Saturday, February 17, 2007

My craving for honey has been sated

I LOVE THE HONEYDOGS. Make no mistake, I will brave a blizzard in order to see them play. And play they did. Last night at the Picador. Although there was no blizzard... just this light little snow that looked oh-so purty but made everything all fish-taily. To all the pathetic Iowa Citians who were going to come see them but didn't: you're lame little wusses and you missed the BEST show these guys have ever brought to that dingy little stage in the smoke-filled attic formerly known as Gabe's. You did yourselves a favor missing the first band, however. My ears are still a little crusty from the bleeding that started on their first chord and continued for what seemed an eternity. I shouldn't bitch so much about them, because they might have been somewhat enjoyable at about 100 decibals lower. No, I do not subscribe to The Louder The Better. All with which to better hear your imperfections, my dearies. I was truly annoyed... and yes, probably the oldest person in the joint at that point.

I digress. I really have nothing to say about the first two bands. (Keep your day jobs). But the Honeydogs. Sigh... you'll get no criticism here, my friends. Except maybe that John S. pay a little more attention to the vocal component of the shows for which he runs sound. Yeah. That'd be good. So, the Honeydogs. It's safe to say I got my geek on. You see, I knew it was going to be a good night: when I pulled into my right-outside-the-front-door rock star parking spot, the first person I ran into was Adam Levy, lead singer. It is no secret I adore this guy. And for the few moments standing outside in the snow and acting like a completely deranged wanna-be groupie while talking with him, I was in hog heaven. Whatever hog heaven is... and I should probably know since I live in Iowa where we have Pork Queens and the like.

Throughout their entire set, I had a silly grin plastered on my face. My friend, Larietta, kept yelling out "I Miss You" at the end of every song, and they eventually broke down and played it. It's one of my fave songs of theirs... "I miss your laughin' lips, I miss your eyes and hips, d'you miss me?" After the show I (being a rather shy wallflower type) HAD to go up and talk to them and tell them to please, please, purty please come back again and not wait five years. As we were leaving, L and I bought t-shirts, she got their new CD "Amygdala" and I gave Adam a hug. Then we had a short conversation about pugs.

My friends, let me just state for the record one.more.time: I LOVE THE HONEYDOGS. And the next time they play here, there damn well better be a bigger turnout.

I have the day off from the bar, so I think I'll go drink some more coffee, tend to my wee headache and watch some 'toons. I'm kinda hoping the snow will shovel itself.

Who dat snappin' back? |

Saturday, February 10, 2007


If I could mumble my way through a post, at this point I would do it in the hopes it would appease Nick, of the nuclear sort. But I suppose a poorly written post peppered with "nnn" and "ummm" and "rarrr" wouldn't exactly entrench me in your minds as a belletrist by any means. (Because as we all know, every. other. single. post. I've written is a work of art. Yeah.)

But hey, I'm trying. It's Saturday morning. I've got the toons going, laundry happenin', and coffee brewing. The dog refuses to go outside in the snow. The cat won't come out from under the sofa. Does this all sound familiar?

What I should be doing is:
1. Calling Keech to tell her how much I love her/miss her/want her, hubby and baby to come for a visit. (Keech, I always *think* about calling you... but then I think it's too early or too late and never end up doing it. And I know you do the same thing, too!!) I love you more than the salted rim of my margarita, the melted butter on my toast and the curl in Gus' tail!
2. Writing a letter to Blake, congratulating him on his impending nuptials and thanking him for sending season one of "Deadwood".
3. Physically THROWING the dog out in the back yard.
4. Vacuuming my bedroom. It's a sad thing to think of a metaphor involving all the cobwebs that seem to grow like weeds in that ONE room of my house.

But, what I have been doing is:
1. Trudging to work every day in this hellish weather. Anything below 20 is cold, and it's been, like FIVE DEGREES without windchill, people. Yeah, Nick loves it. Freak.
2. For whatever reason, I've been doing an inordinate amount of shopping (grocery and otherwise) lately. Nest much?
3. Despite #2 above, I have NOT been cooking. Pathetic.
4. Reading The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. At a whopping 642 pages, I may just finish it by October given my somewhat laissez-faire attitude of late. I guess this should have gone under the heading of 'what I should be doing'.

There are a few things I am GOING to do:
1. Drive home tomorrow and take my dad out for lunch. He'll be a whopping 66 years old... what a better way to spend an afternoon AND I get to see both of my grandmas.
2. On Friday I'll be heading to the Picador to see one of my all-time favorite bands, the Honeydogs. Larietta got me their new CD (Amygdala) for Xmas, and she's going with me.

Well, folks, it's time for me to go get something accomplished before heading to George's for another fantastic, fun-filled day of social alchemy. Here's hoping that, for a nice change of pace, one of the night crew filled up the fucking pickle jar. Man, I hate doing that.

On that note: as you were.

Who dat snappin' back? |

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