MOST MESSED UP: This Is Not Your Mother's Old 97's Album...Or Your Kid's For That Matter

Today, April 29th is a High Holy day for us Old 97's fans. It's CD release day for their latest, Most Messed Up. Any year they churn out new music is buzz worthy, but this one... this one is something special.

MMU is a self-professed (from Rhett himself) autobiographical look back at the band's 20+ year career in music. A thematic collection of songs that pulls back the curtain of Rhett's life as a rocker. It's an honest account of a mid-life crisis laid bare-- from affairs to addiction to what I like to believe is acceptance of, or at least admission to his destructive behaviors fleshed out in the title track.

Only Rhett knows what personal chaos he's gone through to get to this point, but he has channeled the turmoil into a magnificent album of gritty truths, packed with adult themes and a plethora of glorious f-bombs that aren't the least bit gratuitous. It's a musical time capsule of this moment in his life, candidly capturing the highs, the lows, the drinking, the drugs, the women--written unapologetically from the heart, or in this case the bottom of an empty bottle. All of it played with a ferocity not found on any of their previous records. It's raw, raucous and roars from the speakers to your earholes at 90 miles an hour.

Both Grand Theatre volumes also covered a gambit of genres, they felt looser than prior productions, but still suppressed. MMU is pure energy with the lid blown off. This one is the very definition of hard-charging. Lead by producer, Salim Nourallah this album is the closest they've come to replicating their legendary live performances. After 20 years as a band, they aren't resting on their past laurels and phoning this one in. Not on your life!

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!

From top to bottom it's a winner. Unlike any of their other albums, MMU flows from one track to the next to tell the story of one flawed man's journey. As one of my lady friends articulated so succinctly, "It's surf, garage, jangle, booze, sex, longing & regret--all on one very rockin' record."

One of the many things I love most about Rhett's songwriting is how he masks darker, sad lyrics under wonderfully upbeat melodies. This is why I gravitated to his and their music in the first place. Aside from the slightly somber waltz rhythm of This is the Ballad which compliments the deteriorating relationship depicted (and even this builds to a crescendo by the end), all the cuts are set to deceptively catchy beats that hook you before you ever realize what you're singing.

The first track, Longer Than You've Been Alive is a nearly 6 minute opus that serves as a prologue for the rest of the album, It sets the stage, giving a candid peek into every aspect of life on the road from the great (and the fans are all clapping and screaming and squealing/I won't lie to you, it's a pretty sweet feeling) to the not so great (it's both a blast and a bore) to the oceans and oceans of alcohol and drug use (mountains of weed and a handful of pills) to the strains put on a relationship (love is a marathon/sometimes you puke). It starts off quietly, then builds to a roaring wail to "Get on the bus/And tell the driver to driiiiiiiiiiiive!"

The rest is a brilliant deconstruction of this rocker's life's pathos, mainly about women... Meeting women, drinking to excess with women, fucking women, fucking up with women, saying fuck you to the man, disconnecting from the world, fighting an intervention from friends and finally acknowledging he's the most messed up motherfucker, which I choose to believe is a ray of hope towards redemption instead of utter rejection of culpability ...because I'm a romantic asshat who believes everyone can earn forgiveness.

(Side Note (not to be confused with side boob): There are so many articles and interviews which speak to the momentous nature of this CD much more eloquently than I ever could. So if you don't want to read my nonsensical ramblings, please enjoy the professional interpretations here, here, here, here, here, a fun podcast here and NPR's Here and Now. And, hey, thanks for stopping by!)




There are so many beautiful phrasings, couplets and cadences throughout. The storytelling is superb. One could argue it's Mr. Miller's best yet. And the music is a head-on collision of tight jams and recklessness. I will now subject you to some of my favorites.

Grab a drink. I'm gonna gush.



Give It Time, has a story arc about meeting and subsequently losing a woman. The last verse resonates with sadness under the bouncy tune:

When I saw you for the last time
I sweat right through my shirt
I'm no professional, heartbreak's just a past time
but that don't mean it don't hurt

Awwww... let's hug it out.


I push repeat at least three times every time Wheels Off pops up on the player. I love the pure pop beauty of the melody and the clever word play that isn't all hearts and flowers.

I've been a party to a number of things
of which I'm not proud but I sing
Every day 
for pay
I'm traveling

I said I like you
Like it or not
That's when it got wheels off

This song contains the phrase which, to me, sums up the entire mid-life crisis signature of this album:

She made me feel like a GOD

Is it the attention of a pretty young thing or the unconditional love of a packed house. Or am I over analyzing. Probably. Either way I can't wait to hear this one live. Hoping it becomes a fixture on the setlist.


Nashville is a syncopated beauty about a cad bolting from his less-than-ideal choice of a wife, hiding from his trials, and daydreaming of a bigger existence. Again, rhyming couplets of an unhappy nature skillfully juxtaposed to a head-bobbing, cow-punk driven beat. The beat of his misery is so fun, I'm compelled to yell "YeeHaa!" at the end.

Her brother and her Dad
They were spittin' mad
When I packed up what I had
and took off running
it was bad

It was mean
I didn't care
and it's gotten me nowhere
So I try to be a better man

Even when his protags are jerkfaces, Rhett's pen hints at a glimmer of conscience.


Wasted reads like a defense of ones choice of career in the arts to family still nagging one to get "a real job".  A shove-it-up-your-ass, screw-your-conventional-vocation sentiment we all secretly wish to bellow.

I'm not down with the uptight world
never gonna be no square
I'll circle round the edge of the big, black void
but I don't wanna live down there

It's also a wishful anthem for those who toil in soulless 9-5 jobs.

I'm better off being wasted
than working my whole life through
Tonight I want to get wasted with you

Isn't this the kind of discontent that fuels Happy Hours?

Speaking of Happy Hour, you still with me? Do you need a refill? Go ahead. Go get a healthy pour. May as well make some popcorn, too. I'll wait.

*whistling… more whistling…* Ready? Okay. Moving on then…


Perhaps my favorite (at this point anyway) of the album, the kicky, surf guitar laden Guadalajara is all about a short-lived holiday fling with one of the greatest opening lines: 

She said, Hey can I get a little help
My bikini is stuck in the back

...and a killer alliteration cadence

I don't need this kinda pressure
I'm a cynical man
I gotta lotta livin' left to do
I'm just here for a work trip, babe
Not to fall in love with you

Again the guy's a total Lothario, but In Mr. Miller's deft hands, he manages to give this scoundrel a touch of humanity. The fact he's shaken by pushing her away renders him impossible to hate. Well, not completely, anyway.

well I let her go
I watched her walk
I made a memory of her
I don't work no good no more
thinking about the holiday girl

So many great lines in this one! Mmm. I could go on and on. And also, Philip's drum line is crazy good!! There will be much dancing to this one if it's on the setlist. Pretty pleasepleasePLEASE let it be on the setlist!!


