it’s been a long day . . . plus, wolfpack reunion

I know, I know, RogueRanters. I’ve been seriously neglecting this blog, right?

It’s just that well, I’ve been writing a lot- just not blog-ish stuff.

Also, I’m still trying to figure out how to work this new vid editing software so that I can share some new artists with you. (I’m such a MASSIVE FAILURE at stuff like this these days. Why is that? Must work on this. Pronto.)

But overall, just dreaming about loads of things, like owning a hot chocolate maker and crisp autumn weather and chunky knit sweaters in rustic colors and pulled pork sandwiches . . . Don’t ask me about that last one, because even I couldn’t tell you, but I’m actually kind of excited for fall. (Not winter, NEVER winter, FUCK winter.)

(Usher’s “Love In This Club” for Nohea)

Here’s a list of things I wish I could be doing right now (if I weren’t writing this to you, because we all know writing to you obviously tops the list):

- I’d be wine tasting in Napa.

- At Sweet Afton’s in Astoria, indulging in some fried pickles.

- Be back at Hapuna Beach on the Big Island (Hawaii), swimming under the impending dusk and then getting ready to eat, drink, and head out for another night swim with friends.

-I’d be in Phi Phi, Thaliand, having a shroom burger :)

- A bubble bath sounds kind of nice, actually.

- I’d be perfecting my bagel recipe

- OR actually, above all these things, I really, really wish I was hanging out with my best friend- yeah, the one who crapped her pants all those years ago- in San Clemente, California, having a bit of a wino night, dancing around a fire pit somewhere, maybe with some strangers . . . or her grandparents. Maybe she could even get stoned or something and ride circles on her beach cruiser around the fire pit, giggling. Seems like something she’d do, right? I’m sure we’d get good and sauced up, try to eventually head to sleep, spend all night laughing about her haunted room, and eventually freak each other out enough about ghosts to make us want to hold a seance.

But since I’m not in California, I’ll try to resume regular posting tomorrow. I mean, I’m not making any promises, but you know, I can at least promise you I won’t post another fuddy-duddy list like this. It will be actual content. LOL. Not videos about vermin in New York City.

xo,

Bubble Girl

:)

PS. Here’s a little sound bite from my other best friend. You see, she drunk dialed me and left this little gem in my voicemail box last night:

“Jaqqqqqqqq, me and Joy are trassssssssshed.  I don’t know what the fuck she’s doing, but I’m eattttttang! (Joy in the background: “JAQQQQQ!”) She’s throwing foooooood at my facccccce. Oh my God, you would laugh so hard. I love you.”

Wolfpack reunion going down in Oahu; t-minus 4 days. If you’re not already, you SHOULD drink to that, because duh, you should always drink to good company and family.

Have fun ladies! I’m sorry my pants-less self won’t be there to help you get trassssssshed, but add some Aussie notches to your bedpost for me. (“Bag ‘em like some groceries”)

:)

if you’re visiting nyc . . .

Make sure to visit the zoo.

:)

got the itus

Pretty Birds, in a food coma. Straight up, no lie, almost too lethargic to type this out. This will be the only post for today.

If you follow me on Twitter, you already know I’m been a busy bee, feng shui’ing my room, cooking, pow-wowing, taking naps on my yoga map, because I’m too tired to put the sheets back on my bed. :)

Here’s what I’ve made today . . . for a potluck tonight! (Think that’s enough cheese? LOL) Holy Jesus, so delicious, like orgasm in your tummy.

Black Bean Dreams
Black Bean Dream

And this is what it looked like cooking. :) Looks can be deceiving.
yummmm. i swear. yummmm. it's cooking! black bean heaven awai... on Twitpic

The weekend is almost over, so have yourself a merry-good-time, and tuck yourself in at the appropriate bedtime (whenever that is); Monday is fassssst approaching.

whatever, slutever

When you’re single, it’s kind of like whatever, slutever when people ask you about your personal life . . . At least, for me, it is.

How is it for you? (If you’re single and reading this.)

I’m pretty young, like quite young, actually, so I’m always kind of surprised when people ask me why I don’t have a serious boyfriend- and these are questions from people that know me up close. These are people who know that I live bi-coastally, am constantly moving across the country or planning/hoping to travel somewhere where I’ll hopefully be gone for weeks, if I’m lucky- months, at a time.

These people want to know why I haven’t settled on someone just yet.

I guess you could say that my life, thus far, hasn’t really been conducive to serious relationships. (Although, it appears that I’m going to be grounded in New York for awhile, so who knows now?)

