Back From the Dead

I received an email from a good friend this morning informing me of some HUGE concert news. On Friday 4/8 (as in, mere days from today), there is going to be a concert at Irving Plaza in NYC and that concert will showcase the melodic voices of 1990s Irish bad boys House of Pain.

We all know that my music taste is “special” (awful or amazing, depending on who you are), but we can all agree that back in 1992-1993, “Jump Around” was a huge hit. They ragged on cops for eating donuts! They featured tennis enfant terrible John McEnroe in a rap song! The referenced a story from the New Testament! (That story is the Prodigal Son from the book of Luke. I gotta give props to the book of Luke—as religious texts go, it’s a real page-turner. Good enough to be source material for the musical “Godspell.”) “Jump Around” was crazy catchy, all over the airwaves, and a favorite song of my older sister’s then-boyfriend, which made it the coolest song ever. He would come pick her up for dates and I would eagerly answer the door. The brim of his baseball hat was so thoroughly bent that I couldn’t even see his eyes. During the year of 1993 and in my eight-grade girl brain, a brim so bent that it nearly obscured your entire face was the mark of coolness.

House of Pain was all about Irish pride, which appealed to me and many of my Boston-based friends. Plus, many of us mistakenly thought DJ Lethal, Danny Boy, and Everlast were from Boston. Put a dude in a Celtics jersey for a few promotional photos and stupid kids will automatically think he’s a Boston-bred white rapper. Turns out they’re all from Orange County, CA and DJ Lethal is Latvian, not Irish. No matter—I bought all three of their albums. Yes, there were three. No, they didn’t simply hang it up after that first album. They kept plugging for far too long and I was probably the only loser buying their albums. Let’s take a walk down memory lane, shall we?

House of Pain (1992)

The album everybody knows. Includes hit single “Jump Around” and underrated song “Put On Your Shit Kickers,” which was played on a loop at my house in 1993, much to the dismay of my sweet parents. The lyrics of “Put On Your Shit Kickers” include a laundry-list of Irish-American iconography (corned beef & cabbage, claddagh rings, Celtic crosses). I quoted this song in a paper for my college Irish history class. The professor loved it. House of Pain is an important voice in academia!

Same As It Ever Was (1994)

This was “popular” (that is, my friend Katie and I listened to it) during the summer after my freshman year in high school. “On Point” and “Word is Bond” are strong tracks from this one. And everybody loves an album cover that is an action-shot of a dude getting punched in the face! (Just me?)

Truth Crushed to Earth Shall Rise Again (1996)

Now THIS album was a travesty. Not even the family friendly cover image could make up for the overall spookiness of the music. The HOP boys used creepy sound-effects all over this album in an effort to sound tough that backfired and seemed oddly like a 1930s radio show. I’m fairly sure that I was the ONLY person who (1) bought this album, and (2) had a poster of this album’s cover in my bedroom as a teen. It’s a sad state of affairs when you are actively TRYING to enjoy awful music because you believe in the band. It was during this era that my high school friend Connor (C Note!) bought me a House of Pain bumper sticker for by beloved Nissan Altima. It was the “Shamrocks & Shenanigans” crest from House of Pain’s glory days. I put it on the back bumper of my car with pride, just down from the “Beastie Boys” bumper sticker. Sadly, the House of Pain bumper sticker was killed in a tragic rear-ending accident in Cochituate. Bizarrely enough, that three inch square was somehow the ONLY spot on my entire back bumper that was dinged up in that accident. You were gone too soon, sweet Shamrocks & Shenanigans sticker. Gone too soon.

Tickets for the House of Pain show on Friday are $42 apiece. Yikes. I think I’ll save some money and instead, just replay these three albums in my apartment while wearing a Celtics jersey. Irish #1!

Hamilton Alumni Show Recap

This past weekend I went back to The Hill with Justin Tyler ’01 (and his group Sidecar), Katey Healy-Wurzburg ’05, Chris Sessa ’06, and Liza Rothschild ’08 for an alumni comedy show. Good times were had by all and the show was fantastic. The Campus Activities Board (CAB) and the office of Student Activities generously sponsored and produced the show. Highlights of the weekend included:

-Dinner at Commons! Heyo! $8.25 for all-you-can-eat whatever you want! We even walked the runway in Commons, which gave me flashbacks.

-Giving Jack (the owner of the beloved Village Tavern) a hug and catching up.

-Playing “Night Moves” on the juke box at the Village Tavern. It used to be song #8413 on the old juke box and it was Ginny Berg’s and my anthem.

-Late night eats at McDonalds. You can never go wrong with a 20 chicken mcnuggets, my friends.

-Fantastic show in the barn that was really well-attended.

It was a great weekend, save for one weird exchange went down and disappointed me.

