30 years ago today, on May 18th, 1980, Mount Saint Helens erupted in Skamania County, Washington, killing 57 people, and Ian Curtis committed suicide in Macclesfield, England, killing, well, 1 person.
Of course, I don't recall either of these things. I turned 2 that day.
My fifteenth birthday is immortalized (probably not the correct word) by this bizarre song from Randan Discotheque released on August 31st (across the pond...I doubt it ever saw the light of day here in the states). It's pretty much an entire song recapping everything that was included in the Daily Record on May 18th, 1993. I suppose this technically makes the song about May 17th, 1993.
May 18th, 2010, LCD Soundsystem, led by Mixed Martial Artist James Murphy, releases their new album This Is Happening.
I'm sure the album, and the live show next Wednesday I'll be attending, will be fantastic. But in the meantime, all I can think about is, "yeah? well now this is happening."
Showing posts with label LCD Soundsystem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LCD Soundsystem. Show all posts
Monday, May 17, 2010
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
This is How it Starts...
With 90 minutes to kill and currently flying a mile high somewhere between Chicago and Dallas, I had planned on summing up our dutiful last saturday afternoon/evening visiting another 8 bars. Without access to the internet and our trusty notebook, I find myself dumbfounded on not only what establishments we visited, but also some specifics of what happened between 5PM and 2AM. I do know we visited 8 bars in Wrigelyville, but for the life of me I can only come up with the names of six. I think I am starting to see the negative side effects of this mission. I am constantly finding myself second guessing which bars we have already visited and now I can't even remember what happened a mere 4 days ago.
But the afternoon started something like this. We killed many morning/afternoon hours watching the USA sprint crew shoot themselves in the foot (again) in the sprint relays, started the first two episodes of Dexter (yet another distraction added to the list), and various errands. With Hall pulling his usual maneuver in ditching Kyle to go see The Hurt Locker we embarked on Wrigleyville. We knew there were still a handful of bars we still haven't graced our presence with, so we figured with the Cubs being out of town that we would adventure down Clark and stop at each one still on the list. First stop, The Blarney Stone, #116. Walking in, there was only one other patron in the bar and he was an 80 year old man with a popped collar sipping on some Jameson. We slowly sipped our two Guinesses and take notes on the aesthetics. The only coming to my mind now were the two pictures above the bar: JFK and The Pope. Not a bad company to be in I guess. Coincidentally Kyle is wearing his "The Pope is Dope" shirt this evening. I remember back in the 907 days when Kyle bought this shirt and The Pope at the time went on to pass away one week later. We debated if the shirt should now read, "The Pope WAS Dope." Yes, we know, we're going to Hell, but at least all our friends will be there. Half-way thru our meals in a can, Seidler joins us and relives he previous evening in Indianapolis, without saying too much more than I should, I'll just leave the story at that. Finally two other patrons walk in but abruptly leave after learning that this Irish bar doesn't even have Irish Mist to order. Apparently their tastebuds we're on a mission to take down the cheapest and nastiest booze available (a la our PDX adventures a few years back).
We walk back north up Clark, say goodbye to Seidler and say hello to Baumer as the next bar in sight is The Houndstooth Saloon, #117. I already have a strong hatred for this bar and this afternoon doesn't improve that perception. The bar is packed with various SEC alumnus as we split one pitcher between the three of us before immediately leaving. Only tidbit I remember from the HS (horse-shit?) is after hearing some drunk idiot jump on a table and yelling the UK fight song me saying to the group, "we need to get the fuck out of here." Some random dude in front us nodded his head in approval. The next bar we visited is currently blank from my mind, #118 (Editors Note: Rebel). All I can really remember is Baumer ordering a pitcher of 312 and he being disgusted in the cost. I also remember him asking if we are disappointed with the way The Savior has been playing this year and we are immediately taken back in disgust. Kyle's analogy linked Baumers question to that of the Cubs ability to sign Bradley, Fukudome, Miles, Soriano, or well any other Cubs player to such an amazing discount. I remember at this point being very hungry and we proceed across the street to The Spread, #119. Damn good burgers are consumed and the start of the Bears game commences. Once again, without our trusty notebook, my mind is blank on this establishment. Kyle, maybe you can fill in the blanks later this week. Now the next bar I do remember being Merkele's, #120. Aaron joins us and we watch the rest of the Bears game. We debate the proper weight class Baumer should look for in a companion and are taken back at his ceiling. At some point we add some estrogen the crew with the arrival of Annie, Abby and Kelly. I can't remember if they joined us at Merkele's, or at the following bar which also stared with an M, #121 (Editors Note: Moxie). I do remember getting free shots of Jameson somewhere along the line and also enjoying a very yummy and robust Rouge Porter. Eventually Baumers Peoria friend Jeremy and his wife join us and I remember a large portion of the discussion being centered about Big Al's (link would be NSFW). Something tells me many long nights there have shaped the current Baumer we know.
