest passes to go see Peaches at the Metro. I haven't really been following her career but I remember when she first came out with a few tunes, and she had done a fun collaboration with Iggy Pop which is on a comp mix that comes up on my ipod. I got MCWMMQ (sorry darlin I can't remember all your names) to come with me, we got some $7 beers and settled into one of my guaranteed spots in the Metro (not telling you where). But as we looked around the crowd, it became harder and harder to figure out who was there for what. I had expected a bunch of baby lesbians, who I love because they have really great fashion and are way cooler than I'll ever be. But in some reserved seats next to us was a table of middle aged to nearly senior citizen people, two couples. They had first caught our attention after Evil Beaver went off stage (they are so much like the music I used to play in my h.s. band I loved it), and this really weird one act came up called Drums of Death, a pudgy Scottish kid in jeans and a t-shirt and white face makeup, with a mac laptop and some mixers. He started playing really terrible electroclash while pumping his fists in the air. I felt like I was watching my brother on acid in his bedroom, pretending to be some sort of DJ in outer space. However, one of the ladies at the table next to us got up and started suburban mom dancing her heart out, and she danced her ass off for the entire show. I just stood there with my mouth agape, looking around, looking at the stage and not being able to comprehend what the hell was going on. This was further exacerbated by a crowd of artsy types who decided to come to my secret spot and stand in front of us. There was a tall Hare Krishna looking dude who was wearing a long canvas skirt (hope he didn't walk home through Wrigleyville) and some more baby lesbians who were on first dates and some artsy non-profit looking types. MCWMMQ & I moved to an elevated spot behind the old people dancing, wherein the kinder older gentleman with the white mustache moved two of the chairs aside and motioned us to step through closer to the railing. This, however had not been cleared with his gentleman companion who came back and proceeded to move chairs onto our feet and put his back directly in front of my nose etc etc. I went to go get a beer and when I came back MCWMMQ informed me that not only did this guy continue to shove her around, but then he got security to come over and demand that everyone in front of him sit down so his party could sit in their seats and enjoy the show! Metro security humored him which makes me wonder who the heck he is because they are more likely to tell someone to feck off. So MCWMMQ and I decide to go back downstairs to get the full Peaches flavor, as she seemed to be putting on a really fantastic show with lots of costume changes. However, downstairs there seemed to be some sort of frat party going on, people just passing beers and shouting. These Lincoln Park types were mixed in with a smattering of people who looked like they drove in from rural Indiana. As soon as her show was done I told MCWMMQ that I would be outside as I was just too thoroughly confused. Even one of the bouncers, who I used to serve coffee to in college when he was a straight edged punk layabout, came by and confided in me, "this is a really fucking weird crowd tonight."
So am I old, or is the city harder to figure out than Texas? This is supposed to be my territory. Hrmm.
xo
E.
*need help remembering what this was called
**also not sure if this is the right term
BONUS:
If you haven't witnessed the facebook phenomenon, here is footage of SW shooting her first shotgun. Enjoy!
* Before Addie was born I swore she would not be a little Pepto-Princess. No pink stuff! I decreed, and painted her room green. No super-girly stuff! I swore, and put all the pink clothes and frilly dresses my amazingly generous friends sent into a storage box.
Of course now, less than two months later, on any given day you can find the girlchild in a carefully coordinated little-pink-sweater-over-pink-striped-dress-over-pink-flowery-pants-with-pink-butterfly-socks ensemble. While I, her formally high-heeled and be-suited mother, pull on whichever pair of jeans I didn't wear yesterday and the shirt with the least leaked milk/drool on it.
*New pet-peeve: singers who change the pronouns of cover songs to suit their gender. No, it is NOT "Every little thing he does is magic." My former fifth graders might have said OMG UR SO GAY CUZ YOU SAID "SHE."
But I think most of us would appreciate an unadulterated cover, or at least not give a flying flip if the singer is SO GAY.
* Last night I was bringing the tomato seedlings in and spotted a little furry thing on the floor. EEK! I shrieked, just like a cartoon lady spotting a mouse. But it wasn't a mouse, it was a mole that our big grey cat kilt and left as a gift to us. The FYD came over, made various gagging sounds, and suggested that we 1-2-3-shoot to determine who would have to pick it up. Without even thinking, I said, But you're the MAN!
