Suds & Bubs

Since the apartment I now live in charges $2 to wash AND $2 to dry, I've decided to move on to a laundromat down the block. It's convenient-ish, I guess, and a lot cheaper. A LOT! At first I was doing the whole lazy laundry in my house thing, but after two weeks spending $12, and then the third week spent $14 because of a wonky washing machine that didn't spin out the water, I threw up my hands and exclaimed, ENOUGH! I'm saving loads of dollars now (no pun intended, BAH! so when you say that, it's like, "Hey I didn't start this as intentional humor, but it ended up that way, just see how clever I am naturally!" right? That's kind of silly), and it's kind of fun going to the laundromat. I don't stay there the whole time, just drop off my load(s), come back, switch it/'em, do something else for thirty minutes, collect my things, and that's that.There's a thing about this insanely affordable laundromat though. Before I even stepped foot in the establishment, my roommate warned me of a certain fecal smell in the back, by the quarter machine. He said the smell made him think that the toilet was broken, and the proprietor was perhaps pooping in a bucket, but it's cheap. So, warning: don't go farther back than you need to.

The first time I went to the laundromat, I had my quarters all ready to go, and I stayed up front as I was warned. This laundromat is run by a group of older Eastern Indian gentlemen, and they love to have loud easy jazz playing over the sound system while the news on the TV in the back is blasted at full volume. It's something else. I smile at them, they smile at me. I thank them for their machines, and bid them adieu.

The second time I went, I didn't come prepared with my quarters, but I was relieved to find out that the back did not smell like poop as it had when my roommate experienced laundry time there.

So far, so good... until I came back to get my stuff. I was in a rush, and I didn't feel like wasting all my quarters (well, money, really) on laundry, so I stuffed all my loads into two dryers. When I came to collect my things, I faced a little, angry Indian man who shook his finger in my face, scolding me that I shouldn't put that much stuff into one dryer, and going off on some tirade. Listen, mister, I said, I don't have time for this right now, I'm running late, and you can't tell me what to do - impressive, right? He continued shaking at me, telling me this was too much for one machine to dry. I needed more time or I needed to separate my clothes into more machines - latter preferred. Thanks for the advice, I grumbled, and left him in a huff. Ohhh, he put me in a bad mood, mostly because he was right, and also because my parents were coming in town and the clean sheets I wanted to change my bed with were still damp. So, I draped the damp bedding all over my apartment, in every room, and then I fixed the problem the next day, dropping off the damp laundry on the way to breakfast. Solved and solved.

Since then, I've made sure that I put everything in it's proper place, without overdoing the machines. An extra $.50 isn't going to break my bank, so I'll stay out of trouble and keep things easy. It was good. I started to gain the trust of the owners again; the smiling, the thanking, the dollar for quarter exchanging.

And then it happened. Yesterday was off to such a good start, I even shared in a little small talk with the old man - who donned his winter parka and one of these little hats with the ears, apparently it's cold in the shop - laughing about the bundling, worrying about the coming winter and all the snow. Then I came back to switch from washing to drying. As soon as we made eye contact I knew something was wrong. He made his way over to my washing machine, and spoke so fast and furiously I didn't know what was happening. You cannot do this. You cannot put this much in this machine! Cannot you see that it only takes 18 pounds!? Then he said something really fast and made me hold his cold hands, which were apparently stuck in the cold water of the machine, balancing out the load... and there was some water on the floor, too. I hit my head, and apologized profusely. I really was sorry. Sorry that I had made the old man so cold, sorry I had semi-broken his machine, and sorry that I slipped and fell back onto his bad side. For the rest of my time I moved cautiously around the laundromat and made small, sheepish smiles in his direction, only to be returned by a soulless scowl. I sighed and went about the rest of my day, thanking him again on my way out.

So, next time, I'm going to read all the signs, and bring in my own quarters if I remember when I'm at Dominick's (but those stupid bastards charge a quarter for a roll of quarters - does it really put 'em out that much to exchange money for money; especially at the money exchange counter? I don't understand!), because I have to get back in their good graces, for the sake of my socks.

He's a Motherfucking Headliner, Bitch. You don't even know it!

Yeah, that's right. Of Montreal, Kevin Barnes, live in concert. AHHHHH!mazing!!!

You can listen to the DC concert, courtesy of NPR, here. Pretty great, but hearing it in person - waaaaaaaaaay better. Can you even imagine!?