I guess you could say I just haven’t found what I’m looking for.

You could say that, and it’d be partially true, because I haven’t.

Or, you could tell the whole truth.

I’m seriously guarded about my personal life. The details of who I’m dating are not something I discuss with anyone. I don’t know why, but it’s something I’m just not comfortable with I’m fiercely uncomfortable with.

I feel it’s as if the second I introduce them to my family or friends, all of sudden there’s going to be these weird expectations. Like if he’s not there at the next family function, I’m going to have answer a million questions regarding his absence. Like, if I bring someone home, people are going to start mentally planning my wedding.

Because they would. No, like I’m not kidding. They would.

Last year, when I was back in LA, there was an “on-going incident” between one of my best friend’s roommates and I, and do you want to know what she told me after she’d decided he wasn’t as hot as she originally thought? (In fact, before I’d met the man, she was definitely extolling his physical virtues to me and decided later that he was, in fact, actually an asshole, albeit an attracive one. -Let’s be real, do I really care if he’s an asshole? Nope, but then, I didn’t have to live with him.)

-You cannot end up with him, I mean, I’d be supportive if that’s how things turned out, but God, you cannot end up with this asshole, okay?

And yes, at the time, I think she meant end up, as in serious relationship. As in forever-status.

It was totally weird. When she said that, I was like, who the Hell mentioned a relationship? Jesus Christ, two people can’t have a little wine and grind and just call it fooling around anymore? It has turn into some sort of a relationship?!?!?!?

In my mind, I was like, Thank God I am headed back to New York in a couple weeks; this shit is just too much.

Before that, when I returned from my two-month stay in Greece, one of the first things an aunt asked me was, “Did you meet a man in Greece?” It was an honest question, deserving of an honest answer, but the way she asked it was like I’d be returning to Greece to get married or something.

“I met a lot of men in Greece . . . “

If you could have seen her face when I said these words, oh my, the shock would have had you rolling on the floor with laughter. My aunt, who probably knows that I, in an almost rebellious nature, have refused to bring anyone home to meet my family, apparently thought of me as the puritanically-dazed sort to fall in love just because I’ve had sex with a man.

Also, I think everyone, her included, harbors these strange hopes I’ll go off on my travels and meet some handsome, foreign man with an amazing tan and very white, Chiclet-shaped teeth. Why? Probably because that’s what they always hoped would happen to them. I feel like most of the time, people are projecting these fantasies about their own life onto mine, because I’m not yet hitched, do you know what I mean?

Or it could be that they just want me to be exceedingly happy, and they think this is what happiness equates to in my life?

Probably it’s a little bit of both, I think. I’m sure my aunts and friends want to see me happy, and they’re convinced this is how it will have to happen for me to actually be happy. (Apparently, you’re also not allowed to be happy and be single AT THE SAME TIME. The two are mutually exclusive. Didn’t you know?  ;) )

People always tell me they imagine me getting swept off my feet into some whirlwind romance that will end with the perfect marriage and loads of babies. Which is nice of them. Or, there’s the alternative, where they think that I’ll be widely regarded as some modern day female version of Indiana Jones, who has a lover on stand-by in every country and spends her time exploring the world searching for lost treasure and shit. Which is also nice of them.

NOT I’M NOT KIDDING, BTW.

(While trying to maintain a lover in every country would be quite tiresome, I wouldn’t mind searching for lost treasure, especially lost UNDERWATER treasure. Shipwrecks? Pirates? More diving? Yessss pleasssse!)

R1-21A

Anyways, in other people’s minds, these are my two options in life. (Are you laughing yet? Please tell me you’re laughing at the absurdity of my life.)

Then there are the women in my life who tell me all men are assholes and expect me to concur, because I’m a feminist. Just because I’m a feminist doesn’t mean I hate men. Christ. I’ve met plenty of really, legitimately nice guys, and I’m sure other women have, too. Those just weren’t the guys they wound up dating. They were too nice and too caring and too respectful. So please, man haters, give my ears a break. There are nice guys out there, you’re probably just one of those women who has an affinity for assholes or had a particularly unlucky dating streak. All men are not the same, and it’s pretty crummy for women to say stuff like this when the majority of them take offense when men say all women are the same. It’s time for you all to “man up,” and take a little responsibility for your dating choices mistakes.