Around midnight Jeremy convinces us to head up the street to The Wild Hare, #122. Not knowing what to expect, we are blown away with where the next 90 minutes takes us. Apparently the Hare is a Jamaican bar with live raggae bands moving our hips. Many Red Stripes (Hooray!) are consumed as we all become three sheets to the wind. Before the roaring of our bellies take over, dancing ensues and an older women on the prowl tries her hardest to bring Kyle back to her lair. Fortunately Kyle had his senses with him and didn't pull a, "I'm going to see where this goes." For the eighth and final bar of the evening we cross Clark over to Bar Louis, #123. Baumer has been raving about the Atomic Fries and we concur after wetting our whistle. The atomic fries and Oberon take my mind completely away from a Fourth Meal and the evening eventually comes to a conclusion at 2AM. Not bad for an impromptu crawl.
The rest of the weekend ends up taking a toll on us even though Sunday included no drinking. Sunday was started by minimal sleep by waking up early to catch the final day of the World Track and Field Champs live from Berlin. The 5K was well worth our lack of sleep in seeing 10 guys tied at the bell lap and catching the eventual battle between Lagat and Bekele the final 50. With Bekele taking the reigning 1500 and 5K champ to school, there is no question Bekele now holds the title of being the GOAT. Great American showings all around this week 3 men and women in the 1500m finals - Lagat and Rowbury claiming medals, Ritz and Rupp in the 10K (watch out Med, your AR is going down at Stanford next spring), Symmonds in the 800, Solinksy and Tegs in the 5K, and Jenny B in the steeple. The other big news from Berlin being the very manly Semenya absolutely dominating the women's 800. The rest of Sunday is spent in the direct sunlight sans lotion at the Sox game. The effects of such are still being felt 2 days later and I look like a lobster and feel completely drained. Sunday concluded with another outstanding epidsode of True Blood. Many questions will need to be resolived around MaryAnn and the rest of Bon Temp in the final two episodes.
Random conversation I've heard at ORD so far:
"and the doctor said he only has another 20 years to live"
"that's not that bad, how old is he?"
"three"
"oh..."
"seriously! i can't believe Barack is bringing Bernake back for another four years, he is the reason the stock market crashed."
"mommy, that is the Spanish flag"
"good job sweetheart" (she was actually pointing to the flag of Argentina.
But the afternoon started something like this. We killed many morning/afternoon hours watching the USA sprint crew shoot themselves in the foot (again) in the sprint relays, started the first two episodes of Dexter (yet another distraction added to the list), and various errands. With Hall pulling his usual maneuver in ditching Kyle to go see The Hurt Locker we embarked on Wrigleyville. We knew there were still a handful of bars we still haven't graced our presence with, so we figured with the Cubs being out of town that we would adventure down Clark and stop at each one still on the list. First stop, The Blarney Stone, #116. Walking in, there was only one other patron in the bar and he was an 80 year old man with a popped collar sipping on some Jameson. We slowly sipped our two Guinesses and take notes on the aesthetics. The only coming to my mind now were the two pictures above the bar: JFK and The Pope. Not a bad company to be in I guess. Coincidentally Kyle is wearing his "The Pope is Dope" shirt this evening. I remember back in the 907 days when Kyle bought this shirt and The Pope at the time went on to pass away one week later. We debated if the shirt should now read, "The Pope WAS Dope." Yes, we know, we're going to Hell, but at least all our friends will be there. Half-way thru our meals in a can, Seidler joins us and relives he previous evening in Indianapolis, without saying too much more than I should, I'll just leave the story at that. Finally two other patrons walk in but abruptly leave after learning that this Irish bar doesn't even have Irish Mist to order. Apparently their tastebuds we're on a mission to take down the cheapest and nastiest booze available (a la our PDX adventures a few years back).
