Wake Up Exhausted

Last Saturday, the weekend BEFORE Halloween and all it’s upcoming shenanigans, was quite busy itself. Kieran had been off school for two days, feeling feverish, but by saturday was just a bit sniffly and bored out of his gourd sitting indoors. Well, he would have been, if not for daddy letting him try the “Video Gaming Cure”, where he got to spend hours in front of the tv rally car racing and pretending to be Batman.

It was his first Saturday sitting on the sidelines only watching his Earthquakes, and we ended up going to the Home Depot Center to watch the actual San Jose Earthquakes get smashed by the LA Galaxy. Kieran was distressed for about a minute that we couldn’t root for “his team: the big guys.” His mind was changed by the fact that Rice purchased a Landon Donovan Jersey for him pre-game, and Donovan went on to score 2 goals. Kieran has since sat around looking at the game program chanting “GO GALAXY! GO DONOVAN!” I smell hero worship!

Sunday the Tegan & Sara concert was FINALLY HERE. It seemed we only bought the tix a million years ago. After I proceeded to get tipsy on pumpkin martini’s at Ugo, we made it to the Orpheum Theatre in pretty record time. Oh wait, it was Sunday.

Tegan & Sara did not let us down. They were jovial and talkative, and of course, the music rocked. They played the entire new album along with older faves (I recorded a few of my faves. Bad, bad techy girl!) and left feeling pretty excited for the new album. Now that it is my possession, I keep getting different songs stuck in my head.This is their 6th album peoples! They had me at So Jealous. Check them out!

Tegan and Sara at the Orpheum Theatre

 

I think I’ve been struck speechless.

Yeah  Yeah Yeahs, Greek Theater, LA

Oh. My. Fucking. God. 

(and yes I mean that in a GOOD way.)

 

Something Old, Something New

Nope, the title does not refer to a wedding (though they are pretty common this time of the year). It’s describing 2 of the bands I had the chance to catch at the end of Aug. who couldn’t be more different. One band is a large group of young ‘ens from Cardiff, the other 4 guys from Santa Barbara who’ve churned out quite a few radio hits since 1990. One I paid my hard earned money to see at a small club/theater called The El Rey. One, the whole family enjoyed downtown under the stars at Pershing Square for the price of a round-trip Metro ride.

I’d mentioned Los Campesinos! once ages ago, after Rice and I received their CD “Hold On Now, Youngster…” from the KCRW CD Club. The garage-esque sound, the tongue-in-cheek lyrics, the overall poppiness [yeah, I make up words] pulled me in immediately. They’ve got everything but the kitchen sink in their songs and even some of the goofiest of lyrics still somehow come off a bit poetic and very astute. (I also kind of like their blog. They are young, unsullied by fame and silly.)

The show at the El Rey was no disappointment. They sounded exactly the same as on both the albums I’ve listened to countless times (Hold on Now… and We Are Beautiful, We are Doomed). I screamed out the lyrics an danced [ok, shimmied] along with them and have decided I will purchase their new album to be released any day now, and if they come back again, I am nabbing some tickets. (Please play another small club!)

And now we go from a high energy concert to something a little more low key. Rolling out a blanket, eating street food (Latvian! Delish!) and watching Toad the Wet Sprocket under the high-rises of downtown LA was a bit surreal. I’d never owned a single album of theirs, but with every song it became apparent that they were clearly in the background noise during my tumultuous teen years.Those memories coupled with being so far removed from it (LA is quite the distance from home town in miles and way of life) was an experience I’m not likely to forget. Oh, and they were great live, though they could use some work on their banter (their ideas for a Toad Cover band: Rock on the Ocean or All I Rock).

Next up is Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I’ll be in the pit at the Greek Theater, again, screaming out songs and attempting to dance/make eye contact with Karen O. Since Placebo cancelled (I do not wish to discuss this right now. Still. Very. Sad.) I’m waiting for a Tiffany concert to help jog memories of when I was 12.

