The Angels Can't Wear My Red Shoes

My friend Lynne (who I met on Vox!) sent me this recently. It's so right on. Even though I'm a few years off of 35, the prospect of over-30 shows is so appealing. Of course, everyone would just be sitting down and the concerts would start at 7 p.m., but at least I could get home in time to watch reruns of "Golden Girls."

Thirty-five-plus-show

It's no secret my apartment complex is marginal at best. I've lived there three years. I like it. My apartment is cute with its fireplace and hardwood floors. Sure, there's some shady activities going on. Sure, someone tried to steal my ex's car when it was parked there. Sure, I've seen the cops around a time or two, but no one's ever bothered me.

However, just in case anyone was unclear about whether I live in the hood or not, I present the latest object that has showed up on the sidewalk outside my apartment:

Tv

My buddy W.B. Mook  made these fabulous Goulet threat level indicators. After I told him I loved them so much I hung them in my cube away from home, he wanted photographic evidence.

Alas, I share that proof (and his handiwork) with everyone....

Goulet

Last night, I'm staying over at the man's house. And his damn room is lit up like he lives next door to the Grizwolds, except it's July and he doesn't. I demand to know the source of this light, because I can't sleep with light on and it was lightning last night (a rare occasion in the desert) and I wanted to enjoy it, and he blames his neighbors.

So, I, of course, have to Gladys Kravitz the situation. Despite his demands that I get back in bed, I had to peer out the window. Sure enough, the neighbors have some sort of floodlight turned on near the back porch. But the more interesting aspect is I could see into their living room.

It didn't appear that they had any furniture. But what they did have only stirred my curiosity even more. In their living room was this giant, and I mean giant, Grecian-looking urn with a lid on it. The thing had to be 8-feet-tall.

I can not tear myself away from the window. I'm running wild with my speculation as to what it is all "Rear Window"-style. I demand he get up and come look at it, but he refuses. After I get back in bed, I continue to talk about it. I even make up a song called "Big Urn," sung to the tune of Tracey Chapman's "Fast Car." I tell him he has to get up and see it. He never does. I bet he will when I'm not there.

When relating this story to a friend, he responded: "Your boyfriend must have the patience of Job to put up with you." I think he just tunes me out.

Renewed love

Went to L.A. a few weekends ago to catch the most excellent Sonic Youth performing their most excellent "Daydream Nation" album. A stop to Amoeba was a necessity. I spent too much money there, like I often do. But I did snag Matthew Sweet's "Girlfriend" album used for $5.95.

Girlfriend

As a 16-year-old, it was pure power pop. As a 32-year-old, it's power pop with a haunting sadness. Guess life experiences will change your music like that.

My friend Anne sent me this recently, and frankly, I can't stop watching it. Sometimes I watch it twice in a row. And I just laugh and laugh. Why is it so funny? I have no idea. I just know when I'm done, I get to writing those "turbo puns."

What are the 10 most memorable music performances you've seen? (Remember, "memorable" may not be good.) 
Submitted by Bill. 

OK, it's a freakin' cop-out blog, because it's a topic that's been handed to me. But I still have to think about it, so that should count for something. Hopefully, a real blog is coming soon.

1. New York Dolls at Tao at The Venetian (of all places) in 2005. Part of the after party for the "Blue Man Group," nobody even knew who the Dolls were. As a result, we were right on the front row, making eyes at David Johannsen. When they launched into  "Trash," I was so excited, I dropped my cigarette.

2. The Cure at Texas Stadium in Dallas in 1992. Robert Smith came out in an Emmett Smith jersey — ha ha ha — just in time to sing "The Forest."

3. New Order at Starplex Amphitheater (now called something else) in 1994. Pissed me off for not singing "Blue Monday" and leaving the stage with no encore.

4. New Order at Coachella in 2005. Redeem themselves 11 years later by not only singing "Blue Monday," but performing Joy Division songs.

5. REM at Reunion Arena in Dallas in 1995. The kick off of their North American tour, MTV was there and little Tabitha Soren was two feet away from me doing her live remote. No, I did not kick her, trip her or yell "Hi mom!"

6. Arcade Fire at Coachella in 2005. I went in lukewarm on the band. Came away a huge fan.

7. Violent Femmes at Starplex Amphitheater in 1994. Really enjoyable, considering the crowd of thousands insisted on singing every word to every song. I didn't pay to hear you bitches sing it, I want to hear the Femmes.

8. Ringo Starr and his All-Starr Band at Mandalay Bay in 2006. Jeff Lynne came out to sing along to  "A Little Help From My Friends" and I shrieked like a girl because I love ELO so much.

9. Joan Jett at  Mandalay Bay in 2006. For covering the Replacements' "Androgynous." That came out of nowhere, but left me smiling.

10. U2 (with Public Enemy and the Sugarcubes) at Texas Stadium in 1992. For being the only concert I've ever been to where someone actually got busted and arrested for smoking pot. More interestingly, it was the guy right behind me.

Show us your hairstyles over the years.
Submitted by Lena Katrin.

Cool

When it comes to cell phones, I've always been a bit behind the curve.

I'm no stranger to having a cell. I've had one since 1999. My first one weighed about 10 pounds and was about the size of a shoebox. By the time I moved up to the smaller Nokia, everyone I knew had flip phones and I felt like Zack Morris on "Saved by the Bell" with his giant brick phone. By the time I finally got the flip phone, everyone had camera phones. By the time I got the phone with what might be the crappiest camera ever known (I could seriously just draw the person and it'd be better quality. And we all know how badly I draw), everyone else had phones that cleaned their houses for them.