After this show I may have to make a vow never to attend an all ages show, ever again. Ever. Never ever. Oh, it was such a wonderful concert, but comprised of such a rowdy/obnoxious youth attendance up front, where all my friends and I wanted to do was dance. No, they wanted to mosh. But, I digress on that subject until later...

THE SHOW! The show! Magical, theatrical, sexual, unexplainable!! Where to begin!?! They played everything I wanted to hear. Every song had a choreographed routine of silliness that I enjoyed when I wasn't being hurled from one edge of the crowd to the other. From Gallery Piece to Plastis Wafers, Id Engager, Women's Study Victims... basically the entire new collection from Skeletal Lamping. And one thing I really liked, because Skeletal Lamping is one of those cohesive albums that flows fantastically from one song into the next, is when they stayed true to that - example Touched Something's Hollow to An Eluardian Instance. Oh, and my friends and I lamped. We lamp-lamp-lamped until we couldn't lamp anymore... because the show was over. In addition to all that, they re-vamped their old stuff, rocking out Oslo in the Summertime, She's a Rejector, and So Begins Our Alabee like nothing I've ever heard/seen before, extending riffs and awesomeness. They busted out Eros' Entropic Tundra for a mellower. Gronlandtic Edit was a part of their encore, and such a crowd pleaser, as was Disconnect the Dots. Then, they finale-finaled with Smells Like Teen Spirit, and oh-my-god. The moshing was totally okay then, I think they played it because they read the crowd as being so rowdy. I've seen them do a handful of Prince covers (and I wish I had examples but I didn't own Prince albums as a child - probably due to his sexuality and my mother attempting to prevent me from the sexual exposures of MTV, 90210, Melrose Place, and Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman - and stuck to the radio, though I do appreciate him as an artist, or a former artist, and I'd like to expand my musical collection to include him... friends, can you help?) before, and they were, Wow. When did Prince start appearing at other people's shows? That's how good it was. Of Montreal, they're perfectionists. Maybe it has something to do with Kevin Barnes creative mentality/process, and by maybe, I mean it definitely does. Wow! Writing about this makes me want to experience it again. So great, so GREAT!!! Of Montreal and Kevin Barnes can do no wrong in my eyes. He may be slightly - okay, all crazy, but he's a lyrical and musical genius, and I'm gonna say it - I love him, his work, him. Yeah. I LOVE Of Montreal!!!So, those punk moshy kids. Yeah, they were annoying, yeah they detracted from my enjoyment/experience in the concert because I was fighting to dance, but at the same time. They gave me a good story to tell. Granted, I took a lot of shit to be able to tell the story. I mean, these kids were rooooooooooowdy!! But it was so weird that when one kid lost their glasses, they stopped and helped, but when my friends and I (and other non-moshers around us) asked them to stop, they did not, and pushed instead. So, I took it, for a while, defending my space, trying to focus on the music, the man, the Legend, but then, I got a big ole shove that sent me flying and I lost it. I dove into the mosh and went crazy on kids, jumping on people, throwing elbows, feeling worked up and angry - it surprised me, then it became to much and I grappled to get out and to my friends who laughed at me and shook their heads. Then, I got pushed again, and my friend, Libby, got super serious and went in for some smack-down herself. This went on for the better latter part of the show, and by the end, when walking to the coat check line, we were all clutching our backs and walking on a slant, ooohing and aahhhhing, exclaiming that we aren't as young as we used to be all the while stretching.

**Note: I'm actually posting this 11/14/08, but the way blogspot saves drafts, it keeps the initial date, or at least the way my settings are. Annnnnnnnnnyway, last week I went to the Ghostland Observatory show (18+) with a couple friends and as we were ascending the stairs to the dance floor, I noticed one of the moshers from Of Montreal. Hey dreads! I shouted. He turned and looked at me, smiling, "Ha. Yeah?" No moshing tonight, alright!? Then he said some smart ass comment about how he and his friends always mosh at concerts and if I didn't like it then I shouldn't be that close to the stage, and then I said, Well, maybe you should go to concerts where it's appropriate to mosh, douche. I never claimed to be mature, PS.

Also, here's another OM lover's review of the show.

Piss & Vomit

Oh, what a morning! I woke up to some delicious Crosby, Stills and Nash, and thought, Yes! This is going to be a magical day! Then I decided to snooze another 20 minutes because it was way too cold to shower when I did last night, and I totally did not work up a sweat at the dance-lacking (yet super rad) Yeasayer show.

