Pitchfork: The "Are We in Hell?" Edition
I lasted five hours on Saturday. Somewhere during the Ted Leo set it occured to me that I was making a physical effort not to pass out, and maybe that might mean I needed to go home. Like, now. So I hopped on a bus, cursed the CTA mightily when it it was found to have no air conditioning, and cried when I realized I didn't have house keys. The Mountain Goats were good, though. They played my favorite song and my second favorite song. Plus, I saw Devendra Banhart in the beer line. I almost said hi to him, because I thought I recognized him from a bar or something but then I realized that he was kind of famous, and anyway, he was walking away and it was my turn to purchase a frosty beverage. There were a lot of really stupid girls walking around in boots.
Sunday, we only went for Spoon (and, accidentally, Yo La Tengo, whom I despise). It was still too hot, so I sat on a bench at the back and talked to a cute hipster girl about Wayne Coyne's spaceship until the set ended. She was not wearing boots. The morning was devoted to a cooking class with Concert Josh, which was kind of cool until I realized that we were making lobster bisque by killing a bunch of live lobsters. My next cooking class will be the kind where you sit and drink wine and watch somebody else make food and all the ingredients are already dead.
Once Size Fits All
Whenever anyone you know has a baby and you need to get them a gift, you can't go wrong with Robeez. Nothing says, "What a cute baby, please don't raise my rent" like expensive soft leather shoes. I bought these horsie ones for Molly, the landlord's new baby, because she's adorable and hasn't cried once since she's been home.
"He Always Passes to Himself"
Why playing football against Jeff Samardzija on the Xbox is easy, and what he'd rather be watching than SportsCenter. Thanks Concert Josh for sending along this article on my second favorite ND player.
It's Like One Million Degrees
You know how when you're baking something and you open the oven door, that blast of white hot air washes over you? Yeah, that's pretty much downtown Chicago right now. Places currently without air conditioning include: my car, my bedroom, and this office. FANtastic.
Sunday, we only went for Spoon (and, accidentally, Yo La Tengo, whom I despise). It was still too hot, so I sat on a bench at the back and talked to a cute hipster girl about Wayne Coyne's spaceship until the set ended. She was not wearing boots. The morning was devoted to a cooking class with Concert Josh, which was kind of cool until I realized that we were making lobster bisque by killing a bunch of live lobsters. My next cooking class will be the kind where you sit and drink wine and watch somebody else make food and all the ingredients are already dead.
Once Size Fits All
Whenever anyone you know has a baby and you need to get them a gift, you can't go wrong with Robeez. Nothing says, "What a cute baby, please don't raise my rent" like expensive soft leather shoes. I bought these horsie ones for Molly, the landlord's new baby, because she's adorable and hasn't cried once since she's been home.
"He Always Passes to Himself"
Why playing football against Jeff Samardzija on the Xbox is easy, and what he'd rather be watching than SportsCenter. Thanks Concert Josh for sending along this article on my second favorite ND player.
It's Like One Million Degrees
You know how when you're baking something and you open the oven door, that blast of white hot air washes over you? Yeah, that's pretty much downtown Chicago right now. Places currently without air conditioning include: my car, my bedroom, and this office. FANtastic.
Tequila Red called it a day @ 1:37 PM
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