Things are a happenin'. As they tend to do. Fall came, went, and came again in the meantime. It's on its last legs now, even if the calendar says different. I know better. I can smell the winter.

If you've been reading, you know I went to Vancouver for MJ & Kathryn's weddin'. Many future jokes will now have to be made about "keeping up with the Jones." I can hardly wait. Here's me and my homegirls at the reception and me with Craig, who served as my date. Note that I busted out my ten year old prom dress. Believe it!
What else? I dunno. Birthday parties. Halloween. Karaoke. All that fun stuff.

Anyway, there's your update. Consider yourselves informed. Go out and take a whiff of the winter. It's coming. It comes.

Love and Pixels,
Fact: I hate concerts.

This is something few people would admit. It flies in the face of all things "cool." To hate concerts is to hate youth, and fun, and the urban and the now. It's much worse than hating hipsters and urbanity and the pretentious (all generally accepted forms of urban, pretentious, hipsterified hate). To hate concerts is - if the criticism I generally receive is to be believed - to hate music. It's like hating ice cream, babies, kittlens and puppy dogs.

If you hate concerts, people think you're fucking nuts.

Well... I hate concerts.

I'm sorry. I just do. I LOVE music, but (and?) I hate concerts. I'd rather go to the symphony than a traditional rock show. I'd rather go to the effing opera. I just hate concerts so much. I hate the mash of people. The way they bump into and elbow me and breathe on me and stomp on my feet. I hate not being able to see (and I never can because I'm only five four and the venues suck and aren't stepped). And I hate the venues! I hate the dingy, smelly, lame-ass, overpriced venues, with their stenchy, swampy bathrooms and bad-natured staff who scowl at you if you order a water (even if you tip). I hate the eye-rolling bouncers and the lines. The lines! Oh how I hate lines. I never want to wait in line, even when and where a line is relatively appropriate, let alone when it's for NO REASON in the blistering cold.

Dear Venue Bars,
Hi. I don't mean to be a douchebag here, but if you don't want me in your bar, then please, don't make me wait in line. Don't want my hard earned money for your overpriced, watered-down drinks? That's fine. I can go somewhere else. Just TELL ME THE TRUTH.

I mean, if there's no one in the bar, then WHY is there a line??? There shouldn't be a line. And if there are people in the bar, if the bar is, say, legitimately full, then THERE SHOULDN'T BE A LINE. Please, Bouncer-Men, tell me the truth. Just say "Sorry, miss. We're full." I'll smile and be on my way, I promise. You don't even have to call me miss.


It's sad, really. The fact that concerts are, in my opinion, so often awful. Awful 90% of the time, actually. Because I really do love music. Music I can hear. Music not played at an obscene volume and steeped in feedback. Concerts are a problem for me more often than not because they taint the musical experience rather than enhancing it. Thanks to the environment, the myriad of problems associated with venue bars, and city life, and selfish and obnoxious show-rat attendees, more often than not, I leave shows LESS inclined toward the band or artist I went to see in the first place. And that, my friends, sucks. It sucks balls. It sucks the bag. Big time.

So what's a girl to do? Suck it up, I guess. I may hate concerts, but no one else I know does, and I love my friends. And I love the sorts of little indy bands that play at the venues and in the environments I abhor. So I suppose I'll just keep going. I'l wear earmuffs in the lines and earplugs inside. I'll invest in steel-toed boots. I'll get over my physical space bubble issues. I'll touch strangers for long periods of time without panic. I hope.

I've seen some decent shows lately. Even considering the headaches, they were okay. I saw this country-type band One Hundred Dollars at Sneaky Dees last week (after a freezing two-hour wait in line). And I saw a friend of a friend's band - Key Witness - at The Horseshoe over the weekend. The music was good even if the overall experiences sort of blew. I like the idea of supporting small groups. So I suppose in the end, despite all my reservations, I am a person who goes to "shows" (as the cool kids say).

All I'm really saying here is this: In an ideal world, all concerts would be at places where we could sit comfortably and drink comfortably, and see comfortably, and hear comfortably. There'd be no bleeding ear drums, no sweaty elbows to the breast, no broken toes. Concerts would be less cool and more fun. Is that really so much to ask? In an ideal world?

Since I'm wishing, maybe I should start with something a little more important, eh?

Curmudgeonly Yours,
Jen (apparently, a 98 year old woman)