The Disconnect just makes me sad.

Green ones turn you off
the white ones turn you on
almost all night long
so high
come down, pay the price
it's steeper every day...
are you strong enough to say
bye bye

Come here, sweetheart and let me hug your head. :(


The Ex of All You See is Murry's only contribution, but it's a fitting one keeping to the theme this time with a Clashy, punk attack.

Oh, yeah, she'll say goodbye
As you are now, so once was I
As I am now, you're sure to be
The Ex of all you see


Intervention is a blast of a full-on punk rock bash fueled by the screaming guitar of guest, Tommy Stinson, a crazy-fun extraneous intervention-speak argument laid under a blistering outro that I still haven't deciphered completely, and some fantastic lyrics that will surely be enthusiastically shouted back to them in concert, namely...

My friend Richard doesn't want to go
He says "FUCK Y'ALL! HEEELLLL, NOOOOOOO!!!"

(How hysterical is it this messed up MoFO's name is Richard? Extra points for that one. HaHa!)

And perhaps my favorite line ever set to music…

Somebody kick him in the sack 
just to stop his bitchin'
Intervention

LOVE IT!! That one never fails to make me chortle.

We're only here cause we care about you
we want you to get well
You're acting like an ASSHOLE
we're sick of it you can tell
27 days on a dry vacation…
Intervention


The title track closes out this opera. Most Messed Up could be a ginormous middle finger to the world or a self-centered, foot-stomping cry for a little understanding, goddammit!

Well I need a little 
need a little 
need a little
need a little...
sympathy

Whatever the case, it punctuates the end of discussion with a guttural, cathartic caterwaul.


Of course, what do I know. This is just my bullshit opinion and conjecture. I could be completely off base, but this is how I feel when I listen to this album. There is so much more I could say about MMU, but I don't have the space or the ability to express myself intelligibly. All I can say for sure is this is a ridiculously magnificent collection of work. It's perhaps Rhett's best storytelling, the band's greatest jams, and so FUCKING FUN! I cannot WAIT to watch them play this (hopefully as a consecutive block) full-on, no holds-barred, without a net.

Ten albums and Twenty years in, my favorite foursome haven't lost any of their swagger. They may be middle-aged, but they exhibit no sign of aging. None. If anything, they seem revitalized. I would pit their energy, showmanship and talents against any band decades their junior.

As the blue-eyed lovely one states in Longer Than You've Been Alive, Rock and Roll's been very, very good to him. He loves what he does and he's had pretty good luck. And you know what? I love what he does, too. And I feel lucky to get the chance to stand amidst a crowded room of Old 97's disciples, crane my neck up to the stage and have their particular brand of Rock and Roll wash over me for years to come.

Now THAT'S Church, BABY!!



As a reward for reading this and/or fast-forwarding through this ginormous fireball of drivel, here's a video of what might very well be my favorite Old 97's moment on stage. A triumph of rock in which Rhett puts the Roll in Rock and Roll.



Ha Ha! I love them so much!

In Which Paul Rudd Remains The Reigning King Of All Things

Okay, so this is super old now by interweb standards, but I wanted to leave something epically awesome as what could possibly be my last post for awhile. And hey, who DOESN'T love Paul Rudd. He is the benchmark by which I measure friends-to-be. It's simple, you love him, we're buds. You don't... well, you're dead to me.

Aaaaanywho, I'm not fond of Jimmy Fallon, but the lip sync battles he has with guests are pretty damn funny. Paul Rudd was on weeks ago and stole the crown forever with his rendition of Queen's Don't Stop Me Now.

I watch this video often when I need to both chortle and swoon. He busts a brilliant move at 5:15 that makes my sides hurt. Seriously, I don't know what it is about him, but I just LOVE this man. Apparently I'm not alone as evidenced by this very informal poll from Fuse's Billy On The Street.





Those chippies better back off, baby!! I'm pretty sure I can take those cougars.


As a special Easter gift ironically featuring a Jewish man, I leave you with this gem. It's all spectacular. The hip shake, the classic Elaine Benes (I SPELLED IT WITH AN "E" THIS TIME JIMMY MCPARKWAY) inspired move at the 5:15 mark, the armadillo in his trousers...

WHA??!?

No, really. Check it aht! There is something seriously going on in there. Or maybe it's just me. It's probably just me. C'mon! Really? It can't just be me. You see it too, right? I'm not imagining here.

Whatever. Enjoy!!!

Testing My Recovery Time With A Brit Invasion

Okay, so last week I had my own mini British Pop Invasion.

First up was Welshman, Jon Langford of punk rocker, The Mekons fame back in 1977. He has a very interesting and varied career which includes story writer, painter and multimedia performance artist. He was playing this odd little club, The Thunderbird Café in the hipster section of Lawrenceville. Apparently I was in major age vs. recovery denial, because I went out on a Tuesday!!?

Yes. A School night.

Madness. Sheer madness.

Not gonna lie, the hours-before-the-butt-crack-of-dawn 2:30am wake up call was bloody brutal. In my defense, the show was billed as 7pm with "no opener", which I took to mean, you know, NO FUCKING OPENER. I admit I'm not that swift with numbers, but that math added up to on by 7-ish and out by 9pm. A much more palatable number of lost hours of sleep.

Again with the numbers thing.

Imagine my confusion, chagrin, ire when a heavy-set, 30-something, Zach Galifinakis look-alike took a seat behind a Yamaha keyboard perched precariously atop four stolen milk crates and proceeded to play baroque melodies under his oddball songs about porn and such, sung in a lounge-singer warble. It was peculiar, yet slightly compelling perhaps because he seemed so uncomfortable with it all.

Moving on...

I became aware of Jon Langford and his cow-punk band, The Waco Brothers when Betty, Barney and I went to SXSW back in 2010. His band was on my short list of acts to see, but as things happen at SX, we never got around to seeing them play. I didn't want to miss him this time around even though I was not at all familiar with his work.

There were four other members in his current band squeezed on the tiny stage, including a lovely Asian violin player named June. Sturdy in stature and looking a bit like Billy Joel (he joked about a critics comparison to Joel) with his short-cropped, grey hair framing his round face, Langford exuded a mighty powerful presence.

