HAVA NAGILA WITHOUT THE H (CUT ON YOUR TIP)

ok so first off - i would like to discuss the irony of last night - you know how i was bumming about allison getting booted from p-run? well guess who the first person was that i saw upon entrance to the annex last night? thats right. allison. SO CUTE! i felt like such a freak staring at her but i had to. and i really wanted to have a chat with her about what a complete toon-case vincent is and how he doesnt deserve to be there at all... but alas she had to go dj at another party. shes a fan of die die die apparently. thas cool.

anyhow, my real reason for writing today is that my dear friend matthias would very much like to win a moon man. his band is nominated for the mtv2 award of this years VMAs and it takes the power of the internets to get them to win. and if he wins, we get to go to the olive garden.

PLEASE VOTE FOR STORE CREDIT FOR TUESDAY AT THE MTV2 WEBSITE.
(okay, its really called "taking back sunday" and the song is called "makedamnsure" hooray)

LIFE IS LIKE A BEAUTIFUL GARDEN (THERE WILL ALWAYS BE SOME WEED)

holy crap have any of you ever watched RUNS HOUSE on mtv??? i really need to open my fucking eyes. i dont watch nearly enough tv ive decided. i mean, yes, i think the tv is on at least half the time that i am awake these days, but its generally tuned to sports net ny or whoever is airing the days game (and to the poster from a few days ago - i fucking HATED the phillies this week. until today that is. today they werent too bad. but fuck them and their cheap rent anyway).

so ok, this evening i happened to wander into the living room while brigid was watching runs house. between the manual household labor we were trying to accomplish (read: scraping the fuck outta some bowls), she managed to tell me how runs house is the best show on tv. better than p-run, i asked, astonished. yes, said she, better than p-run. so i watch. and granted i think i just saw about 15 minutes of the program, but im in love. that is the chillest fucking family ive ever seen! run is like, the coolest dad. you almost forget hes a rev. hes just like, a straight-up-cliff-huxtable-style laid back, honest motherfucker. and i mean motherfucker quite literally here. that mom is perenially pregnant. and stopping workouts for a burger? amazing. genius even.

so i mean, p-run, i still love you even though you kicked my girl allison off (she was so cute!!!), but now i need to remember to watch runs house when they show those mammoth marathons that im sure theyll do. i have the worst memory though. dang.

go here.



tonight.

CHICKEN SALAD WITH FOUR LEGS

the summer of 2006 continues to be a weird one. well, i guess not so much a weird one as a bitchin hot lets have fun to forget it type deal. since my beloved sidekick bestowed upon me the gift of photography, ive decided to narrate todays post with pictures!

so first lets backtrack to last weekend in chicago. i know i outlined quite a bit of the learning experience in the post below, but heres some visuals for you lazy cunts (kidding, love you all. all three of you):

jasper and eddie decided to turn the tables on the various journalists interviewing them at pitchfork by bringing along a handy little recording device and forcing the generally inebriated members of the press brigade to smile for THEIR camera. here they are going over the dailies:



the heat was intolerable, as im sure youve already gathered, and so mikey called on his brokeback boy scout skillz to fashion some relief. behold, the terry cloth cowboy:



the brut played their usual guitar-finish-melting set to what, in retrospect, was a tremendous crowd:



afterwards, i went to task making sure the boys became friends with the futureheads. after barry imparted his astrological wisdom on jasper and me (all cancers yay!) and talked haircuts with eddie, dave and i got to talking about the best and worst photo shoots the kids had ever done. the most common shoot scheme? take a band. take a tree. mate. here is the result of daveys and my creative photo shoot:



after the first day came to a close, we hijacked a ton of chicago beers and a bottle of tequila and returned to our hotel. it was there that the gloves (and apparently shirts came off):



what you cant tell from that photo is that AHA is blasting. and yes, that IS mikey b using a lamp for a microphone. i dare anyone who sees these guys at a forthcoming show to blast some aha and see what transpires... its pavlovian. and its amazing.

so anyway, then there was this weekend. i ended up with an impromptu dj set with mark at fontanas on saturday night and with my influx of visiting friends we actually made it a real fun time. maybe too much fun. i felt like dungheap on sunday. which made my trip to greenpoint all the more special. see, i love nightmare of you. always have. hell, how else would you explain allowing brandons cat to live in my apartment (id say brandon, but he was on tour half the time, so lets pretend he doesnt count for now) for a few months despite my allergies and aversion to furniture scratching? so anyway, when i got the plea to come be an extra in their new video for "my name is trouble," how could i resist? or rather, say no? for those of you who have never been to a video shoot, let me start with this disclaimer: NEVER GO TO A VIDEO SHOOT. they are brutal. long long hours, and in this case, long long inactive hours in an un-air-conditioned warehouse on the brooklyn waterfront. so, how to pass the time? PLAY WITH MOTHERFUCKIN MONKEY!!!!!

sarah and brandon just got a new doggie named monkey. she was the saving grace of yesterday. see, first we just had each other to entertain ourselves. and well, that quickly deteriorated into, uh, this:



uh, thanks for that joe. but we would much rather do things like..... teach monkey to drink:



teach monkey about boobies:



and teach monkey to be really damn fucking cute:



keep an eye out for the video, you know you love the song (it pretty much soundtracked orchard bar and we all loved that), and itll give you a whole new appreciation for flow.

A WEEKEND WITH GRAM PARSONS AND A-HA

what a terribly exciting couple of days! first i hit chi-town for the first time ever and had a fantastic trip. hey chicago people, you have a great town! crap baseball team, cool town. (ps - booo omar minaya, first misstep in my book. i heart nady!) i had the usual slew of health-deprived nights with art brut et al. (et al in this case being keith totp, swedish joel and texas jess, not to mention fuschia leslie, the crazy ponys and chinese nige). between the empty bottle's $3.75 absolut cocktails and the art brut tour rider i was so freakin stoked on life. in retrospect that kinda brands me an alcoholic, but as a las vegas frequenter would say, hey, i was on vacation!

the pitchfork festival itself wasnt the highlight. nothing against those folks, but the overall "genre" of the festival wasnt my usual steeze. i will say that mission of burma were fucking awesome, and yes, it was my first time seeing them. apart from that, it was the q-time with my darlin futureheads and art brut that kept me entertained. may i submit my collection of festival wisdom courtesy of its eclectic participants:

barry hyde - cancers (as in the sign) are drawn to people with smooth skin and have a higher susceptibility to hay fever.

eddie argos - wearing male polish and white shades makes you "glam rock." and yes, in my book, the brut are going glam.

devendra banhart - andre the giant used to get his cowboy boots made at some unidentified chicago location, possibly by the name of "lackalackalacka."

jens lenkman - you should never allow strangers to ask you questions about the festival shuttle, especially if they dont recognize you for the non-british speaking meaniepants that you are.

diplo - the best way to ditch unwanted members of the opposite sex is to bring them into the neighboring hotel room party of your favorite british band for a vodka-mountain dew, and then leave. amazing.

all in all a very educational trip to the midwest!

now im back in new york trying to catch up on all the jared gossip that i missed. you see, ive known this dude since high school. hell, we made out one passover in miami. how the fuck did i miss the boat on his potential?? dammit! if i had the foresight when i was 16, i couldve been dating a media mogul. now i just date poor musicians. ugh.

ok anyway, final note on the weekend: devendra drinks frappuccinos. with whip. pass it on.