you, however, are not invited. not now, not ever, not by anyone.

i go to a lot of shows. and, like people who tend to regularly do things, i have a list of pet peeves, mostly about newbies who are oblivious to the existence of show etiquette, or, y'know, common courtesy.

two stand out in my mind. the first is people who get to a sold out, packed house show after the headliner is already on stage and insist on pushing their way up to the front. we are already wound up tighter than a virgin at the prison rodeo; there is no room for you and your gaggle of drunken friends. if it was that important to you that you get a good spot, you should have gotten to the show earlier. i appreciate that standing in the audience at a show isnt the same as standing in line, but, well, it actually sort of is; if you plan to stand directly in front of someone who has been standing in that spot for 2 hours already and block their view, then expect to find some gum matted in your hair or my beer all over your pants.

the second is people who spend the entire show with their camera over their head video taping the stage. i dont really understand this concept myself; i dont know who goes back and watches this footage or who looks at their 50 pictures of tiny people on stage thiry feet away and obscured by a million blurry heads, but, whoever they are, there are a lot of them, and they are ruining it for the rest of the audience behind them. when i saw death cab a year or so ago the audience was a sea of cameras; so much so that it obscured my view completely and i had to watch the entire show on lcd.

it remind me of this weeks new yorker:



the couple, standing inches away from a stunning piece of art opt to look at it through the 2.5 inch screen of their camera instead of living in the moment and seeing what is directly in front of them in wide screen. this phenomenon is fascinating. its like people who go out to dinner and ignore their company in favor of talking on the phone or text messaging all night. i guess eventually none of us will leave the house at all; we'll just spend all night hanging with our friends from myspace watching youtube videos and playing internet poker.

you are invited

despite having grown up in d.c., the dismemberment plan's "final" show at fort reno was both my first fort reno show, and my first time hearing the band (my teen years were punctuated by horrible choices in music -- my first c.d. was c&c music factory if that tells you anything). last nights sold out reunion show reminded me how much i love them; something i havent thought about since seeing their actual final show at the 9:30 club.

my plan for last night had been: dance rehearsal and laundry. at 10:30 am i received an email from a friend offering up a ticket to the nights sold out show to the fastest responder. i believe my exact response was "me! memememememe! pick me!" fortunately, i was not only the most enthusiastic but also the fastest.

i arrived at black cat at 930 to meet m.m. who was running a little late. the music in the club was deafening; somehow despite owning hundreds of pairs of ear plugs i, once again, found myself without any (hence why i own literally hundreds of them). since they vend in the machine for 50 cents, i needed to buy something that would give me quarters (or at least this was my logic and the only acceptable reason to ever order a pbr). i dont drink beer and it took me a good hour to knock it back - only half way through did i notice they sell earplugs upstairs at the bar meaning i could have ordered a drink that was actually drinkable. it was around the same time that i remembered m.m., l.w. and i's mutual lust for the bass player which gave me new cause for excitement.

something about dismemberment plan makes me feel like im in middle school; something more than the fact that the average age of concertgoers in the room was 17. their lyrics are dramatic, and wistful, passionate and intense. they remind me of the days when you would spend hours dissecting every word a boy said to you, interpreting every glance and feeling like the fate of your future happiness relied entirely on how he responded to your "do you like me? check yes, no or maybe" note. which for me was just last week.

m.m. and i had an amazing time dancing, laughing, singing loudly and out of tune, and watching the tweensters rush the stage before the set was even over. plus, the passing around of an R rated cake made it feel like fort reno's annual "night of a 1000 cupcakes."

in the car on the way home, m.m. reminded me that we actually have dismemberment plan to thank for our friendship. l.w. met m.m. through a "mutual friend" (a.k.a. a boy who picked them both up separately at bars) at a dismemberment plan show. it was love. the three of us (and the boy) have been friends ever since.

so to them, and to you, i say:

you are invited
by anyone to do anything
you are invited for all time
and you are so needed
by everyone to do everything
you are invited for all time

besides, how do you not love a band that does a punk cover of beyonce's irreplaceable?!