He has a BIG personality, and he's not afraid to be himself on stage. He has a great energy reminiscent of Francis Dunnery and Billy Bragg. From the start, he interacted playfully with the audience, some of whom he had played with the last time through Pittsburgh. He's an engaging storyteller, who kept us laughing between songs with crazy tales and observations. There was a recurring bit with him egging June on to tell bad jokes, badly that was super charming.

And man, can he grind a guitar!! His songs are charged with an irresistible punk edge. Even the quieter ones have a contained punk vibe. A lot of his work sounds just like the Clash, his hoarse vocals channeling Joe Strummer. Makes sense since they were contemporaries during the birth of the genre.

(FYI- they kept the covers streak alive with a beefy version of The Go Betweens, Streets of Your Town.)

He was waaaay more fun than I ever expected. So much so, that I really didn't want to leave. In fact, we reluctantly got up to skedaddle after a rousing sing-a-long, when they started playing a Waco Brothers song. Well, SHIT! We were right there on the steps, ready to bolt, but I had to stay, even though it was rounding 10:00, and I was about to turn into a very blurry-eyed, crabby pumpkin in dire need of a couple of Zs.

Stupid livelihood. And bills... And mortgage... And the unending need to eat...

Next time I'm finagling the next day off.

*cough* *cough*

the middle bit of the Waco Brothers song that made us stay for one more

Saturday was a double dose of a young British Pop band, Fanfarlo. This group was also a SXSW find (as posted here from when I could write, even in a drunken stupor a la Rob Ford), only four years ago they looked like they were 15 years old. They don't look very old now either, but clearly they have grown up a bit.

at wyep
when there were five

After taking a wrong bridge and ending up who knows where, they found their way to WYEP (their live session here) for an in-studio where they played four songs off of their new album, sold merch and hung around a bit to talk to fans. There were five members at 2pm.

By 9pm, there were just four.

The bass player fell ill somewhere in between, which threw them off a bit. They sweetly apologized between songs while they debated how to play the next number without a bass or keyboards. They need not have worried, however, because the small but enthusiastic crowd was right there with them. Besides, hellooooo… charming English accent. They get extra leeway just for speaking.

The set was short, roughly only a dozen songs even though they have three albums. I suspect they trimmed it back because of their missing band mate. They have a terrific female drummer who smiled the entire evening. Like The Spring Standards, Fanfarlo are multi instrumentalists, busting out the Power Pop on guitar, keyboard, trumpet, saxophone and … the saw?

Yuuuuuup. A saw.

it's a shitty photo, but that's a saw, dude
I spy with my little eye... a stolen milk crate
these brits have sticky fingers

An amusing note: When lead singer, Simon Balthazar asked if anyone knew who John Cale was prior to performing a cover of his song, there were crickets from the audience until he mentioned the Velvet Underground. He chided the audience's silence with "He's only the greatest Welsh performer ever!" to which some wise ass in the pit yelled, "I thought that was Tom Jones". That incited the entire band to yell "No! No one likes Tom Jones!" Then Balthazar cleverly worked both What's New Pussycat and It's Not Unusual into his next sentence.

Cheeky.


(they played my favorite song with the help of a member of the opener on bass)



They came out afterwards to meet fans and sign merch at the table, but Cindy and I left. Quite honestly, I was still recovering from Tuesday night's outing so the early ending was welcomed.

I know. Old-fart alert. The staying awake part isn't a problem, it's the extended recovery part that sucks major ass. I'm up to about three days now.

Blerg.

Whatever. I refuse to be deterred from partaking in late-night activities. That is until my shell of a body crumples in a rain-swept gutter, immobilized by exhaustion and crying out for the sweet release of death .. or a pillow. That curb is hard, yo.

The Spring Standards Spread Their Joy. No Fooling.

Spring Standards
busting through the 4th wall and taking it to the peoples

Okay, so one of our favorite up-and-coming bands is Brooklyn's Spring Standards. We've been following James, Heather and James (JHJ) since 2010. This is the same trio (+Noah) we hosted last summer at our house.

They are navigating through the new model of the music business, untethered by Corporate demands, making it up as they go with clever ways to crowdfund new albums, self publish and self promote. They work their butts off traveling all over the right half of the US and beyond in their Sprinter, Peggy Sue, connecting with their fans in a multitude of creative ways.

Recently, while on tour opening for Pig Pen Theater, some louse broke into their van while they were enjoying a museum in St. Louis, and stole their cash and backpack of snacks. Fortunately, their gear was untouched, but being independent of label backing, the loss of funds was devastating. Via the power of social media and the community they have forged with their fan base, they were able to recoup their losses by collecting donations during an impromptu online concert via Concert Window.

Good things DO happen to good people.

Faith in humanity restored. Temporarily, anyway.

(They wrote a lovely testimonial here.)

Anywho, they got their coffers back in the black and headed to the Burgh to perform at Mr. Small's on April Fool's Day. I don't usually venture out on my school nights. It's tough enough to wake hours before the butt crack of dawn as it is without purposely slicing my meager slumber in half with a late-night concert, but thankfully they were the openers, so... score one for the Zombie Non-Mom!

Much like with Rhett/Old 97's, there are a great group of friends who show up to support the Standards. Okay, they are the SAME group of friends who gather for the 97's. Ha! Ha! Whatever. They're a blast and it's always fun to hang with them. Added bonus Tuesday night: Geo was on board! Woot!!

I can't say enough about this band. They are such talented multi-instumentalists, songwriters and performers. And they are so, so nice. Every time we see them they get better and better. They have a fantastic rapport with each other on stage, goofing around and playing off of each other. They have a ball up there, and that joy spreads out over the audience.



At one point during their set, they decided to jump into the pit to sing one of their quieter offerings, Crushing Pennies, in an effort to connect with the crowd chattering in the bar area. At first the talking continued, but soon their beautiful vocals grabbed everyone's attention. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Not even James Cleare's blazing white legs could break the spell cast by their harmonies.

those are some pasty white irish gams

They may not be where they ultimately want to be success wise, but these three talents are on the right path. They're planning another house concert run this summer. We're on the list again. Hopefully that list will be double the size of last year's. These lovely kids keep making strides one gig at a time. I have faith one of these days soon they'll be able to give up their odd jobs for good.



Support live music, y'all. It's good for the soul.

In Which I Finally Finish Up Last Year's Concert Round Up And Such

NOW WITH LINKS APLENTY, MUTHAPLUCKERS!



Ok, so I'll try to make this as brief as possible.

Pffftt…Ha Ha Ha! Riiiiiiiiiight… Feel free to bail at any time. I won't be bitter. Much.


