Tuesday, February 28, 2006

I'm the coolest person you know.

Last night, Lennon Murphy (official website) was playing here in Ames. I had my ticket, naturally, and I was contemplating not going because I had a lot of work to do. However, I convinced myself that I should go because I promised this girl here in Ames that I would, and if she showed up and I didn't, I would imagine that she'd feel a bit put off.

When I got there, she wasn't there, which was fine. However, it was just another reason for me to think "Man, I'm such a fool. I have so much work to do, and I'm going to concerts instead." It didn't help that the crowd was all there to see the headlining act (some girl named Shannon Curfman) and they were all over 40. What helped even less is that Burnout MacDrunkenstein decided to sit right next to me and talk my ear off while I ignored him.

Anyway, Lennon took the stage and it was a really stripped down show -- just her and and a piano. That's the version of Lennon I wanted to see, so that was good at the outset. After about 3 songs, here's what happened:

Lennon: Okay, that does it for my setlist. I was thinking of just taking requests right now.
Random Dude: Play "Goatfucker!"
Lennon: [laughs] You might laugh, but I actually do have a song called "Property of Goatfucker." Sorry, that's the only song of mine that I never arranged for piano.
Me: Play "Brake of Your Car!"
Lennon: I'm sorry! I can't do that one either, because it's really hard to sing and I have a cold and stuff...maybe later?
Me: That's okay.
Lennon: Alright, I'll pick a song.

So she played a couple of songs. At this point, we must note that she has an affinity for wonton soup.

Lennon: Any other requests?
Me: I'll buy you some wonton soup if you play "Brake."
Lennon: [laughing] Are you serious? Are we getting into bribery now?
Me: Yes!
Lennon: Fine! [plays for about five seconds, and stops.] Seriously though...really?
Me: Most definitely!
Lennon: Fuck it, fine!

She played the song and it was amazing. I loved it. Afterwards...

Lennon: How about instead of some wonton soup, you just buy me some beers and some merch?
Me: Right on, I can do that!

After her set, we went outside and chainsmoked for like an hour, totally ignoring the headliner. We were talking about all sorts of stuff, and there were a couple other people around, but she was really quite personable. Topics ranged everywhere from House M.D. (she's excited to have today off so that she can watch House tonight) to American Idol (she would love to take Simon's place on that show) to longboarding down hills when she's drunk. She's so funny, cute, and talented. I love this woman, I'm thinking.

While standing outside, she also says:

Lennon: It was really good actually that you got me to play "Brake." I had this cough in my throat that I couldn't get out, but it came out during that song...so I guess I owe something to the idiot who made me play it.
Random dude: [to me] Dude, I think Lennon just called you an idiot.
Me: See, that's what you think, isn't it? What you know is that she secretly loves me.
Lennon: That's true, I do.

So we hung out the rest of the night drinking and smoking, and it was amazing. When I finally made my way to the merch table after the show, here's the exchange:

Me: I'll take that hoodie over there.
Lennon: What size?
Me: Well, how do the sizes run?
Lennon: I wear a medium, so...
Me: I'll take a medium then.
Lennon: You should get one of these posters too!
Me: Nah, I don't want a poster.
Lennon: What? Why not?
Me: I'll only take it if you sign it to "the idiot who made me play 'Brake of Your Car.'"
Lennon: [laughing] Okay!

She signed it to the wonderful idiot who made her play "Brake of Your Car."

Needless to say, I had a smile on my face that I couldn't get rid of for like 5 hours. Last night was the best night of my life, and it makes me cooler than everyone else who ever existed on this planet. Be jealous, everyone.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Yves St. Laurent, eat your heart out.

I'm going to have to start eating only radishes and celery for dinner. Confused? Read on.

It's been a while since I had gotten my hair cut and styled by the amazing Amanda, so I decided to take the morning off and head over to her salon to get that done. They had posted all these flyers around the city asking for people to come and audition to be hair models, but the auditions were a few days ago.

While she was cutting my hair, we were just making small talk, you know, nothing too important. Suddenly, a bomb went off. Here's what happened.

Me: So, how did your model search go?
Her: It went okay. A bunch of sorority type girls showed up. It's not really fun to style their hair because they really honestly care what you do to it.
Me: You mean like they won't give you free rein to do what you want?
Her: Yeah. And no guys showed up either! It kind of sucks since my partner for the show and I wanted to style a guy's hair.
Me: I'll do it.
Her: Are you serious?
Me: Sure, why not?
Her: Well, you'd have to be willing to let us do whatever we want...
Me: I'm all about it.
Her: Cool, just let me confer with my partner, and I'll let you know. Let me take down your phone number.