"plan b"

last night, j.k. and i went to the justin jones and the driving rain show at the continuing my recent trend of seeing singer-song writers yummy enough to eat (after reading his press clips, i realized he doesnt just bare a striking resemblance to the cute boy who served me a drink at 930 club on wednesday, but in fact is the cute boy who served me a gin and tonic on wednesday).

we arrived to the show late and were fed misinformation leading us to believe that we had actually missed j.j.a.t.d.r.; thankfully that wasnt the case. this was confirmed by a guy sitting at the bar who asked us if the band current band was up, and if j.j. had started yet; turns out, he was the drummer.

after the show while trying to decide where to move our party of two to, we settled in at the bar for one drink. there were exactly two empty seats at the bar, but they werent together. we asked the man in the middle to move so we could sit together, and he graciously did. he moved back forming a triangle with him in the middle. not really what we had in mind, however, after boyfriend started buying us shots of jameson, it stopped mattering.

the bartender, who ive met before with dewey, was fun, friendly and took great care of us. at one point he sat with j.k. and i and said "the bars closing, and im gonna say some rude shit to clear this place out. none of it applies to you two. you stay as long as you would like." and we did. i rolled home sometime north of 4 a.m.

ive recently realized that while i love to drink, and i love alcohol, i really, really dont like being drunk. and even more embarrassing, i heart fruity, girly drinks. i like drinks that taste good and fresh with interesting flavors like pineapple basil, cucumber vanilla or lemon rosemary martinis. i know this is going to sound crazy, but, i actually want to enjoy what im drinking, and want it to taste good. i celebrated this big girl realization by doing five shots of jameson washed down by pink shooters that tasted like tequila, and rail gin and tonics.

when heathens travel

last friday i flew to birmingham for my first trip to the 'bam and the 'ham. i spent the entire two hour flight convinced i was going to die. as ive gotten older, ive become less and less comfortable flying; not only is it unnatural to be suspended 35,000 feet above ground, but, it seems unnecessary to have to sit so close to a complete stranger that i can smell what she ate for lunch. thankfully, i did not die. however my aisle-mate was kind enough to point out that in her experience the pilots who fly the route "arent very good. and these small planes make you feel everything. and they arent good in weather [of which, we were in the middle of having]."

big red picked me up in the 'ham for my first ever in airport, waiting by the gate pick-up. it was all very exciting. the only thing that would have made it better was if dave grohl were picking me up, but, big red is a close second.

between my trip to austin and my trip to alabama, ive eaten more bbq than i thought i would consume in my entire life. apparently there is a huge southern rivalry about what qualifies as bbq. according to a friend from memphis, what they serve in austin is "grilled beef" and sure its good, but it aint bbq. after having experienced the heaven that is dreamland bbq, im inclined to agree.

our bellies full to the point of sickness, big red and i continued to the griffin house show at workplay. not only was the show great, but griffin house is quite a muffin.


after our trip to dreamland, i never thought i would need to eat again. thankfully i was wrong, and we had the best breakfast imaginable though i resisted trying the "yeasty" buckwheat pancakes (im not sure how, sounds so appetizing, doesnt it)?





i was in bama for an engagement party in gurley about an hour and half from the 'ham and the real fun was the drive up. its hard to say what was more fun: 1) figuring out that my cell phone will read me my text messages and the subsequent sending of perverted messages to my cell phone for our enjoyment ("i wa-nt to kees your sweeeet creamy teets"), or 2) the ave maria grotto. the grotto has given my life meaning; it is literally a monument - a shrine - to crap. the grotto calls itself "jerusalem in miniature" and is four acres of miniature reproductions of religious sites. nothing prepared me for the joy that the grotto has brought into my life.



i still havent found the words to talk about the grotto so instead im going to let these pictures speak for themselves. without them, you may think i was too harsh.

if there is a god, i think the fact that big red and i werent struck down after taking this picture, proves he has a sense of humor. though had we managed to get the birth control pills into baby jesus' manger, im sure all bets would have been off.

the actual engagement party was also mind blowing. we arrived at the house where we five men were hired to direct parking, and where golf carts drove you to the door. while we were in the limo driving to the party one of the party guests asked what was manufactured in gurley; i resisted my natural urge to say "blonds." though i did chortle when my friend said she was taking bible study.

the party was literally awesome. i guess if you grow up in a house that looks like southfork ranch, you wouldnt think much of this place, but it looked more like versailles than versailles does. and, out of 250 people, there were only two brunettes, and *gasp* we were also both democrats.

unfortunately, i had to leave early on sunday to get back to dc for work. whereas on the flight to birmingham i was afraid i was going to die, on my way back from huntsville i decided crash landing would actually be preferable to listening to the men seated behind me continue to debate abortion and praise dubya bush as the smartest man alive.

overheard at the engagement party:

"my favorite evangelist is from your town!"