I shivered my way through the morning process. My roommate and I decided that we're not going to turn our heat on until 11/01. UGHHH! Saturday's so far away, although it is supposed to get warmer as the week progresses - YAY, HALLOWEEN!! Ew, boring how I resorted to weather topic.

I was running late, but it's okay because I'm usually - uh, sometimes, or rather, occasionally - early to work. When I got to the EL stop I had to superfast walk waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay down the platform to find a car that could accommodate me. Once inside I thought, Hmm. It smells peculiar in here, my nostrils are burning. Then I sighed at the CTA's cleanliness issues and tried to focus on my music and rest my eyes a little. The smell wasn't going away, but getting somewhat stronger. Impossible! It can't be true! I looked down to see that I was standing in a stream of some most likely dark golden (dehydrated) liquid that came from the direction of that little enclave-ish area in the back of the car. No, no, no. NO! I made sure my pant legs weren't dragging, held back my gag reflex and closed my eyes waiting for it all to end. Thankfully, it was the slowest train ride I ever experienced, and I had plenty of time to soak the urine into the soles of my shoes. I've never see Urinetown, but always wanted to.It was all I could do to keep from vomiting, and all I could imagine is what if I vomited on the person sitting next to me, then they to the person next to them, and them on the guy sitting in front, and so and so forth, until we were all vomiting on each other. It was a horribly disgusting image and I thought how uncomfortable and how smelly it would be to be in a crowded train car full of people covered in puke! You couldn't go to work, or to your interview, or shopping, or anything else you do downtown. But what an excuse!! Who could dispute that, "Uh, well, sorry bossman, I can't make it into work today, or I'll at least be late... y'see, this jackass threw up all over me on the train this morning." Also, no cab would take you home, and people would scowl at you and hold their noses on the train back west. Not a good situation to be put in. And one that could've been avoided had the assumed crackhead held their bladder until they got off at the Grand stop. Luckily my imagination was as far as I got with the scenario.

Once I got to my stop I climbed the stairs as fast as I could, only to feel that I was still surrounded by urine. At the top of the stairs I took a large breath of what I hoped would be fresh city air, but it was only the urine mixed with a strong scent of chocolate. The chocolate air is usually a delight, warming you heart and soul, but today, with the urine, I wanted to run, but there was no escaping.

It's finally gone now. So, I've either grown immune, or I wiped it all off on my walk to work. Hmm.

Lesson: Don't pee in confined spaces, MALES!!**

I also vomited at work,  I think due to the aforementioned toxic nasal inhalation that occurred over a long period of time. This is really just TMI now, but there's that for you. It happened; I trooped on. PS, sorry about the one above, I couldn't keep reviewing the google image selections!!

**I assume unless it was a woman - which I was going to say was ballsy, but then, y'know, like it's pretty disgusting no matter who did it.

And now, thinking back, everyone else was standing and sitting in it, too, and how could it be, so calm?

Lesson Learned: Just Keep Moving Forward

Oh, geez.

This past Sunday - which is actually now 3 Sundays ago - I competed in and completed the 2008 Chicago Marathon. Ooey, ooey!! Shoo doggie, it was HOT! HOT HOT HOT!!! And I did not like that very much.

The night before should've been taken as a warning of things to come. My parents were in town and they decided to save money on a hotel and stay with me, so I made them buy me things. Because I made them buy me things, I felt guilty making them sleep on the floor and opted to give them my bed. Nice kid, huh? I set-up a sweet little space in the living room, and everything was gravy the first night, but Saturday. Oh, Saturday. Saturday night my upstairs neighbors SUCKED! They are usually loud walkers, talkers, and have a great big fuckin' dog. Great just great, I thought as I heard them knocking to get in around 2:30a. The dude in 1F let them in and I listened angrily as they clomped up the stairs. Please, please, please just pass out. Oh! But they needed to let the dog out first as I deduced from the crashing and scrambling overhead. For some reason narration seemed necessary to the loud drunk girl as her dog dragged her down the stairs, she shouted, "She is kicking the shit out of me! She is kicking the shit out of me! Oh fuck! Calm down. You are kicking the shit out of me!" I wanted to kick the shit out of her. Then I passed back out and all was quiet.

