I wanna rock & roll all night...and party everyday (well, almost everyday)

Perhaps the only decent picture I was able to take all weekend.

In an attempt to top my crazy rock & roll weekend of last weekend, I embarked on...this weekend. Two of my bestest pals from Jersey visited me and, along with great Chicago pal, Miss J-Cap, we attended the destination festival revival of Lollapalooza. The festival was held over 2 days (July 23 & 24th, Saturday and Sunday) in Grant Park, overlooking our fair city of Chicago. Two words: lotsa fun. After seeing a bunch of great bands over the weekend, a few thoughts and observations to make (in sort of random order):

1) If you're going to stay outside for 10+ hours in 100+ degree heat (Sunday), don't ask what the actual temperature is. Ignorance is bliss.

I am amazed, however, at how much liquid I pumped into my body on Sunday. I believe it was 4 Nalgene bottles of water (32 ounces x 4), 2 Vitamin waters, and another 3 bottles of water. Sweet hydration.

2) Kaiser Chiefs = Best. Live. Band. EVER.

I guess you could count me as a bit of a groupie (without the trying-to-sleep-with-the-band aspect), as the Chiefs have performed in Chicago 3 times, and I've seen them every single time. In fact, we arrived just a wee bit later than anticipated on Saturday, and I could hear their set starting. I immediately freaked out ("It's STARTING!") and hauled some ass to get over to the show. Seriously, it was like one of those old Looney Toons when the Roadrunner leaves Wile E. Coyote in a cloud of dust. Teenyboppery? Yes. But at least it is justified. God bless that Ricky Wilson...and the rest of the band, for that matter. Each time I have seen the Kaiser Chiefs, they have put on a scorching show, despite circumstances that may otherwise deter them (Double Door show: Ricky's messed up ankle; Park West show: less-than-stellar crowd; Lollapalooza: Ricky lost his voice). The best part, though, is that they seem to be the nicest, coolest guys. I kind of accidentally met them after the Park West show, and they were just nice as pie.

In any case, I think my Jersey pals have been converted into fellow Chiefettes like J-Cap and me. Although we were close to the stage, I was not quite this close to take this picture -- it's from the Lollapalooza website. Besides, I was way too busy rockin' out to take a good picture.

3) Why don't I own any Cake CDs? No one can rock a glockenspiel better. Speaking of bands named after foods and food-related items, Lollapalooza has really whetted my appetite for G. Love and Special Sauce, as well as Spoon.

4) There is nothing cooler than seeing/hearing 20,000+ people sing to Weezer. Again, another "borrowed" photo to set the mood.

Rivers Cuomo (the loveable and slightly sociopathic frontman of Weezer) has finally accepted the fact that Pinkerton does not suck! They played two songs off the record -- including "El Scorcho". If they had played "The Good Life", I would've flipped out Tasmanian Devil-style (to stick with the Looney Toons imagery). Weezer's Blue Album was the first CD I ever bought (I think I was 13 years old or something?), and the songs just really remind me of my bygone youth. Fun times. It was fun times for Rivers, too, who seemed exceptionally happy to be there. It does my heart good to know that we've eased his Prozac dose, if only for a night!

5) Now I like The Killers as much as the next person...maybe even more than the average person, but I wish they would be a little more fun on stage. I've seen them live before, and they do kinda rock...but it could be so much better! Brandon Flowers (lead singer) is sort of a Rivers-esque sociopath, except not as loveable. He could work on that. As it was, their show was a little boring on Sunday...er, not that I'm complaining!

6) Again, not to be down on my sex, but Billy Idol is a bit of a girl when it comes to wardrobe changes. He had about 4 throughout his 45 minute set. In my humble opinion, that's unnecessary and not very punk-like. At least he sang "Rebel Yell" and "White Wedding". But it also sorta sucked because it was raining during his set. Boo.

7) ***This*** is why you must see OK Go in concert, besides the fact that they are awesome.

8) Primus was pretty dope...plus they had rubber ducks onstage. Again, another "borrowed" photo. If only it could've captured the mad crowd surfing going on.



9) Crowd surfing must be hard when you're a girl. Especially if you don't like being violated by thousands of groping hands.

10) Despite the heat, it was just a great weekend. Chicago is a pretty darn cool place to have a concert festival, and I hope that Lollapalooza (or some other big ass festival) will be back again. Who wants to come with me next time?!?

