Paparazzi encouraged discouraged.
At approximately 4:15 this afternoon, Melissa Lion and I will be making fun of disabled people discussing Fair Trade and things at The Nightlight Lounge on SE Clinton with a cold chocolatey martini in front of me and a fistful of dollar bills to shove into the jukebox. I plan on playing the entirety of Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska and then maybe moving on to some Belle and Sebastian. I will go nowhere near Steely Dan because that is soooooo 2007 but I might play a little Nick Drake. Or Nick Cave. Or Stevie Nicks. One of the Nicks. I would play some Camera Obscura because I am obsessed with them right now or Eskimo and Sons, but I don’t think the jukebox at The Nightlight (or probably anywhere except my own fantasy jukebox) has either of those. Maybe someone who works there will read this and stick one of their cd’s in there and also, while I’m wishing for things, maybe the New Yorker will ask me to blog for them and pay me $500,000 a year to do it. That would be nice for me and, dare I say it, for them too. I would also like a flying bear cat dragon. Please.
So, now you know where we’ll be and what I’ll be drinking and what kind of music taste I have (Good - well, our friend Nate might strongly disagree with this because of my love for Guided By Voices and my kind of meh feelings about The Hold Steady) and if that doesn’t alert your inner stalker* (although God knows you all have much more important things to do than stalk me unless you want me to bore you to death with stories about my cat or that time I met Robert De Niro and he wasn’t wearing any shoes and I saw how tiny his feet were which kind of freaked me out) I don’t know what will. But I tried.
I TRIED, OKAY?
* Having my own personal stalker might stroke my fragile ego. I am just saying.
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14 comments
What, are you describing my perfect jukebox? Nebraska? GBV? B and S? Even the Nicks?
I must go to this bar. Not tonight though.. can’t make it. I have to return some videotapes.
When you get up here this summer, you, me, Dane, and Dave are going there first. Then, karaoke.
That’s so nice of you to give your stalkers a heads up. Now they won’t have to waste the next 36-hours sitting in a parked car across the street from your place in their soiled, NASA-brand adult diapers waiting for your nightly Phish Food run so they can sift through your garbage. Would it have killed you to post a schedule like this back in ‘95, Alyssa Milano?!?
Christ on a stick, some people are so inconsiderate.
Justin-
ha.
Robert -
also…I’ll have another basket of bread please.
I’ve been stalking your blog…does that count?
I live in Nebraska
Sorry i know it seems lame to get excited about that being mentioned, but we are pretty much the forgotten state, so when i see someone not from the midwest mention it it makes me happy.
Hey, thanks for having a foodish blog that doesn’t make me feel like a total fat asshole for not spending enough time contemplating the age old splenda vs. sugar debate. I was starting to get sort of discouraged.
Now, are you prepared to be my personal Kath?
“Dear Kiala,
Every night before bed, I eat (NATURAL) peanut butter from the jar with a spoon covered in brown sugar.
Any ideas about why I’m not losing weight?!?!?
thanks,
Jenny”
In the blinding light of morning, I realize that came out a lot meaner than I wanted it to. I’d take it back, but this is the internet and we all know things here are completely permanent. So, I’ll go ahead and do the most embarrassing and call attention to my meanness and lack of overall balance in the last twelve hours. Okay, that’s my last comment, I swear.
I love Bruce’s Nebraska. I play it while I’m writing and pining for boys. Steve loves hearing it.
Jenny -
That had better NOT be the last comment ever. I thought I had finally found my people.
Don’t take it back. It made my evening last night. I think you’re awesome.
I suppose I could hop a jet and get there in time to indulge my inner stalker. I’ll see how lunch goes first, though.
this is a food blog????
it does make me sad that you and my girlfriend read kaths blog. It gives me the creeps.
I know. But I like her food. And her husband has a wicked sense of humor and it’s just, I don’t know…soothing somehow…to women. I can’t explain it. Plus, I LOVE it when the comment fighting happens.
I’m an asshole.
And no, it’s just my blog. And I eat food. So there is that.
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