The race. Wow. It was crowded. I met my friend to take a picture, and then proceeded to make my way up to my pacing group... it was harder to break through the crowd as I got closer to the starting line, and I ended up settling in with the 4:30 kids. Little did I know that was going to be closer to my finishing time than I preferred. It took about 20-25 minutes before we crossed the mat, a very surreal experience as I had never run with or in front of that many people before. 33,000 runners started (from the 45,000 registered) and 31,000 finished. They speculated there were 1.5 million in the crowd. WHOA! Talk about production.

What a course! The flatness was nice, but at the same time I really dig hills to give me a little powerboost and shake it up. Y'know? Yeah. But, I really enjoyed running through the neighborhoods - especially the shady ones. I have to say, Lakeview and Boystown were probably my favorites, due to the shade and the humor/eccentricity of the spectators. Also, Pilsen was unbelievably supportive with hoses/sponges/ice to keep runners cool. Everyone did a great job. The water stations were stocked, though the drinks were warmer towards the finish line - it makes sense, it was HOT! I had a great time dancing through the fire hydrants - that was probably my favorite part, though on the last one I definitely felt a blister on my right captain toe pop, and that was not very pleasant.

It was most definitely hard, but you don't expect marathons to be a walk in the park. Despite the heat, I felt great while I was running, and my MPH was increasing up until mile 16, when I noticed it took me significantly longer to run mile 15. I took off my pacing bib and set it down on the side of the road and pushed on. No aches and pains, just a slightly broken heart - I was really looking forward to breaking 4 hours. But, I told myself, you're not running this for yourself, you're running for a reason, and you raised $2,000 for a great cause and that's impressive, and you're out here and you're going to finish!! So I kept moving forward. There was a point around mile 19, I think, where a grateful spectator shouted out to a runner, "Hey Mike! I'm a survivor and I thank you from the bottom of my heart." That gave me chills, put tears in my eyes and a fire under my ass - I picked it up a bit. Then I saw a temperature screen that read 94 degrees, oh, you have GOT to be kidding me! It totally only got up to 85 that day, but still, don't remind me. I'm running, I know.

Blah, blah, blah. I'm happy I did it. Training has dropped off dramatically since then and I'm starting to feel sluggish and I really need to step it up. I got my Runner's World in the mail last week and it made me yearn to get back out on the road and slap my feet against the pavement. After work tonight I'm going to try for a 8-10 miler, we'll see what happens.

One thing I took away from this race was that when things get hard and you want to give up because you think it'd be so much easier, think about why you started in the first place, and how much better you'll feel when it's over, for having stuck with it through the finish, and giving it your all. That's why I run marathons, not only is it the race, but it's the training and preparation, running for something bigger than yourself; for a purpose, the fundraising, the excitement in the days ahead, the start line excitement, the runners, the spectators, the finish line, learning about yourself and your body, the meal after, the boring recovery where you have to sit on your hands so as not to unknowingly injure yourself, and then, getting back on the road and doing it all over again. I love to run.

Well, I wanna know!!

Why is it that the most brilliant ideas only come to me when there is no pen (and paper) handy?

Why did I believe for so long that I'd be a millionaire by age 25, and spent accordingly?

When did I stop wanting to go out and party every Wednesday - Tuesday?

Why do I feel like I'm 30 even though I'm only 23?

Why does my Mother still tell me, "Don't drink!" when I leave for the grocery store?

When did I lose sight of my dreams?

Why can't I have a no-strings-attached sugar daddy to take care of all my student loans?

Why won't awesome employers hire me just because I want them to feel my incredible capability through telepathy?

Why haven't I been "discovered" for my dance moves, blog posts/match.com profile, general awesomeness and outrageousness, yet?

When will I live in a fully-insulated mansion/apartment/home/shack?

Why hasn't anything my friends and I predicted in MASH come true?

When will I drive my Lamborghini hybrid - with my Great Dane, Darwin, sitting in the back - to pick up my Nobel Prize-winning neurosurgeon husband to drive off into the sunset for a weekend in Vermont?

When will I reach the moon so I can dance with the stars?

Why don't the upstairs neighbors realize/care that my roommate and I can hear them having sex when we bang on the walls and yell "NO"s in responses to their "YES"s at 3am on a Tuesday morning?

How many years will it take before I become an "overnight success"?

Why is it that Sean Penn had to go and steal my dream of turning "Into the Wild" into a movie, and why did he have to do such a great job of it?

When will my friend, Mike, and I shake hands with the executives at HBO for the three-season contract of our television show?

Why hasn't Oprah hired me yet?

Why am I not travelling by teleportation yet?

When will my telepathic abilities kick in?

When will Joshua Jackson's people serve a restraining order to my cubiclemate?