"dear little baby Jesus, who's sittin' in his crib watchin the baby einstein videos, learnin' 'bout shapes and colors"

its been a great week, though, nothing has really gone as planned.

tuesday i had planned on hh with the a.s. but was (shockingly!) blown off. instead, i went to hh with l.f. and then met j.h. for dinner. 2 people + $2 beer + $1 sushi = $60 bill. its a skill really.

wednesday i was planning on meeting a friend for happy hour while killing time before going to the blood brothers show at the black cat; unfortunately, the happy hour and corresponding dinner-of-greasy-food-because-maybe-we-can-trick-our-stomachs-into-thinking-we-ate-first-and-drank-second was a little too successful and i never made it to the black cat. if last week was the week of solo show going (the hard tomorrows/army of me, ted leo), this week was the week of no-show show going. i did however trek out to the 930 club to buy a ticket to the peter bjorn and john show only to find that the box office closed at 11 pm. since it was 10:58 when i arrived and it had long since closed shop, there is no telling what time it actually closed.

friday night after the baltimore or best friend debate was settled, a.m.m.h., her husband and i went out for dinner and drinks. at heritage, we were sat at a corner table and promptly forgotten about. it took 20 minutes for them to take our drink order; a clear sign that they had no idea who they were dealing with. after dinner we drank our way through dupont circle, starting at the russia house and ending at townhouse. all night, a.m.m.h kept saying "isnt that guy your friend paul?" she thought our indian waiter was paul. she thought the guy at the parking valet was paul. she thought the guy walking across 17th street wearing cut-off demin shorts and a leather-daddy vest was paul. and her first words when we walked into townhouse? "hey, isnt that your friend paul?" only this time, it actually was. paul, a.m.m.h. and i went to college together, and paul lived on my freshman floor. i havent seen him in years, but, once upon a time, he and i and a lot of the guys on my floor had all been close. he was holding court with several other guys we went to college with, and it was like being 18 again, walking into fat harry's on a friday night, knowing all my friends would eventually converge there. the last words i heard as we stumbled out of the bar and into the street, were paul shouting "i love you." who needs girl talk when you have boys like that in your life?

last night i missed another show (benjy ferree, the cassettes and the aquarium) and spent another night watching arrested development on my couch.

this morning, i celebrated the resurrection of baby jesus by drinking champagne and bloody mary's first thing in the morning, and coveting l.y.'s fabulous grown-up apartment. after d.n.b. dropped me off at work, i called my mom to discover that she was in the middle of preparing easter dinner for the family. i guess they didnt invite me because they didnt want me to feel bad that i had to work? or, they just didnt invite me. charming.

is my butt in the light?

austin is possibly my favorite city.

if new orleans were a person, she would be amy winehouse: self-destructive, raw, and the kind of drunk who gets belligerent and incoherent, yelling things like "i am the superbowl! i am the cosmic whip cracking." a hell of a good time to party with, but, you know the night is going to either end in tears, with a one-night stand youll regret in the morning, or in jail. and since none of those things are mutually exclusive, possibly all three. austin is new orleans older, slightly more mature sister. not the one who got married to her high school boyfriend and who now lives in the burbs driving a mini van and who has 2.5 kids. no, austin is drew barrymore: the sister who successfully completed rehab but who remains quirky, eccentric, free spirited and proudly weird, and who, on a dollar bet, would probably still flash a bartender for free drinks.

i was in austin for work and unfortunately missed sxsw bythismuch (my conference was monday - wednesday, but i flew out on friday to spend the weekend with t-rock and k.l.m.). because the festival just ended, no touring groups were coming through town. fortunately, austin has loads of other weird and funky ways to pass the night, and the best independent record store in the world, hands down. i should be ashamed to tell you how many cds i bought at waterloo records. i know; im the last person alive who actually buys cds. i cant help it. a trip to waterloo is like high fidelity come to life. i enjoy wandering around listening to any and every cd that trips my fancy, and talking to people who live and breathe music. i always find bands i never would have heard of otherwise, and in the process support both local independent businesses and independent musicians. i went to waterloo every day that i was in austin, and actually drove directly there from the airport.

