• Damn you, Bristow. You got DMB last night, and we missed ’em there this year.

    Matthew and I had to console ourselves with a pathetic approximation of a DMB concert held in our den. Sure, there was plenty of space to move about. No B.O. to be found. Unlike last year, there was no new sticky and grotesque-smelling substance on my flip flop to remove the next day because there was a newly-minted drinker in the crowd. Look sweetie, it’s ok not to like the taste of alcohol, but if the alcoholic beverage you’re drinking to get a buzz is marketed as a fruity drink but actually smells like dying feet, you should always find another source for a buzz instead of just leaving it on the ground for everyone’s feet to use for soccer. But there were also no new friends to make who could talk to us about the 100+ DMB concerts they had seen (WHERE DO THEY FIND THE TIME???), and there was of course no constantly-smiling Carter to brighten my mood and angry Dave (well, on some of my favorites like “Don’t Drink the Water” and such) to get me all pumped. Oh man, experiencing DMB from the pit is one of the highlights of summer to me. July seems awfully far away.

    So, as I was saying. It’s summer. The time when my mind begins endlessly compiling my ultimate DMB setlist. I’ve only got one night to play with this year, so I have to make it count.

    I always find it interesting how much Matthew’s and my ultimate setlists diverge. I would encourage the band to pick my list since it’s likely they are waiting for this submission before July’s show. It’s just generally known that I’ve got better taste. OK, not really. But I’m much funnier than he, so that’s absolutely got to count for something. Also, I run the blog. So there you have it.

    Stephanie’s Ultimate Setlist (No order has been assigned — go crazy, guys. Also, it wouldn’t kill you to play some of these that have been neglected, hint hint.)

    • Down by the River (DT)
    • Some Devil
    • What You Are
    • Eh Hee
    • Out of my Hands
    • Warehouse
    • Halloween
    • Blackjack
    • Jimi Thing
    • If Only
    • Drunken Soldier
    • The Stone
    • Louisiana Bayou
    • Rhyme and Reason
    • Rooftop
    • Big Eyed Fish
    • Dancing Nancies
    • Granny
    • Good Good Time
    • Squirm
    • When the World Ends
    • The Last Stop
    • Can’t Stop
    • Stolen Away on 55th & 3rd

    Matthew’s Ultimate Setlist (No order has been assigned — go crazy. guys. Also, it wouldn’t kill you to play some of these that have been neglected, hint hint.)

    • Warehouse
    • Minarets
    • Bartender
    • Two Step
    • Halloween
    • Say Goodbye
    • Don’t Drink the Water
    • Squirm
    • Louisiana Bayou
    • Out of my Hands
    • When the World Ends
    • Dancing Nancies
    • I Did It
    • Big Eyed Fish
    • Drunken Soldier
    • Jimi Thing
    • Cornbread
    • Grace is Gone
    • What Would You Say
    • What You Are
    • The Last Stop
    • If Only
    • Can’t Stop

    May 24, 2015 • Music • Views: 33

  • How does this kind of thing still happen? At a tennis MAJOR, no less?

    I have so many blogs to write. Two in particular are eating away at me because they are so delayed as to be almost ridiculous to produce at this point. Mad Men is over. I’m sure nobody cares to discuss anymore, but I still have so many feels about it that I’m going to write my blogs about the final two episodes anyway.

    But this post is about the fact that despite Monica Seles being stabbed during a tennis match TWENTY YEARS ago, effectively ending her tennis career, we still haven’t figured out a way to keep a random brat from running around on Centre Court at the French so he can take a damn selfie with Federer? [Ed. note: it’s actually Court Philippe Chatrier. I think SOMEONE is looking forward to Wimbledon.] That is the most ridiculous shit I’ve ever typed, and I’ve typed some very ridiculous shit. And anyone who wants to argue that Seles’ career wasn’t ruined, please be assured that I’m not hearing you. She was Graf’s most serious competition, and a Seles who hadn’t experienced that career-altering experiencing would have changed tennis history with the records that Graf holds being pretty significantly reduced. I should mention that Graf was one of my favorites. I loved her game, and she was head and shoulders above everyone but Seles, in my opinion. I just know that Seles had a game that was a terrific counterpoint to Graf’s and would have made that period of tennis far more interesting for tennis fans.