After the comedy show, my sorority was throwing a house party downtown and invited me. I was like, "I'm a little too old for a sorority house party, but I'll pop in to say hello and be polite.” I had been told that the party was in honor of alums who were back on campus-- there were a few. So I go there, said some hellos, whatever. Then a RANDOM guy comes up to me (he looked young and lame-- probably a sophomore or junior) and says, "I was sent here on behalf of my friends to ask you a question, but I think it might be kinda rude..." and I was like, "Huh?"

He then, despite the fact that he thinks it’s rude and has said as much, asks me, "Do you have kids?" I was just so stunned that I said, "What?" and "Excuse me?" about three times. In case you don't know me, I do not have kids. I'm 30 and plenty of my friends have kids, but I don't and I think it's a wholly weird and inappropriate question to be asked by a stranger. Especially with the tone he was using--his tone communicated, "We're making fun of you with this question."

Once I recovered from how blindsided I was, I simply flipped him the bird and told him to get lost. He walked away, back to his equally lame friends. I only knew about 2 people at the party and felt really uncomfortable at that point. So a few minutes later I went to leave because I would prefer to be at the VT (my home away from home in college), where a few other alums were hanging out. As was walking out of the house party, I walked by that twerp and his LOSER friends and they sarcastically said, "Goodnight, MA’AM.” I responded with some choice words to defend myself, and they go, "Enjoy menopause."

Enjoy menopause! I'm frigging 30 years old! I haven't encountered such bizarre sexism & ageism in my LIFE. I was FLOORED by the exchange. I had been just standing at a party with other alum comedians, not bothering ANYONE, when this RANDOM STRANGER came over and, apropos of nothing, asked me an inappropriate question, then harshly insulted me as I walked out.

Later he tried to get into the bar (the VT) and I was with a crew of other alums standing by the door. He walked into the bar and I go, "That's the guy!" and the dudes stared at him and he just walked out. It was nice to have those guys as back-up and have that loser not feel comfortable at the bar, but the whole thing was just upsetting. When I was at Hamilton, there was a small contingent of white, wealthy, entitled males who would engage in that type of behavior, but were widely reviled for it. Just sucks when you bump into it as an alumna who loves her alma mater.

In short, that kid’s a twerp and I hope that someday his idiocy lands him in the middle of a DU or Psi U beat-down. I’m sure the real world will chew him up and spit him out in due time. Nonetheless, my feelings about Hamilton are best said by the school song Carissima: I love thee evermore.

Moth Story Slam

A few years ago I took Storytelling 101 at the Upright Citizens Brigade and fell in love with storytelling. Margot Leitman was my brilliant teacher and it was a phenomenal class filled with interesting people, each of whom had a multitude of wonderful stories--some mundane, others exciting, some heartbreaking, others heartwarming. After that class, I enrolled in Storytelling 201 and loved it just as much. Since then, I have been performing on storytelling shows around NYC and Boston and attending Moth Story Slams in hopes of being picked. Moth Story Slams are completely democratic—anyone can put his/her name in the hat and be picked for one of the 10 slots. Each storyteller gets about 6 minutes to share his/her story and the Slams are always packed with an eager audience. Storytellers share all types of stories, all connected to a theme (that can be checked online weeks before the event).

After 6 times attending the Moth and never being picked, I began to get discouraged. Was I cursed? Did I have storytelling bad luck?

Well, if there WAS a curse, last night I finally broke it (much like the amazing 2003-2004 Boston Red Sox).

The theme was “After Hours” and I had a bang-up story. My friend Leah and I waited in line for 45 minutes, managed to score two of the last seats in the house, and listened to the first half of the show. No sound of “Selena” ringing over the mic. Argh. Would the seventh time be the charm, or not? After intermission, we came back and after a few stories Leah had to leave for dinner plans. Of course, then I finally heard my name and got on stage. I told the story of when I was mugged on Newbury Street in my beloved hometown of Boston. My best friend Suzanne was with me on that fateful night (Thanskgiving Eve, 2006) and witnessed how it all went down. Totally ridiculous & hilarious and I was honored to share it with the Moth audience last night. I tied for first place with a fantastic storyteller named Steve who I’ve had the pleasure of watching before. We got the exact same score and the tie was broken in his favor because 2 out of the 3 judging teams had higher scores for him. So Steve goes onto the prestigious Moth Super Slam and I remain thrilled that I tied for first place and shared a story that I’m very proud of.

In case you missed it, here’s tape of another time when I told that story (taped in January 2011 at Mottley’s in Boston):

Bach Recap Coming!

Amigos,

I know I'm SUPER late on the Bachelor Recap. I'll get around to it this weekend and give you my thoughts on why Brad chose gorgeous blonde Emily over spitfire brunette Chantal. Here's a hint: Emily is blonde. Need I say more!? BOOM!