we spent friday on a boozy cruise of austin filling our bellies with great food and a margarita i actually have dreams about (flavored with blood orange and chili powder. words just dont do its spicy-tartness justice). saturday we wandered around an artists market where i bought a ring (a size too small as though i could suck in and make my finger smaller), and where we ended up in what literally appeared to be an artists commune filled with people who, guessing by the smell of them, hadnt showered. ever.

saturday night we saw little richard play the ut austin quad, which, if it hadnt been such a sad mess, would go do in history as the best performance art ive ever seen. when you see little richard, you expect him to be the black liberace: over-styled, flamboyant and boasting about how pretty he is. what i didnt expect was for him continually offer to give his shoes to the audience. or to repeatedly make racial slurs or comment about how he wants a bunch of fat women to come up on stage. it was a sad and surreal experience where laughing or crying were equally appropriate responses.

in an effort to cleanse our palate, t-rock and i ventured to a party being thrown by a middle eastern restaurant that was closing down. the back of the restaurant had a mini amphitheatre set up with a stage and some nooks decorated with pillows and tapestries and promised a party till dawn. little did we know what we were in for. t-rock and i got there after 10 pm and settled in on a couple of vacant chairs. the first bellydancer to perform was wonderful, setting a high standard for the rest of the night. though it wasnt at all what we expected, we certainly werent disappointed.

after the first belldancer finished, women started swarming the crowds hand feeding guests, who they referred to as gods and goddesses, chocolate dipped strawberries. sensing that we had failed to b.y.o. enough to this b.y.o.b. event, t-rock ran nextdoor to procure more booze while i watched a drag king lash two women together with whips before ripping their tops off and exposing them in all their janet-jackson-on-superbowl-sunday finest. were they not still on stage wearing nothing but pasties, i dont think t-rock would have believed me when i told her what she missed.

the next act was a 30 minute fire dance routine which was 29 minutes too long for my taste. im not saying its not impressive to swallow fire, but after 10 times in a row, it begins to lose its impact. and when you drop your fire, or it goes out repeatedly, it makes you look like amateur hour. clearly she was not a bellydancer, or, a dancer of any kind, but your basic baton twirling former texas cheerleader who discovered hair dye and industrial music. (or maybe im just bitter because she performed a routine to facing east by thievery corporation which our company also dances to).

if you think the previous two acts had prepared us for what came next, you would be wrong.

the drummers, several of whom also doubled as drag kings, "performed" next, and i use that term loosely. the all female drummers formed a line behind the their king while s/he sang a song that went something like this: "spank my ass/make it red/spank my ass/make it red." naturally the ladies in waiting did as they were told. this segued into an improvised rap portion of the performance where the king told the other girls to "pull my pants down/is my butt in the light?/ is my ass red?/is my butt in the light?" which by the way, is my new catch phrase. at this point, t-rock and i were nicely buzzed on gas station wine and utterly fascinated by what was taking place on stage.

we were convinced nothing could possibly top what we'd just seen, but, this is austin, and weird is only a mic stand away. the next performer was a slam poet. now, i dont mean to imply that white girls cant or shouldnt do slam poetry, im sure somewhere in the world is a feminem slam poet; but, i am 100% convinced that they shouldnt perform poems called "to the single mamas and they broke ass baby daddies." while the rest of the beatnik, hippy dippy audience snapped their fingers in agreement, t-rock and i were doubled over, clutching each other and convulsing from the silent laughter that threatened to loudly erupt any minute, which undoubtedly would have gotten us a stern talking to from all the self-satisfied, do-gooders in the audience who did not approve of our "stifling of the performers expression of their goddess nature." we left before anyone could force us to trade in our pumps for birkenstocks or our chanel for patchouli.

all of this to say, i love austin. yes, its self-satisfied and masturbatory, but hell, so am i. not to mention it seems to have more tattoo shops and coffee shops, and in more than one case, tattoo/coffee shops, per square mile than any other place in the world.

besides, where else is a man going to follow you to your car meowing like a cat?

late for the rabbit hole

this week has been long and arduous, and working seven days a week means one week never ends, it just merges with the next.