Anywho, 2013 was a banner year for concert going. I started off the year well, blogging wise, but somewhere around April I got distracted by squirrels, shiny things and my own malaise to give a crap about sharing the musical geniuses who entered my zip code. The following are some of the highlights.

Frightened Rabbit buzzed through Mr. Small's again in the Spring. It's always a pleasure to watch these Scottish lads sing their particular form of pop music. They are engaging, energetic and fun to sing along with even if all I can understand are the choruses. Brrrrrrrrrrrilliant!

mexican tacos served on chinese plates
Wha?
primo margaritas are the perfect pre-show elixir
Round Corner Cantina 

Part of the joy of live music is geeking out with friends like Sue from the Special K. The evening also included a tasty taco joint across the river in Lawrenceville. I hope to hell the staff at Mr. Small's provides some decent food stuffs for the bands they feature because there is nowhere to eat in Millvale.

NO. WHERE.

Unless you want to force down some overly fried bit of roadkill or whatever they're masquerading as edible fare these days. I'm sorry, it's the Italian in me that cringes at the thought of anyone eating swill for dinner, especially out-of-towners. So until someone realizes they could make a killing with an even halfway consumable menu, hop in the van and drive east, Dudes.








One of my all-time favorite bands, Guster made a return visit to the Burgh. They are THE quintessential pop band in my humble opinion. Perhaps the most perfect pop band around. This group of extremely talented multi-instrumentalists write smart, poetic songs set to ridiculously infectious melodies. Their harmonies are outstanding, and their drummer, Brian uses his hands to pound out the rhythms instead of sticks.

Their fans are terrific, too. There's never any drama in the crowd, just peace, love and dancing. It is impossible NOT to have a good time at their shows. No lie. You can't help but leave happy and buoyant. I dragged Sue (mentioned above, pictured below) along. She was unfamiliar with the awesomeness that his Guster, but drank of the Kool Aid. She could not stop smiling for days afterwards. In fact, she's still asking when they'll be back.

warmer climates and wine from a sippy cup
best. library. ever.

They're also dedicated to being eco-friendly. No plastic bottles allowed, they sell reusable bottles and bags, as well as encourage carpooling to their gigs. A couple of the band members take time to explore each city on bikes once they arrive. Well, at least they did in Pittsburgh. They just seem like nice, well-adjusted, fun-loving guys. And they LOVE my hometown, so, you know, extra points for that alone.

Added bonus: my lovely friend, Lizzie who used to work for them in Boston, was kind enough to include us in an informal Meet and Greet afterward. They are all super sweet and lit up when they saw Lizzie and her family. They graciously let us bug them for pictures even though they clearly were tired.

newest member, Luke

Sue, Adam and me

Sue, me, Lizzie and perhaps my favorite of the four,
Brian G
He's delightfully goofy and writes an amusing road journal
and more recently, a studio journal of their recording sessions

Guster at the WYEP instudio

This time through, they played an in-studio at WYEP in the afternoon. Their wit comes through very nicely in this four-song performance and interview. My videos came out shitty, so please enjoy this professionally produced one courtesy of the AltarTV and WYEP.




You can listen to the complete interview here. Guster recently finished recording their latest effort in a studio in Portland. It's being mixed in Seattle now. Not sure when it's to be released, but in the meantime you can download a free live EP via Noisetrade. While you're at it, consider leaving a tip for their generosity.


Moving on from the Guster Lovefest…

My niece, Regi and I went to Club Cafe to see the Jill and Julia show. It was an evening with singer, Jill Sobule and Julia Sweeney of SNL fame. Jill came on stage first and sang a handful of songs before she called Julia up to tell stories from her memoir, in between which Jill would sing one her songs that compliment Julia's yarn. The concept germinated when they realized how many of Jill's lyrics freakishly related directly to Julia's life experiences. It was both poignant and hilarious!! If they tour together again, I highly recommend going.




They both came out to the merch table to push product, sign whatever (including a cigar box an Italian woman purchased from the cigar store while waiting in the line outside of the venue), take photos and chat with everyone. As highly entertaining as the evening was, I think the best part was hanging at the bar drinking cocktails, eating pizza and sharing the belly laughs with my sweet Regi.

Julia and us

jill and us

One of the great things about living in Pittsburgh is WYEP, the most spectacular public radio station in existence. It is an audible oasis in the arid commercial station desert. If you love music, give them a listen. Then once you're hooked (which is inevitable) get off your ass, take the plunge and donate already! You can live stream the station from anywhere, too. WTH. Just do it!! Your earholes will be forever indebted to you. Okay, enough of the mini beg-a-thon.

Among other magnificent things, members get access to intimate in-studio performances from artists on all levels of the fame ladder. It's a fantastic way to discover new talents, future new favorites and connect with those you've admired from afar. Each Live and Direct performance is recorded and archived for future listen. Some have been videotaped via a partnership with AltarTV.

Several Live and Direct highlights from 2013 include Mike Doughty, Okkervil River, Diego Garcia and the incomparable Billy Bragg.


Mike Doughty is always worth the trip off the couch. He's a good interview with lots of intense, crazy stories to tell. He has emerged from the crushing depths of drug use and mental disorder to a lighter being. And he's just plain cool. He wrote of his struggles with drugs, hateful bandmates and his own personal demons in a raw, honest book titled The Book of Drugs.

His interview can be found here.

mike doughty
bringing his jazzy funk to the afternoon
he's a must-see when he comes to town

he will never tell the translation of the jumble on his guitar
and it is killing me not knowing
because I'm nebby and shit

Mr. D played a rare opening set for a band I don't recall
no Scrap this time, only a drummer

Okkervil River took time out to tease everyone with a few new songs of an autobiographical nature.

Okkervil River
 nice affable guys
Will, the lead singer rocking the huge glasses
which he mysteriously takes on and off during shows without your noticing

four bandmates and a doofus

You can listen to Okkervil River at WYEP here. In fact there are two from which to choose.

Also, a sampling of their new album courtesy of NPR's Tiny Desk Concert:

Diego Garcia played WYEP's Final Friday last summer, but I was away and missed them. He has an interesting history of having known George Harrison when he was younger. There is a dreamy mood to some of his work, but it's his Spanish flare in songs like Let's Start with the End that hook me. Well, that and the drummers sheer immersion in the moment. He's a lady killer, that one. Dripping with Latin charms. Oh, my...

You can listen to their complete interview is here. 