 

Going Downtown

“I’m not dead yet.”
This summer’s musical theater experience was Spam-A-Lot, and it did not disappoint. Though I have some coconut halves, sent to us by Rice’s dear younger sister, I did not bring them to the show and “clop” along. As much as I do love a good show, it seems with musicals I tend toward my enjoyment of them lasting the length of the show, but when it ends and the lights come up, I am more than ready to leave. I felt the complete opposite with Spam. If it would have gone on for another 30 minutes, I would have been happily laughing it up and gazing in awe at the genius of this wonderful reworking of MP’s The Holy Grail.

Suddenly [This] Summer: Downtown LA
It turns out downtown is not only good for museums, high-rises, and jewlery but free summer concerts at Pershing Square. My friend Teresa’s birthday wish was to take the metro down, grab a few hotdogs and rock out to Martha Davis and The Motels, and why would I say no to such fun? I’ll never turn down trying on a million outfit combinations at T’s, while drinking lots of cheap red wine.
On the way downtown, I got some great footage of Teresa and her friend Andrea singing Only the Lonely. And we got to hear the tales of how Teresa was not only in her fan club at age 10, she ended up working for her in her late 20s/early 30s. So, Teresa stood up and shook her booty to The Motels. I would have too, if I didn’t already feel like an amazon with my height, and since we were right in the front of a million people sitting down, I would have felt very foolish. [Sorry T. You know I’d normally spaz out with you, but in this situation, I needed to be a little square.]
Martha Davis was pretty fantastic. Since I only know the two most popular songs they had, her voice held me captivated. And after the show, any doubts I may have had about how well Teresa really did know Ms. Davis disappeared the minute Martha recognized her, leaned over the merch. table, hugged her and said, “Oh my god, TWINK!” (that’s a cute lil nickname of Ts. I do not remember the origin).
After they caught up a bit, we took some pictures and left Martha to the rest of her fans waiting for their pictures. We attempted a bar at the base of the Bonaventure hotel [Suede] but it was a bit fancy and Drew was wearing shorts—a dress code no, no. The bouncer recommended numerous other bars in the hotel (go Bonaventure!) and we settled on the rotating top floor bar, The Bonavista. Great view. Great [BIG] drinks. Great cheese plate. BAD SERVICE. If one rotation takes 1 hour, that is how many times you will see your server. After we realized we’d made it back to seeing the Ahmanson Theater again, and passed it slightly, we were finally able to flag down a guy to get our check.

 

Summer of Love

Suddenly this year I feel like reliving how I wish my teen years were. Or my 20s even. Basically, I want a T-shirt in my closet from every concert I attend that I thoroughly enjoy. At present, it holds Rilo Kiley, Feist, The Airborne Toxic Event and Metric (freshly purchased at the Wiltern Monday night!) Really, I’m a sad excuse for a 33 year old mom. And one who wants to “appear” cool. But this summer has me excited with all I’ve crammed into it so far, with the potential for so much more to creep in. Next up:

• Thursday June 11 at the Henry Fonda: Camera Obscura
• Legoland trip with our good friends, the Malloys, and possibly my sister’s fam
• College and Career Day downtown at friend Amber’s school. I get to possibly “interview” students and talk about my college and job. Hot Dog!
• June 25th at Descanso Gardens: The Bird and The Bee
• a rockin’ Pool Party, BBQ Baby Shower
  
• July 5th at Hollywood Bowl: Tegan & Sara, The New Pornographers and Death Cab for Cutie
• Aug. 8th at the Ahmansen Theater: Spam-A-Lot
• Aug 21 at the El Rey: Los Campesinos! [jury still out on this one, though I'm gonna push hard to make it happen!]

Mix in a few visits from my parents, and plenty of lazy weekends at the beach, and I’m hoping this summer makes up for the crapfest that has pretty much been this year!