Oh, and even better! My favorite category of “relationship” people are the ones who insist on flowery romance 24/7. I’m really not one of those people who needs to be shown attention 24/7. I’m a pretty quiet person, so this outright bothers me. Roses and chocolates and box seats and fancy dinners are nice, on occasion, but I’m a little too laid back for that sort of thing. I like staying in and cooking and relaxing with someone without all the hub-bub. I like it when someone I’m dating has their own life, because I don’t want the two of us to become some sort of weird, attached-at-the-hip entity incapable of surviving a day on our own without 500 phone calls to each other. So when my friends bitch to me that their boyfriend doesn’t shower them with enough gifts or attention- and they actually have a decent boyfriend who puts a lot of effort into the relationship, I hate to be that bitchy person who tells them to shut up and appreciate that someone can even tolerate their high maintenance ways.

So you see, RogueRanters, you thought I was just me, but apparently, I am Indian Jones-gone-female with exotic lovers in every country, a home with a white picket fence and boatloads of children waiting for me, and am not supposed to date someone who doesn’t dote on me 24/7.

LOL x 1,000.

But seriously. Ugh, just writing this reminds me how much work relationships are, now that I think about it. I joke around that I’m a commitment phobe with my friends, but I’m not. I seriously haven’t met the person that makes me think I could be with them the rest of my life. If I walked out my front door and met that man tomorrow, that’d be it, and no more dating, but I’ve yet to meet that guy. Most of the time, when I’m dating someone, it’s like a temporary boredom solution. Does that make sense? Then, when I think it’s getting to that level, I break things off, because I know that person is definitely not the kind of person I could be serious with. Does that make sense? And I’m not really one of those women who wants to date 3 or 4 guys at a time. That $hit gets old, fast. One guy is quite enough for me. I know this is a bit of a rambling post, but I want to know your opinions on these things. I mean, someday, I hope I’m blessed with children and a functional marriage, but for that to happen, you kind of have to meet the right person. And sometimes it doesn’t happen in that order. Sometimes you have kids, then marriage, divorce, and THEN meet the right guy. Things like this can’t really be predicted.

And let’s be honest, the people around me aren’t exactly beacon’s of hope as far as relationships go either. None of their relationships exactly make me want to re-evaluate my life and insert another person into it. One friend has just told me that she’s been cheating on her husband with a younger man. Another is in Alabama visiting the boyfriend who- out of nowhere- dumped her, realized he was an idiot, because she was too good for him to begin with, and begged her back. Of course, she said yes. In his defense, he’s a nice guy, but kind of dead-beat-ish  and not exactly deserving of my best friend. Another friend has just informed me that the last time she had sex was on April Fool’s with her cheating ex. Not joking. One of the guys called me to tell me he and his wife were divorcing, because they decided they actually hate each other and have taken to throwing household goods across the room at each other.

All of this doesn’t make relationships seem very promising at this point in my life. Am I making sense?

So what to say when my stepmother, a notorious gossip, asks me over the phone, on Mother’s Day, why I haven’t brought home a steady boyfriend yet? (I mean, Holy Christ woman, I don’t live in Pleasantville.)

I try not to be defensive, because I’m sure people don’t mean to seem offensive, but really, people act like me not being engaged or married is something weird. I’m young.

“Well, it’s just that all your brothers have brought home pretty serious girlfriends.”

Yes, well I hate to say it, but (as much as I love my brothers to pieces) they’re generally a bunch of sod-rockets who date mostly (but not all) dubious characters anyways. Side note: I had lunch with my twin brother and his first serious girlfriend on a trip back from New York a couple of years ago, and she was practically giving him a hand-job while I’m sitting there trying to eat my enchiladas. Awkward! Who does that when you’re meeting your boyfriend’s TWIN SISTER? Really, she was dumber than a box of rocks anyways. His new girlfriend, Becky, however, is astounding, so he deserves some credit there. In fact, I told him it was a good thing he snapped her up while they’re young, because in a couple of years he’ll be bald and portly and she’ll still be pretty LOL. -And yes, my brother does find my humor revolting. :)

So, really, what do I say to people like my stepmother, who insist on trying to have their noses in my business, people who I constantly am working to shut out of my personal life?

I just tell them the truth.

“I move around a lot. I’m young. I’m not trying to get married right now. If I meet the right man, that will change, but for now, I’m happy as is.”

I swear to you, RogueRanters, sometimes being single feels like I’m in some sort of battle against time and the cock-eyed opinions of everyone else who swears I’m running out of it.

You feel like you’re constantly defending yourself, like you’re the last man standing on a dodgeball team and the other side has all the balls. You always have this dreaded feeling that you’re going to get pegged square in the face or something.