And then there was Billy Bragg. His activism has mellowed a bit with age and experience, but he's still up for the good political fight. Quick, articulate and smart as a whip, he kept DJ Mike Sauter on his toes. It was a thoroughly enjoyable 40 minutes of great conversation and song. Afterward he graciously jumped off the platform and engaged with every soul who wanted to meet him. The only thing missing was Geo. Billy's one of his favorites from way back in the Stone Age.





Marco, Billy and moi

He surprised us all by pulling out this gem from his exemplary Worker's Playtime album. Definite high point!!

His complete interview is here. 

We rounded out the year as we began, with a Rhett Miller show, or two to be exact. The Scheduling Gods were in our (read:my) favor, booking two gigs during our vacation. One at his Big Apple home of City Winery, and one near my brother's home in the Hudson Valley.

Yes, please! And thank you!!

The Winery date was his official Christmas show, but he shook it up a little. Instead of him playing solo, he invited comedians Janeane Garofalo and Todd Barry along with singer, Nicole Atkins to perform between his short sets. He had been performing a similar variety show type format called Wheels Off at Largo in LA earlier in the year.

I like the fact there was no opening act to wade through, and all the acts were excellent, but truth be told, I prefer my Rhett solo gigs just that... him, alone, on a darkened stage, with a guitar, bantering with the audience and singing until he sweats through his shirt.

Perfection.

But I get it. This format allows him to hang with friends, have a blast backstage and work from a different energy. No matter how seasoned you are, it's got to be tough at times to put yourself out there bare.

One of the many bennies of a solo shows is a preview of new works. The 97's recorded a new album in October, and the Lovely Blue-eyed One test-drove a couple new songs that night. They are ruckus, adult-themed and filled with f-bombs... and perhaps fans should leave their kids at home for this tour. Just sayin'.

 

 

And because 'twas the season, he threw in a Christmas song set, with his own special twisted spin.

 

By contrast, the show upstate was the polar opposite of the Winery love fest. He went from playing to a pack house of enthusiastic fans, hanging on his every word in a popular NYC wine club with a number of celebs present and a crew to clean up his gear left on stage... to an intimate lodge setting, not even a quarter full where he had to run into the kitchen for the encore break and come back out after it was over to coil his own cable in front of everybody. 

No celebrities. No backstage partying. No huge rush from a fevered crowd. 

Hawt Rockstar to mere singer. The yin/yang of his career realized over the course of one week. Okay, he will never not be hot, but that's beside the point.

I guess I expected more from his current home town. It kinda felt like we were crashing a private party here the invitations got lost in the mail. There were a handful of us fans spread out across the dining area. Perhaps if we all would have sat together in the center of the room, none of us would have felt so intimidated and sang along with him. If I was there with a pack of my Rhett/Old 97's girlfriends, we probably would have had a few extra cocktails, said F**K it, and sang and danced. But as it was just Geo and me… 

AWKWAAAARD.

He put a lot of energy into this show despite the low turnout, he always does. But at the Falcon --as he sings in his new self-referential song, Longer Than You've Been Alive-- he seemed to be watching the clock. 

But you know what, any day I get to stand (or sit) in front of him and watch him perform is a good day. The advantage of this small venue was the opportunity to visit with him for a bit as he cleaned up. It was a rare treat that made the trip north worthwhile.

That's the end of 2013. I was going to stop here, but fuck it. Brevity be damned! I'm on a roll. Let's just clean up the four concerts so far in 2014. And once again, feel free to bail at any time. 

It's the end of March and I'm sure you'll be shocked to know I've seen Rhett solo twice already in Pittsburgh and Philadelphia's World Cafe Live. 

Please keep your sarcasm to a minimum, a-hole. 

Thank you. 

The Management

So far he's played six of the twelve songs from the upcoming Old 97's album to be released in April. They're super fun played by him alone. They are going to sound PHENOMENAL with the power of the entire band behind them. 

Both cities' performances were spectacular! Not that I'm biased, or anything. In Pittsburgh, he took a number of requests, and had a little fun faking his pre-encore exit by dashing behind the stage curtain which hangs a mere foot from the wall. 

Such a charming man. I love when he's playful.

He came out for a meet and greet at both Club Cafe and World Cafe Live, signing merch, patiently taking photos and chatting up all who waited. It's a simple gesture that goes a long way to nurture unconditional support from fans. He's very good at being gracious. I can only imagine how tired he is after putting it all out there on stage, so his taking the extra time is ALWAYS greatly appreciated. 

Here is a grouping of new, explicit songs, this one with an amusing story explaining where the unleashing of all the f-bombs originated.

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He rocked so hard, he busted up not one, but four of his strings. The last two he ripped off with his bare hands. Bad ass. 

such a pretty warrior

This Old 97's tour is going to be something special. But seriously, leave the kids at home for this one.

Side Philly Note: My friend, Cindy made the trek east. We stayed at a beautiful Double Tree on Broad Street for the dirt-cheap price of $100!!?! I was skeptical until we got there. Turns out it's in what's known as the Gayborhood section of Philly. Whatevs. It was pretty sweet, as was the free gigantor chocolate chip cookie. 

hey, their words, not mine

william penn and his… scroll
(the gayborhood)

cindy, planning her breakfast nosh on the mezzanine

 bottle openers in the bathroom, bitches!
now that's FANCY

Philly. The birthplace of Larry Fine
who the f**k knew

pizza by the cleavage… I mean slice
oh, lorenzo. you dirty boy

The other two acts so far this year were Phosphorescent and Brett Dennen, both at Mr. Small's. Phosphorescent is etherial, moody and frankly, rather … meh. But they did play a couple of peppy songs I really liked, if only for his musical Tourettes yips. My girlfriend coined that gem, and she is totally spot on.

YIIIIP!!







And what was up with the stage lighting? I didn't know what to expect from this band, but I certainly DID expect the lead singer to be bathed in a spotlight. Cra-Cra.


Now Brett Dennen I knew. He played WYEP's Final Friday last summer. I was on backstage guard duty with another lovely redhead volunteer.

three gingers are better than one

His latest album has a number of catchy tunes, the greatest being Remember When We Were Young. Warning: this will get stuck in your head for days.

(courtesy of David Letterman and CBS)

I LOVE this song. It makes me happy to hear it and sing along, full blast in the car, or you know, wherever. I'm too old to give a shit anymore. Fortunately for me, he played this as his master set closer so I could bolt right after in an attempt to get a modicum of sleep before returning to indentured servitude at the Special K bright and early the next morning.

