Of Montreal

I know I am supposed to recap Amsterdam, but with our one computer traveling with Jim, it’s hard to upload the pictures. But trust me, it’ll be worth the wait.

I’ll tide you over with a review of an AWE-SOME show I went to last night.  Anyone heard of Of Montreal?  Youtube them, crazy stuff. Also, this song here was used as the Outback Steakhouse commercial song…so there’s a little connection for ya.

Now, look up their tour dates and get your butt to a show. Even if the electronic sound isn’t for you, you have got to see the shenanigans that is their performance. It’s like performance art. It’s like, Prince and David Bowie somehow became the same person. Here are some photos I took with my iPhone:

Yes, that is a Chinese Dragon looking thing (made of people) and that is front man Kevin Barnes riding it.



That's Barnes again dancng around in the confetti strewn about by the masked beings on stage with him.



More characters, more 'art'.

There he is in all his aproned glory. I realize that it is sideways but I am sick of Google shutting down on me everytime I try and fix it.

The opener, Janelle Monáe was also amazing.  I heard her described as: Kanye West and Janis Joplin’s love child. I think her sound was a bit loud for the small venue, as she had a crew of at least 8 people all in white shirts, black suspenders and bowties. All rockin’ out.  She had the occasional character come up on stage like Of Montreal…and gave us the added bonus of painting while singing a song. Seriously, an easel was set up, and she freaking painted the silhouette of a woman while singing. Oh and her singing? Her voice is incredibly powerful. Truly an amazing sound. She sounded sort of like a more powerful Rihanna with a little Macy Grey mixed in. I can’t wait to download more of her stuff so I can hear it at a more appropriate volume. The performance was very high energy. Don’t you love it when you can just tell how much fun a band is having together?

This is during the MJ medley, the caped woman to the right is Janelle Monae

To end the night, Of Montreal did a Michael Jackson medley inviting Janelle Monae and her band up for a dance off in true MJ style.  The vocals didn’t do our man Michael justice, but again, the amount of fun they were all having together was infectious. It ended at 11:30 which is a bit late for me on a school night, but I would have stayed there as long as they kept going!

As a special treat, here are some of the text messages I sent to Jim and my friend Adrienne throughout the show.  That is how shocked I was. And, these texts were sent sober.

“He is currently wearing an apron, purple nylons and no panties!”

“He’s involved in a pig love triangle!”

“It’s like David Bowie procreated with Prince.”

“Crazy shit is going on!”

“It’s made of people!”

“I’m pretty sure Nacho Libre is playing the violin…”

Are you headed to Amsterdam?

This is going to be a marathon series of posts.  So much to say, so much to say.

I’ll start with the rather entertaining antics I witnessed on my flight from Seattle to Amsterdam.  

An ancient woman is wheeled on, around the neck pillow thingy firmly in place.  She is sitting in the very front row of coach, so we all know, her purse is going to have to go in the overhead bin. They assure her that they will bring it to her once airborne and place it in the overhead bins above the row in front of me.  She does protest, in a heavy, thick accent…I’m going with Romanian. Just a guess. "I want my purse, why can't I have my purse?"

The couple in front of me is also foreign, judging by their accents and the wife’s heavy influence over both her husband and the flight crew, I’m going with German.  They tell her that her carryon bag, while fitting regulation size, is too big for the overhead space left and that they will have to check it. “NO”. She says. Not rude, not appalling, just damn firm. So the husband and flight crew stick (shove) it with the child flotation devices.