We walk back north up Clark, say goodbye to Seidler and say hello to Baumer as the next bar in sight is The Houndstooth Saloon, #117. I already have a strong hatred for this bar and this afternoon doesn't improve that perception. The bar is packed with various SEC alumnus as we split one pitcher between the three of us before immediately leaving. Only tidbit I remember from the HS (horse-shit?) is after hearing some drunk idiot jump on a table and yelling the UK fight song me saying to the group, "we need to get the fuck out of here." Some random dude in front us nodded his head in approval. The next bar we visited is currently blank from my mind, #118 (Editors Note: Rebel). All I can really remember is Baumer ordering a pitcher of 312 and he being disgusted in the cost. I also remember him asking if we are disappointed with the way The Savior has been playing this year and we are immediately taken back in disgust. Kyle's analogy linked Baumers question to that of the Cubs ability to sign Bradley, Fukudome, Miles, Soriano, or well any other Cubs player to such an amazing discount. I remember at this point being very hungry and we proceed across the street to The Spread, #119. Damn good burgers are consumed and the start of the Bears game commences. Once again, without our trusty notebook, my mind is blank on this establishment. Kyle, maybe you can fill in the blanks later this week. Now the next bar I do remember being Merkele's, #120. Aaron joins us and we watch the rest of the Bears game. We debate the proper weight class Baumer should look for in a companion and are taken back at his ceiling. At some point we add some estrogen the crew with the arrival of Annie, Abby and Kelly. I can't remember if they joined us at Merkele's, or at the following bar which also stared with an M, #121 (Editors Note: Moxie). I do remember getting free shots of Jameson somewhere along the line and also enjoying a very yummy and robust Rouge Porter. Eventually Baumers Peoria friend Jeremy and his wife join us and I remember a large portion of the discussion being centered about Big Al's (link would be NSFW). Something tells me many long nights there have shaped the current Baumer we know.
Around midnight Jeremy convinces us to head up the street to The Wild Hare, #122. Not knowing what to expect, we are blown away with where the next 90 minutes takes us. Apparently the Hare is a Jamaican bar with live raggae bands moving our hips. Many Red Stripes (Hooray!) are consumed as we all become three sheets to the wind. Before the roaring of our bellies take over, dancing ensues and an older women on the prowl tries her hardest to bring Kyle back to her lair. Fortunately Kyle had his senses with him and didn't pull a, "I'm going to see where this goes." For the eighth and final bar of the evening we cross Clark over to Bar Louis, #123. Baumer has been raving about the Atomic Fries and we concur after wetting our whistle. The atomic fries and Oberon take my mind completely away from a Fourth Meal and the evening eventually comes to a conclusion at 2AM. Not bad for an impromptu crawl.
The rest of the weekend ends up taking a toll on us even though Sunday included no drinking. Sunday was started by minimal sleep by waking up early to catch the final day of the World Track and Field Champs live from Berlin. The 5K was well worth our lack of sleep in seeing 10 guys tied at the bell lap and catching the eventual battle between Lagat and Bekele the final 50. With Bekele taking the reigning 1500 and 5K champ to school, there is no question Bekele now holds the title of being the GOAT. Great American showings all around this week 3 men and women in the 1500m finals - Lagat and Rowbury claiming medals, Ritz and Rupp in the 10K (watch out Med, your AR is going down at Stanford next spring), Symmonds in the 800, Solinksy and Tegs in the 5K, and Jenny B in the steeple. The other big news from Berlin being the very manly Semenya absolutely dominating the women's 800. The rest of Sunday is spent in the direct sunlight sans lotion at the Sox game. The effects of such are still being felt 2 days later and I look like a lobster and feel completely drained. Sunday concluded with another outstanding epidsode of True Blood. Many questions will need to be resolived around MaryAnn and the rest of Bon Temp in the final two episodes.