Both of these acts played at WYEP beforehand. Here are the links for your listening pleasure: Brett and Phosphorescent

Feels good to get this second spider monkey off my hunched simian-like back. Now I'm going to crawl back in my cave and wait for spring to quick dicking around, pack up its Florida vacation shit, and get its sun-kissed ass on the plane heading north.

"You Are Now Free To Roam About The Country" - 2013 (epic) travel wrap

(disclaimer: Brevity, thy name is NOT this post. Also, there are a crapton of photos in this beast. Also, I don't expect anyone to read this entire hot mess. Also, this is mainly to jog my feeble mind when I'm old and infirm. Also, I could use a fucking drink.)


Okay, so, much like last year at this time, I find myself playing catch up with tales of all the travels I was fortunate to take throughout the prior year. By no means are these ramblings meant to be douchey brags, nay, rather the means by which I recall all this fun shit before I forget how great I had it in 2013 and start bitching to Geo about how I never get to go anywhere, and then he chokes on his sammie, calls up this shite blog and throws the laptop at my ungrateful pinhead, shattering the screen in a thousand shards, which he then steps on, slicing his heels and cursing my name as he hops hither and yon, spraying blood all over our "priceless" heirlooms. Really, not the best way to procure a new computer, couch or congenial companion consideration the next time wanderlust strikes hard.

Sweet BABY JESUS I was lethargic with this blog last year!!

Well, here goes. I shall endeavor to be brief. (file under fat chance)

MARCH not only brought the Old 97's to Pittsburgh, it brought fellow fan, Leslie from the Midwest. We met through the band's website forum, and hit it off  even before we met in 2012. She's a delight. extremely organized, an avid recycler and huge fan of all things flora and fauna. The day of the show, I took her to the top of Mt. Washington to show off the spectacular view of my beautiful city. (everybody say Ooooo... everybody say Aaaaa...)

baby's first visit to the Burgh

best. entrance. ever.
(via Leslie's keen eye)

the glass castles of ppg place
(via Leslie)

After filling our gullets, we headed to the north side to tour the National Aviary. I hadn't been there since fifth grade. So many birds. So many opportunities to be shat upon. No lie. Especially in this room.

flying shitz alert

(via Les)

We planned to go straight to dinner and the 97's show after birding, and neither of us was keen on being covered in doodoo. Mission accomplished.

big awss roll

The following morning we fed our hangover with a greasy spoon breakfast, replete with a cinnamon bun the size of Leslie's head, thus keeping America's diabeetus train right on track. We rounded out Leslie's visit with a frolic through the flowers at Phipps Conservatory.

dale chihuly atrium greeting

another chihuly in the desert room

buttocks on the cactus



(last four beauties via Les)

APRIL brought the first of two trips to Baltimore to visit one of my best friends and mother to my favorite toddler in my orbit. April marked sweet Melody's seventh month of existence. She was sooo much fun! Incredibly observant, smart and responsive. Oh and did I mention she reached for me and smiled her gorgeous, ginormous smile at me and can totally have a pony when she's older?

the cutest baby on earth at 7 months

the cutest toddler on earth at 15 months

By October's visit, Melody was up and running on her adorable, chubby baby legs, diving for Maggie, the dog and racing us around the house. So much personality in a tiny frame. I JUST WANT TO EAT HER UP!! Metaphorically, of course.

Between doting on MJ, Steph and I spent some time together in Baltimore. In April, we went to The American Visionary Art Museum near the Inner Harbor. Totally flipped out and funky! Crazy exhibits like a gigantic bra ball, 20 foot Divine and mirrored-covered eight foot egg spread out over three buildings and a courtyard. Also, the greatest irreverent gift shop ever. We had a fantastic time.

big ass ball o' bras

egg face

wouldn't be balmer without
a 20 foot Divine

courtyard with egg, bird and balcony nest

view from the nest

the harbor from the nest

horror fetus avec cock
(gift shop offering nightmares for free)

In October, we poodled around the neighborhood of Hampden, home of Baltimore's renown HonFest described thusly on its website:

HonFest is a local tradition. The Bawlmer term of endearment, Hon, short for Honey, embodies the warmth and affection bestowed upon our neighbors and visitors alike by historic working-women of Baltimore. HonFest is an annual celebration in honor of these women.

Since 1994, HonFest has grown from a tiny Baltimore's Best Hon pageant behind Café Hon, to a nationally recognized festival that covers four city blocks on Hampden's very own 36th Street. In recent years, the festival has been acknowledged by The New York Times, Rachel Ray's Tasty Travels, Nightly News with Brian Williams, The New York Post, Southern Living, The LA Times, HGTV, CNN, and just this April by The New Yorker.

All I know is people don lofty, neon Marge Simpson wigs and dress in outrageous outfits and glasses. Sign me up!! Hmmmm... I getting a germ of an idea about when to visit Balmer this year, Hon.

we're all set for june, hon

MAY's vacation week embodied a couple little trips. The first was a quick jaunt to St. Louis for, you guessed it, an Old 97's concert with Leslie and Wende. They were opening for Drive-By Truckers on this leg of the tour. Weird. They still played nearly 90 minutes straight through and were done by 9:30, freeing us all up to party with Murry and Ken on the awesome roof of the Moonrise Hotel next to the venue.

moonrise hotel lounge

a chijuly in the lobby!
it's all classy and shit

wende and les photobombed by a random guy named walter

afternoon cocktails on the roof
these ladies get me

the moonrise rooftop

the arch in the distance from the rooftop

The neighborhood has a lovely college town atmosphere. There are cool little shops, eateries and some funky art. It was also a breeze to get to and from the airport via train, thanks to Leslie's excellent planning skills. Leslie and I also played touristas and took the ride to the top of the Arch.

from a helluva high vantage point

the aforementioned helluva high vantage point

BUTTS!!
everywhere we looked

street fashion art

funky totems behind the pageant

This was the first time I visited St. Louis. I liked it, or at least this area. Plus who wouldn't have fun with these chicas and a 97's show, right?


(May part two)
My sisters and I took Big Mar to visit her last remaining sister in Geneseo, Illinois on a trip we dubbed the Travelling Sisterhood. We all flew on Southwest to Midway, picked up a BIGASS vehicle and drove the three hours to Aunt Elsie's.

ginormous ozone killa

My Aunt is amazing. She'll turn 90 this April, lives on her own, doesn't need a cane or walker, still drives an incredible 20+ year old jazzy Chrysler with a dashboard gear shift, is sharp as a tack, is completely ruthless in a game of cards, and she beat Cancer's ass. She's like a fucking Super Hero of Aging.

sisters aplenty

the ladies, chillin'

judgy much?

a touching farewell
hopefully not the last

She lives in a beautiful little midwestern town not far from the Mississippi, where everybody knows everybody else and there's one main street down the center. Having spent her entire adult life away from Pittsburgh, we didn't have many opportunities to visit with her or our uncle in the past. This trip was a wonderful chance for all of us to get to know Aunt Elsie better. The harsher truth to this journey is it may have been the last time Big Mar and her sister would ever see each other. It's an unsettling thought to ponder, never seeing ones sister again. To be an age where this hug may be your last...  Let's hope not.