Back to the Ancient Romanian: she is PISSED that she is not only sitting three rows from her purse, but that the window (being right above a wing) does not have a view.  Oh, and she has to go to the bathroom, NOW. So the very well behaved and good sported flight attendant guides her to the bathroom (as her wheelchair is no longer available), which happens to be next to me.  The woman, though using the support of the flight attendant behind her, is pushing the people in front of her (the plane is still boarding), “move, move move.” All in all, most people are just hiding giggles as the woman is quite funny.  As she heads back to her seat (around the neck pillow thingy still hanging on), she is bitching about her view. The kind flight attendant says, “ma’am, there is nothing we can do”. To which AR replies in her thick accent, “NO! NO! I hate Delta and I hate Alaskan, they so mean to me. WHY DO YOU HATE ME?” This goes back in forth until they reseat AR in the center row (major downgrade, BTW). She then screams at her nice flight attendant, “I no listen to you bring me boss!” Enter flight attendant’s superior who is NOT having this. After a few, “you hate old lady” and “ma’am, please lower your voice”, the police are called and the flight crew is removing her carryon baggage.  Enter policeman. “Oh, a policeman! I listen to you, you have job to protect old lady.” “Ma’am, I’m afraid we are going to have to ask you to get off the plane so that we can book you on a later flight in a seat that is more accommodating. “ “WHAT? You policeman, you supposed to protect old lady. WHY DO YOU HATE ME?” Then, and I swear I heard this, she says (near tears), “I already missed my plane once, Alaska hate me too.” I believe I am watching this woman getting escorted off the plane for the second time today!  The police officer eventually coaxes her out of her seat and off the plane. Finally, we can take off.

But not before German wife nudges German husband who hops up and grabs the large carryon from the child size flotation device cabinet and places it where the Ancient Romanians things used to be.

I am left with this question: who on earth allows their mother/grandmother/sister whatever to fly at that age, that distance, with that attitude, alone?

Sip, Sip, Sippin’ on some Sizzurrrp.

Sizzurp, Purple Drank, Roboating, Robotrippin’, whatever you wanna call it, I tried to try it, but I failed miserably.

I was in San Diego this past weekend and I knew there’d be a lot of partying. I wanted to try Chasers, a homeopathic supplement that is supposed to weaken your hang over. It has come to my attention (months and months ago but I just chose to deal with it now) that alcohol makes my head hurt. Not just hurt, but HURT. Like I am in bed, disabled for a solid half a day. And it’s not because I am taking jell-o shots. No. It could be something as minor as a glass of wine. So, my friend at work told me about Chasers which, by the way, worked!

Anyway, as I am in the medicine aisle at the Ocean Beach, CA Rite Aid (where ping pong balls and Solo red cups are displayed together), my friend J says, “do you guys want to do Sizzurp tonight?” This prompts our friend A to say, “Purple drank?” which causes the four of us to dissolve into laughter.  Back up the clock about ten minutes and you’ll see several other laughing fits.  A’s husband B pointing out that they sell disposable vibrators in the condom section (which they do!?), J recommending Cramp 911 to anyone who was listening.  Other gems such as ColdCalm Pellets and Legatrim were also discovered.  Working in the patent and trademark field, I have never come across such catchy names for drugs!

We were going to a house warming party that evening, so we thought it would be pretty funny if we rolled in with a bottle of Robitussin, some Sprite and Jolly Ranchers. You know, see if anyone thought it weird (or cool).  So as we go to make a drink (a real drink), A stealthily unwraps the Robitussin and places it next to the other bottles of booze, you know, as a choice. Then we think, F it, let’s see what this is all about, I mean there IS a rap song about it. So we make drinks (one per pair as we are slightly nervous this was going to make us out of our minds). That shit is disgusting. Like, want to spit it up, disgusting. I tried to get it down but it ended up stranded on the bar table the rest of the evening.  A finished hers, B had two and our party host even had one! As B and Party Host are starting to feel the effects that mixing alcohol and cough syrup can have, we hear a girl telling her friends that she wanted to get the hell out of there. “Why?” says one of her friends, “because these people are creeping me out” she says while motioning to a red faced B. OMG!? Are WE the new “pedophiles”? Are WE the ones who the hosts are quietly wishing to leave? No, our host is toe up on Sizzurp. The next morning, he texts to let us know of his Purple Drank wishes and Robotrippin’ dreams he had all night.

Here’s the kicker: Jim is on his bachelor party trip to Pittsburgh during all of this. His friends from home are wild and crazy.  They are drinking, gambling, golfing headed to the strip club, the whole nine.  He tells his buddies his wife-to-be went “Robotrippin” and they are convinced I am some sort of hardcore tripper.  The next morning I get a call from Jim early and he says, “you really better check on B and A, that shit is no good.”