So today I made a field trip to Hoboken to go to the Beauty Parlour for a haircut and glaze (I like the word "glaze" because it makes me think of donuts, and I really like donuts) and to see The Gay Blades play at Maxwell's with Readymade Breakup, Hero Pattern, and some soft rock band (their words, dude). This blog was originally going to be about that, but then I drove home.
Through my first ever DWI checkpoint.
Having never consumed a drop of alcohol in my life, I wasn't expecting any problems, but they came, and they came in bulk. My first issue was with simply pulling up to the stop area. The cop's foot was on the line, so I stopped short of it, which, through some masochistic tendency that I don't care to dwell on, the officer disliked.
Then he proceeded to ask me what in the world I was doing in Hoboken. I told him, "I went to see the bands playing at Maxwell's."
He asked if they were any good.
"Three out of four were wonderful. One out of four was mediocre at best."
He kept scowling with skepticism, and at this point, I didn't know what to do. So I asked him plaintively and politely, "Sir, is there anything further I have to do here?" I thought since he wasn't letting me pass, he was going to ask me to walk in a straight line. This terrified me, because my billboard-sized birthin' hips don't allow that to happen, alcohol or no; in addition, my inch worm of an attention span would probably prohibit me from reciting the alphabet backwards without long pauses to look at shiny things.
The officer then handed me a drunk driving pamphlet and told me to read it and be on my way. I told him I wouldn't read it til I got home so I could keep my [lash-batting] eyes on the road. He glared at me. I rolled off.
The moral of the story is, don't drink and drive so I won't have to go through shit like this. I don't have the patience to argue with the poh-leese at 2 AM.
*By Jess, who was instructed to blog about the show by the newly bearded Jason Kundrath, but wound up getting offtopic
Showing posts with label Cops. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cops. Show all posts
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
The Good:
- The new Rooney album, Calling The World; especially "Believe In Me," "Love Me or Leave Me," the title track... Well, darn it, the whole thing with the exception of "Are You Afraid Of Me," which is too slow for an upbeat band and sounds out of place on this record.
- The new Junior Varsity, Cinematographic; especially "I Went Blind," "The Sky"--they're filming a video for that one right now!--and, again, dammit, the whole thing. It's really hard to narrow down. The instrumentation on this album is absolutely sick. If you like shredding, sarcasm, and killer hooks, this is for you. It also features a cameo on "Wunderdrug" by Ken Vasoli of The Starting Line, which leads me to...
- The new Starting Line, Direction; especially "Island" (the first single), and "21." It's classic TSL fare: catchy, earnest, and just a tiny bit lyrically old at times: Kenny, we get it, you grew up on the road and people bitched about your hair. We know. And we love you anyway. This record also marks the band's departure from Drive-Thru and onto major label Virgin.
- The Soho Dolls are starting to get their British behinds in American gear, and damn, they're good. Think Shiny Toy Guns, only better. And hotter. Oh, yes.
- Under the Influence of Giants. Not only do they make the best dance rock I've heard in quite some time, but they're also really down to earth. I sent them a myspace message asking where I can purchase their new song "On My Own" so I could listen to it on my upcoming flight to Texas, and it turns out, they answered me within five minutes asking for my e-mail so they could send me a present. Keep in mind that I've never met them and they didn't have much incentive to send it to me because I said nothing about being a music writer in my message. They're sweet. And schweeeeeet.
The Bad:
- I don't care how much buzz, hype, etc. surrounds Feist--I can't wrap my head around a song that counts "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9 and 10." I suck at math, and even I know there's two numbers missing.
- While the thunder was keeping me awake last night, I decided to watch Cops, in which I counted no less than four instances of arrests without suspects being read their Miranda rights. Oink!
The Ugly:
- As a fan of Neil Strauss' The Game, I was crazy excited to watch the premiere of The Pick Up Artist on VH1, in part so I could put a face to the characters I'd read about. While Mystery is pretty hot, I can guarantee you that "Matador" and "J-Dog" would be regarded as a tool and gay, respectively, by me if I was to be approached by them at a club. "Matador" has slicked back hair and an angry, devious looking face. "J-Dog" looks like the crackbaby lovechild of Thom Yorke, Paul Reubens (better known as "Pee Wee Herman"), and Johnny Rotten. I pray that Pradip, Spoon, and the rest don't follow figurative and literal suit.
*By Jessica, who should probably start packing soon
- The new Rooney album, Calling The World; especially "Believe In Me," "Love Me or Leave Me," the title track... Well, darn it, the whole thing with the exception of "Are You Afraid Of Me," which is too slow for an upbeat band and sounds out of place on this record.
- The new Junior Varsity, Cinematographic; especially "I Went Blind," "The Sky"--they're filming a video for that one right now!--and, again, dammit, the whole thing. It's really hard to narrow down. The instrumentation on this album is absolutely sick. If you like shredding, sarcasm, and killer hooks, this is for you. It also features a cameo on "Wunderdrug" by Ken Vasoli of The Starting Line, which leads me to...
- The new Starting Line, Direction; especially "Island" (the first single), and "21." It's classic TSL fare: catchy, earnest, and just a tiny bit lyrically old at times: Kenny, we get it, you grew up on the road and people bitched about your hair. We know. And we love you anyway. This record also marks the band's departure from Drive-Thru and onto major label Virgin.
- The Soho Dolls are starting to get their British behinds in American gear, and damn, they're good. Think Shiny Toy Guns, only better. And hotter. Oh, yes.
- Under the Influence of Giants. Not only do they make the best dance rock I've heard in quite some time, but they're also really down to earth. I sent them a myspace message asking where I can purchase their new song "On My Own" so I could listen to it on my upcoming flight to Texas, and it turns out, they answered me within five minutes asking for my e-mail so they could send me a present. Keep in mind that I've never met them and they didn't have much incentive to send it to me because I said nothing about being a music writer in my message. They're sweet. And schweeeeeet.
The Bad:
- I don't care how much buzz, hype, etc. surrounds Feist--I can't wrap my head around a song that counts "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9 and 10." I suck at math, and even I know there's two numbers missing.
- While the thunder was keeping me awake last night, I decided to watch Cops, in which I counted no less than four instances of arrests without suspects being read their Miranda rights. Oink!
The Ugly:
- As a fan of Neil Strauss' The Game, I was crazy excited to watch the premiere of The Pick Up Artist on VH1, in part so I could put a face to the characters I'd read about. While Mystery is pretty hot, I can guarantee you that "Matador" and "J-Dog" would be regarded as a tool and gay, respectively, by me if I was to be approached by them at a club. "Matador" has slicked back hair and an angry, devious looking face. "J-Dog" looks like the crackbaby lovechild of Thom Yorke, Paul Reubens (better known as "Pee Wee Herman"), and Johnny Rotten. I pray that Pradip, Spoon, and the rest don't follow figurative and literal suit.
*By Jessica, who should probably start packing soon
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