Archive | July, 2008

What’s The Word? Craig T. Nelson!

11 Jul

(This is my official review of the show last night. >.<)

I’m a Science nerd. I’m not extraordinary at physics and I’m not a biochemistry major.

No, I’m a diehard fan of We Are Scientists. And really, in the scheme of things, they are scientists. Science can be the answer to almost every question because the definition of science is as follows: an activity that appears to require study and method.

Yeah, so science has many different definitions, but it’s as open-ended of a work as art. And last night’s We Are Scientists show at Neumos can be defined as either, but however you define it, please don’t define it as a disappointment.

My sister and I drove all the way from Gig Harbor to Seattle, myself skipping class and my sister staying out late before volleyball practice the next morning, but when we arrived in Capital Hill, we knew we were in the right place.

Neumos is a small club, and it being my first show there, I was in a little bit of a culture shock, seeing that the smallest concert I’d ever been too was outside at Bumbershoot last year. There were a few girls waiting outside, who told us when we arrived, “are you in line? Because if you cut us, oh boy, because we’ve been in line all day.” We noticed that after awhile, they didn’t really need to get there that early to get a good spot. Once the place started filling up, anywhere you stood had a nice view. Neumos lacked air conditioning, but that’s really the only bad thing I can say about the venue.

Now onto the music. Time didn’t really seem to be on these people’s minds, seeing that The Morning Benders didn’t start until 9:30, and between each band, it took about a half an hour to set up. It was about 11:30 by the time We Are Scientists got to start, but the build-up to the headliners were actually very good. I was not disappointed in the least.

The Morning Benders, a foursome from San Francisco, started off their set with a very energetic sound, and even though they looked as old I was, they seemed incredibly at ease on stage with their matching Telecasters labeled “Britney Spears.” I never got what that meant, actually. They transitioned smoothly from song to song, getting the crowd ready for some dance numbers such as “Waiting for a War” and “Loose Change” where my favorite was “Wasted Time” a groovy song that almost sounded like an homage to The Doors, “Riders on the Storm” with its ominous hook. They were a gracious crew, repeatedly thanking Keith and Chris of W.A.S. for taking them on this rather short U.S. tour, all 4 gigs.

The second band up, New Zealand’s Cut off Your Hands, kept the energy going with their slightly more hyped up sound than The Morning Benders. The funny thing was that when they mentioned that they were from New Zealand, someone from the crowd shouted out “Flight of the Conchords!” And they replied “It’s weird, because they aren’t even that big in New Zealand.” Now I have a new Kiwi band to like. They reminded me a little bit of Does in Offend You, Yeah? only without the electro part. Frontman Nick Johnston embraced the tiny room and I’m pretty sure I caught a bit of his perspiration as he banged on his own timpany drum in front of the mic. Even though the room kept getting exponentially warmer, I still enjoyed both opening bands, but I wished that Cut off Your Hands hadn’t gotten cut off. No pun intended.

Needless to say, the wait for W.A.S. wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. My sister kept mentioning how cute the guys in the opening bands were anyway. A little eye candy is always good.

But once we thought that We Are Scientists were going to start, they didn’t. Their roadie came and checked the mics. And they didn’t start. The roadie got their water bottles out. And they didn’t start. The roadie pre-opened the water bottles. And they didn’t start. The roadie tucked some guitar picks into the mic stands and taped the playlists to the floor. And they still didn’t start.

It was about as annoying waiting for them as it was for you just reading that last paragraph.

It wasn’t until about 45 minutes after Cut off Your Hands left the stage that Keith, Chris, Max and Adam got on stage. But after they did, I forgot all about the fact that it was almost midnight and my sister had to wake up early in the morning, because I finally got to see that band I’d come to see.