On Monday, the crew and I also went to see Hot Hot Heat at the Metro, which is always a really fun venue because all the kids go crazy (although it makes me feel old because of the all-ages shows). But, HOLY CRAP, does Hot Hot Heat rock! I was extremely surprised...I don't know why. Maybe because they are Canadian? I know...bad anti-Canada joke. I'm sorry! In any case, the kids did indeed go crazy during the show. All Steve Bays (lead singer and keyboardist) needs is a keytar, and that would really make my night.

My throat still hurts from singing and cheering the whole weekend. But that's the price you get for rockin'!

Don't say I'm not indie...bitch

First of all, I know it's just awful that I wrote "bitch". So derogatory of me. And I'm even a girl! Apologies.

It was a long weekend. Actually, it's only been "long" relative to my usual nerdy schedule. On Saturday, I finally got to see one of my favorite bands of the moment, We Are Scientists. Truly awesome. What was even more fun was that they were eating at the neighboring restaurant as I was dining with friends, too. Seeing that only Julie and I know about the band (refer to blog title...bitch), I think we were the only two people who were excited to see our heroes eating dinner. The show was great and extremely "indie" (i.e., not too many people there, but enough to have a good time). I remember the lead singer throwing a headlock in there somewhere. Again, Julie and I danced and sang up front for the Scientists' set. In the restroom after the set, the lead singer's girlfriend (who is an awesome bassist for another band on the bill, Bishop Allen) caught Julie talkin' shit about how the Scientists didn't play many songs from their earlier CDs. Well, Julie wasn't talking shit, per se, but, rather, sadly lamenting the absence of good songs. It just came off as shit-talking.

But that wasn't the most interesting part of the night.

The opening band for the night was an indie four-piece from Philly called The Teeth. They were extremely awesome. At the end of their set, the lead singer (Aaron, as I later learned...wait for it, wait for it...) said something like, "Yeah, and if anyone has a place for us to stay tonight, just let us know." A little excited from the good music or the booze (who knows?), I replied loudly, "You can stay at my house!" I can be a bit of a heckler at shows, but usually the shows I go to are quite loud, and no one can hear me. At an indie rock show during the very first band (i.e., even less people are there than at a regular indie rock show), everyone can hear you. Including the band.

I thought the dudes were joking and kind of forgot about my comment, until later in the night when Jonas (the drummer...wait for it...) asked me if it was imposing if they did crash on my floor. They really did need a place to stay!

Yeah, so I had a rock band stay at my apartment for the night. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the most prudent decision I've ever made, but I'm glad I did it because I can't bear to think of people sleeping in cars (it's awful as I learned in the Grand Canyon campgrounds). The guys were really awesome and terribly nice. Here they are in my living room, looking alternately dazed and tired (from left to right: Brian, Peter, Aaron and Jonas).



In any case, besides housing an indie rock band for a night and despite the assertion of the blog title, I really have no street cred to be "indie" or "hipster" at all. In fact, if this story demonstrates anything, I only have the credentials of a reckless chump. I also fear that I was an extremely boring host. For gosh sakes, I watched "Being Bobby Brown" and "Punk'd" with the guys in the morning. I just really like being nice when I can (so rare, these opportunities) and helping people -- I can't help it! But for this I know that I might very well end up robbed, assaulted and probably dead one day. God is waiting for me to mess up.

But I also think that maybe we (and I suppose by "we" I mean society in general) are a bit too cynical at times. There are nice people everywhere, right? Maybe sometimes they just seem just hard to find because we often assume the worst about people. Granted, this assumption is probably well-justified many times, but I guess I am still a bit kid-like and naive in my optism and faith in people. Seriously, I forsee a future of being dead and assaulted on a roadside one day. Don't be surprised.

To my credit though, I wouldn't house any stranger and came up to me on the street. Minimally, you must at least impress me with some marketable skill, such as being to able to rock a crowd with good music. The Teeth demonstrated this with more-than-admirable prowess. If they had sucked, I would found it much more difficult to have them crash on my floor.

On Sunday, I went to see the Caesars at the Double Door. They were ooookaay, although they had some weird images projected on them as they played. The guitarist was extremely into it (no, like, really into it...spinning around, dancing, doing mad moves that people usually reserve for air guitar), although the rest of the band did not seem to be ("Hey, let's just stand here and strum."). It made for a strange dynamic onstage, to say the least. I did not offer to house any bands that night...but I wish I did! Tee hee! Just joking...really.

Roadtrip! Part 2 of 2 - Roadtrip Dining = Crap (Except in Youngstown)

At last, I fight the procrastination plaguing me for weeks to bring you the biggest adventure of the return trip from New Jersey to Chicago.