AUGUST included a trip to Bethany Beach with my good friend from steel drums, Sheila. Sheila is one of the coolest people I know. She's hip, artsy, and fun as hell. I love her kids, too. They're just as cool as she is. Oh, and did I mention she built her own deck at their beach house? She's a regular Rosie the Riveter, Dude! I'm greatly impressed by this because of my complete fear of power tools. And math.

Rosie, proudly showcasing her deck

Aaanywho... she invited me out to their place for a couple of days. Just us girls. We crabbed at Little Assawoman Bay (Bigga Assawoman welcomed, too), drank beach rum drinks (the greatest mango/coconut rum concoction created), ate, beached, drank, shopped, drank, beached, etc. etc. etc. rinse and repeat.

assawoman greeter

fish head love

in crabbing, size matters
these bad boys meet the muster
(crab porn)

keeping the important consumables fresh
(is there any doubt why i like her?)

beach provisions
(now there's NO doubt why i love her)

afternoon delight

sun, surf, sippy
best reward for a morning crabbing fest

two days' bounty crab boil
a lot of work for the meat, but good company and red wine help

I learned more about the private parts of crabs over those two days than I ever thought possible, or wanted to. I never dreamed part of my dinner prep would consist of being all up in some crab's vagina. HaHaHa! Ewwww...

a crab rocket
if you know what i mean

And then this happened.

A lot. And at completely random times, including 10:30 at night. The first time it went off, I was in bed. HOLY HELL that was loud as F**K!! The siren pole is roughly three doors down. There seemed to be no rhyme nor reason for it. No set times. No set purpose, unless you count being an asshole as a purpose, then goal met. The more it went off, the more we laughed about it. I'm sure the beach drinks had something to do with that. :)

I had a blast on our first road trip together. Hopefully we can put that trip on repeat this summer. :)

September's rendezvous was a reunion weekend in Bahstan with my beloved Jimmy McParkway! I miss his stupid face every day. No shit. He travels back to Pittsburgh numerous times throughout the year, but this was my first invasion of his zip code. 

the hahbah

HOLY HELL the approach is freaking close
to these homes

 We packed a lot in two days, especially food. I swear I ate my weight in carbs and meat starting with my arrival. Drinks, dinner and improv.

cool periodic table menu board

hola, poppy

wednesday night improv

and he professes to be my friend...

We did some commando sight seeing during my brief visit, grabbing a delicious breakfast pastry (carb) at a city eatery, Flour to start the ball rolling.

swanky-ass rice krispie treats for $100

this made me LOL for real

We walked through a gorgeous park whose name I've forgotten, strolled through Harvard where we noshed on a nutella, banana and strawberry crepe (more carb by-product) from a food truck in the coolest square replete with giant bean bags, stopped in the only Curious George dedicated store in 'Merica, scaled Beacon Hill to stalk check out John and Teresa Heinz Kerry's digs, circled around to the State House Hooker entrance (to the glee of our 12 year old boy sense of humor), checked out the swanky digs at the Christian Science Church and hit up Cheers for a refreshing afternoon libation.
(hold on to your eyeballs. barrage of photos upcoming...)

emerging from a hole in the ground

some big ass center city park

he's classy and shit
xoxo

the three stooges law firm on the third floor

i'm curious... about the prizes

looks like george is curious
about other things besides the man
in the yellow hat

ten...ten tablets of cyanide

as close as I'll ever get to passing through the gates of Harvard

students chilling in the lawn

daaaaamn. there's actually ivy at ivy league schools

food trucks!

can you see why we're friends?

comfy bean bags strewn about 

higher learning, yo

always good advice

the state house
named for...

the patron saint of working girls

this bit never gets old
ever

the fencing around this church has
become a memorial to the
victims of the marathon bombing 

for fans of Boston Legal
sadly, no Denny Crane sighting

HAHAHAHAHA

christian science church compound

SHENANIGANS

aaaa OOO gaaa
(get it... the light pole looks like a cartoon ogler... no. bite me)

fiber art displays

NOOOORM!

just a couple of asshats 

After a mini siesta, we hopped on a train* and headed to famed Fenway Park to watch the Red Sox clinch a playoff berth. Cross one off the bucket list. I've always wanted to go to Fenway. Similar to Camden Yards, the surrounding streets are blocked to traffic and are lined with food and drink tents.

street action
how many beers and brats can you shovel in your gob?

there is an inordinate love of sausage in this place
(sadly, that's NOT a euphemism)

bringing the Buccos along for the ride

for the love of jehovah, i hope he lost a bet

This ballpark is old school, yo! Smaller than I expected, putting the fans super close to the bullpen and players. There are support poles all throughout obstructing the view for a number of seats. A major flashback to our old Forbes Field back in the Stone Age. They have a jumbo tron, but the score is still changed by hand by a wee man behind the wall in center field.

bailing early to get a jump on that triple bypass

Afterwards, we stuffed our maws with copious amounts of barbecue, beans, mac 'n cheese and booze because, you know, we hadn't eaten enough meat and carbs to shorten our lives from heart disease and the Diabetus.
           
We did manage to squeeze in a buttery lobstah lunch near the harbor before heading to the airport.

does this sum up bahstan, or what

*Side note: Throughout the course of my stay, we rode on every flippin' trolley line but one, a private car booked using Jimmy's iPhone and a train with the quintessential Bostonian conductor... a fair-skinned redhead with a burly build and wicked accent. I have to admit, he was manly and kinda hawt. MeeeOW.

Jimmy was a terrific tour guide, host and shenanigans cohort. Miss you forevah, Bubbe. Next time, let's go to the cape!


November was a major Old 97's meet up in Chicago. The Windy City was the first metropolis to embrace the 97's way back when, even before they made it big in their hometown of Dallas. I've been wanting to experience a show here for quite awhile. It's one of their favorite places to play, and I've heard tales of their epic performances there, especially the Vic.

