Lessons Learned at “Calling All Kids”: Dudes Love Backpacks

I stayed up past my bedtime and headed over to Audrey‘s new weekly Wednesday night party at Sapphire, “Calling All Kids”. Going to this party is like hitting a fiesta at one of your friend’s apartments, except your friend’s apartment doesn’t have a built-in bar and a disco ball hanging from the ceiling…or does it?

How hysterical is the picture below of Ari clinging on to his bro Josh? (You know them from the band The Upwelling) It’s either brotherly love, or a mutual adoration of backpacks. You decide.

Ari and Josh

More photos on Flickr.

MisShapes Is Moving to Don Hill’s

You’ve heard the rumors, but now it’s confirmed: MisShapes is moving to Don Hill’s starting this week! So don’t be showing up at Luke and Leroy’s ’cause it’s just gonna be you and some confused New Jersey teens standing outside. The MisShapes crew is psyched about this move because Don Hill’s holds a special place in their hearts–it’s the venue where the fierce trio first met. Adorable. Check out this week’s flyer:

MisShapes is Movin'!

Oh, and speaking of MisShapes, I was checking out the Dec/January issue of ELLEGirl that I got in the giveaway bag from the party at Webster Hall (BECAUSE I LOVE TEEN MAGAZINES), and who is featured in the “Behind the Music” story but Ms. Leigh Lezark! But she wasn’t the only familiar face I saw…across from here was a photo of the stunning rock writer Elizabeth Goodman, who I knew when she was just beautiful Lizzie from apt 3A. What the bio about her didn’t reveal is that Lizzie used to be a school teacher. Can you imagine having such a looker wrangling a bunch of tykes? Talk about hot for teacher (you, not the kids)!

Things to See, Do, and Buy in the Next Few Days

We will now “reprezent” to all our friends and people who we haven’t slept with/slept with/sleeping with our friends/thought about sleeping with/will never sleep with/will one day accidentally sleep with/related to someone we slept with/slept next to/are fundamentally against sleeping/like sleeping with bunnies/just like social incest…

THURSDAY: The Stills, FREE in Battery Park (Tickets required, they start handing them out at 5pm day of.)

SATURDAY: Catch our friend Andy read his essay about the MC5 from the new book Kill Your Idols at Sin-e. (And hear some great local bands do cover versions of the songs trashed in the book.)

Surefire, Photo by MM

SUNDAY: Surefire, Elkland, The Bravery, and My TV’s at Rothko @ 2pm. All ages, $15.

We are DJing said Surefire gig.

Sons of Sound @ Sin-e July 14

NEXT WEDNESDAY: Sons of Sound play Sin-e.

NEXT SATURDAY: The Siren Music Festival featuring The Fever, TV on the Radio, …Trail of Dead, The Thermals, and many more. FREE! Coney Island.

Elefant, Photo by Vorrasi

IN TWO TUESDAYS: Elefant play Bowery Ballroom with VHS or Beta.

IN TWO WEDNESDAYS: Elefant play Bowery Ballroom with Elkland.

This Past Week In a Few Paragraphs

The week that was started off last Thursday at Le Prom de Ultragrrrl thrown by SPIN (see right). Stepping inside Rothko, we instantly felt like we stepped into indie prom heaven. Boys in penquin suits and ladies in fancy dress. The Killers provided live music, all the while decked out in formal attire. It was awesome.

Mine, all mine

Let us note that Rothko has like no ventilation system whatsoever. Because of that, everyone ran outside as soon as The Killers played their last note. 45 minutes after we stepped outside we were thrown on top of a car and molested, had our ass grabbed, and had our ass kicked. This is what happens when you let friends drink vodka.

Friday it rained like a motherfucker. Just complete downpour which thrwarted plans to go see Farenheit 9/11. Instead watched Unhook the Stars and One Night In Paris. One Night In Paris was absolutely wretched. The dude, what’s his name? Rick Soloman? He does commentary before each of the four segments on the DVD. He’s all like, “Oh in this one Paris is real shy because it was our first time filming”, blabhalbhalbah. What an asshole! Paris darling, why you keep pickin’ up trash? (See Nick Carter.)