Random conversation I've heard at ORD so far:
"and the doctor said he only has another 20 years to live"
"that's not that bad, how old is he?"
"three"
"oh..."
"seriously! i can't believe Barack is bringing Bernake back for another four years, he is the reason the stock market crashed."
"mommy, that is the Spanish flag"
"good job sweetheart" (she was actually pointing to the flag of Argentina.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
I Hate The Feeling When You're Looking At Me That Way (cuz we're...)
We'll begin with the incomprehensible/unrelated/illegible.
Thursday night for happy hour Rick and I met up with D-Train, Rob, Hutton, Peter, later Beth, and even later Annie. First stop was State/Lake, a new classy joint at State/Lake. They have a rooftop that is a meat market and you should go there if you want to be seen and to have people presume you make a lot of money and like to look pretty. Our goal is more along the lines of enjoying good beer with hilarious good friends, so our trip to the rooftop lasted about as long as it took Usain Bolt to run the 200m dash yesterday.
This bar is not in our radius, and neither was the next place we visited, the fabulous Paramount Room. Thursday at Paramount is the $10 Beer/Burger combo. The burger is seriously terrific...maybe not a Kuma's Burger, but it's pretty damn good. Paramount has a statue on the first floor I'd like to steal.
For some reason I have the following scribbled in my notebook:
D-Train, "Labradors have no risk, no reward. You never see someone with their face chewed off saying, 'man, i wish these <>.'"
I'd love to know whatever it was that he finished that thought with. A little help, anyone?
On to Saturday's 4th of July Independence Day celebration of bars and games and beer and friends and entertainment. We leave the apartment and pass an attractive girl on her cell phone remarking, "The Raptors?! Hedo, what a piece of crap!" The NBA free agency news market apparently extends to corners I never thought possible. A man on the bus across from us is browsing through a gay porn magazine, which he leaves on the seat in front of him when he exits the bus.
Our initial destination is the movie theater at 2600 N. Western to catch an afternoon showing of The Hangover, hoping that everyone else's raving about it hasn't oversold the movie's humor. A quick note to enteprenuers and developers: There ought to be a bar (with televisions) near this movie theater. Get on it.
Since we've arrived at our destination 30 minutes early without a bar to kill time at we join the rugrats running around the arcade and play some video games. I couldn't convince Rick to waste any money on the claw games, we hadn't started drinking so Dance Dance Revolution was out of the question, and someone was already playing Guitar Hero. We go old school with a few games of Cruisin' USA, in honor of this land of the pilgrim's pride.
Selfy had met us for the movie (review: four stars, all three leads are hilarious), and prior to departing for the desolate suburbs to catch whatever aging acts Ribfest has procured this year he graciously drives us to bar #1 on the day, #103 on the year, Jack's Bar & Grill. STEVE MCNAIR HAS SUFFERED FATAL GUNSHOT WOUNDS. Huh.
Jack's has very very good food, and it hits the spot. I have no hesitation recommeding the buffalo chicken sandwich, and Rick would say the same about their bbq pork. +2 admittance to the Clean Plate Club, washed down with a 312 and a Pride & Joy.
Next door to (actually a part of) Jack's is the 404 Wine Bar, #104. Rather than leave our table to enter 404 we just order a couple glasses of wine from their menu to check that one off the list. For the record, I did walk over there, it was loungey and empty on a summer afternoon. I had a glass of Cloudline, Rick went with something red.
Jack's/404 is a pretty solid option for a neighborhood bar, my only complaint would be the jukebox playlist chosen by the man drinking by himself at the bar. All songs at least 10-12 years old, former staples of the heavy alternative rock radio playlist. He was living out his glory days of HS, I'm sure.
Also while we're at Jack's? Craig sends us a mystery text about the Philadelphia Phillies. The mysterious life of a tour manager...
Leaving 404 we decide to hit up the nearby Side Street Saloon. It's closed today, and they incidentally have an anti-White Sox sign in the window. We'll be back, and we probably won't enjoy it.
So next...we head up Southport to Justin's. After entering we immediately exit realizing we've been here before -- with Internet Celebrity Baumer for a Blackhawks playoff game. Heading further north Rick and I have a brief argument/discussion about what actually constitutes a bar (you'd think we'd have settled this prior to the halfway point of our journey). Before making a second stop for the year at the Newport we realize we haven't yet been into SoPo, #105.
