Night Two.
Girl Talk and Dan Deacon at the Metro.

These are way too many bags to take on the El.

We were waiting outside in line for a half hour, since doors didn’t open on time.
Brr.

Dan Deacon!!
(photo credit to Gillman on the first one)

I have no idea how this picture of me and Roseanne got taken.

My pictures make the show look kinda tame.
Let’s not forget that this is what a Dan Deacon show is actually like: a complete sweat pit full of flailing limbs, body thrashing and glasses almost being destroyed:

Dan stopped the show and told everyone to pass under this human bridge, and when you reached the end, to put your hands up, so it keeps going and wraps around the entire Metro.
It was fun, but even more so, it was cool to see strangers interacting so happily with one another:

Got embarrassing parents? Want to be on MTV?
I’d get casted, no doubt about it. That’s why I tore the contact info off of it.

(My mom constantly reads my blog. She’ll be mad at me for that one. Hi mom!)

Jonathon Childers, everyone.

Girl Talk!

Physically broken down from dancing as hard as we did two days in a row.

We didn’t realize we were eating our post-show sandwiches on a Ledger tablecloth until it was too late.
(Sorry, Heath.)

“We were a great couple. We dressed funny and made art and took road trips and got drunk a lot. We moved to Chicago together and filled a loft with armloads of amusements from the science surplus store, and we invited our friends over to drink wine with us and laugh at religious people on TV. It was love — love like you see in the movies. Except in movies, relationships don’t change, or grow, or slowly fall apart. They either last forever or end mercifully fast with a thrown plate and a jump cut.” — Damian Kulash, Jr.

This is one of my favorite excerpts from “Things I’ve Learned From Women Who’ve Dumped Me,” the book I’m currently reviewing for Venus Zine. I read it originally thinking it was written by a comedian…and it for some reason seems so much more genuine when I realized who Damian is — the lead singer for OK Go.

I made Gillman drive me to Sonic today to feed my limeade fix, since I can’t have coffee for the next few days until my heart starts beating correctly (my body is all messed, blah.)

I ordered a Diet Limeade and a Peanut Butter Sundae, which sounds great, right?

Wrong. Both tasted like nothing — the ice cream tasted like cold and the limeade tasted like Mountain Dew without the mountainous edge — and now I’m three dollars poorer and a lot hungrier. Boo.

I can either be pregnant and content, or eating for one and completely doomed?

Apparently, being on birth control could make you pick a guy who is completely wrong for you..

How comforting.

This just came in the mail, and you’re going to benefit from it.

For the next two days, I’ll have a sack of Radiohead pins to give away for free. Just find me and let me know you want one, and I’ll pass it off. I have a ton to get rid of, so hunt me down, please. All I need in return is a quick photo of you holding it up and smiling. (You know, marketing stuff.)

Hope you enjoy the pins as much as I do!

Two nights in Chicago.
Two Girl Talk shows.
(My body hurts from dancing.)

This is how the Wisel family does dinner - large and in charge.

Butterfly Assassins, whose song “Sylvia II” has been stuck in my head all weekend

Come with me, blog readers. Let me take you on the bizarre journey that was Northwestern University:

Fun: Dancing on stage for Girl Talk!

Weird: This painting, entitled, “Woman Washing Her Feet In The Brook”

Fun: Girl Talk!

Weird: Everyone staring at us for what we were wearing…while they dressed (halter tops, phrase t-shirts) and acted (awkwardly grinding on each other) like they were at a high school dance.

Fun: Girl Talk.

Weird: The name of Butterfly Assassins’ green room

Fun: Yep. Girl Talk.

Weird: Gregg (Girl Talk) getting confronted by the security about having people onstage…even though that’s his thing.

Fun: Girl Talk. The atmosphere sucked, but the tunes rocked.

I went to John Mayer’s blog for a taste of his cynicism that I love so much…and found out the entire thing is gone. No archives, nothing, except for one post, which says:

“Done&
Dusted&
Self Conscious&
Back to Work.”

I dig his work…but I miss his commentary. I wonder what motivated him to delete an entire journal of his thoughts.

Great Cover Up. Night Three.

A mini Bedouin feast, CU style.

Bedroom party.

Great Cover Up!

JigGsaw as Rancid.
(Carlye Wisel as a horrible photographer.)

Adam Austin has a sweet beard.

Ryan Groff looks different.

Darling Disarm as Portishead.

I have a feeling there was a New Year’s party here once upon a time.

People who don’t like showering:

People who like photography classes and those who teach them:

elsinore as Beck.

I get spooked easily, especially when it’s dark and cold in my parents’ house and I only slept for a few hours and have partial insomnia combined with e-mail overload, but I just read the below e-mail from a publicist:

“www.rorrimkcalb.com is now live”

Hmm. Not the standard publicist e-mail. Take a closer look, though — it’s Black Mirror, spelled backwards.

Arcade Fire fans? Check it out. Make sure to comment and let me know what’s up with it.

(PS - why isn’t this on The Fork?)

I want a fucking gigantic breakfast (with a ton of these pancakes) so bad right now. [Recipe of the Week]

I gotta see more movies with Hallie. [There Will Be Disappointment]

New feature in the music section. Our staff digs it. Do you? [What We’re Into]

Matt Fender got creative…and it scared the shit out of me. (See if you’re brave enough to scroll all the way down to see the photo he made, and tell me about it, since I’m curious but freaked out.) [He Said, He Said]