Brown Lightning was RAPED!!

That's right. And it's all my fault.

For those of you who haven't been keeping up with my adventures, Brown Lightning is my bike, the love of my life. You can read all about her and my excitement in bringing her home from a previous post found here.

The heartbreak began this past Friday, October 3rd, when I decided that I would have a few more drinks than I needed, preventing me from hopping on my saddle and pedaling home. I left li'l Lightning locked up outside, overnight - my first and most fatal mistake. Saturday I went for a run to retrieve her, and I was dismayed to find that someone decided they needed her back tire more than I did. As I had no dollars or CTA card on me, and was 4 miles from home, I had no choice but to turn and leave her again, running home in a sea of anger with waves of sadness washing over me in thoughts that people could be so cruel.

Sunday came and went, and I didn't have my friend take me to Brownie because the bike shop was closed and I thought, what else could they take from her that they haven't already? How sorely shocked I would become come Tuesday - after the torrential downpour Monday prevented me from venturing into the monsoon - upon discovering that my super sweet seat was indeed removable. AHHHHH!

So, here I am Tuesday evening, wandering the streets with a raped and broken bicycle slung over my right shoulder, frown painted on my face. I can't take the bus to the bike shop because the driver informed me that only one of her bike locks work, so I sit in hopes that another will soon come my way. Unfortunately, the CTA is as unreliable as an alcoholic aunt who promised you she'd pick you up from the train station in the middle of nowhere on a cold, dark night, and while there were 3 buses in the other direction, I saw none coming my way in the distant horizon. Bummer. I called a cab, specifically requesting "one of those van cabs."

This is where the lecturing begins, in three parts. My cab pulls up. We fold the back seat over and twist and turn Brown Lightning so she fits without getting crumpled by the back hatch. My driver tells me I need to lock up my bike. Well, I did, sir. He then tells me I can't use none of them cheap locks as them cheap locks are easy to break through. I need an expensive one. I have an expensive lock, sir, but it didn't cover my back tire. Well, there's your problem right there. Yes, I know. And he proceeds to tell me about the bike thieves and how no good people aren't honest and they take anything that can help them advance in this world, even if it isn't theirs. Thanks. This is not what I want to hear right now, and I'm relieved as we pull up to the destination.

Second part lecturing: the cool bike man who set me up with Brown Lightning saw my sorrowful look and said, "Oh no! What happened?" and I said, "They took my back tire and my super sweet seat!" I explained the situation of the unattended overnight stay in Lincoln Park and he said that I can't leave my bike out overnight, anywhere, that the bike gangs rove the streets at night looking for whatever part they can take. Apparently this problem has only worsened with each penny addition to the gas price. He then apologized and said that I probably didn't want to be lectured at a time like this. He was right. Then he told me he could fix her within 30 minutes, but it was going to be $60! Bummer! I had some place to be, so I couldn't stay and told him I'd be back today. Then the proprietor of the shop came out and said that he was going to give me a strong cable when I came back so this wouldn't happen again. I thanked him and was ready to go on my way when the cool bike man told me he had two tickets to this show at a theater across the street and asked me if I wanted to go. My mind was elsewhere and so I said, "sure" not thinking that he was asking me if I wanted to go with him, but rather if I wanted the tickets. I'm still not sure what he meant by asking, and I really hope that it's the latter. I mean, he's a really nice guy, but he's in his late 40s, and errrr... yeah, no. So, that might place me in a really awkward situation tonight as I stumble and stammer my rejection.

Alright, part three. I leave the bike shop, walk towards the bus stop, am on the phone with my Mom, see the bus zoom by, tell my Mom bye, run to catch the bus. On the bus I recognize the driver as the same one who couldn't accommodate for me and Brown Lightning costing me a $10 cab fare. She asked me what happened and I told her the whole story. Again, she responded that I couldn't leave my bike out overnight, even if it was locked up. I explained that I had been drinking and didn't feel comfortable riding by bike at 4 in the morning. Then she said something I really liked and will take to heart from now one, Cowboys never leave their horses, they walk 'em home. Oooh, good one lady. I like that. So, from now on, when the whiskey has a hold of my head so much so that I can't ride home to bed, I'm walkin' that bitch back rather than leavin' her on the rack. Thanks, Ms. Bus Driver!! Lesson learned. Cost of lesson $70 (including cab fare). Shiiiiieet!