on wednesday i got word that the dance company had arranged for rehearsal from 6:30 -9pm, drastically cutting into my happy hour time. not only that, but this is apparently our new rehearsal time. great. everyone hates having friday nights free, right?!

after rehearsal yil dropped me off at the hirshhorn for the after hours event. the hirshhorn museum is my favorite place in dc for several reasons. a) its quiet which is exactly how a museum is supposed to be, not like the native american museum which is seizure inducing (but with a great cafeteria, or so i hear). b) its round, and somehow womb like. i cant explain it, it just is. c) my father brought me there once when i was about 15 and they were exhibiting homoerotic art. any place capable of making father that uncomfortable, is a special place indeed.

the event features a bar and a dj, and make your own lite brite art. the entire museum is open to explore which i find ironic: give the people booze then let them run wild among priceless pieces of art. strangely, i feel like i ran into everyone i knew at the event, which for a brief moment made me think i may not be the booze hound i really am. then i realized i spent the entire night next to the dj drinking white wine, so i may as well have been at a bar. though i did spend an uncomfortably long time in the elephant room; ive seen the exhibit before (douglas gordon, play dead real time) and i found it as creepy now as i found it then.

i had invited dewey, and he had said he would go though he didnt seem too thrilled about it. naturally, i never heard from him, and none of my calls were answered. ive never met someone who so persistently believes ignoring something will make it go away. granted, with people that probably works most of the time, but unfortunately for the poor boy, im persistent too.

strangely, though not there, dewey pervaded the night. or, at least my night. my friend, mr. fine greeted me by asking if ive heard of this band, "defeated by burrito*"?, because, omg he met the lead singer recently at the gym and they like totally bonded, and omg they, like have a show coming up at the black cat andweshouldtotallygo! yes, i have heard of the band. its dewey's band, though dewey would never be caught dead in the sauna of a gym. so, yeah i know about the show.

then, in a strange coincidence, i ran into said lead singer.

fast forward an hour, and a few glasses of wine later, and i see a cute girl dancing around to the dj and think "man. she looks familiar. why does she look so familiar? hmmm. i think im staring. oh shit! she totally sees me staring at her, in like, the creepy way. crap. crap. crap. thats dewey's roommate, pepper. fuuuuuck."

so yeah. im never cool. never, ever, ever. i went over and reintroduced myself to pepper who is not only dewey's roommate but his bff. i met her once, and im sure made a wonderful impression when i had to leave abruptly in the middle of a movie to go home and vomit. in my defense, it was new years day. when he introduced me she greeted me like this "ohhhhhhhh. YOURE van nasty..." which could either be taken as very good, or very, very bad.

i left the party around midnight and was home in my jammies watching the golden girls and eating pomegranate and chocolate chip ice cream by 12:30 am. the other half of the pint was finished off last night after work. despite a mini party for the baby blog involving a night at the palace of wonder, i opted to continue getting reacquainted with my couch and stay in.

* um, no. that is not really the name of their band.

with the exception of death, the following things do not annoy me

in spite of the below bitching, its actually been a great - if hectic - week. a.h. was in town from seattle which meant there was brunch, trivia, irish pubs (though no "alice? alice! who the fuck is alice?!?"), ridiculous amounts of giggling and the potential for a threesome at asylum.

last week ended with putting the family cat to sleep, who, at 16, we had had since i was 11 years old. she was sweet and good natured and will be missed by the entire family including my three year old niece who refers to grandma's house as "kitty's house!" i marked the occasion by drinking myself comatose and passing out on my friends couch completely dressed which included sleeping in my shoes, pantyhose, coat and necklace. because i went directly from her house to brunch with a.h. and then to work, i wore those pantyhose for 48 hours straight until they officially melded into my flesh. i wont even tell you what it took to get them off, but, it wasnt pretty and it involved butter.

sunday j.k. and i went to brunch the embodiment of a walk of shame: 4 inches and counting of freshly fallen snow, and she and i are out in skirts and our four inch, peep toed snow pumps.