Our SoPo waitress wins the cutest waitress of Independence Day award. Tell yr parents good job. Rick tries a large sample of the "Purple Haze" beer for free-99. The sample is too large, too terrible, and is never finished.
Conversation drifts back to Joey Chestnut's successful defense of the Mustard Yellow Belt from earlier in the day. Rick thinks he could eat between 6-10 hot dogs in 10 minutes. I'm pretty sure I could take down 20.
Again heading north, and skipping the Newport, we run into a couple of guys that Rick went to High School with. Pleasantries are exchanged. Bar #106 is at D'Agostino's, which delivers an exceptionally strong performance. 2 Sam's Seasonals, a great song selection (seriously, Pearl Jam's "Down", some Flaming Lips, the Decemberists), and The Program is airing on the TV (Lattimer still frightens me). Also of note (since I could pick up a wireless signal here): following Tour de France riders on Twitter is pretty excellent. Right now I've got Carlos Sastre, Cadel Evans, Danny Pate, Andy Schleck, Bradley Wiggins, Lance Armstrong, David Zabriskie, Christian Vande Velde and Levi Leipheimer. I can tell you that Danny Pate is upset with the taco selection available in Europe.
A very short list (inspired by The Program) of women who without a doubt look better as blondes (over brunette):
Kristy Swanson
Last bar on our Independence Day Tour (prior to a house party, and prior to a stop at Taco Bell for 4th meal): Guthrie's!!! #107.
Guthrie's has a lot of board games on a shelf next to the bar. A LOT. One of them, according to this girl Ami we ran into while browsing the available options, "seems to have religious overtones." We hid that one in the back so no one would get stuck with it.
First up, Connect 4.
A few years back I found the Senior Thesis that someone wrote proving that if you have the first move in C-4 it's possible to always win the game. i started reading it, hoping to learn the procedure in case I ever encountered C-4 savant Kanye West in a game. It's 70 pages long, and I quickly came to the realization that I wouldn't get any work done in the office if I kept reading.
Kyle goes up a quick 3-0 in C-4, before Rick storms back with 4 straight wins. Just like the Red Sox vs the Yankees, and just as epic.
Next up? Othello. Rick has never played before and gets stomped on the first 2 games. Annie shows up and offers her support for game 3. It helps...to an extent. Kyle wins 33-31.
Rick and Annie head to Costello's, and I steal a line out of Selfy's book to "stick around and see what happens." ...before too long I'm at Costello's as well.
Random quotes I can't assign to a specific circumstance from the party:
"This isn't a kid's game, Brent. You'd better man up."
"Robert, whatever you did that you thought was cool. It wasn't cool."
Other Weekend Notes:
*I saw Moon on Friday night. No, not that New Moon crap, MOON. If you like movies that don't treat the audience as a bunch of eight year olds and makes you think while enjoying the progression of the story, not really knowing where it's headed, check this one out.
*Why is it that the people you see travelling in between cars on the El Train never seem like the kind of people who have their lives in order?
EBONY Internet Diversion of the Week:
Head on over to songmeanings.net, and enjoy the ridiculous comments people have left for Toto's "Africa" about whether or not this song, or simply liking this song, is racist. People, in general and as a rule until they prove otherwise, are stupid.
Weekend Epilogue:
Sunday was the reunion event for my MC200 team, the FF Rock Steady Crew. We met up at Seven Ten Lounge, #108 for some half price bowling and half assed competition. Joined by a solid turnout of Rick, Annie, Adam, Dave, Sof, Gin, Mike, Michelle, Matt & Amy we started throwing so many strikes Adam remarks, "Non-stop X's, this is like a porno film."
Kyle rolls 136, 121 & 149
Rick rolls 89, 123 & 147
During our last round the 5-some of Kyle, Rick, Annie, Adam & Iceberg at one point had closed out 14 of the first 17 frames. Unheard of performance for a group that had no one cracking 150.
