I've been trying to blog for hours. I feel dumb and inarticulate today.
The Killers
Irving Plaza
It was a great show with an enthusiastic crowd. I was not disappointed; I was, in fact, impressed. The played my favorite song last. After the show, a well-dressed army filed into the hall and down the stairs. Dana and I detoured to the bathroom area where a tiny drunk girl was screaming at the girls in the bathroom line. “Hey! Hey! Is this some kind of line for America’s Next Top Model? Isn’t this like America’s next top model? I don’t want to alarm anyone but my friend. Him! Him! He is that guy. You know, the guy who picks America’s next top Model.”
After eluding the drunken girl’s observation, Dana and I escaped to the after party.
The Dark Room
Well....It started out fine. We got to the Dark Room early and claimed the booth near the door. The Killers filed in and sat in our oblong semi-circle booth. We looked like Dominos, line up in our white in black uniforms. The lead singer, Brandon, was really nice and introduced himself to us, because we were all sitting there. Dana and I said at the same time: "Great show!" like a good pair of choreographed redheads. It kind of all went down hill from there. I think I only had two beers...but somehow I was wasted. I talked to the lead singer later about the band James after we caught each other bouncing around to “Laid”. I declared that the love of the band was a New York thing...He reminded me he was from Vegas. Later that night I would just grab both his arms and shout “hey!” acting on a bond that did not form.
I was annoyed that no one was dancing at the after party (I think). It was the usual convention for the mutual admiration costumed hipsters gang (MACHG). Although, credit is due to the event for no guest list, no cover, and no VIP section,I would have like to see more dancing…maybe it would have slowed the even, breezy pace of my beer sipping, saving me from the piercing pain pounding in my brain.
I got home at 3:30 slept for 3 hours and ran to work with a pale interpretation of last nights make up and hair. I'm actually sleeping right now as I type.
I didn’t realize how drunk I was until Dana reminded me of events that I unconsciously glazed over in my mind. Http://peppermint-patty.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Monday, October 04, 2004
I took fists full of water in the face.
Saturday night nipped the air, perfect with a crisp autumn chills. Finally it’s fall. In celebration my family participated in our yearly Halloween tradition this Saturday, the Headless Horseman Haunted Hayride in Kingston, New York. We usually go closer to October 31st, but this was the only weekend my mother could attend. My Mother, with enthusiastic, childlike exuberance literally bounces through each frightful treat. Halloween is her favorite and her enjoyment is a thrill to watch.
This year I took a friend with me. I had hoped to make it grand group affair with newly acquainted friends and old friends scaring up Kingston together, picking pumpkins and apples all the way back to the city. But alas, scheduling did not permit. Perhaps later in the month, Upstate New York has many frightful options in October. As the “new victim,” I was certain my friend’s face would be scrutinized at every alarming turn for reactions.
A tractor pulled hay pile rolled up to our line and we were beckoned on by a misshaped crow character. I did not find the crow or what the crow had to say remotely scary. In fact it was difficult to hear the laborious hayride exposition about some boogeyman scarecrow delivered in failed stand up comedy. What dribbled out of the prosthetic beak was no match for my low grumblings: “shut up, shut up, and shut up stupid crow.”
The highlight of the ride was the terrifying man with the working chainsaw that came at me like I killed his puppy. Though there was no blade, the mechanism had fast moving parts and a distinct gasoline smell. I screamed. I look forward to the rest of the ride, the corn field maze and the two haunted houses with my mother's matched enthusiam. As we were nearing the end of our hay expedition we came upon a costumed young man and a rubber chicken. Unbeknownst to me the young man had filled the rubber chicken with what must have been a gallon of water. He smacked the chicken with a rubber mallet hurling said gallon of water directly into my face. I was drenched. My friend, Brother and a couple of now grumpy strangers were covered in water. It was cold. We were cold and angry. As the hay truck pulled away from this horrible young man I saw him smirking at his wet work. As a true New Yorker I flipped him off as we rolled into the distance.
It was an unmatched feat; it takes a lot for me to flip off a high school student in a goblin costume, but there I was cold, wet, with my middle finger fully extended.
The remainder of the evening was fun and without incident.
Tonight I see The Killers with Dana.