Seriously, the most miserable, depressed, but very attached people I know act like being single is the worst affliction in the world. (Although I have to admit, the club scene really is God-awful. I like dancing, but Hell, if I had to endure clubs on a nightly basis, I’d have been hitched ages ago just to avoid going to them. I think clubs are fun when you’re young and have a fake I.D., but it’s like one day, you wake up and realize that you absolutely hate them, and make amends to never force yourself there again. Bars, pubs, gastro-pubs, they all of a sudden become hallowed havens, refuge from the blinding bling and bad poly-rayon blends one generally finds at clubs.)

Really though, IS being single that awful? Is there something monumental that I’m missing out on? Because I think having my plates thrown at me in my own home might be a bit more tortuous.

Who knew I could be so wrong?

(I secretly wonder if that’s only reason why some stay in their horrible relationships, because the thought of being single again is too much to “bear”.)

So that’s where I’m at today, RogueRanters, wondering why people assume I should be engaged and pregnant by now. Did any of this even make sense? I’m thinking the tone of this may sound frustrated or snobby, but it’s coming from more of an inquisitive place, like Hey, this ain’t the 50′s! What’s the big deal with wanting to wait to find the right person before settling down?

‘Cause really, I don’t quite understand why so many folks finds it so puzzling that I’m not married right now. Maybe I seemed like the marrying early type? (Food for thought.)

-If you’re attached and I know you, please don’t be one of those smug people who pretends like being single is akin to having your eyeballs poked out with hot skewers. I promise not to bring up your extra-marital affairs at the dinner table. I won’t even ask why we’re eating on paper plates. :)

-If you’re single, RogueRanters, don’t worry that you’re the only one. I know the movies and weird people with strange romantic notions say you shouldn’t be single still; that you should have met someone in the most uncanny way (or in the grocery store!) and be having loads of sex and witty banter right about now, but I assure you, most folks I know who are in a relationship aren’t getting any and banter? It’s been replaced with death stares over the coffee pot. (Although, you should know, some people do actually have healthy relationships, and not all marriages suck, so you at least have that to look forward to, if you are wishing to get hitched eventually. Not everything is God-awful, just the people in my life are :) LOL. )

And don’t worry. I’m not going to say that crappy line that people always say, Oh, you’ll meet someone eventually who’s right for you. Why not? Because truth is, you might not. There, I said it. The truth we all avoid. YOU MIGHT SPEND YOUR ENTIRE LIFE SEARCHING FOR THAT SOMEONE AND NEVER FIND THEM. Shit happens.

Successful partnerships, i.e. marriage, are a bit like lost treasure, I think. You dive deep and sometimes you actually find it. Then maybe a real shitty thing happens. Pirates pilfer it right from underneath your nose. Or you get eaten alive by sharks.

But then maybe, if you’re honest-to-God lucky, sometimes, you find it and it’s everything you wished for?

Hell, what do I know anyways? I’m just a single lady split between LA and New York City.

With all this danger and peril involved, don’t you at least think you should have a little fun a long the way? Maybe a rum or two? You know, so you’re life’s not completely in vain.

It’s officially Friday, RogueRanters, so when I say have a good weekend, get laid, and read a good book,

I mean it.

:)

Update: Mike says people think I should be married ’cause they always think I’m about five years older than I actually am.

Thanks Mike, for making my day, and calling me old . . . :) LOL.

best moment of my life

Down along Na Pali

Down in Na Pali. Best moment of my life. Water so clear. Sand so grainy.

Waves big enough to keep most people on the sand.

It’s a poor quality photo (and probably not the most flattering), but it means so much to me. I know I’ve blogged about this moment before, years ago, but I’m doing it again. I remember the exact moment it was taken, after riding a wave in, then turning and seeing my brother up on the sand with my crummy little digital camera.

When people ask you about the best moment of your life, is it something like this?

Or, was it when you won a certain award or gave birth to your children or met someone or a maybe a certain birthday?

For me, it is this moment, right here, all those years ago,  back in Kauai. Christmas time with the Sun shining, and the water churning, tossing me like laundry in a washer. Family on the beach. My Dad carrying his fins out of the water. People laughing. Waves roaring like thunder. My chubby little sister playing with sand on her cheeks, her long, braided hair looking like two beat up ropes from a tugboat.

There is nothing in the world that feels as good to me as getting tossed around by a wave, RogueRanters. I am convinced. Drugs, power, sex, not even love- I’m afraid none of it beat a good churn.