Later a group of us headed up to Gino's East for a late dinner. Adam finishes his 7th slice of stuffed pizza (every slice covered in hot sauce), and he's dripping in sweat from the herculean effort. Mike astutely asks, "He lives alone, right?"
Excess? Overindulgence? North American Scum indeed. And proud of it. Lee Greenwood has got nothin' on James Murphy.
Thursday night for happy hour Rick and I met up with D-Train, Rob, Hutton, Peter, later Beth, and even later Annie. First stop was State/Lake, a new classy joint at State/Lake. They have a rooftop that is a meat market and you should go there if you want to be seen and to have people presume you make a lot of money and like to look pretty. Our goal is more along the lines of enjoying good beer with hilarious good friends, so our trip to the rooftop lasted about as long as it took Usain Bolt to run the 200m dash yesterday.
This bar is not in our radius, and neither was the next place we visited, the fabulous Paramount Room. Thursday at Paramount is the $10 Beer/Burger combo. The burger is seriously terrific...maybe not a Kuma's Burger, but it's pretty damn good. Paramount has a statue on the first floor I'd like to steal.
For some reason I have the following scribbled in my notebook:
D-Train, "Labradors have no risk, no reward. You never see someone with their face chewed off saying, 'man, i wish these <
I'd love to know whatever it was that he finished that thought with. A little help, anyone?
On to Saturday's 4th of July Independence Day celebration of bars and games and beer and friends and entertainment. We leave the apartment and pass an attractive girl on her cell phone remarking, "The Raptors?! Hedo, what a piece of crap!" The NBA free agency news market apparently extends to corners I never thought possible. A man on the bus across from us is browsing through a gay porn magazine, which he leaves on the seat in front of him when he exits the bus.
Our initial destination is the movie theater at 2600 N. Western to catch an afternoon showing of The Hangover, hoping that everyone else's raving about it hasn't oversold the movie's humor. A quick note to enteprenuers and developers: There ought to be a bar (with televisions) near this movie theater. Get on it.
Since we've arrived at our destination 30 minutes early without a bar to kill time at we join the rugrats running around the arcade and play some video games. I couldn't convince Rick to waste any money on the claw games, we hadn't started drinking so Dance Dance Revolution was out of the question, and someone was already playing Guitar Hero. We go old school with a few games of Cruisin' USA, in honor of this land of the pilgrim's pride.
Selfy had met us for the movie (review: four stars, all three leads are hilarious), and prior to departing for the desolate suburbs to catch whatever aging acts Ribfest has procured this year he graciously drives us to bar #1 on the day, #103 on the year, Jack's Bar & Grill. STEVE MCNAIR HAS SUFFERED FATAL GUNSHOT WOUNDS. Huh.
Jack's has very very good food, and it hits the spot. I have no hesitation recommeding the buffalo chicken sandwich, and Rick would say the same about their bbq pork. +2 admittance to the Clean Plate Club, washed down with a 312 and a Pride & Joy.
Next door to (actually a part of) Jack's is the 404 Wine Bar, #104. Rather than leave our table to enter 404 we just order a couple glasses of wine from their menu to check that one off the list. For the record, I did walk over there, it was loungey and empty on a summer afternoon. I had a glass of Cloudline, Rick went with something red.
Jack's/404 is a pretty solid option for a neighborhood bar, my only complaint would be the jukebox playlist chosen by the man drinking by himself at the bar. All songs at least 10-12 years old, former staples of the heavy alternative rock radio playlist. He was living out his glory days of HS, I'm sure.
Also while we're at Jack's? Craig sends us a mystery text about the Philadelphia Phillies. The mysterious life of a tour manager...
Leaving 404 we decide to hit up the nearby Side Street Saloon. It's closed today, and they incidentally have an anti-White Sox sign in the window. We'll be back, and we probably won't enjoy it.
So next...we head up Southport to Justin's. After entering we immediately exit realizing we've been here before -- with Internet Celebrity Baumer for a Blackhawks playoff game. Heading further north Rick and I have a brief argument/discussion about what actually constitutes a bar (you'd think we'd have settled this prior to the halfway point of our journey). Before making a second stop for the year at the Newport we realize we haven't yet been into SoPo, #105.
