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.