This One's Still About the Block Party

Here's a brief look back/ fashion guide to this year's Capitol Hill Block Party. If you were there then chances are you saw these clothing items or accessories.



Right. I don't why but I've just never understood this. I guess it's always exciting to see a muffin top at an unexpected body part. The hair is a good one. Besides, nothing says, I had a busy weekend, more than a tan line... on your forehead.

The shorts with boots look was another popular one at the Block Party. I've seen maybe a few pictures of people who could pull it off, people with legs up to their necks. Just kidding, that would look strange. Can you imagine? Head, neck then legs!Maybe if you were in some music festival held in a vast expanse of land with grassy knolls and lots of mud this would be advisable. But on concrete? On a hot summer day? Oh well, what do I know? I suppose there's no better moisturizer for your calves and feet than all-natural, organic sweat.

For men there was this:

All right, I exaggerate. Their backpacks were not this big. You'd think they would avoid bringing anything. Take a cue from the guy who stood beside me. At least he made his mini bottles of alcohol fit into his pockets. Or maybe they had the right idea all along. I suppose, there's nothing like taking up as much personal space as you can at GA-only shows, right?

You Blink When You Lie: The Dead Weather at Capitol Hill Block Party, July 25, 2010

First impression: wow, Jack White is literally white. That man is pale. Actually all of Dead Weather are pale with eternal black hair. Their music, however, was not pale. It was loud and dirty and like Alison Mosshart sings, it will make you, shake your hips like battleships. Or, in the case of that mustachioed dude in black, blow smoke in people's faces and scatter cigarette ash everywhere.

This gave me an idea. From this point forward I will start a game (with no one else competing except me - super fun) and just insert as many Dead Weather song lyrics and titles in this post.

The Dead Weather killed it last night. I think I just died by the drop (see what I did there). They can M-A-N-I-P-U-late their audience into acting crazy like throwing flour tortillas around and crowd surfing with only one shoe. When you hear Jack pound those drums you'll want to hustle and cuss. They play the kind of music that begs to be listened to in dark, dingy places where they give you whiskey in cloudy glasses. Hearing Treat Me Like Your Mother, live was insane! Look at me now, I'm mad. HA HA! And I don't mean to judge but why would you bring children to this show, and then put them on your shoulders so that your family looks about 60 feet tall and no one can see behind you?

Well, that game got old fast.

I wonder if Jack's wife, Karen Elson ever gets worried. There is so much chemistry between Alison and Jack. It's like the air around them is just snapping and crackling and about to pop (aay... that was bad). Here's a picture of them using the same mic with their faces so close to each other.

I'm really inspired by Alison's badass-ness. Watching her makes me want to backcomb the sides of my hair and get a lot of volume in there. Think about it, the wider the hair, the skinnier the body looks, right? That's an instant five pounds off. No really, I want to be a badass like her. I'm going to start by just kicking my pet... my pet rock, to the curb. Yeah, you leech, I've had enough of you. Go chip a windshield somewhere. And you know what else? I'm going to start wearing shoes on my carpet. How does that feel, you spoiled brat? Shoe on your face, bitch! And that neighbor with the loud mouth? I'm going to write her a note that says, keep it down, please. Thank you. But I'm writing it on the back of a used sheet of paper. How badass is that? Isn't that just nasty? Answer me! AM I A BADASS NOW?

* first two photos by I.P.

Dreams, Drinks, Diorama

Attended a very happy birthday party for my cousin-in-law over the weekend, hence the mirror-repelling, alcohol-induced eyebags. Great. People who are celebrating their birthdays are always creative when it comes to reasons for taking shots or pouring drinks. The permutations are endless, "ladies!" Followed by, "boys only!" And then, "everyone, holla!" Next is, "people with black hair," after that, "everyone under 33 years of age!" There's also, "people who like food," and, "people with legs." And before you know it you're feeling fur on your tongue and you're in trouble. Thankfully, the most trouble we get in these days is falling asleep with our shoes on while sitting on a chair.

Watched Inception last Friday. It was a beast of a movie. A barreling yet elegant beast with a jarring musical score to accompany it. I may want to watch it again and again. I watched it with my aunt who enjoyed the movie immensely. And by enjoy immensely, I mean almost jump out of her seat at the IMAX intro, lovingly hand me the cheesiest nacho chips, grab my wrist with her strong grip, yelp at exciting scenes which turned out to be every other minute as the whole movie was an exercise in exciting its audience. So, you there, yes, you. Go, already! Watch Inception, now!



We also checked out that swanky building in Bellevue called Bravern. While the mall was crawling with people, Bravern looked like a diorama. Although we did spot some sales people attending to ah, older ladies who were moving their walkers aside to try on some Chanel shoes at Neiman Marcus.

And since we're jumping topics every paragraph, I watched The Young Victoria on dvd last night. What a love story! I was a sniveling pile of snot and tears by the end of it. Emily Blunt is so talented, Rupert Friend too. Plus, he's really good looking. I put in another dvd called, The Eclipse, afterwards. It's a ghost story set in Ireland. Anyway, I ended up turning it off after about 10 minutes. No particular reason. I didn't get scared by that one scene, not at all. I just, um, yeah yeah, my butt started to hurt from sitting on the couch for too long and it was also really late.