The boys jumped right into their set with “Nobody Move, Nobody Gets Hurt,” and moved smoothly into “Chick Lit,” with a tiny “Thank you” in between songs. The one thing that We Are Scientists had above the other bands…well, two things–Keith and Chris. Keith kept the crowd dancing along with his writhing about the tiny stage with his Fender Telecaster, whereas Chris brought on the laughs. “Craig T. Nelson!” was the first thing that he shouted. “I was a little surprised when you guys didn’t get more excited when I yelled out Craig T. Nelson.” And then went into some witty banter about the show “Coach” and how it was apparently taped in Seattle. Chris was very intent on making us believe that “Coach” was taped in Seattle, as he was on making us believe that the Internet was originally created as a fan network for Webster fans in the military.

Of course Chris, of course it was.

No matter, that’s what makes W.A.S….W.A.S. They double as comedians as well as great musicians.

But the most memorable part of the night came towards the end, my legs were starting to get weak from dancing, and Keith decided during “Textbook” that he was going to jump right into the crowd and sing with them. And who was standing right where Keith jumped down? None other than muah. Yes, I was right there when Keith entered the crowd, and I danced and sang along and went crazy.

It was pretty much amazing. I’m not gonna lie. I have a ridiculous girl crush.

So Keith made his way through the crowd and the boys got onto the last few songs. They ended strongly with my favorite song, “It’s a Hit,” “Lethal Enforcer” and “The Great Escape,” another of their singles from “With Love and Squalor.” I did notice that they did play more songs from “Squalor” even though this tour’s promoting “Brain Thrust Mastery.” I didn’t mind, however, since I like “Squalor” better. Nothing against “Brain Thrust Mastery” though. I would have liked to hear “Be My Baby,” which W.A.S. mostly plays at larger shows in the UK, but that’s alright, because I feel like I got my money’s worth and more. I just wish that they would be more embraced in America, because then I wouldn’t have to wait another 3 years to see them again.

But even though their fanbase isn’t very large in the U.S., it’s a very devoted fanbase. A very devoted fanbase with a lot of patience and who don’t suffer from heat stroke very easily. That shows devotion.

As I was leaving the show, my new “I Are Scientists” shirt in hand, the endorphins still running rampant in my body, I was wondrously satisfied with my first show at Neumos. As long as it took them to start the show and as warm as it got inside the building, I wouldn’t have changed anything. It’s all apart of a “show.” You’re intimate with the band and they get to see how much fun you’re having. I’ll most definitely be coming back for other shows, and I’ll most definitely be anxiously waiting for the next time We Are Scientists come to Seattle.

It’s just too bad that I’m an english major and not a science major. Now I’ll have to explain the “I Are Scientists” shirt to both groups of people, because the verb tense is completely out of whack.

Oh well, it’s all science.

❤ Abby


Not to sound bitter or anything

10 Jul

But how the hell did Nick Feldman get this gig?

I know this kid, and how did Lil’ Apple Leaf get to be a “Freelance Journalist?” He has his own little blog himself, Nick C. Feldman: The Blog. Not that I’m trying to advertise his sad little blog or anything, but I want you all to see how fucked up this is. Not only is he kind of a d-bag, but his review of the show last night is so BORING to read. Bland-o-rama. Not that mine was so wonderful either, seeing that I was half asleep when I was writing it, but I’ll take a stab at it again later today. A full-fledged review of the show, and you can decide whose is better.

Not exactly saying that this a battle of the words, but it kind of is.

❤ Abby

I’m pretty sure that there’s only one thing that could have made this day better…

10 Jul

Well, possibly two.

One being if Laura were here with me.

Two being if Ryan were here with me.

But no matter, today was most definitely high up there in awesome days lately. The 4th and today are a pretty close tie I think.

But why is this day awesome, you may ask?

Madre and Padre FINALLY caved and let Libby and I go to the We Are Scientists show tonight, after weeks of begging and pleading. Mother finally realized that Capital Hill isn’t such a sleazy neighborhood and Dad let me drive, even though I’m 19 and they technically have no control over me.