Yes, you may take back my feminist card, but at least I didn't have to touch the dead mole.
Howdy all. Yea, we pronounce "howdy" 'cause E. is in Texas at the moment, doing Texas-y things like dancing the two-step and drinking wine. Can't wait for the full story on that.
Meanwhile, back at my ranch - actually a farmhouse, but whatever - we have just barely survived the infamous 6-week growth spurt. I had just started to see the light at the end of the every 3-hour night feedings tunnel (one time, I got FIVE HOURS of sleep!) when suddenly our little ray of sunshine turned into a gaping maw of WAHHHHHHUNGRY.
It started on Saturday. She slept and slept, except for two periods of delightfulness - one of which is captured on video because she was having a dance party (which will never be shown here because I was also in on the party). The FYC and I even went out to dinner. It was a pretty good day. But then Sunday. Oh how I was not prepared for Sunday. Every two hours she would scream and choke and look glassy-eyed and cry and her naps lasted 15-30 minutes. She got panda-rings under her eyes but would NOT sleep. I swear she grew out of her shirt, like the teeniest little Hulk. And then Sunday night she woke up every 3 hours on the dot. And then yesterday, oh how I almost lost my shit: cry cry cry eat, catnap for 15 minutes, cry cry cry eat. All day long. We tried the sling, the swing, the bath, the stroller. Nothing would stop her from crying except being on the boob. I was almost ready to tell the FYC to fix up a bottle of FUCKING FORMULA because I just felt like I couldn't satisfy her and didn't know what else to do. But finally...at 8:45 last night, she fell asleep. And slept until 1 am. Bliss. She woke at 4 am and 7 am to eat, and now she is sleeping like a wee angel in her wee swing. BLISS.
I like to listen to pop music in the car. Since I rarely, if ever, buy anything off the top 40 chart, I consider it a pop cultural duty of mine to try to see what other people are listening to. Its still the same crap - Pink warbling about being sober, some good ole 80s ballads, but what I usually stop at is WGCI. Motoboy can't stand the reverb voice thing that is so popular right now, but I like it and can usually be found doing a good ole fashioned urban neck bob while checking out the tunes.
Tonight, riding home from Trader Joe's, after having a very pleasant 10 minute commute home from work ($17 parking is sometimes worth it) I came across a most delightful song. The ridiculous nature of it reminded me of the first time I heard My Humps by the Black Eyed Peas. I think I was with A., and we were in LA or somewhere. She, of course, already knew many of the lyrics, and I was driving and looking at her in amazement. They made a song, with those lyrics. Seriously?
This song I heard today was called Birthday Sex. It had a decent beat but the lyrics were cracking me up:
It's yo birthday, so I know you want to ride out
Even if we only go to my house
Sip on weezy as we sit upon my couch
Feels good, but I know you want to cry out
You say want passion, I think you found it
Get ready for action, don't be astounded
We switching positions, you feel surrounded
Tell me where you want your gift, girl
Girl you know I-I-I, Girl you know I-I-I
I been feenin,
Wake up in the late night
Been dreamin bout your loving, girl
Girl you know I-I-I, Girl you know I-I-I
Don't need candles and cake
Just need your body to make...
Birthday sex...Birthday sex
Birthday sex...Birthday sex
See you sexy and them jeans got me on 10
1-2-3 Ding, I got you pinned
Don't tap out, fight until the end
Ring that bell, and we gonna start over again
We ridin with passion, 'cause it's your birthday
Been at it for hours, I know you thirsty
You kiss me so sweetly, taste just like Hershey's
Just tell me how you want you gift, girl
[refrain]
First, I'm gonna take a dive into the water,
Deep until I know I pleased that body
Or girl without a broom I might just sweep you off your feet
And make you wanna tell somebody...how I do
Or maybe we can float on top my waterbed
You close your eyes as I improv between your legs
We work our way from kitchen stoves and tables,
Girl, you know I'm only able to please
Say you wanted flowers on the bed
But you got me and now it's on again
[refrain]
Without a broom! Waterbed! Improv! How many stoves this girl got? What is "weezy" should I try that?