Four of us flew in from Pittsburgh, four traveled from the Midwest and two lived outside of the city. We stayed at a cute hotel called the Majestic nestled in a lovely residential neighborhood, a block from the lake, and a short cab ride from the venue situated near Wrigley Field.

chi-town from the el

of course there would be a Miller's Pub

There is a wonderful community of fans surrounding my favorite foursome. Slowly, but surely I am meeting these internet compadres. Annie, from Chicago has been high on my list. Needless to say, I was stoked to finally meet her. She's just as smart, witty and cool as I expected. She's also an artist who creates beautiful works from clay and polymer. The entire crazy lot of us hung out at the hotel to pre-game on wine and snacks before heading to dinner near the Metro where the bassist, Murry stopped by to kibitz before the show.

colorful annie

wende and leslie post pre-game

annie, tracey, cindy and wende

sheri and flat sarah

les and flat sarah

everyone, including the lone y chromosome, Bert

everyone, with a side of Murry

The show was horrible.

PFFT...HAHAHAHA! Yeah, right. It was outstanding, as all of their shows are. Crazy energy from these gents. Non-stop dancing and singing from our front row perch. Murry even dedicated a song to Yoko, completely making her trip. And like every show, it ended too soon.

Aaaaaa, but for once, we stuck around for an extra day to bum around the Windy City. We hit up Millennium Park and took far too many photos of the ridiculously irresistible Bean, stumbled upon a cool light exhibit at the library, walk around Navy Pier and sipped cocktails and watched a most gorgeous sunset from atop the John Hancock building.
(brace yourself...i blogged up another crapton of photos all over your shoes)

'alo, bean!

it is ridiculous how happy this makes a person

view from laying underneath the bean
it's inner badger

noreen, bert, les, yoko and the city skyline

being goofballs

us, underneath
seriously. this thing is waaay too cool

jumping bean
(see what i did there?)

dahlia lama glass block art

our album cover

one bit of the view from millennium park 

part of a light exhibit at the library across from the park

YMCA or YOLO
you decide

i heart her

yankee hotel foxtrot
(wilco cover reference)

arcing fluids inside navy pier

john hancock building

the navy pier from the ladies room

one of the most gorgeous sunsets i've witnessed

Hell, we even saw Josh Ritter at Midway.

swear to god that's him

Chicago is one of those rare big cities that acts like a small town. There was no dirt, grime or litter anywhere and everyone we encountered, even the CTA employees, could not have been any nicer or more helpful to us. I mean, unbelievably super sweet! I guess this is what people are talking about when they refer to the Midwest friendly factor. A great town filled with fabulous people. I look forward to going back to experience more of Chicago with these wonderful people, but in a warmer season next time.


And finally...

December. Geo and I made our usual trek across the Commonwealth to my sister's home in New Jersey. The journey became hideous two-thirds of the way there when we encountered a giant snow storm. It was so hideous, even I-78 in Jersey was practically EMPTY of cars. That is never the case on a Saturday in Jersey. EVER. The accumulation was roughly eight inches. Beautiful, but JESUS!  It couldn't wait until AFTER we arrived??!?

Aaaanywho, we ventured into NYC to brunch at a terrific little place down 9th avenue from my nephew called Alfie's. Very festive and amazing Bloody Marys. Yowza!

the family that orders extra olives together stays together

festive holiday cheer to go with the festive holiday cheer

I love hanging out with my kin. We always have a blast with them. They are so groovy.

As luck would have it, Mr. Miller was playing in the city AND near my brother's house that week. Geo and I decided to stay over in SoHo after his show at the Winery. He did a Christmas program with Janeane Garofalo, Todd Barry and Nicole Atkins performing between his mini sets. It was fun enough. Different. The comedians were entertaining, but truth be told, I prefer him solo without sharing the stage.

News Flash- I love New York. You never know what you're going to see on the streets.

Nikki Minaj delivers
who knew

and ramen

Or whom.

We were having breakfast at the Hudson Diner, when Geo looks at me and says, "Hey, turn around. isn't that the guy from show with the newspaper?"

Always Mrs. Subtle, my head snapped around like I had been punched in the head by Mike Tyson. And lo, sitting a mere two tables away was...

KYLE F***ING CHANDLER!!!

HOLY HELL he is GORGEOUS!! His hair was a hot mess from his knit cap, but who gives a flying figlet! It worked for him. The scruffy beard, the big, cable knit sweater, the sexy lines around his chocolate brown eyes on that fabulous face,..  It ALL worked for him.

And that voice. Like velvet. Mmmm..Mmm! Damn near kick started my retired ovaries.

Being the greatest husband alive, Geo prodded me to go over and say hello. But get this... I couldn't do it. What. the HELL. I generally have balls big enough to approach anyone, but I couldn't pull the trigger on this one even when his female companion went to the ladies room. All I could muster was to sneak a pic through the window. Pussy.

swear to god that's the velvet voiced honey and his hat hair

Moving on...

Mid week we drove north to visit my brother in New Paltz, AKA land of the huge-ass snowfall. They had over a foot of the white shit with more on the way. ACK.

bro and his better half
micro brews and winter do mix

the year of never ending snow 

After shopping at the little boutique shops in town and putting away some beer at the local microbrewery, my sister-in-law, Leslie and I decided to embrace the winter and sled ride down their back hill. The snow was so deep, we thought it would take a while to make a track on the plastic toboggans.

WRONG!!

We flew down that bad boy with Otto, the maniac Lab, in pursuit. Did I mention there is a creek at the bottom? Yeah. Needless to say, I bailed at the bottom, giving Otto the opportunity to snatch up my toboggan and run like hell.

Asshole.

I eventually wrestled it from his not-so-vice like grip, and took off on another run. This time the jerk muscled me off the sled and commandeered it for himself, only he freaked out when it moved and just started chewing on it. He eventually calmed his ass down so we could make a handful of runs. I haven't gone sled riding in ages. I had forgotten how fun it is. It's also exhausting. Goddamn, I'm out of shape.

On the way back to New Jersey, we decided to stop in Beacon, NY. It's a really cool little artsy town with a glass blowing shop, Christmas store, Pop Art and comics shop, antiques store and an eclectic tchotchke store.

irreverence. it's what's for christmas

And it also has a wall covered with this horrifying crap.

what's worse than clowns
toddler clowns packing  heat

what fresh hell is this?

AAAAAA! hold me

What is with all the creepy clown shit??!?

seriously. WTF?

Ain't nobody got time for those nightmares.


The End.


Whew. Thank the baby Jesus this monkey posting is finally off my back. I think I used up my entire monthly allotment of storage space with this singular pile of dookey. Blah. I'm too tapped out to close in a clever manner, so your on your own on that front. Have at it. I'm going to take a nap.