In exchange for watching 30 Rock with him, I have agreed to let Adam go out in the snow flurries and buy us bagels for breakfast. I know, I am so very generous. Of course, normally I force him to eat my homemade oatmeal, so he may actually think he is getting a bargain.
Now I am watching the snow flurries and hoping they don’t get worse. I have two wedding-dress appointments today in Virginia. And as much as I really seriously honestly do not want to go (dresses are fun but I have not had a day without appointments or work since before Christmas), I want to get them over with so I can order a damn dress already.
Tomorrow? Nothing but Big Love.
Season 3 finale. First three episodes of Season 4. And who knows? Maybe I’ll make my inauguration day vegan shepherds pie (Veganomicon version).
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Tags: food, TV, vegan
Lentil burgers for dinner.
Of Montreal was tremendous. A greatest hits show. Not too many theatrics, a new song off the upcoming album (SPOKEN VERSES) and there were only a couple really tall dudes standing in front of me.
However, I’d like to take this post to discuss the aromas of a concert venue.
Smell #1: Beer.
Smell #2: Sweat.
Smell #3: Meat sandwiches.
I do not have a particularly discerning sense of smell. But I’m really good at detecting meat smells. I can smell fish that my fiance ate for lunch yesterday. For some reason, concerts — more so than subways or gyms, both common areas for co-mingled, erm, people aromas — are the absolute worst for meat smells.
It makes me goddamn crazy.
Filed under: D.C., Music | 1 Comment
Tags: 9:30 Club, food, Music, vegan
A list of woes.
I am too tired for paragraphs.
Woe 1: I was using an unfamiliar cleanser this afternoon and somehow bleached a couple drops on the knee of a pair of new work pants. Generally I am not an accident-prone purpose, so this really pissed me off. I just need to get over it and move on, but gah a;lsjfasf when I become so Type A about shit?
Woe 2: Last night we stayed up to watch the State of the Union … and then a random episode of something. And then my alarm went off at 5:45 a.m. this morning. After I’d only been asleep 5 hours and 45 minutes. Unfortunately, I’m more of a 9-hours-a-night girl. So I hate everything right now. Except conjunctions and prepositions.
Woe 3: My stomach is eating itself and my dinner partner is not arriving for another hour. I need a cold vegetable sandwich poste-hast!
Woe 4: My apartment needs to be dusted again. Why so much dust, building? I don’t open my windows, I don’t run the heat or the air, so explain to me: Where is is all the dirt coming from?!
Woe 5: The last time I saw of Montreal, their show was pretty lifeless, although filled with lots of props and costumes and spectacle-ness or whatever. I’m a little apprehensive about tonight. Plus I’m sleepy.
Woe 6: I ran out of sparkling water.
Woe 7: My back is killing me thanks to wedding-planning stress. For serious, people. Lamest woe ever.
So my woes are on the small side, relatively speaking. Everything just seems worse when you’re tired.
Also, I haven’t watched Law & Order (ANY OF THEM) in two weeks. The last SVU I watched (weeks ago) blew. Take that, Mike Post.
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Tags: 9:30 Club, D.C., Music, of montreal
Tyler showed me the most amazing thing in the world this morning. Of Montreal and Solange Knowles covering “I Want You Back.” MY MIND IS BLOWN.
Kevin, what’s with the beard? KEEP IT FOR THURSDAY SO I CAN GET A CLOSER LOOK.
And B.P., watch out. Kelly and I will be in our usual positions, three rows back on your left-hand side.
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Tags: D.C., Music, of montreal
Pancakes for One in D.C.
Someone’s been translating my page with both Google and Babelfish. This is endlessly funny to me. I bet you anything it’s Portuguese Belle & Sebastian fans. You have no idea how many of them there are.
Back in 2000, I spent a lot of time on Napster. It was my first semester of college, I didn’t really have any friends and I couldn’t remember where the dining hall was half the time (I was one of those no-common-sense people until I was about 22 years old), so there wasn’t much else for me to do until Snood was released during second semester of my freshman year.