Soy un Perdedor

This past Friday I saw Beck and MGMT at the Aragon Ballroom, and let me just say, "HOT DOG! What a show!" The last time I was at the Aragon (which is a beautiful, HUGE venue, by the way - some people complained about the acoustics, but I think the show sounded pretty great, granted I was under influences) was in 2004 to see Dashboard Confessional - yeah, thank goodness my musical tastes have since developed.
The ticket was expensive (almost $60, including stupid Ticketmaster's service fees) and thus I went in with high, high, high expectations for both acts. MGMT opened right on time at 7:30. It was an all ages show, and there were braces up front as far as the eye could see - very strange; I'd almost forgot young children existed. MGMT opened up to screams as soon as they started in on the bleeps and bloops of the keyboard on "Time to Pretend." I was up close, and it was crowded; I could hardly dance it was so shoulder to shoulder, but I shook it out and made it work. Someone had broccoli farts - bad. Also, there were two drunk Latinas behind me who insisted on nasally sing-shouting the words to all the songs, even when they didn't know the words. Just great. The boys sounded amazing, had awesome energy, seemed to really be enjoying themselves, and worked the stage/crowd - phenomenal. I really liked the dudes who played with 'em, too. The add-in guitarist wailed hardcore, and the drummer rocked his set - they both looked like Led Zeppelin roadies; I dug their sound and style.

Another funny thing about the crowd for MGMT were these two couples dancing together - totally on ecstasy - getting more excitable throughout the set. One of the dudes kept bumping into a Dad who was there with his daughter - most likely for protection - and after he did he would apologize, "Dude. I'm sorry." And he proceeded to pet the man's bald head in an apology attempt. Hilarious.

Man, I really wish I could've seen MGMT open for Of Montreal way back last November before they blew up... bummer, dude. The set they played was so short as Oracular Spectacular is only 10 songs and like 41 minutes long... oh yeah, and they played the album in order, which was a super bummer; I was really looking forward to hearing "Boogie Down" live, which is from their 2005 EP, Time to Pretend. During "Kids" Ben and Andrew got off their instruments and rallied around the stage... Andrew got all excited banging on the drums, and Ben danced around and drank some beer. Although they did play the entire album, they funked it up and added some jam sessions onto songs like "4th Dimensional Transition" - really talented, I can't wait until they're headliners and I get to see 'em as that. SOON! I hope!!

After they finished "Future Reflections" and left the stage I wailed, "NOOOOOOOO! Come back, play Boogie Down!" But they did not, and the roadies got to work switching up the sets for Mr. Beck & Friends. I wandered away from the crowd, "Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuuuuuuse me," to the bar, "Ah one shot of whiskey, and a beer, please." Then I wrote a little, moseyed upstairs to the VIP section, "Who do you have to know to get in there?" The guy said, "You gotta be on the list." Well, you're no fun, mister. I went downstairs to the merch table and picked up a sweet shirt and poster - both MGMT. Wandered back upstairs, made some friends, and then the lights went down and Beck took the stage.
I was looking forward to Beck, but not nearly as much as I was for MGMT. Let me just say, WOW! He rocked, he rolled. He played every song you ever wanted to hear. From "Hell Yes" to "Loser" to "We Dance Alone" - it was incredible. And the crowd was so energetic and friendly. I stood next to a pirate for a while, and a guy who kept high fivin' me and yellin' "FUCK YEAH!" after every song - it was fun for the first five, then he started movin' in on me and I wasn't having any of that so I went for a double shot of whiskey, I didn't have any money for water and since it was bottled I asked the barkeep for free water, and he pointed to the Miller tab and said "You mean this?" Oh, yeah, sure. And he poured me half a cup - saaaaweeet!!!!

My besties didn't buy their tickets in time before the show sold out so I flew solo, and it was great. I loved wandering around to different areas without having to worry about what a friend wanted to do. Everyone Beck played with was super talented, too. During "Hell Yes" they all got off their instruments, gathered at the front of the stage by the microphones, headphones on, tape recorders in hand - and fuckin' tore it up, electric style. It was amazing. I appreciate Beck so much more than I ever did before, even if he is a Scientologist, which super sucks, but religions aside, he's a talented artist and I look forward to seeing him in concert again. (I dig this album mix)

The show was over by 10:30 and I was able to go out and rage it with my ladies for a friend's birthday. It was a great night and a great start to an amazing weekend!! On Saturday I went to see EOTO with 9 friends, and it was incredible!! Read what my friend Ashley had to say about that.