That's all.




Well, hello there, Tom Hardy.

Question Authority Think For Yourself: A Tool Concert/ Audience Review (Key Arena, 07/10/10)

Wow. Just wow. Also, cough and, AAAck my eyes!

It was my first Tool concert and I have never seen anything like it. The laser lights, the visuals, the fog and most of all, the band! They sounded so good. I don't know if Key Arena, the space itself, had anything to do with it but the sound was excellent. It was loud enough that you could sing along and not annoy your neighbors but not too loud to give you a case of 36-hour-tinnitus.

It was close to 8pm when we got to our seats. And already, this shirtless blond guy who I now think of fondly as, well, kind of the mascot for our section of seats, kept standing, throwing his hands up and going, F**K YEAH repeatedly.

A band called Rajas opened for Tool. I was sitting in a state of sushi-digestion (shout out to Sushiland, holler) and excitement so I am ashamed to admit that I only partially absorbed their playing which sounded heavy, with a touch of far eastern influences and wow, the guitarist/singer can really throw his body around. Fast forward. We're Rajas. Lights go down. Lab coats out. Danny's drums unveiled. More fast forward. The mascot strikes again, crowd goes wild along with him. And then bam! The question authority, think for yourself video starts and everyone screams.




On a side note, I am so impressed with how punctual and prompt the whole production was. Rajas started at exactly 8 and Tool was onstage by 9, on the dot. Also, at least in our section, camera phones weren't really a problem, probably because security was busy with ah, certain people smoking certain somethings. Whatever, do what you want but why risk getting kicked out of a show you probably have been waiting for and paid good money for?

And this next paragraph is dedicated to the group in the row in front of us. Hey, that dance you guys were doing, part sign language with the arms and part martial arts, that was pretty amusing. And eventually, your energy was infectious. But the part where your lady friend flashed her boobs? No. Just, no.

The threat of eye disease from said flasher was just a tiny blip because the whole concert was so overwhelmingly good. It was a blast singing, I'll keep digging/ 'til I feel something, with an arena full of people. The dueling drums between a grinning Danny Carey and the Rajas drummer during Lateralus (GONG HIT!) was one of the higlights. And Maynard's dancing/unexplainable movements outlined against the video screens was kind of mesmerizing. It was also very nice to see the fairly lengthy acknowledgment that Adam, Justin and Danny gave the audience at the end of the show (Maynard did give a big wave before leaving the stage).

The shouting and crazy energy spilled out onto the exits. Hey, even the Seattle Center buskers were still at their instruments. One guy with his guitar was like, yeah, this song I'm playing is early Tool. More screaming at the crosswalks and at the McDonald's across the street. All in all, I rate this concert with two thumbs up, all my toes pointed, 12 plates at Sushiland, a 2-cheeseburger meal and a hot fudge sundae. SPIRAL OOOOUUUUTTTT!!!!

* photo by IP

Nature's Finest

Went camping with the family and family friends this Fourth of July weekend. I'm not an outdoorsy or athletic person but camping can be fun, in increments, preferably no more than once a year.

It was quite a challenge. OH MY GOD. One of our neighbors is yapping as I type. Why are there graduates from the School of Speaking with an Audience everywhere? I don't want to hear about your life. I don't want to hear about your boyfriend bailing on you. I don't want to hear that he gave you a backpack for your anniversary. In fact, if I were you I would keep that information to myself. Anniversary present? BACKPACK?!? Did you get a Trapper Keeper on your birthday? A set of 5 logbooks on Christmas. A pencil case for Valentine's?!?

Okay. I have now calmed down. So... camping trip. Eating was my activity of choice, which again, was a challenge. The campsite had no running water and thanks to this weekend, I now know that a vault toilet, is basically a port-a-potty with concrete walls. I gave my digestive system a pep talk to please hold the BM until I get back home. It did. However (gross alert), I did unleash some mighty fumes... within the confines of our lovely, watertight tent. Forgive. Please.

Our biggest adventure sent most of us scrambling for higher ground and screaming. One of the tents in our group had a snake inside! A snake! My Dad whacked it with an umbrella and threw it in the lake. It was slim and probably a little over a foot long. And it opened a gateway into a fairly long discussion on snake stories and myths. Have you heard the one about the snake whose eyes retain the image of its human killer? That's right. Its family will then memorize this image and will act all snake-like and go after the killer and all the members of his or her family.




Our group had a number of kids with the oldest at, say, 12. And they went nuts. Hiking, mucking around on the inflatable boat just going in circles, playing charades and bamboozling the adults to pay them upwards of $5. You know you're starting to get old when you no longer jump on the, let's be the last to sleep bandwagon. Except, I'm not really getting old because technically I didn't get any sleep on the two nights we camped. Therefore, that alone makes me young, by default. Sort of. Kind of? Right?