Cat Power, Cat Goiter

Disclaimer: Yes, yes this post is way late.

This past Friday Cat Power played the Ballroom which was a show we were all fairly excited about from a business standpoint. I liked 'You Are Free' quite a bit but this probably isn't a show I would have paid to see. And judging from the reactions I heard, I think a lot of attendees regretted paying in the end. Chan is renowned for her breakdowns and I'm sure a portion of the audience was interested in the show from a voayeuristic standpoint alone. Apparently they were not disappointed in the end [via Stereogum]. I brought three friends along who were similarly intrigued enough to go for free, but about 15 minutes in to her set we had to leave. The whole sitting down silently while she played two alernating chords and sang too quietly to be heard was not the Friday night affair I had envisioned. So we left to begin a real evening with drinks and conversation and such. I'm all for an artistic show but it almost seemed like she's exploited this whole crazy card to up attendance at shows people normally wouldn't care about because they're boring and uninsprired. At least we got our money's worth.

Saturday brought beautiful weather and a slightly hungover me realizing I should've thought about the horseback riding lesson I had at 1 o'clock before drinking myself silly the night before. Couple points on that--I have this fear that "horseback riding lesson" conjures up so what it shouldn't. At least in my case. Cause it's not like that. Promise. Also--1 o'clock. Even if I had thought about this the night before the thought process would've gone something like 'oh, tomorrow I have something I shouldn't be hungover for. oh but it's at 1, no way I'll still be feeling it at 1, who would? only a pussy. Another round!' But yeah, that's me, and it was me, and it was unpleasant. But I survived and post-lesson Adam and I started our trek to DC for the New Pornographers concert.

I haven't been a NP fan for as long as some of the tried and true, but I have the whole catalog and was looking forward to a sunny pop concert where I could sing along with every song and dance with my neighbor. I sang along regardless but it wasn't the care-free, feel-good experience I was hoping for. As usual the DC crowd was less animated than one might have hoped, but in the end it was the band that appeared least excited of all. Carl Newman may say NP albums are about "ways of seeing the world," but he readily admits that the most important thing is "the music and the melody, after that I'm just trying to figure out how to fit the words in there, because the words always have to have a certain feeling." To me, that feeling is gooey pop rock that makes me think of caramel or something. Seeing a candy-coated band play straight up versions of their songs straight-faced just doesn't do it for me. The feel-good songs and tight performance meant the show wasn't a let-down overall but the consensus amongst my companions was that it was definitely lacking.

Post-show Adam and I drove all the way back home (and by we I mean me, the only stick-driving SO) rather than crash in DC for the evening. Upon our return I was petting Holmes, [my normally cuter than cute cat who is widely accepted as the awesomest cat ever by people like myself who generally think cats are lame] only to discover some weird goiter-like mass on his tummy. [After a bit of freaking out, my fears were allayed when I learned on Monday that was not a tumor but and abscess [note to you, no need to Google it] could be easily drained, for some umpteen hundred dollars, natch.]












My Sunday freak out was somewhat stymied by preparations for Adam's birthday. After my stellar birthday performance last year when I [with some help] surprised Adam with a new car stereo, I couldn't believe he bought my blase attitude about the whole event--I suggested we might be able to get together on Monday during lunch to have cake and that I would get him a present eventually. He had to work Sunday night and plans were already in the works mid-week to surprise him at his job with presents and friends and general good times.

Naturally, we had to wait a bit for things to die down at the Bistro so we decided to continue the smashing success tht is our Sunday Summer BBQ [which will henceforth have to be called something else I guess] and have kids over for burgers and tots. Who knew the tater tots would be such a success--so much so that somehow 5 lbs of them got eaten. The cat? Seen above? About 6.something lbs. FYI. About a Holmes' worth of tots we ate. Maybe the tots were such a hit because the burgers were...not?

Nate also brought over some wine so our Sunday wine tastings continued, and Thom was inspired enough to make an apple pie from scratch.