But yes, WAS was AMAZING. It took quite awhile to get to them, but that part was good too. They had two opening bands, The Morning Benders and Cut off Your Hands. They were both quite good. The Morning Benders were from San Francisco and they reminded me of the Kooks a bit, and Cut off Your Hands were a little bit like a cross between Bloc Party and Taking Back Sunday, but from New Zealand. It was funny, when they mentioned that they were from New Zealand, someone yelled out “Flight of the Conchords!” And the band was all, “It’s funny, because they aren’t even big in New Zealand.” Anyways, finally at…about 11, they finally started to play. Each of the opening bands played about a half an hour, with quite a bit of dead time in between. But the most excruciating dead time was the time between Cut off Your Hands and WAS. This one roadie guy was up on stage doing all the sound check and stuff. It took so much longer then it had to, so that kinda pissed me off, and the fact that they didn’t have a lot of ventilation, so it got pretty hot in there.

Oh, and the weirdest thing–I swear I saw Nick Feldman, otherwise known as Lil’ Apple Leaf. Nick works for the Daily now I think, which is UW’s student newspaper, and he had a nice camera with him, so it’s possible that he was writing something about it. Damn him! I want that job, and he takes it, even with the Washington Journalist of the Year. Bleh, I never really liked him when Apple Leaf and the Outlook got together. So that was weird, seeing Lil’ Apple Leaf.

But the best part about the show–YES, there is a best part, even though the whole thing was awesome–during “Textbook” Keith decided to jump down OFF the stage and into the crowd, and I just happened to be standing right where he was jumping down, and I touched him. I didn’t cop a feel, but our gazes met and I touched him. I felt like Tracy Turnblad after Link Larkin bumped her in the hallway. So Keith danced around the club, singing to random people in the crowd. It was awesome, I’ll tell ya.

I love their witty banter though. It’s so funny and random. They get up on stage, and Chris starts talking about Craig T. Nelson, who played Coach in “Coach,” which was apparently shot in Seattle. I just thought that it was funny that it was the first thing that Chris could think of relating to Seattle.

I can’t really think of much left to say, because I’m ridiculously tired. It’s 2:45 am. My endorphins ran out. I forgot to bring my camera, so we only have a couple crappy cell phone pictures. Oh well. I knew it was awesome.

❤ Abby

I hate people

9 Jul

Not really all people, just the ones that refuse to pay for a fucking dog groom after I had my finger on its asshole for a half an hour.

I’ll tell you the story.

This woman calls about a dog bath at about 3 pm, and she didn’t bring in her dog, a Collie, mind you, until 5. Alright, I was ready to turn this woman away saying that I didn’t have enough time and she waited too long to bring him in, but he looked in good enough shape to do in 2 hours. So I took the dog in merely on the fact that she said that she was going to tip me big. She talked my ear off about all the particulars of her dog, about massaging his gums and the hot spot on his back and the sanitary trim, which is laymen’s terms means ass shave.

So I knew exactly what to do with this dog. I brushed him out, got out the matts and started to wash the dog. I shampooed him and rinsed him and started to dry him. I was almost done drying when I started to brush out the undercoat as I was drying. And as I was pulling out the dried crap off his but wit the dematting tool, I punctured something.

A hemorrhoid the size of a milk dud, or slightly larger.


So I called in my fellow groomers and my manager and asked what I should do. I called the owner and left a message about what happened, and there I sat, with my finger holding a towel over his bleeding asshole. It was the most disgusting thing I’d encountered at work so far. I sat there for a half an hour, thinking about what we could do. Meanwhile, Annette and Glynda basically clean the place for me. They close for me, when it was my job. Annette even asked to stay an hour later to help me clean up. They deserve very large hugs. Eventually, Annette and I used a huge mound of styptic powder to stop the bleeding. And it worked. There was a large scab looking thing, but the bleeding had stopped.


So I finished the groom like everything was normal. And the woman came in at 8:15, she just waltzes right into the groom shop past the gate thinking that she can. She couldn’t. She’s not supposed to. And she yapped at me more about what I’m supposed to do.