Love,
E
who often feels like an old lady...shocked at those "kids" nowadays...
To recap: I went to Feist at Ravinia on Friday. which was a bit of trouble, getting on the Metra. After an hour in line on the street, T, S & I decided to abandon that plan and drive S's car up to Highland Park. Which only took about 20 minutes and we had a lovely parking sitch in the botanical gardens with a free Pace bus to the park. I recommend this, or as my roommate discovered, getting on the wrong train, taking the Waukegan train to the Braeside stop (the northshore people don't want you to know about this option). The show was alright for a lawn seat - can't see or hear the band too well - type of thing. But a bit more trouble than it was worth, being crowded in by too many hipsters vying for room. But it was good to see my girls (and one guy?) and we had a lovely few hours on the lawn drinking wine and eating cheeses. Sunday as well was musical as my neighborhood hosts the Old Town School of Folk Music's annual festival. More lawn lounging and really interesting music like this lady, and our closers, Kinky from Mexico. But I got home early in order to prep for (...a Skype conference call with my boss in Spain on his holidays) and the DEATH METAL SHOW after work.
You see motoboy's little brother is in a pretty popular metal band (they're huge in Europe!) and we had tickets waiting for us at House of Blues and "dressing room" passes which turned out to be all access backstage really. The night started off splendidly as motoboy had picked up his new Harley cruiser at lunchtime and texted me from downstairs of my building, "your chariot awaits." What a mode of transport for our 5 block journey! I immediately loved my squishy seat (quite an improvement on the rat bike, aesthetics aside) and we found easy parking on the street. I immediately met the lead singer in the lobby, and Matt's brother in the dressing room, beers were proffered from the fridge and we found our guest-only balcony seats which were behind the curtain. So now I know what a 5 band metal concert
setup is like. They just layer all their equipment up and take it away as each band finishes.
Motoboy's bro's band was awesome - I guess the music is called thrash - and they shouted out fun
stuff like "this song is about SATAN" and had the mosh pit do battles with each other and move around in churning circles and stuff. The poor bouncers did little but pluck teenagers crowd surfing off the top of the pit. It was all very hilarious to me and I was very glad for my VIP status. Motoboy humored me and let me watch the intro to the next band, which he assumed were going to be hardcore because they had boxes to stand on. And they were, and I didn't like it as much so we went back to the dressing rooms. It was getting pretty intense in there and he got to meet his high school idols so I went in search of a place to smoke. Navigating the four to five flights downstairs I emerged at the entrance only to find out there is no re-admittance. "So no one who smokes can go out to smoke?" I asked the doorman. "No." WOW. But by the time I came back upstairs to the backstage people were smoking in the stairwell, high school style, so I joined them until it was time for the big show.
In this instance we stood at the private balcony above the mosh pit which was a very nice view for all the mayhem. Motoboy was in heaven, brother had given him the best birthday present ever, and I was having the second best date of my life. (First being the first one with him, but of course.)
The afters were at Kuma's which I had only tried to go to once before on a Saturday afternoon, it was too packed to even try to get some mac n cheese. We had a long table and burgers bought for us by the headlining band. Motoby's b.f. stopped in to see the new ride. Which by the way I was loving even more after many beers at the show, even exclaiming to another rider who nodded to us at a light "he just bought it today! I love my seat!"
I got home in good time but that did not prevent the after affects of many beers followed by mac n cheese with bacon and red peppers at midnight. I wanted to call in so badly, even after I was showered and in the garden with the scooter running. (Sorry plants!)
As miserable as I felt on Tuesday I made it through the day, even getting through an inpromtu meeting with the owner. Co-blooger A. helped me through it by being on the IM and helping me navigate lunch choices that were nutritious without being too filling (filling=coma in this state of mine).
Tuesday and Wednesday are for recovering. Although I can't wait to get on that ride again. This crazy workaday thing I'm doing has its rewards. Weekend warrior wha? Oh and don't forget about Monday nights. Ouch!
A. was boasting that she has developed a popular party trick of being able to whistle almost any rock song from the last three decades. I was ready to challenge her when I remembered that we live thousands of miles away from each other and I cannot verify or dispute said talent. Well guess what I got!
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