    And I’m going on and on about very ancient history. I’m much more appalled that this lack of adequate security is happening now. We have a historical event that exemplifies what can happen in the near worst-case scenario. So, I’m not even asking for planners to have to imagine what types of events could occur. The answer is right there in the Seles incident. So, what kind of idiots are planning the security for the events? And follow-up question, how pathetically inadequate was the security employee I saw in the background who took FOREVER to actually respond and grab the kid and remove him from Federer’s vicinity? Follow-up to the follow-up, why did I then see the kid in question take another lap around the court to (I guess) return to his seat instead of being detained somewhere? I have never felt so worried for poor Nishikori and Mathieu as I felt watching that rando saunter back around the perimeter of the court as if he had not a care in the world.

    I have a tip for everyone involved in the security planning for Day 1 of French Open 2015. You are not cut out for rocket science, people. You are not even cut out for my job.

     

    May 24, 2015 • Tennis • Views: 23

  • I’m a medical marvel! Probably.

    I haven’t asked Matthew if he thinks this is a possibility or even a probability because I think he would agree so wholeheartedly that I would probably get my feelings hurt a little bit. Well, maybe a lot. Then I’d be walking around all Charlie Brown-like for a few days, and it’s hard to be super productive when you’re Charlie Browning it. I mean you’re head’s all droopy. You’re probably running into things, so you’ve got bumps all over your head and elsewhere. But, hear this. I would totally kick the SHIT out of that football though. Lucy, you’ve been warned. I would feint, and then I would….whatever the next word is after feint. Wait. Isn’t feint what you do in boxing? I would juke, and then I would…wait. Juke? Is that the right word? I would perform evasive maneuvers? No. That’s a ridiculous way to say it. I’d just fake her out. And then I’d kick that stupid football. And it would happen all slo-mo like and I’d be saying “You suck, Lucy!” all slo-mo like. Which would be super embarrassing for her. And it would be up on the Jumbotron. And they wouldn’t be able to have any proposals or kiss-cams that night because they’d have to keep playing my Lucy diss because it would be so sweet. And……… Yep, it happened again. I got sidetracked.

    Oh YEAH, this was what I wanted to talk about! I’m a medical marvel because of that twinnie all lounging back in my brain. I hope she (he?) isn’t squeamish because have you seen that brain matter? EWWWW. OK. I haven’t ACTUALLY seen brain matter either. I’m not like a legit CSI person, or like a person who’s walking around and happens across some body that’s been recently attacked by the zombies, but they left some brain matter behind because they aren’t very meticulous, and so this person sees some brain matter and now knows how very grotesque that brain matter can be, and now is trying to control the gag reflex because NASTY, and how in the world can those undead eat that crap??? I mean, seriously. Go on a diet if you have to until you can find another source of sustenance because it is criminal to expect someone to have to subsist on a diet of that substance.

    Yikes! This is the most segueish post I’ve ever written. Have I even gotten to the point yet? Also, shut it, dictionary. Segueish is kind of a word, and since none of my segues are smooth, I think my taking liberties with the word is probably appropriate. And it’s my word of the day. So, deal with it. Anyway. The twin in my brain. That’s what I was talking about it. Did you hear that doctors found a twin lodged in some woman’s brain? Amazing, right? I’m 98% positive that I have a buddy hanging in my brain as well. Wouldn’t that explain so much? And I think that twin is bossy as hell. She writes the vast majority of my blogs and refuses to accept a single edit that I propose. She might be a he. I haven’t been introduced formally, so there’s been no chance to suss out gender. But, I am pretty stoked to find out that my serious weirdness comes from the twinnie, and the rest of me is perfectly normal. So far, she’s (he’s?) left me to my own devices in my business life which is an immense relief as this type of writing is completely unwelcome in the business world. I shudder to imagine a technical document written like this. I really hope she stays far away from my business writing or else things are going to get very weird very fast.

    May 10, 2015 • Utter nonsense • Views: 46

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