Our SoPo waitress wins the cutest waitress of Independence Day award. Tell yr parents good job. Rick tries a large sample of the "Purple Haze" beer for free-99. The sample is too large, too terrible, and is never finished.
Conversation drifts back to Joey Chestnut's successful defense of the Mustard Yellow Belt from earlier in the day. Rick thinks he could eat between 6-10 hot dogs in 10 minutes. I'm pretty sure I could take down 20.
Again heading north, and skipping the Newport, we run into a couple of guys that Rick went to High School with. Pleasantries are exchanged. Bar #106 is at D'Agostino's, which delivers an exceptionally strong performance. 2 Sam's Seasonals, a great song selection (seriously, Pearl Jam's "Down", some Flaming Lips, the Decemberists), and The Program is airing on the TV (Lattimer still frightens me). Also of note (since I could pick up a wireless signal here): following Tour de France riders on Twitter is pretty excellent. Right now I've got Carlos Sastre, Cadel Evans, Danny Pate, Andy Schleck, Bradley Wiggins, Lance Armstrong, David Zabriskie, Christian Vande Velde and Levi Leipheimer. I can tell you that Danny Pate is upset with the taco selection available in Europe.
A very short list (inspired by The Program) of women who without a doubt look better as blondes (over brunette):
Kristy Swanson
Last bar on our Independence Day Tour (prior to a house party, and prior to a stop at Taco Bell for 4th meal): Guthrie's!!! #107.
Guthrie's has a lot of board games on a shelf next to the bar. A LOT. One of them, according to this girl Ami we ran into while browsing the available options, "seems to have religious overtones." We hid that one in the back so no one would get stuck with it.
First up, Connect 4.
A few years back I found the Senior Thesis that someone wrote proving that if you have the first move in C-4 it's possible to always win the game. i started reading it, hoping to learn the procedure in case I ever encountered C-4 savant Kanye West in a game. It's 70 pages long, and I quickly came to the realization that I wouldn't get any work done in the office if I kept reading.
Kyle goes up a quick 3-0 in C-4, before Rick storms back with 4 straight wins. Just like the Red Sox vs the Yankees, and just as epic.
Next up? Othello. Rick has never played before and gets stomped on the first 2 games. Annie shows up and offers her support for game 3. It helps...to an extent. Kyle wins 33-31.
Rick and Annie head to Costello's, and I steal a line out of Selfy's book to "stick around and see what happens." ...before too long I'm at Costello's as well.
Random quotes I can't assign to a specific circumstance from the party:
"This isn't a kid's game, Brent. You'd better man up."
"Robert, whatever you did that you thought was cool. It wasn't cool."
Other Weekend Notes:
*I saw Moon on Friday night. No, not that New Moon crap, MOON. If you like movies that don't treat the audience as a bunch of eight year olds and makes you think while enjoying the progression of the story, not really knowing where it's headed, check this one out.
*Why is it that the people you see travelling in between cars on the El Train never seem like the kind of people who have their lives in order?
EBONY Internet Diversion of the Week:
Head on over to songmeanings.net, and enjoy the ridiculous comments people have left for Toto's "Africa" about whether or not this song, or simply liking this song, is racist. People, in general and as a rule until they prove otherwise, are stupid.
Weekend Epilogue:
Sunday was the reunion event for my MC200 team, the FF Rock Steady Crew. We met up at Seven Ten Lounge, #108 for some half price bowling and half assed competition. Joined by a solid turnout of Rick, Annie, Adam, Dave, Sof, Gin, Mike, Michelle, Matt & Amy we started throwing so many strikes Adam remarks, "Non-stop X's, this is like a porno film."
Kyle rolls 136, 121 & 149
Rick rolls 89, 123 & 147
During our last round the 5-some of Kyle, Rick, Annie, Adam & Iceberg at one point had closed out 14 of the first 17 frames. Unheard of performance for a group that had no one cracking 150.
Later a group of us headed up to Gino's East for a late dinner. Adam finishes his 7th slice of stuffed pizza (every slice covered in hot sauce), and he's dripping in sweat from the herculean effort. Mike astutely asks, "He lives alone, right?"
Excess? Overindulgence? North American Scum indeed. And proud of it. Lee Greenwood has got nothin' on James Murphy.
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