As previously mentioned, our on-the-road dining from Chicago to Jersey was less than appealing. Julie and I expected much of the same on the return trip, so we savored the delight of the fresh donuts and coffee before we hit the road (and after Julie hit the glass when she inadvertently walked into a glass door at the Dunkin Donuts). We also purchased some food at the grocery store so that we could avoid the gross road cuisine we knew awaited us...at least for lunch.

The inevitable happens when we have to stop for dinner in Youngstown, Ohio, which was the location of the super skeevy Super 8 overnight stay during our Chicago-to-Jersey journey. Convinced that we could not avoid eating crap, we at least decide to avoid the standard crap chain restaurants (Perkins, Dennys, Applebee's, etc.) and pick the restaurant attached to the Super 8 restaurant, Station Square Restaurant. If we were gonna eat crap, at least it would be non-corporate crap!

But Station Square ended up being the weirdest restaurant ever. It was very much like a Perkins or Dennys in terms of patrons (i.e., bums like us in sweaty clothes and flip-flops), except there was an odd ambience of chandeliers and waitstaff dressed in a neat and coordinated manner. Although the main menu seemed standard (burgers, pastas, etc.), we were also handed a wrinkled computer print-out (poorly formatted in MS Word) of a "Specials" menu. One item caught my eye:

Australian Kangaroo Filet Italaino

That's right. Kangaroo. Italaino, no less.

Well, despite the obvious misspelling, I was intrigued and ordered the dish, wondering if it was really going to be kangaroo. It was good. I mean, as far as kangaroo goes (whatever this means -- I've never eaten such an animal before!). The meat tastes quite gamey, and it is rather tough, so it needs to preferably be cooked medium or rare and in a sauce. My Australian Kangaroo Filet Italaino was simmered with mushrooms, onions, and carrots in a red wine sauce, served over some pretty tasty house potatoes. Now, I don't know if I would eat it everyday, but I enjoyed my 'roo. Still, I felt a little bad for eating it, because this image kept popping up in my head:

We asked our waitress if kangaroo was a regular item on the menu, or if it was some sort of local specialty. She shrugged casually and simply replied, "No, the chef just got it in yesterday and put it on the menu." Oooookaaaay. After having some exotic mango custard pie for dessert, Julie and I concluded that the the Station Square Restaurant chef was some disallusioned chef from L.A. or San Francisco who decided to move to Youngstown and knock people's socks off with clever ingredients like kangaroo. Mission accomplished. Bring on the 'roo!

Nothing after the kangaroo could really make the night better, except for the additional surprise of the most excellent Super 8 in which I have ever had the pleasure of staying. Take note, folks: if you need to make an overnight stay in Ohio on any trips out west, hold out for the Super 8 Motel on Latcha Road in Toledo. The motel is literally in the middle of nowhere and feels like an awesome truck-stop joint. It's so clean and cheap that it'll just knock your socks off...kind of like eating kangaroo.

Inexplicable admiration for a politician

Well, not so inexplicable when you read speeches like this:

Focusing your life solely on making a buck shows a poverty of ambition. It asks too little of yourself. You need to take up the challenges that we face as a nation and make them your own, not because you have an obligation to those who are less fortunate, although you do have that obligation. Not because you have a debt to all of those who helped you get to where you are, although you do have that debt. Not because you have an obligation to those who are less fortunate, although you do have that obligation. You need to take on the challenge because you have an obligation to yourself. Because our individual salvation depends on collective salvation. Because it’s only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you will realize your true potential. And if we’re willing to share the risks and the rewards this new century offers, it will be a victory for each of you, and for every American.

Honestly, I suppose Barack Obama is a bit liberal even for me at times, but I really admire his optimism and ability to instill hope in people. Plus, without getting too politcal, I think he's doing some good work for my adopted state of Illinois. He seems an extremely capable fellow and good guy. Gosh, I really hope he does not end up becoming the anti-Christ or something.

And, what can I say, I am a sucker for inspirational speeches. I am a big Barack Obama fan. Therefore, I am.

More Summer Reading by Barack Obama
Speech to the ALA
Essay on Abraham Lincoln in Time Magazine

That's Ka-Blamo!

I know that I really should be posting Part II of the Chicago-NJ roadtrip, but this was a discovery that's too fun not to share!

http://www.thelonelyisland.com

Give it a click if you've got some time to kill, or something/someone to avoid (i.e. Part II of the roadtrip blog). Start with a video or two (or three). Then move on the to episodes and the 'Bu (an "OC" spoof).

Jammyriffic!