Saturday while eating brunch we gawked over the prettiest boy in a New York band then tried to see Farenheit 9/11 again. Unsuccessfully. We walked over 100 blocks and then we went to MisShapes for Karen’s Birthday/Open bar/Killers listening party. The moral of Saturday evening was don’t let us drink vodka, even if we look really cute doing it.

Sunday we finally saw Farenheit 9/11. Our “President” is a fucking moron. Later we watched the worst movie to come out last year, Love Actually. Who let that piece of crap get produced? Dear lord, it was awful!

Monday we saw Surefire headline Mercury Lounge, which was totally awesome. There were totally groupies up in the front. It was totally rad.

Last night we saw The Streets and Dizzee Rascal. We have no fucking clue about anything Dizzee Rascal said but it was fun. The Streets were superfly, and the last song of the encore was “Don’t Mug Yourself”. Mikey threw raw vegetables at the audience. Hooray.

Total Buzz

how do you start this?

This weekend was beyond supreme. The level of hottness skyrocketed. We got to meet Whatevs in the live flesh. Holy moley, so best! We also got to meet the lovely Lindsay and TMFTML. Brian I Keep A Diary was also there, and there was a late apperance made by L.Spiers. No one watched the Jessica Simpson/Nick Lacey SNL like they were supposed to. The party turned into a giant speakeasy for bloggers. You were asked at the door what your blog was, and then based on that entry was allowed. It was fucking sickly retarded.

There were these awesome European people we talked to, Fred and Eric (???). Best moment of 2004 was when Fred, the Swedish guy, took Ultra‘s knitting needles and yarn, looked up and said “How do you start this?” Ultra then instructed him on the art of knitting (see above). Second best moment was Lindsay telling the “Maybe she was raped by a boat” story involving Frankie Real World San Fran’s fear of boats and combining it with Drunk Bartender Girl’s fear of African-Americans because she was raped once by an African-American. Hysterical x 20.

We also got to see Dennis play at the Living Room, which is a totally awesome space! Who knew. Despite our efforts to get Dennis to play a Strokes cover, he didn’t. But he did do an Interpol cover. What the hell? Where’s the justice?

Our DJ set at Filter 14’s “Modern Snack Lounge” last night: We spun some weird and wonderful songs like “So Watcha Want?” by the Beastie Boys, “Jump” by Kris Kross, “Milkshake” by Kelis, “C’mon C’mon” by The Von Bondies, “Big Brat” by Phantom Planet, “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” by Kylie, “I Want You Back” by the Jackson 5, “You Really Got Me” by The Kinks, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” by Guns ‘n’ Roses, “When It Started” by The Strokes, “Black Tongue” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, “I’m Waiting For My Man” by the Velvet Underground, (not in that order) and some other stuff. Rob Sheffield, super-DJ, WHY SO GOOD? Rob spun our favorite Stooges song, “1969,” during his set last night. Rob is the raddest person ever.

While Rob was spinning, we were lured on the dancefloor by some crazy dancing man who held out his hand to us. We knew we were in for trouble once I’d taken it, when he started spinning us around and dipping us. But in the middle of being twirled, we got hit with SOMETHING. Some unknown object… maybe a elbow, maybe a glass bottle, we have no idea, other than it REALLY HURT. And then some guy came rushing up apolgizing profusely and they asked if we were OK. We didn’t want to worry anyone, so we said “Yes, we’re OK” and then Rob played “Seven Nation Army” by the White Stripes. We went into survival mode and said to ourselves, “White Stripes song. Must bring the party,” so we started dancing up a storm.

Fast forward 20 minutes later at Shout! at Bar 13, and we’re clutching our head because we have a bump on our noggin the size of half of a golf ball. We persuade people to touch it and revel in the fact that we have a fucking huge ass bump on our head. The bump subsides about 20 minutes after that, but our head still hurts. So if we’re at one of your shows, clutching out heads, it might be because of the injury we suffered, not because your band sucks. Or it could be that your band sucks. It’s your call.