Anyway, this Brazilian kid started instant messaging me about Belle & Sebastian. At that point I had a ton of then-unreleased tracks (“Lord Anthony,” “Poupée De Cire, Poupée De Son“) and live shows. The kid, whose name escapes me, downloaded everything I had and kept telling me to download this song called “My Favorite Boxer” by of Montreal. I liked it, but I wasn’t crazy impressed, and so the Brazilian kid made me download all of Cherry Peel. It was just a coincidence when the band came to my college the following year. And the year after that. And the year after that. I’d seen of Montreal more than five times by the time I graduated from undergrad and a full ten times by the time I left grad school. Since originally downloading Cherry Peel on Napster almost ten years ago, I’ve bought countless Montreal CDs, T-shirts and concert tickets. I’ve seen them perform live more than I have any other band.
I’ve actually lost count now. When I see them this Thursday at the 9:30 club, it’ll have been somewhere between 12 and 15 times. Here’s hoping I see them perform “Pancakes for One” again someday.
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Tags: 9:30 Club, Belle & Sebastian, Music, of montreal
Blogging fits.
Chili that’s been in the freezer for two months, edible or not? Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas we made a monster pot of chili and watched The Fugitive, which was supposed to be one of those so bad it’s good movies but in fact turned out to be pretty darn good without being bad. You know, for a Harrison Ford action vehicle. Anyway, I forgot I had chili. And now I want to eat it. As long as it doesn’t make me sick.
I still can’t figure out what I want to put here, if anything at all. I just have a vaguely typey typey type feeling. Plus I need something to distract me from enormously time-consuming wedding planning process. For the fourth weekend in a row, I went to Virginia for wedding-related appointments. Pretty soon my fiance is going to forget what I look like.
All anyone asks me about these days is the wedding, but at the same time, you don’t want to be that girl driving everyone crazy by talking about her wedding constantly. Unfortunately, it’s pretty much all that’s on my mind these days. So much so that I’ve got wedding-stress-related back pain. I’ve been sitting in an ergonomically incorrect chair at a computer for the past five years, and yet it’s my wedding that’s giving me back pain. Back to yoga, I guess.
Maybe I’ll putting wedding stuff up here to prevent myself from driving everyone completely bonkers. Or maybe I’m too lazy to do even that. Maybe I’ll just keep posting Michael Jackson videos. Maybe I’ll post another Belle & Sebastian Lego picture and see if the traffic on this sad, neglected little blog doubles again. Maybe I’ll start cooking regularly again, something I haven’t regularly done in, oh, seven months. Maybe I’ll just post exactly one new photo of Mariska Hargitay every weekday.
Or maybe I’ll just abandon this damn thing once again.
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Tags: cooking, Movies, Music
The perfect running slow jam
I am dying to see Michael Jackson’s Moonwalker but I have to get through the second season of thirtysomething first.
This is one my favorite running slow jams.
I love how he’s wearing a RIBBON as a BELT, all J.Crew 2008 on us. Michael also had three times the amount of hair I currently do. And he doesn’t actually sing an entire verse in the last three minutes of the song.
Go to minute 4:06. You won’t regret it, I promise. Take a minute and re-watch it.
That’s basically what I thought jazz dancing was all about when I was 10. A jazzy little “aw, shucks” move in a denim shirt. Then Michael hops up and down like a bunny for 10 seconds. I had that move down, too.
This is what I think about on the treadmill three days a week.
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Tags: Michael Jackson, running
SVU: Too much crazy?
I think we can all admit that SVU has gone a little batshit in its recent seasons. Season 9 remains my absolute favorite, Season 10 has some real gems, but Season 11 is just nuts. I’ll be honest, I haven’t even watched the latest two episodes yet. I saw a trailer of Olivia with a riding crop and now I’m terrified.
It was inevitable that the writers would run out of believable special victims plots. There are only so many Russian mob, pedophile, murdered prostitute, sketchy doctor storylines to be explored. One of the things that always drives me crazy about SVU is that they’ll do a ripped-from-the-headlines episode and base it on several completely separate news stories. Case in point: the Hilary Duff episode called “Selfish.” This Season 10 episode starts off alluding to the Casey Anthony case (young mother suspected of murdering her small child). Then it veered into a pro-vaccine tirade and the trial goes on and on, as do Meloni and Mariska. Now I love me some Meloni and Mariska but I don’t care what the actors or their characters think about vaccination. And I wanted the episode to be about Hilary Duff’s character killing her baby! Not so.