Not to be out done, I had stealithy anticpated the creation of this deliciousness and prepared the birthday cake of birthday cakes.
Post-wine and tot tasting we headed to the Bistro and coordinated our entrance so as to create the biggest most annoying scene possible for any remaining Sunday night diners. It all worked flawlessly, Adam being both surprised and embarassed, as well as thankful for all the goodies, edible, inflatable, and otherwise, that we bestowed upon him.

******

Honestly it is so WAY past last weekend that I can't even remember what I wanted to say next or the witty closing I'm sure I had planned for this entry. Suffice to say there was one.

Disposal Ethics

Our garbage disposal has been broken since this past weekend. I keep promising myself it has nothing to do with the shards of glass that went down there after Adam broke a pot top in the sink last week. I mean I stuck my hand down there and pulled out every last piece I could feel and after that? when I ran it? you could barely hear all the crackling and grinding and general breaking of the disposal, I swear.

Anyway the landlord promised someone would come check it out today and I kinda believe him given that he got over to the house last Saturday in about 3.67 minutes after we informed him that there was a foot of water in the basement and my cat's litter box was floating off toward the unexplored lands of Washer and Dryer. [No, the cat was not in the box, equipped with a small oar and sailor hat, meowing such as to make it sound as though he were calling "land ho! land ho!"....but wouldn't it have been funny if that had been the case?].

So today when I ran home for a late lunch I was dismayed to see that the garbage disposal fixer man had not yet visited us--largely because this meant I would be guilted into actually moving all the old dishes out of the sink that had been left there because hey! the water's not draining fast enough! guess I won't do any dishes at all! So I moved the dishes while heating up some lentil soup that I didn't really want but decided I should eat because it's cold outside and also soup is healthy [sort of] [when not eaten alongside a [delicious] toasted pita filled with cheese [two kinds]].

I knew I wasn't going to want all the soup so I poured some down the drain before I even put it in a bowl, and by the time I was about half way through eating it I realized I really didn't want the rest. I could've saved it, yes, but having recently thrown out about 139 Tupperware containers of lentil soup that Ray and I had accumulated in the fridge, I decided today was not the day to re-start my stockpile. So then what to do? The lentil soup was almost thick enough to warrant disposal in the garbage, but still soup nonetheless and hence it's logical resting place would be the disposal...or wherever food goes post disposal. goo! But do I really want to subject my disposal fixer to lentil soup? I mean with him not knowing what it is and all, that's gotta be one of the nastier things for him to stick his hands into, and I'm convinced that'll be his first plan of action upon arriving at our house [not sure why...maybe cause it would be mine]. Then again, I just changed the trash bag and I'm really not trying to have nasty soup sitting in the bottom of the trash for however long.

In the end I went with the trash. There was already lentil in the disposal so Mr. FixIt will have his fill I'm sure. And even though I'll bet he makes 14 times what I do to compensate for having to stick his hands in yucky gunk every day, I still want to make his experience at our place as pleasant as I can. But maybe that just means making him a cheese pita.

Extra Ordinary

Everyone seems to be fawning over the new Fiona Apple album lately. Despite the general impression that all I want to listen to is indie-rock dance music, in fact I'm a huge Fiona Apple fan. Huge like I used a line from 'When the Pawn Hits...' as my senior quote which is, you know, a big deal in the whole 12th grade scheme of things. In the end, somehow my senior photo was omitted from the yearbook (a surreptitious plot against me by the yearbook staff?) so if I want to deny all this at a later date I still will, but for now I'm content in my affection for her. Or was. Cause I think this record blows! Granted I haven't listened to it enough to write a full review here, but I was skipping songs left and right this morning when I listened to it because I simply could not bear them. Ugh. It's like they took all the lamest tracks from her two previous efforts, mixed them together in a blender to deny any enjoyable highs or lows, and then laid them down as blandly as possible. Maybe I'll come around upon repeated listens but I suspect I won't be holding my breath for her next record, especially if it takes another 6 years.