In the meantime, enjoy this sweet photo of a cute cat.

The Women Tell All!

I didn’t get a chance to watch this season’s episode of “The Women Tell All” live on Monday because I was at a swanky theater benefit enjoying open bar, sick views of the Hudson River, steak, and a live performance by Joan Osbourne. That lady is cool as shit. Seriously. I know that you’re probably thinking that her single “What If God Was One Of Us” was overplayed (and should have used the subjunctive mood instead of past tense in the title), but I the rest of that album was dope. For real. I told her as much. Give it a listen sometime, dear readers.

But let’s get down to my belated viewing of “The Bachelor: The Women Tell All.” First off, Chris Harrison has let his hair get a bit shaggy. I’m digging the look, Chris. Speaking of hair changes, Ashley H. showed up to the reunion show as a brunette with bangs! Ashley H, I thought I knew you! The brown hair actually looks great on her (especially with her bright red lips) and she seems fantastically stable and happy. There’s buzz that she’s lined up to be the next Bachelorette and I think it would be a great choice. Mad love for my A Cup buddy, even if she’s gone over to the dark side (brunette).

But before we get down to biz with the Bachelor cast-offs from this season, we gotta check in with about 150 cast-offs from past seasons! Yes, “The Bachelor Pad” will be coming back this summer and I can’t wait. If you’re not familiar with “The Bachelor Pad” it’s a show where 12-15 rejects from old seasons of “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette” live in a house and tan, hookup, and talk smack. It’s like a mini college experience, if college had involved lots of tanning (which it did for some, but not poolside). They show footage of reunions in NYC and LA, where these tools talk about the “Bachelor Family” and how it’s a great item to bond over in a relationship—that both parties went on TV looking for love and achieved D-list notoriety (if any modicum of celebrity at all). Personally, I’d rather bond over a similar sense of humor or shared interests with a potential mate, but that’s just me.

Then it’s down to business and most of the ladies look good. All except for Melissa. Her blonde hair is flat and limp, her eyebrows remain overplucked and improperly arched, and her outfit reminds me of a gauze version of a getup I used to wear back in 1998. Worst of all, she’s slowly ruining the beautiful song “Melissa” (by Allman Bros) for me. Can we all agree that the song “Melissa” rules and the Bachelor contestant Melissa doesn’t rule? Thanks. I just like being in agreement with my imagined readers. Raichel and Melissa continue to squabble and yet insist that they aren’t squabbling. Whatever, ladies. You’re like a poor man’s Emily vs. Chantal match-up, only amongst the rejects.

Ashely S. is back and her hair looks fantastic. She’s still very emotional, but seems to be doing well.

But let’s get to the main event: Michell and her crocodile tears. Seriously—I haven’t seen fake-crying that bad since the last time I watched community theater! It’s as easy as putting your head down, breathing quickly, and heaving over to make everyone believe that you feel emotions! Who knew it was that simple!? Michelle’s eyes were almost 100% dry during this show, so I didn’t buy her sob story at all. She kept insisting that she was “there for the right reasons” (the battle cry of every Bachelorette who is a social pariah), but nobody doubted that. You’re just a jerk, Michelle. It’s not about your intentions. It’s about how you get along with others (or don’t). I don’t think that Jackie was being too aggressive when she was calling out Michelle’s creepy behavior and Jackie NEVER said anything about Michelle’s mothering skills, so don’t put words in her mouth. During the interview, Michelle kept banging the drum of “I care about my daughter! It was so hard to be away from my daughter!” If it’s SO hard to be away from her and you really care about her, then why didn’t you just stay in Utah and try dating there? Are there no men in Utah? No seriously, are they all Moron and want sister wives? I don’t know these things.

Bad news, loverpants. I must bid you adieu without completely finishing this recap. It's like the old saying goes, sometimes you only get to drink 3/4 of the soda before you have to stop. Right? That old saying is really well-known and touching.

I'm off to Boston! 3 shows this weekend! Rock & roll!

Watching The Bachelor tonight

Hey hey,

I'm a day late with my Bachelor update. Last night was "The Women Tell All" which is my favorite episode of each season. I heard that Michelle started crying-- here we go! I was at a swanky fundraiser enjoying steak & open bar, so I missed the live show. I'll check it out tonight. In the meantime, enjoy this walk down memory lane:

South Africa Hat Trick

When we left off last time, Shawntel was going back to Chico and the remaining three ladies were packing for a trip to South Africa. Because nothing prepares you for what a REAL relationship will be like, quite like going on ridiculously far-flung trips with your would-be beloved.