My point is that there were two perfectly good storylines crammed into an episode toO small for them both to fit. SPREAD THE WEALTH, WRITERS!
So now read this item on The Daily Beast, which details a crime that some say mimicked the plot of an SVU episode from last year. Neal Baer, the writer, is an executive producer on the show and he argues that the idea that a criminal purposely modeled his crime after an SVU episode is pretty far-fetched. Baer does a decent job describing how the writers cull ideas and plots from research and crime trends, and, hilariously, he references the truly godawful Season 10 finale. You know, the one where you find out that the ever-irritating Stuckey is a criminal? Stuckey takes Meloni hostage? Olivia fake-seduces him? It’s all mega lame? And then it turns out the whole episode is about people creating FAKE DNA. Duh duh dum. THE AMERICAN JUSTICE SYSTEM WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN.
Baer thinks it’s important to expose that kind of science in a fictionalized story, he claims in The Daily Beast. And that’s fine. You go ahead with your mad science. An episode with just that one little bit of crazy would be OK. But the entire episode contained WAY too much: vilifying Stuckey, killing off Mike Doyle, Judge Donelley is attacked. PLUS MAD SCIENCE. I couldn’t take it. Give me a little, folks, I can’t take a lot. Spread out your plots!
Filed under: TV | 2 Comments
Tags: Mariska, Meloni, SVU, TV
I kind of love Julie Andrews. I love that she’s had variations of the same haircut for 50 years. I love that she won an Oscar for freaking Mary Poppins even though she was up against Debbie Reynolds in The Unsinkable Molly Brown. I love that she wrote children’s books that I adored when I was a kid without knowing that she was the author. And like 90% of women my age, I love The Sound of Music. My mother took me on the movie tour of Saltzberg when I was kid and it is the only thing I remember seeing in Austria. We were there for a week.
Plus she’s pretty and can pull of a white ribbed turtleneck. What’s not to love?
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Tags: movie star dames i love, Movies
Honest to God, I almost wrote a post about cereal last night. It’s amazing how quickly my blogging momentum dissipates.
Today I got my haircut by the same stylist (“bang-up bob” creator Mark) who has cut my hair, oh, the last fifteen times. It is always a lip-biting experience. If I’m getting my hair cut after work, I start to dread it at about noon. By 1 p.m., I am contemplating calling the salon to cancel, thinking that I don’t really need a haircut now, what’s one more week? And don’t I have a ton of errands to run after work? I know for a fact that there is a disc of thirtysomething (season 2) waiting for me that I really shouldn’t postpone.
Then I start to envision the possible bad scenarios. He gives me that pixie cut he mentioned once back in the winter of 2007. For the first time ever, he cuts me hair unevenly. Worst of all, TOO SHORT BANGS. There is nothing more terrifying. Then I ruminate about all the times a haircut has made me cry in my car in the parking lot of another salon. Those were dark times.
At this point, I’m frantically messaging my sister online, looking for a reason to cancel. She tells me my hair looks like shit and I should just get this over with.
And so I go. And it’s never that bad! Now I have chunky bangs. And a super-straight bob style that I may not be able to recreate tomorrow morning. But I’m not crying! That in and of itself is something. Go, Mark! You didn’t make me cry. You’ve achieved what so many stylists have failed to do. There is a double negative in there that works somehow, I promise.
Do you ever find yourself tempted to make faces at yourself in the mirror while someone is cutting your hair? I can never figure out what to look at. If I watch the stylist, I look like I’m staring. So I generally shift my gaze from the hair on the floor to my shoes in the mirror to my shoulders to the area immediately behind the stylist in the mirror.
Haircuts are stressful.
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Tags: D.C.
Recent Entries
- All I want to do is watch Big Love.
- Lentil burgers for dinner.
- A list of woes.
- Of Montreal/I want you back/Solange/meltdown
- Pancakes for One in D.C.
- Blogging fits.
- The perfect running slow jam
- SVU: Too much crazy?
- I forgive Julie Andrews for “The Torn Curtain”
- What would happen if I asked my stylist for “The Mariska”?
- SVU fans, you amaze me!