I admit it. I've always had cell phone envy. I've bristled when others have showed me their stupid high-tech phones. I've been embarassed by having a giant blue piece of plastic with numbers on it sitting on the table (and taking up half of it). I'm not really that into technology (I don't even have an iPod, for crying out loud. But I do have the snazzy Rio, which is now out of business), but I've always really wanted a phone that can hang out with the cool kids.

On Saturday, I joined the club.

I am now the proud owner of a red Samsung Sync. You've seen the commercials. It's the one where the two guys are  mangling 'Rock the Casbah" with the lyrics "Stop the Catbox." There is nothing this phone can not do. I even spent 20 minutes this morning giving my co-workers a demonstration. I sounded like a commercial as I pitched all its features.

I can access the Internet. Any page. Even vox! I can check my e-mail, as it has options for hotmail, yahoo mail and AOL mail. It notifies me when I have an e-mail. It takes pictures better than my digital camera. It doubles as an MP3 player. And the coup de gras: You can watch TV on it. Sure, it's on a two or three hour delay, so you can't watch it live, and it does come in sets of 7-8 minute clips, but you can watch CNN, the Weather Channel, VH1, MTV, Comedy Central, E!, ESPN, Fox Sports, etc. For an extra fee, you can even watch HBO.

I really can not tear myself away from this phone. I loaded Fischerspooner's "Emerge" as a ring tone last night. I was on the couch and just checked my e- mail from there, instead of getting up to start the computer. If I could marry this phone and have children with it, I would.

Of course, I'm sure my zeal won't last. A week from now, they'll come up with something new and high tech and I be behind the curve once again. But for now, I am relishing in my technological purchase.

Look, ma! I'm a cool kid!

For some reason, these past few weeks I've been living on a steady diet of early' 90s alternative music.

This is odd for several reasons, mostly because I either listen to the really old ('70s punk and '80s new wave) or the pretty new (Oh, Of Montreal, I love you). But lately I've been consuming Dinosaur Jr. like it's almost extinct (*groan*), adding a Sebodah song to my MySpace profile and creating Material Issue AND Lemonheads stations on Pandora.

(An aside: Pandora.com is the most fun I've had at the computer, besides Vox, of course. You create a radio station based on an artist or song you like. The site analyzes structure of the artist's songs, such as tone, tempo, vocal stylings, influences, etc. and provides songs that follow a similiar formula. You then rate whether you like the song or not. The more you rate, the more songs it plays. You can also look at other people's stations. You can create up to 100 stations and it's free. It's great for music to listen to while you're working and can introduce you to all kinds of artists)

OK, back to the blog.

Anyway, I was sitting in the car last night, playing with the Sirius radio and uncovered a new station. The station: "'90s Alternative." It's like Sirius knows! Knows my latest addiction, my latest walk down memory lane. It's like the heavens parted.

But, they really should let me program it. Or, as my boyfriend said "It's '90s alternative for everyone else. Not for Aging Hipsters."

They seem to overload on Alice and Chains, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Nine Inch Nails and Stone Temple Pilots. If  it was my station, it'd be stuffed with Possum Dixon, Pulp, Teenage Fanclub, My Bloody Valentine, Pavement, Material Issue, Lemonheads and all Lou Barlow projects.

And then I'd crank it up, put on my Blossom hat and my stripped stockings and kick back a nice glass of Strawberry Hill.

Ahhhhh.

Like 90 million other people, I watched the Super Bowl yesterday. But, you know, I really just look at it as an excuse to eat, hang out with friends, drink beer, watch commercials and follow the flock. Everyone else is watching it, so I must, too.

Commericals were only so-so this year. But I couldn't understand why Coca-Cola advertised so much. I equally wouldn't understand it if Pepsi advertised as much as Coke did.

Why? Because I think it's stupid to spend that much money to promote a product that everyone pretty much knows about. Not only knows about, but the majority of people have also tried.

I'm a Coke drinker, through and through. Pepsi can advertise all they want, but I'm not going to be persuaded to buy their product, because I've tasted it, and it sucks. And Coke really has no need to advertise as far as I'm concerned, because their ads are not going to remind me to keep buying Coke, because I would anyway, ads or no.

I know, I'm on a random soap box.

I did eat a lot of good food yesterday, and we came up with several band names in case, you know, one of us gets musical talent someday. Don't hold your breath.

In other news, we got our Coachella tickets last week. My fourth year, and the lineup is probably the best since my first Coachella back in '04. Hooray!

In yet other news, busy weekend all around. Went out Friday night to catch some bands. Some guy who looked like Borat in a Cosby sweater kept approaching our table. Went out Saturday night for a delightful evening of sushi, friends and more bands (A perk of being in the 21-year-old hipster-laden Beauty Bar. I was cool before half that crowd was even born. And then they annoyed me by their enthusiasm of the playing of the Cure's "Just Like  Heaven." Dude, I actually remember when that was released. The first time. I wasn't..1-year-old. Hey, I'm not a cranky aging hipster for nothing). At any rate, when we were leaving and walking toward our car, we saw the Borat in the Cosby sweater again, and of course he remembered us. I couldn't believe I was spending my entire weekend with this guy. He totally wanted to "make sexy time" with us.