Roadtrip! Part 1 of 2 - Barry: Fully Loaded (a dangerous suggestion with a Beretta)

On the first leg of the YuhChic & J-Cap 4th of July Weekend tour, we were transported to the magical Jersey shore by Barry the Beretta (thanks to Julie for the name). Barry is my sweet car...and by "sweet" I mean "crappy, but loveable." Is it the weird sideways car handles? The lack of A/C? The hood that doesn't quite open? The poor shocks? The fact that the car is named after a gun? Barry's charms are endless!

We got to NJ without much incident (or A/C). Good job, Barry! The trip from Chicago to Toms River is about 900 miles, or 15 hours of driving. That's a lot of bugs splattered across the windshield (an unpleasant and nasty experience). We stayed at a super skeevy Super 8 in Youngstown, Ohio, and ate some exceptionally crappy road food along the way. Highlights included a weirdly salty Hardee's chicken sandwich and a "BBQ" "pork" "sandwich" (yes, there are reasons for the quotation marks).

In ranking the quality of highway rest stops along I-80, Ohio definitely comes out on top. The Buckeye State provides exceptional facilities for families and truckers alike, and all the stops were equipped with a Souvenir Penny machine -- you know, pay 51 cents to smash a penny. For those not aware, it is also worth noting that the automated paper towel dispenser is very popular once you reach Ohio. When encountering one of these dispensers for the first time, calmly wave your hands in front of the little spot that says "Automated" and don't just stand while frantically waving your hands under the machine (like you would do with the much more common automated hand dryer). Trust me on this one.

Pennsylvania (a.k.a. the "We Are Too Wide and Need to Be Split Into Two States" state) deserves an honorable mention for the cute park-like rest areas with picnic tables that make up for the poorly stocked vending machines.

One of the purposes of my trip was to re-register my Beretta in NJ and swap cars with my parents. Now I have a nifty Chevy Malibu that is actually fully loaded! The ride back to Chicago was much more comfortable (sweet, sweet A/C), and the Malibu (which shall remain unnamed) is much roomier so that I can pack it full of my material possessions when I move back home. But it's just not as cool as Barry (with the exception of the A/C part). I loves ya, Barry! I'll be back!! Let's hope you don't break down before grad school starts!!!

Why New Jerseyans don't pump their own gas...

As a Jersey girl, I have often had to explain why I didn't know how to pump my own gas before I moved out of state. You see, when you need to refuel your vehicle in the good ol' Garden State, you simply pull into any gas station, roll down your window, and tell the gas station attendant what you need as well as your mode of payment. This is usually in the form of "Regular, fill it up, cash." You can throw a "please" in there at your leisure or maybe even ask for fancy Super, but you leave the work to the expert. No tip or getting out of your car is required. It's just what New Jerseyans do. All non-Jersey natives seem baffled by this, and I have usually explained that it's illegal to pump your own gas because it's a fire hazard. I could just be making that up, though.

This week I've theorized a slightly silly reason but possible reason as to why New Jerseyans don't pump their own gas: guilt.

My tiny home state is a fairly industrial one, and packed full of (slightly insane) drivers. In a perfect world, such a compact tract of land would have better public transportation and greater concern for energy efficiency, but, alas, it does not. Perhaps as a way of dealing with our exorbitant energy use, New Jerseyans have "outsourced" the shame of fuel burning (at least when it comes to our cars) to a third party: the humble gas station attendant. If you think about it, gasoline for one's car is the most direct use of a fossil fuel that people have - the driver decides how many miles are driven, pumps his/her own fuel, pays for it at the point of sale, and thus most directly feels the negative impact of using so much gas (whether it is by being hit in the wallet or the actual guilt of contributing to the depletion of a limited natural resource). So maybe the fact that New Jerseyans pay a gas station attendant to pump their own gas reduces the negative associations with burning fossil fuel. I mean, you're paying some dude(tte) to do the dirty work for you. You can drive on blissfully, ignorant of how much gas you're burning. What do you care?

This long and rambly rant is simply a segue into this: I just returned from a 4th of July roadtrip from Chicago to Jersey (and back again...more bloggin' to follow on the trip itself!), and I never want to drive or burn fossil fuels in such a direct manner ever again. OK, that is unrealistic, but I'm definitely walking more and taking more public transportation from now on. And I swear I will never own a Hummer. Pumping so much gas in such a short period of time makes me feel as if I have blood on my hands. Even if it's, at worst, the fossilized blood of baby dinosaurs.

I think that studying environmental issues in elementary school really messed me up as a kid. As if the living in New Jersey part didn't do enough damage. Oy.