It’s like God and the Devil are playing tug-o-war with your body.

blast from the past: russian hooker.

OMG, Pretty Birds. A friend just emailed me this little gem. Another poor quality photo (he says a photo of a photo, no scanner available), but those ferocious eyebrows (and that mole!) are unmistakable. It is definitely me.

It’s kind of amazing how little my face has changed in the past decade. (This is from maybe five years ago?)

Seriously.

Maybe that’s why I am always cutting-slash-dying my hair: to change something up.

Anyways, I figured I’ve give you guys a little laugh, since it’s Friday and all.

Sometimes I sit for friends for their art- or they snap photos of me (because they like to torture me, because I hate to be in front of the camera), and they send me these little shots years later (because torture is never really finished if you’ve a mind to do it right).

When he sent this to me, the subject read: “Russian Hooker.”

Well gee, I was thinking I looked more Armenian here, but what the heck do I know?

BTW, isn’t it so weird to see a photo of me with hair after you’ve seen photos of me with my shaved head?

a different kind of chinatown

I went back to Oahu for Thanksgiving with my best friend this last November.

Naturally, we had ourselves a little thrifting sesh in Chinatown during the rain. (I was happy, even with the rain, because Manhattan was pretty much a frozen Hell hole at that point. Even with the “rainy season” chill in Oahu, temperatures were still around 60′s & 70′s.)

Chinatown Thrifting

It’s an interesting little nook of Honolulu- which let’s face it, doesn’t have much going for it outside of the airport.

(Who wants a broke-down, dirty city when there’s luscious forest and pristine beaches to get your chill on at, anyways?)

On the Corner During Chinatown Rain

So if you find you need a respite from the sunshine (Sunburns? Heat Stroke?)

Thrifting in Chinatown

Consider spending some time thrifting or having a cup of tea, at the very least, in Honolulu’s Chinatown.

You’ll have to dig, of course, but you’d be expecting that. Plus, there’s some pretty kooky stuff that will inspire more than a few laughs from you and your mates.

When I was there, I found a Pepe Jeans burgundy and black plaid shrug-of-shorts, a DKNY black sweater, a teal cashmere dress (with a calico neckline, random, but I love it), and a couple of mumuu’s for dirt cheap.

FYI, RogueRanters, if you’re in Hawaii and want to purchase a muumuu, but don’t want to spend 60+ dollars on a new one, head to this Salvation Army. You’ll find a large variety, in a variety of sizes, for a variety of prices- most under $15. Most are in great condition.

And at the very least, you can just go for the people watching. Hawaii really does have the worst fashion sense, I’m ashamed to admit.

Exhibit A) Evil Butt-Munching Romper

(OMG, be happy this was on my crappy cell camera, otherwise your eyes would melt out of their sockets from the horror!)

Be Glad It's Blurry- the worst jumpsuit EVER!!!!

Exhibit B) Napolean Dynamite‘s Fanny Pack Wearing Uncle

(BTW, never seen that movie. I pride myself on this fact.)
THE WORST HAWAIIAN FASHION

Exhibit C) A Whole Group of Unsavory Characters Waiting At The Bus Stop

Really Bad Hawaiian Fashion

Oh, and don’t laugh if you’ve never been to Honolulu and all of a sudden see cops on segways. It’s totally normal.

(Can I PLEASE test-ride one of these babies?)

Cops on Segways

:)

artists in the park

You know how I love live music and art in all it’s various forms.

Artist1

Artist2

Artist3

Artist4

Red Light Cinema

Artist5

Artists6

Check them out here (Myspace) and here (Facebook).

Think musical styling the 90′s and Maroon 5. The sax and strings are a nice touch, but overall, their sound is a bit dated, and I’m convinced it’s the recording’s fault . . . Something about the layering bothers me.

Anyways, they’re getting there. Saw them play a year or two ago at some shit hole, and then saw them in Central Park back in April (hence photos), and they sound a lot better. More cohesive? Yes, more cohesive. (That’s the thing about time, RogueRanters; it can have such a polarizing effect. It can spurn you or nourish you, am I right?) Anyways, I guess you could say I’m not a fan of the production.

Something’s a bit askew with their sound on the album, can’t quite put my finger on it, but they sounded so much better in the park. (And those red sunglasses are not doing anything for him.) But let me know what you think . . . Especially you Scabs.

I feel like they could go somewhere with this sound- and hopefully/preferably not too far in the direction of Maroon 5. They’re a bit tired, aren’t they?