PS I just wanted to mention that the Metric Concert at the Wiltern on Monday was killer. I love Emily Haines SO MUCH now. Everybody, everybody: ilovemetric.com

 

Halloween and in between

Oh Halloween.

Kieran was introduced to actual trick or treat-ing this season with excellent results. (Lots of fun size chocolates for mommy! Score!) He and his friend Jimmy did a pretty good job demanding TRICK or TREAT, though I’m not sure what they would have done had anyone actually chosen trick. Call them a big fat poo poo head? Jump up and down on their couch until the springs broke? Maybe wiped boogers all over their door. That’s what I would’ve suggested.

The gem of the evening came when Jimmy realized that the Wonder Woman handing out the candy at the last house was, in fact, not a woman.

Jimmy: Guys! That Wonder Woman is a BOY! Not a girl!
(J’s Dad, Mom and I turn away and can’t control our laughter. Or embarrassment)

Jimmy’s mom: It’s ok. Shhhhhh.

Jimmy: But it’s a BOY! In Wonder Woman’s outfit! But why?

Jimmy’s mom: Well, Halloween is a time when you can be ANYTHING you want to be. Anything at all.

Jimmy, thinking hard about this: But dressing up in sexy girl clothes? I don’t know about that!

Kieran, holding my hand: Mommy, what is so funny?

———————-

After leaving Kieran at Jimmy’s, I headed off to prepare for a more adult Halloween: Our first Halloween party in ages. Rice was that damn Burger King King. I was something simply irresistible.

 

Riding on the Meto [No solider sleeping next to me]

More public transportation for me this weekend, as we took the Metro from the (FREE) Universal lot to Hollywood for Sunset Junction.

One the way, 3 girls complained about the five block walk. “Isn’t there a stop any closer??” they whined.

Really?

But they weren’t hefty so I couldn’t be rude and say “Well, you look like you could walk a little.” Still. Everyone needs to walk a little these days. I suppose I should just be glad they used public transit.

Sunset Junction was alive and awash with some of the greatest people watching spots ever. For those not in the know (and before Saturday, that was us) they close down a section on Sunset in Silver Lake, put up 3 to 4 stages, rides, vendors and alcohol tents and charge about $20 to get in. All the vintage comes out, the hip kids, the hollywoodies and some crazies too, because you can’t be near Hollywood without some loonies.

We came for the Cold War Kids but took in some Broken Social Scene, which sounded pretty damn good. And pretty much like Broken Social Scene. Don’t really have much to add to that. After chowing on a sausage (heh heh) and some Sake drinks, I braved the job-johnnys.These people are serious about their  port-a-pottys. One set had a group cheering every time someone came out.

Cold War Kids kicked major ass, and now I’m afraid to see them again, cuz we all know how THAT will go. Maybe as long as I don’t pay for a large venue? Still can’t quite figure out the shirtless, hairy fat dude banging the drum during the final song.

Now why doesn’t the Metro go to the Westside??

 

Oh Gimmie Gimmie what we had before.

Something I have learned this summer: I am not as crazy about seeing bands I love a second time. Well, at least not if I went CRAZY over their first show.

While Me First & The Gimmie Gimmies was fun last night at the House Of Blues, it just didn’t have the awesomeness from the show at the Troubador a few years ago. That show was even more intimate, yet I don’t remember much of a mosh pit down front. Everyone was just singing along, jumping up and down, they were all casual in their Hawaiian shirt. This time, to get somewhat close you had to be willing to get tossed around, and I had had enough of that in the recent earthquake, thank you very much, and didn’t care to relive it. But to hang back behind the huge pit of moshers, everyone just stood there like a lump of clay, leaving me to be the sole loser “getting my groove on.”

So, going with what I’ve learned here: If I go see The Cold War Kids at Sunset Junction, I might have the best time ever and fall even harder for them.

Good to know!

 

A Bathroom Too Far.

