My brother is trying to make some extra cash:
This post originally appeared on Kate’s Point of View. © Kate. All rights reserved.
Month: April 2006
Some things just launch you back in time. I found this song online about partying at OU and it’s the greatest Tuesday-morning discovery EVER. It just makes me so frickin’ happy!
This post originally appeared on Kate’s Point of View. © Kate. All rights reserved.
This weekend I went to a concert with Wonder Boy and the creator of the Kittyvator. The show was filled, much to the boys’ delight, with college girls in skimpy clothing. (There were also high school girls there in equally skimpy clothing but I prefer to think that these girls didn’t interest or excite the boys at all.) What I found fascinating about the show had nothing to do with the music. It had much more to do with how the girls dressed. And how wrong I dressed.
I am used to attending music acts at smoky dives where the standard outfit is dark jeans and a black T-shirt. Acceptable footwear includes Chuck Taylor’s or Vans. It’s been a while since I attended a full on arena show. Apparently at those you can wear skirts made of less fabric than my dish towel at home. In addition, despite the 40 to 50 degree conditions outside, the gals at the show were wearing tank tops. With nothing over them. And flip flops. I am an AVID lover of flip flops and encourage all to wear the as much as possible to aerate toes, but damn, not in the cold.
This post originally appeared on Kate’s Point of View. © Kate. All rights reserved.
Here’s the way opening acts are supposed to work. You go to a show to see the headliner. That’s who you paid you money to see and the fact of the matter is you could give a rat’s ass about who else is playing. And there is some compassionate part of you that feels a little bad for the opening act(s) because they are up there on stage trying. But usually they suck so bad that all your compassion goes out the window.
Quite a while back Wonder Boy and I went to see the Kings of Leon play. I had reviewed their first album, Youth and Young Manhood, when it came out and was all excited to hear their new one. Until I did. And it sucked. And worse, so they sucked. Which is actually quite an over exaggeration. They played fine. They played live EXACTLY how their album sounded, which is nice, I guess, but then why did I pay money to see them live. I would have been upset, EXCEPT that the opening act rocked so hard.
The Features. I want to marry them. I want them to move into my house and play music for me every night before I go to bed.
So now when Wonder Boy and I go to see a band and we like the opening act better, we refer to show as being Kings of Leon-ed. Last night I saw a concert that got totally Kings of Leon-ed.
In one of more rockstar moments, I had written a preview article for the Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah show and got to interview the lead singer, Alec Ounsworth. So I went to see them play in high anticipation and with big plans to try and go backstage and meet the band. After all, press can do that, right?
The opening act, a band whose name I didn’t even know, played for exactly 10 seconds when I knew I would be buying their album. They were that good. And then I told myself to wait and hear the second song they played before I made any purchases. It didn’t matter. They rocked. The Brunettes, out of New Zealand, will rock your world. Their six-person band with their suite of maybe 20 instruments is an unbelievably quirky onstage eargasm. That good.
The problem is, when your opening act starts out like that, you run the very real risk of being Kings of Leon-ed. And alas, it happened. Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah were good, but they couldn’t measure up to the eargasm that warmed up the stage for them.
This post originally appeared on Kate’s Point of View. © Kate. All rights reserved.
This weekend I entered a whole new world in a way I have only done on a couple rare occasions. The last is when I attended a Phish concert and was surrounded by more pot-smoking hippies than I had seen in all of my previous years combined. This weekend I attended my first ComiCon.
Wonder Boy’s friend, Jesse, who I guess is my friend now too because don’t you basically inherit friends when you start dating someone, was the co-organizer of the Gem City Comic Con. The thing was huge, well-organized and my entrance into the world of comic nerds. Be it known, comic book nerds are much different than computer nerds, although the two categories are not mutually exclusive. Comic book folks dress cool, though they don’t know it and don’t quite don their apparel in the Urban Outfitters cool way.
I was very impressed with the number of collectors who were maniacally organized in their approach to collections books. They approached bothers with long lists detailing every book their collection needed. Some people had lists that were pages long.
Wonder Boy and I arrived at the ComiCon a little early and I was assigned with putting stamps on everyone’s hands who was involved with the show: exhibitors, guests, volunteers. I know, it was a pretty glamorous task and right now you are reading this and seething with jealousy. Well, and this will probably shock you, many of the people manning booths were pale boys. Honest to god there was one who was about 17-years-old and when I touched him he looked downright scared. My belief: I was the first girl to ever have touched him.
I went to the Comic Con intrigued. I left totally a fan. My only disappointment is that no one was there in costume. I said as much to Jesse and he said that if I was willing to wait that the entire 501st Storm Trooper Division was coming IN COSTUME. Later I found out that the Gostbusters came to.
Seriously, why wouldn’t EVERYONE go to Comic Cons?
This post originally appeared on Kate’s Point of View. © Kate. All rights reserved.