She looked at his butt, with the scabbed over hemorrhoid and was about to tell me off. She was about to yell at me. Seriously, but then we cleaned it off and she saw actually how big it was and she was like, “holy crap that’s the fucking thing?” Duh! That’s why I had to hold hid asshole for a half an hour. Anyway, she cleans off his butt, all the while telling me exactly what I did wrong, including the tool that I used. “You used the wrong tool. That’s a rake.” What the fuck woman? I used what we have. If you want your dog done so particularly, bring in your own goddamn tools or do the fucking dog yourself!

Needless to say, I was angry with her. But not as much as I was after she left. She talked to Darrell, my manager for 20 minutes I swear. I was in the salon, minding my own business, cleaning up what I had left to clean, and then she left. I went out to talk to Darrell and he just looked at me with this frustrated stare.

“She refused to pay.”

Seriously. She refused to pay the $46.99 for the fucking dog bath that I did in 3 hours, on your well-behaved dog, and I had to hold my finger on his asshole for a half an hour. Seriously. Darrell said she was all “well, I don’t want to sue.” Sue? SUE!?! Are you fucking kidding me? I gave your dog relief from the bulging hemorrhoid on his ass, and I didn’t even know it was there. She knew something was there, and she failed to mention it to me, but she mentioned everything else about her fucking dog. I figured that if the dog had a bleeding abscess on his butt, she would have told me. But I didn’t check beforehand.

That’s why Darrell had to write me up. He didn’t want to, but Bob Raymond said that he had to to cover their own ass, in case the woman did sue.

I cried in my car when I left work. I got home and lost it. I yelled the whole story to my father, fucks and shits and goddamns and all, and I cried some more.

But now I just have to keep telling myself, “I’m only there for 2 more months. I don’t have to deal with the crazy fucks anymore, and I get to find a better job. This job is only temporary, and I’ve only been written up once.”

Just keep telling yourself that Abby, and you won’t get upset anymore.

❤ Abby

I feel like I should address this problem

8 Jul

Why do I know that this is a problem?

Because it involves the Jonas Brothers. And it doesn’t involve outstanding hatred. It involves irresistible affection.

Why Joe Jonas, do you have to be so attractive? Why oh why? I’m sure that they wouldn’t be as popular if they weren’t as good-looking as they are. I’m sure of it. They’re like the new millennium Hanson, only they traded in long golden girly hair for dark curly locks and grungy 90s clothes for stylish faux-hipster threads.

Nick still kind of sounds like his balls haven’t dropped, but it’s like your modern day Brady Bunch, sans Jan, Marsha and Cindy. Kevin doesn’t talk or sing at all, and Joe is just…………wait, what was I talking about? I forgot. Oh, yeah, he’s muy attractive. And he’s my age. Not that it means anything, since I’m very happy with my geekily cute boyfriend, but hey, a girl can dream, right?

And I don’t think it’s even their music, because it’s just kinda, eh. But I think I get the same joy in listening to them as I do listening to NSYNC or the Spice Girls–nostalgia. I get a nostalgic feeling with their music. It’s cute, it’s catchy, especially this one little ditty about an time-traveler from the year 3000. Seriously.

I can’t help myself–just look at them.

I rest my case.

❤ Abby

“Keeping My Cojones:” essay take 2

8 Jul

So, I realized how much the other essay sucked, so I completely changed the topic, and it’s much better I think. Tell me please which one’s more fun to read. That’s the objective, at least for me. I like entertaining with my writing.

I’ll just come right out and say it: Never write a 27-page manifesto professing your love for the copy-editor of your high school newspaper.

You look confused. I’ll elaborate.

It took me 15 years to gain some cojones, figuratively speaking, and join my high school newspaper, the Outlook, and I’m pretty sure that it was the greatest decision I ever made. I met some of my greatest friends, did some of my best writing, and learned so many lessons that I never would have had I not joined Outlook.

And one of those lessons being: Never write a 27-page manifesto professing your love for…you see where I’m going with this.

After my first year on Outlook, I wrote a “manifesto” as I’ve come to call it, about my experience so far on the newspaper. That manifesto included vivid descriptions of my thoughts and feelings towards my fellow staff members—one of those people being Jordan.