UltraSuede and I met up again this past Saturday, but I swear I had just as much fun getting ready for dancing as I did actually dancing. Four 30 something ladies got together at T’s to decide on eachother’s clothes and do our hair and makeup. It was a night where D got to wear bright pink pants with paint splotches, K wore a black tutu and Turquoise hair swatch, C wore a see-thru shirt with black bra, and T busts out her loud Come On Baby T-shirt with puffy formal shorts.Yes, we desperately want to be 16 again. There was cheap wine involved and discussions about men.

This time I didn’t get to dance with as many guys, but I gave up 2 bucks to the go-go dancers. The chick was doing moves that had all of us standing with our jaws dropped. And that’s when I made my decision: If I was ever to become an exotic or go-go dancer or whatever the terminology is these days, I’m doing it at a gay men’s club. They totally appreciate your bod but no one’s coming on to you. It’s a win win situation.

The downfall of the place is the freakin’ bathrooms. I think T and I hit them up quite a few times during our last visit without much waiting or much trouble. This time, I was stuck in a long line of men for no more than 3 bathrooms, and became the resident restroom know it all when every lady that came by took one look at the line and asked me,”So, there’s no ladies room?” Sorry gals, queue up with the fellas.

And I loved being questioned by the weirdo behind me,”Hey! Where’s your chaperone?”
“What chaperone? I don’t need a chaperone!” I said.

“Soooooo, girl, what line are YOU in? Are you in the hetero line? The homo line? The bi-sexual line?” To which, in classic D form, I replied,”Dude, I’m in the fucking BATHROOM line. I just gotta pee!”

Well, what do you expect? It’s Hollywood.

 

Masala Mania: mishmash is the new black.

This is the year of fun. Why? Because who the hell knows what we are doing next year. Are we moving to Atlanta? Am I finding a new job? Are we thinking of attempting a condo or house purchase in Los Angeles? And where the hell is my child going to attend Kindergarden?

But all that for next year. This year, THIS YEAR, though it started off with a ton of downers (lots of deaths and illnesses around my office, work woes upon woes for Rice and then switching jobs) we are just saying F*@k it, and going out like rocket ships and having a blast.

Obviously, I’ve written about the music events I’ve taken in or am about to. OOh, more to add to the list: Me First and the Gimmie Gimmies at House Of Blues beginning of August, and Cold War Kids at Sunset Junction end of August. If the New Pornographers showed up in SoCal, seriously, I’d drop everything like a hot potato (sorry Kieran. Yes, mommy loves you very much) and belt out “Sing Me Spanish Techno” all the way to their show.

The last weekend in August we are taking the train to NorCal to attend our friends Kiki & André’s wedding. I’m actually stoked to take the train and Kieran’s brain will probably explode when he sees we get to ride a huge bus, and ride a train TWICE in one weekend. I know, I live for bits of brain matter and membranes oozing all over his flaming guitar Airwalks.

Of course we’ve got Maui to look forward to in late September. Rice asked if I’d like him to buy me a new bathing suit, and what is he insane, of course I’m not going to say no,  After trying on suits from every store in the Westside Pavillion that caught my eye, I ended up getting 2 bikini tops that both go with black bottoms—one with silver stars and one with a glittery skull and crossbones on one boob. Kind of figures, right?

Saturday night I spent drinking cheap wine with Teresa, while we picked out eachother’s outfits and she did my makeup before going out dancing at a gay club in West Hollyweird. Note to self: do more dancing in gay clubs. I feel so slow suddenly. Like, duh—go to gay clubs then you don’t have to deal with all the bullshit of rescuing your friends and being rescued from creepy guys. We danced and chatted with all kinds of guys, and it was an awesome time. My makeup looked totally hot, by the way.

And what’s more fun than 3 days of curry? Friday: Panang Curry with all white meat chicken. Saturday: Chicken Katsu Curry, Medium. Sunday: Chicken Tikka Masala. Wow, didn’t realize how much chicken I just had until I typed this. Ah, well, no matter. This stuff is soooo good, I can eat chicken 3 days in a row and not even realize!