The first date goes to Chantal and she looks super cute in her safari chic button-down and cut-off shorts. As my viewing buddy, comedian George Gordon put it, “Chantal’s got a badonka donk” and indeed she does. Brad is wearing a corny hat that doesn't COVER his limited vocabulary. Heyo! The two hop in an open jeep and see a bunch of animals. Brad does what existentialists would call, “creating your own omens” when he thinks that somehow seeing a lion (his favorite animal) while on a date with Chantal (specifically), has some sort of special meaning. OK Brad, if you decide that means something, then believing makes it so, I suppose. Brad and Chantal change clothes and eat dinner in the bush. I’m going to keep it clean and not make any tawdry bush jokes here, dear readers. You see how classy I am!? I’m so classy that I’m hosting a cocktail party on Thursday night. I’m a WASP, it’s what we do. But back to the bush. They eat dinner, then Brad breaks out a note about potential humps, which he refers as “from Chris Harrison” which I find creepy and bizarre. Why is Chris Harrison the one giving his blessing for these two lovebirds to be “intimate”? They decide to “forego their individual rooms” and hook it in a treehouse.

Emily is up next and apparently she and Chantal went safari shopping together, as her shirt is just like Chantal’s from yesterday. Emily and Brad ride an elephant, watch baby elephants bathe, and eat snacks. I found their segment wholly forgettable. Then they eat dinner and, despite the misleading promos for this episode, Emily DOES opt to visit the fantasy suite with Brad. In the words of the wonderful, pixie-like gay dude who lived downstairs from me during my freshman year of college, “Awww sookie sookie now.”

Ashley’s date is last and, unfortunately for her, least. They spend the day enjoying a beautiful view while drinking, but conversation is stilted somewhat. Brad seems to want every woman to expressly say that she will drop her life, move to Austin, and work around him. I truly think that Ashley *would* do that, but she doesn’t verbalize it well. When he asks her about where she’d want to live, she talks about warm weather and family. I don’t think she grasped the gravity of that question—that Brad was basically asking if she would move to Austin, specifically. Dude should have just outright asked, if that’s what he wanted to know. He seems to think that her career as a dentist will limit her willingness to relocate, which makes me bananas because Ashley is being punished for being career-oriented and driven. Meanwhile, executive assistant Chantal and party planner Emily are never grilled about their ambitions. It’s all very retrograde, but I’m kidding myself to expect anything remotely progressive from a reality TV dating show. OK, I’ll get off my soap box now.

Things go from bad to worse over a candle lit (and bug-filled) dinner, where Ashley shoots for a new record in the use of the word “like.” Yes, I have officially become my father. Brad and Ashley talk in circles, with her adjusting her hair and repeating “like” while managing to say nothing, and Brad looking dumb behind the eyes while saying he has a hard time expressing himself. Painful. They hit up the fantasy suite, though, because nothing erases a night of strained conversation quite like an awkward hump, am I right? (No.)

Time for a rose ceremony at sunset. The three ladies line up with the sunset directly in their eyes--ouch. Emily’s dress is fantastic. Chantal’s hair looks great. And as a predictor of what’s to come, Ashley doesn’t look so great. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s white women in near-flesh-tone dresses or any clothing that’s tan/beige/flesh tone. It’s not doing anybody any favors, white women. Brad walks down to the ceremony and assumes the position to dole out the roses, but instead he asks Ashley if they can talk. I wonder if Ashley knew that this would be her walk out, at that moment. She probably did. I must say: for how thick Brad seems, and the fact that this is his second go-round on the Bachelor, he’s actually quite sensitive to how the women feel. He explains that he didn’t want to put Ashley through a formal rose ceremony and have her only figure out that she’s going home by not hearing her name. He’d rather talk to her about it. Maybe I’m a sucker (yes), but I was really impressed by that. Ashley handles it remarkably well. Of course she’s upset, but she’s smart enough to get out of there quickly.

So it’s down to a blonde vs. brunette match-up—I love it! Emily’s sweet platinum perfection versus Chantal’s gorgeous chocolate locks. It’s like a good hair-off, and the prize is a dumb guy with a sick body.

Next week is my favorite episode of the season, “The Women Tell All” and we’re going to hear from crazypants Michelle; brawlin’ and self-destructing duo Melissa and Raichel (remember them? Melissa is pretty… pretty BUSTED (Boom! Thanks to the 6^th grade boy who wrote that joke for me) and Raichel doesn’t know what “obstruct” means); Chico chica Shawntel; Madison the overrated vampire; Sporty Spice look-alike Alli and more. Aww snap I’m ready for drama drama! I have a feeling a whole lotta ladies are going to be insisting that they were misunderstood and misrepresented—bring it on! In the words of Jason Aldean, this episode is “my kind of party” am I right!? What, no country music fans amongst my legions of readers!? Get with it!