tuesday a.h. and i met l.l.g. and friends to celebrate her 30th birthday. i walk into the red and black to discover l.l.g. sitting in a chair, getting her hair wet down with a spray bottle for a $12 hair cut, served with a shot. though i had my doubts, it turned out to be one of the best hair cuts ive seen on her; john took the time to not only give her a great cut, but to blow it out and flat iron it. i encourage one and all to check out the red and black on tuesday nights for a $12 hair cut and some witty banter with the faux gays who will call you sweetheart in a way that you will find neither creepy nor condescending.



tuesday was topped off with a great show: the dreggs and call me lightning (my new favorite band). at the end of the night, i drove a friend and his band equipment home and even though i knew i was sober, the mile and a half the cop followed me and pulled in behind me at a.h.'s hotel before flashing his lights and sounding his siren, were the scariest five minutes of my life. in the end, he pulled out around me and speed away; i dont know why he followed me into the hotel, nor do i care.

i spent friday with my old roommate celebrating both her birthday and her (surprise!)engagement. congratulations! i look forward to getting drunk and making out with the best man at your wedding.

another interesting development as been the reemergence of the dewey decimal. he tried to escape me but i kept drawing him back through sheer will and determination. once ive latched on to someone its pretty much impossible to escape or avoid me short of entering the witness protection program; just ask the a.s. the double d and i spent some quality time this weekend together eating salvadorian food and drinking coffee in malcolm x park. while at no point did he ever come within a foot of me, i still consider it an achievement. in fact, after being down graded to "the light switch," hes back to his rightful nickname of "dewey decimal." thanks to his sudden ability to return phone calls, he's even been reinstated in my phone.

the weekend ended much like it began: friends, bars, dancing and booze. this time though, we were celebrating a happy occasion: cee-lao's birthday and new job. also, unlike last week, i was sober sistering it last night.

the weekend rundown

saturday night, my friend rose threw a huge going away party before she leaves d.c., which was convenient for me, seeing as it was my birthday eve, and many of my friends would already be together at a fabulous party, with three excellent djs, great food, and drink specials. all the benefits of a party with none of the hassle of having to plan!

typically, saturdays are easy going for me. i work until 11pm so im rarely in the mood to go out afterwards. my friend a.t. and i decide that we're going to cameo the party for an hour or so, and then head home, like the responsible adults we're supposed to be. but, one thing lead to another (or, in our case, one drink lead to another) and we were out a bit later than planned.

sunday my mom, sister and niece took me to lunch followed by a trip to the zoo. it was my nieces first visit and while she was very excited, i dont think she fully grasped the concept. everything we saw was the zoo. my apartment building was enthusiastically greeted by a two and half year old screaming "the zoo! the zoo!" likewise at the restaurant, the coffee shop we passed, the gas station, and on, and on, and on. until we actually got to the zoo, and she declared with absolute assuredness "this is NOT the zoo!!!" and even then, her favorite part wasnt the baby panda, or the elephant, or the giraffe, or the blob like thing that looked like a turd with ears. no. it was the birds. and i dont mean the pink flamingos or the peacocks; im talking about the pigeons and the little brown birds you see on streets everywhere all across america. nice to know we could have taken her to the backyard, pointed out some birds, told her she was at the zoo, and she would have been just as happy.

to my friends: thank you so much for spending my birthday with me. it was an awesome way to start a new year and it meant so much to me that you were all there.

to my family: i had such a fun time at our girls only lunch. i think we should do them more often!

to the woman at the bar: im sorry i bumped into you. i genuinely know how annoying that can be. and while i appreciate your "reminding me" that you were behind me, i would like to remind you that youre standing at a crowded bar and that you dont have your force field activated which means, unfortunately, people are going to touch you. its a casualty of going out.

to the random hot dude who bought me a shot: where were you later that night when the wild turkey kicked in, and i need someone to hold my hair?!

to my niece: yes, my eyes are brown, however, they work better without your finger jammed in them. and thank you for resisting the urge to rip out my nose ring; i know its shiny and weird and very tempting, but, isnt auntie so much nicer when she isnt curled up in the fetal position, crying, swearing and trying to contain the blood?

to my father: 27 years in a row you have forgotten my birthday. its nice that we can have this little tradition; after all there are so few things in life you can count on. thankfully im old enough that it no longer hurts my feelings; i just expect to be monetarily compensated for your forgetfulness. and this year, when i call to remind you that you forgot, please dont say the same thing as last year: "oh. look at that. you arent even on the calendar!"