That's right folks, my life-long aspirations of becoming a model are finally coming to fruition. If I actually get to participate in this hair show, I'll totally be discovered and then I'll be able to quit my job as a lowly graduate student. I'll become vapid and slow-witted; I'll lose all sense of morals and decency, and I'll be an empty shell of a human being who is borderline anorexic. I'll be the greatest male model there ever was, is, and ever will be. Everyone who ever scorned me will realize what a mistake they made when they see my "awesome crib" on MTV, and the only thing more hip than the new "King Bee Hairstyle" will be the King Bee's hipbones.

You'll all count yourselves lucky. You'll be able to tell people, "Man, I read his blog before he got famous," or "I knew him when he went to grad school," or "I dated him once!" You'll be famous by association.

Or, she just might not call back. Either way, it's all good.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Whatever happened to Tom, Dick and Harry?

There is something I have been really annoyed with lately, and if you read this wrong, you'll get the wrong impression, and you'll think I hate someone for something they had no control over (which is true, I do, but this isn't the thing, so don't get it wrong).


Some people have very strange names. I'm not talking about Muhammad al-Jihadjazeera, the guy who sits across from you in your sociology class, I'm talking about Tyson, the hipster girl who probably gets around. I'm talking about the fucking girl named Tristan. Seriously, who names a girl Tristan? I'm talking about Karleah (that's pronounced "car-lee," by the way), the anorexic chick who you tried to date once, but she ended up spending a week in the hospital for starvation reasons.

I'm talking about names like these. I have nothing against the people who actually have these names. I'm sure that Tyson and Karleah are perfectly cool to have around all of the time, by the way. So what am I complaining about?

The people who know people with wacky names. These people think that it totally raises their cool point value just because they know someone with a name like the above ones. I can just hear it now...

...oh my god, like me and Tegan last night were totally wasted, and we decided to go over to Peytra's house and crack open another bottle of Apple Pucker! It was so crazy, cuz then after that Jaden came over, right? And he and Tegan are like having problems I guess cuz he totally slept with her best friend Madison...

It's like I'm living in the goddamned "O.C." over here.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Didn't order a mocha? Then don't take it, genius.

It is well-known that I visit a coffee shop here in this lowly village every single weekday. I really enjoy going there in the morning because it's usually pretty relaxed, and I can get my drink in under a couple of minutes. Since I'm there every day and get basically the same thing (since I'm so boring), the girl who makes the drinks is always prepared to whip up a double tall [insert flavor of the day here] latte for me pretty quickly. It's the one thing I look forward to every day.

At night, the story changes completely. Since they also serve food, a lot of pseudo-Bohemian losers like to go there to pretend that they are hip, so there's usually a big crowd. Obviously, I generally avoid this place at night.

Last night, I was going to have to be at work until like 1:30 am, and a friend offered to buy some coffee. "What a great opportunity," thought I. "I could get some coffee for free, and then I'm sure I'll be able to stay awake to finish my work. Let's all go and enjoy a fine brew from the coffee shop, gentlemen!"

There is no difference between this idea of mine and Communism. You know, really good in theory, and pretty much everyone thinks it's totally going to work, but it just never does. The reason why it never works is usually do to a very select group of people who totally fuck it up for everyone else involved.

Here is precisely what I mean. My three friends and I all place our drink orders, and we're waiting around for the drinks to be made and served. In the meantime, other fake hipsters are walking in and ordering their single-tall-skim-decaf-vanilla lattes, and just standing around, much like we were doing.

However, because these failures share an important property with a brick wall (the IQs of both parties mentioned are identical), as soon as a drink is made, regardless of what it is called (because the barista would call out the name of the drink before putting it on the counter), one of these idiots will think it is theirs and take it. If you try to stop them, you can try all you want to contact them via the perferred mode of human contact, speech. Unfortunately, this will get you nowhere, because they're too occupied with their goddamned iPod earbuds in their ears and the volume turned up way loud. They want you to think they're listening to the new Sufjan Stevens record, or possibly something by Metric, but they're really listening to "that hot new My Chemical Romance single." Christ.

Let this be a lesson to any of you who fall into the category of people mentioned above. If you didn't order a double-tall mocha to go, if you did, in fact, order a single tall skim decaf latte, then don't take the fucking chocolate drink full of sugar and caffeine. Take the unflavored water drink that you did order, and take off your "retro" jacket that you want everyone to think you bought at a thrift shop, but really got from J.C. Penney. Seriously, if you really wanted your fake drink, you would have waited for it. You just wanted to have people see you walk into a coffee shop and walk out with a cup in your hand. Fuck you.

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