To say it lightly, I had a major crush on Jordan.

After he graduated, I finished my manifesto and printed it for the rest of the staff to read, not realizing how infamous it would become. It took the name “Hotel California,” but that’s too long of a story to explain. And Hotel California was passed from person to person almost like my own personal “Mean Girls” Burn Book, only I didn’t accuse my math teacher of selling drugs. I revealed my feelings for everyone, including Jordan.

It was the very last day of newspaper my junior year, a whole year after Jordan had graduated, and as most Outlook alumni do, he came back for a visit. To tell you the truth, I was slightly more apathetic than I thought I would be. That was until my newspaper adviser, Mr. Smith, begged me to let Jordan read my manifesto. By now, all the pages were laminated and bound in a two-inch binder, as if it were as sacred as the first documentation of man. Initially, I declined Mr. Smith’s request to hand my book over to Jordan, but after constant pleading, I finally gave in, and let him give it to Jordan.

I did not expect it to be so nerve-wracking.

I sat at my desk, staring blankly at my open Word document, glancing to the door every once and awhile, sweating almost as much as Ruben Studdard in the finale of the second season of American Idol. I could just picture Jordan in the other room, laughing at my horrifically embarrassing manifesto, basking in his own delight. I didn’t even want to think about what he was going to say to me once he walked through that door. The door that separated room 530—my sanctuary—from the rest of the world, where I was the laughing stock of my high school, and its alumni.

I darted to the bathroom to avoid passing Jordan as he left, and to release my anxiety via toilet bowl. Why had I even brought myself into this situation? Why had I let Mr. Smith give Jordan my manifesto? Why did I even write it? Those were all the questions going through my mind as I heard Jordan walk by the bathroom door into room 530, where I was supposed to be, to face my fate.

So I left the bathroom, my dignity still intact, ready to completely lose it.

I quickly ninja’d my way into my seat without anyone seeing me, but then I heard my fellow staff member, Ross, shout out “Oh, there’s Abby!” I froze. Why, Ross, WHY? Then I saw my life flash before my eyes, in a blaze of glory, out with those of Outlook legends, only mine was one of humiliation, not of journalistic excellence.

He stood there above me, staring down at my timid little face, ready to witness his amusement in exchange for my pride.

But he didn’t. He didn’t laugh at all. There in room 530, Jordan reached his arms open wide like a anxiously-awaited security blanket and said, “Give me a hug, Abby.” I stood up and hugged the man that I had so wanted to hug for such a long time.

I then realized something—I lived through all the anxiety for nothing. My weird, obsessive compulsion in writing my manifesto paid off. It wasn’t my original intention, but things worked out for the better. Don’t worry, be happy. Take the risk and let the cards fall where they may. Yes, I just stated two ridiculous clichés, but hey, they fit.

And again, don’t write a 27-page manifesto professing your love for your copy-editor, just to be safe.

We Are Scientists @ Neumos…

7 Jul

May or may not happen for me…why? Oh, I’ll tell you why.

I’m trying to figure out how I can lie to my parents about going to this show on wednesday. I REALLY want to go, because WAS never comes to Seattle, and they have an in-store at Easy Street Records at 6, and the show at Neumos is at 8. If anyone is seasoned at lying to their parents, let me know.

I know that it’s ridiculous that they still tell me what I can and cannot do when I’m 19–really, I shouldn’t be listening to them. I shouldn’t have to listen to them, just because I live and eat in their house, doesn’t mean that they can control me completely. Ugh, I’m so frustrated, because the only reason that they’re not letting me go is because I have class on wednesday and my Dad is incredibly paranoid about me driving in Seattle–hence, I’ve not ever driven in Seattle. It’s stupid…I know.

So I’ve almost decided that I’m going to go, even though my parents told me not to, I just can’t figure out a good lie on why I’d be out until after midnight or so.

But yes, I love We Are Scientists so much that I’d risk getting a major verbal whooping from my parents to go see them.

❤ Abby