All the links of White Stripes show reactions over at Catherine’s Pita (jump over there and click on the review links… because web people like referals) sent my head into a tizzy. WHERE ARE THE REVIEWS ABOUT JACK WHITE’S ASS?

All I keep hearing about is how big Meg White’s chest is. Yes, it’s there. Yes they are big. Yes she’s cute. But NO- We do not need every review to mention it. I’m going to the show tonight and you can be ASURED that my review will NOT include comentary on Meg White’s boobs. At least I don’t think… And come to think about it, I don’t really want to talk about Jack White’s ass either. Or any of his other body parts. Or do I? Oh I give up.

Praying for “Astro.” That song is way hot. Oh Jack- you and your guitar.

Oooooooooh the hipsters are out tonight! A little bit hipper than they used to beeeeeeee…….

Why I Really Should Wear Pants

About 20 minutes ago I was in the kitchen, making a Nutella sandwich. Now I think I need to make clear that it’s 3 o’clock in the morning. I thought my roommate was in bed- asleep. So I’m out there like in my underwear because that’s what you do at 3 o’clock- you go to the kitchen in your underwear. Well I wasn’t completely in my underwear, I was wearing an XL tshirt, but I certainly wasn’t wearing any pants (you know, like trousers… not like- underpants). So all of a sudden the door opens and my roommate comes in with two guys.

I’m like “Hi.” And I’m thinking, “I’m not wearing pants.”

One of the guys was my roommate’s cousin, who I’d met before- but there was some other Aussie dude I’d never seen before in my life. The cousin asks me if I went to a concert tonight because he knows I like music and I go to a lot of shows… I felt so predictable- I was like, “Yeah I did…” He said, “Really? Where was it?” I muttered something like, “Oh it was up in the 20s… It was Mull Historical Society…”

Then Random Aussie (as he will now be known) goes, “Youtwo?” I’m like, “I’m sorry?” He was like “U2.. Do you know the band U2?” I was like, “I know who they are, yeah.” “Do you like them?,” he asked. I responded with a mild, “Yeah they’re ok.” Then he inquired, “Would you see them in concert? … like if you had a free ticket or something?” I was like, “Sure. Yeah- they give a good show.” He prodded some more- “Would you pay to see them?” “NO,” I said.. maybe a little too quickly.

He turned to Cousin and Roommate and dismissively said, “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about! She doesn’t even like U2.” I was horrified. If I had been wearing pants, I would have argued with him. But I wasn’t- and all I wanted to do was put some clothes on.

Luckily this link from Meg on How To Fake Being an Indie Rock Expert made me laugh through my sorrow.

Oi! I love Scotish people!

Mull Historical Society was fun. Especially… uh.. “M.H.S.”

Random stuff happened at what Ria would call the gaaaaaaaaaaayllaa– I saw some guy I used to work for who once made me alphabetize his entire CD collection of litterally hundreds of CDs. His office was always a mess- and so was his apartment. I hissed every time he passed by me.

Have you ever seen a 19-year-old pale lanky blond Scotish kid scream out “WHO’S YOUR DADDY?” while holding a violin? No? Well I have…
there was some Scotish Funk band, which proved to be hilarious… and the classic dancing fools of “Drunk Guy,” “No Rythm Guy,” and “Swaying in Seat Girl.” Then some of the MHS crew got a little cheeky and started running up on the front of the stage and dancing like nuts- one of them even jumped on the stage and shook his ass- just so their mates in the other room, watching on the TV monitors could have a laugh. Good times. Good times.