Do you Do you Do you Do ya???
I get to New York, and I find an extremely belated Christmas gift from Orion that I laugh at-- cakes from TJ Maxx are made to withstand nuclear warfare.
Then, I return to Boston and find beautiful hand-dipped strawberries from Eric, my love. So I eat them all and they were 700-calories delicious.
Last nite, Larissa and I frolick to the Avalon in Boston to see the Kaiser Chiefs, and whilst on line and in the show, we are surrounded by hordes of Brits. Everyone has an accent, and after some time, we start hearing accents where there aren't any and think, "ahhhr we in fah-cking Leeds?"
It is an all-ages show, which was bril, cos I yet do not have a driver's license and a hassle it is to carry around a passport-- I should be going somewhere more international than 15 minutes on the train. Also, some venues give me shit for not having an official ID, and unsuccessfully card me for 16 plus shows. I am not fucking 15.
But I can be any age you want me to be, baby.
Quote me on this: I LOVE THE KAISER CHIEFS. Ricky Wilson does it for me: he danced when he was crippled, of course he dances better when he's not crippled, he crowd-surfs his way to the bar to order a "whiskey and coke", and he just stands there and laughs as one of his crew members back flips off the stage, lands atop the sweaty mass, and everyone throws the lanky, tattooed, shaved boy into the air and unitedly hip-hip-hoorays. Their new album blows my mind. I get shivers of glee putting it on repeat. Download it and listen to "Ruby". It's one of those tunes that will meld in your mind and become an annoying jingle; albeit one that you love.
There is only 15 more class days (already!), and summer starts in early May. I am bloody excited to throw my windows wide open, wear short shorts, eat icecream outside, and be serenaded by the rickety rack rack of lawn-mowers.