:)

BTW- While we’re on the subject of John Mayer, can we please talk about how Battle Studies blows? (We’re not really on the subject, I’m just bringing it up, because I’ve got Willie Mitchell on my mind.) I mean, Holy Hell, it blows- and I hate to say that. I hate being negative about the guy, because everyone tells me that he’s so nice to his fans, despite the sheisty press he’s always getting (himself into). But Battle Studies? Such a step backward from Continuum. But then again, my man Willie Mitchell has passed, and since he produced Continuum (and may very well be the best Memphis-sound producer- at least in my opinion), I don’t think John Mayer will ever have a Continuum again. Sad story, huh? Because I really, I mean really, guys, I loved Continuum- and that’s coming from a wary-slash-casual John Mayer fan.

BTW x 2-  You all know what a freak I am for Al Green; Willie Mitchell is the reason why. It’s the horns, Pretty Birds. They get me everytime.

:) x 1,000,000 for Willie Mitchell.

That’s enough ranting about music for today, I guess.

weekly round up: 07/22/2010

Album review here- that you all requested . . . Hrrmmmmm. Try to ignore scathing bitchiness?!?!

- Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes @ Webster Hall tonight? Bleh.

- There are HOT GUYS READING BOOKS (GASP!)

- And some serious Food Porn to feast your eyes on (after the hot guys reading books- or if you prefer, before).

-Turns out I’m not the only one who wants to be a mermaid: this lady is 28 and still pretends!

-Garance is in love with an over-priced watch.

-Anna Dello Russo teaser for the scent she’s launching, Beyond, looks like Santa Claus Cinderella lost his her slipper. Christmas tree ornaments for perfume, anyone?

-Tamu McPherson shows us how to rock those Prada chandelier heels for daytime. (Really lovely heel, I lust.)

- Erin Wasson, model-turned-designer-slash-stylist, is supposedly on the outs with RVCA. The label, whom she designs for, has just been bought out by Billabong, and now Rumi Neely of FashionToast name is being dragged into the mud.

-Nine Things Kirstin learned about France and cheese. (yum!)

-Courtney Love launched a style blog with a couple of young hooligans constantly critiquing her. Genius. Pure Genius.

They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity- and they’re right, because now I want to read this book:
No Such Thing As Bad Publicity

Even though this guy was a couple of fries short of a Happy Meal.

Thank you, Post Office of Astoria, for not only holding my packages for me, but providing me with a living, breathing reading list.

Where will you be tonight, Pretty Birds? I’ll be here, flying solo, picnicking, I believe. Keeping things local and calm tonight in the park. :)

Where Will You Be Next Thursday?

Did You think I was joking about Black And Gold?

Remember how I said I was going to bring back my gold chains, black leather, and black and gold sunnies? I wasn’t joking. Don’t worry, I won’t break out a track suit any time soon, but you might find me in some high tops. :)

Did I ever tell you all about the time I was in Utah last summer— Washington, Utah, to be exact, like that’s not confusing?— and I was headed to grab some In-N-Out with my family (while visiting an aunt), and some jerkoff cloaked in black, wearing a grim reaper mask, starts dancing all strangely as if he’s Michael Jackson in the parking lot. Of course, this is right around the time Michael Jackson died. So creepy. I swear to you, you know how there are those “only in LA” or “only in New York” moments? This was my “only in Utah” moment.

Utah Creep Show

That’s the un-weekly round up, RogueRanters.

:)

not sharpe enough for my tastes.

I forgot to mention, RogueRanters, that a band I’ve been listening to for quite awhile now has recently caught on out here; is actually playing at Webster Hall. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. I don’t know how much you all might’ve paid for your tickets, something like $22?

Hate to break the bad news, but don’t exactly expect greatness. Have seen ‘em, and when they’re good, they’re A-MAZING. When they’re bad (which is like 90% of the time), it’s just seems a bit like some incoherent hippie fest that starts late and you’d wish it end early. (You don’t want to just leave early, because you paid $ for it.)

But that was in LA. Maybe New York will be different? My advice: go with expectations of mediocrity, so if they’re awful it’s not such a far drop and if they’re good then it’s not such a far rise. LOL.

I guess that’s what happens when you fall in love with a band full of hippies; you fall out of love with them ’cause they’re a band full of hippies who can’t show up on time or perform up to par with their record.

BTW, I have extreme reservations about Webster Hall anyways. It’s always a bunch of really young people trying really hard to look and act cool in my experiences. It is 18+, actually, so that makes a lot of sense. Not really my scene there, but if you dig it, then get on with your bad self.

Have fun!