Yay!
This year I took a friend with me. I had hoped to make it grand group affair with newly acquainted friends and old friends scaring up Kingston together, picking pumpkins and apples all the way back to the city. But alas, scheduling did not permit. Perhaps later in the month, Upstate New York has many frightful options in October. As the “new victim,” I was certain my friend’s face would be scrutinized at every alarming turn for reactions.
A tractor pulled hay pile rolled up to our line and we were beckoned on by a misshaped crow character. I did not find the crow or what the crow had to say remotely scary. In fact it was difficult to hear the laborious hayride exposition about some boogeyman scarecrow delivered in failed stand up comedy. What dribbled out of the prosthetic beak was no match for my low grumblings: “shut up, shut up, and shut up stupid crow.”
The highlight of the ride was the terrifying man with the working chainsaw that came at me like I killed his puppy. Though there was no blade, the mechanism had fast moving parts and a distinct gasoline smell. I screamed. I look forward to the rest of the ride, the corn field maze and the two haunted houses with my mother's matched enthusiam. As we were nearing the end of our hay expedition we came upon a costumed young man and a rubber chicken. Unbeknownst to me the young man had filled the rubber chicken with what must have been a gallon of water. He smacked the chicken with a rubber mallet hurling said gallon of water directly into my face. I was drenched. My friend, Brother and a couple of now grumpy strangers were covered in water. It was cold. We were cold and angry. As the hay truck pulled away from this horrible young man I saw him smirking at his wet work. As a true New Yorker I flipped him off as we rolled into the distance.
It was an unmatched feat; it takes a lot for me to flip off a high school student in a goblin costume, but there I was cold, wet, with my middle finger fully extended.
The remainder of the evening was fun and without incident.
Tonight I see The Killers with Dana.
Yay!
Friday, October 01, 2004
The Truth From a Liar
With a very close friend and Grandmother in the hospital battling serious afflictions, I turned to a vigorous foreign policy debate and beer.
I joined a crowd already gathered around the television in a Brooklyn apartment, anticipating the gems that would enviably fall from W’s lips like drool from a baby. I vigorously sipped beer. A room filled to the corners with tipsy anti-Bushers took turns commenting on their favorite Bush debatisms, i.e. spreading liberty, flip flopping, and my favorite: “it’s hard work and people are working hard, I saw them on my TV screen.” Kerry spoke well, thoughtful and well versed. In comparison, Bush was reduced to a riled up little man, angry about people on his lawn.
This morning I dragged my self into the office, cursing my sippy beer and fancying an egg and cheese sandwich. Three co-workers, with inquisitive eyes, took turns alerting me to the lack of sleep written across my face. The comments were followed by good news; I over-looked their prying. There was free breakfast in the conference room! As soon as breached the conference room B threshold, charming aromas combined in my nostrils, spreading a smile across my face. As if lit by angels, the steaming bagels, chocolate covered doughnuts, fruit, and coffee where laid out before me as if gifted by the gods. I ate a bagel with cream cheese and a chocolate covered doughnut. The day then seemed presentable.
More coffee.
I joined a crowd already gathered around the television in a Brooklyn apartment, anticipating the gems that would enviably fall from W’s lips like drool from a baby. I vigorously sipped beer. A room filled to the corners with tipsy anti-Bushers took turns commenting on their favorite Bush debatisms, i.e. spreading liberty, flip flopping, and my favorite: “it’s hard work and people are working hard, I saw them on my TV screen.” Kerry spoke well, thoughtful and well versed. In comparison, Bush was reduced to a riled up little man, angry about people on his lawn.
This morning I dragged my self into the office, cursing my sippy beer and fancying an egg and cheese sandwich. Three co-workers, with inquisitive eyes, took turns alerting me to the lack of sleep written across my face. The comments were followed by good news; I over-looked their prying. There was free breakfast in the conference room! As soon as breached the conference room B threshold, charming aromas combined in my nostrils, spreading a smile across my face. As if lit by angels, the steaming bagels, chocolate covered doughnuts, fruit, and coffee where laid out before me as if gifted by the gods. I ate a bagel with cream cheese and a chocolate covered doughnut. The day then seemed presentable.
More coffee.
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