Mumford and Buns

Told you I was going to do it, Jamie.

On Monday, I went to the Mumford and Son’s concert with my BFF Jamie. If you don’t know who Jamie is, well, she’s the one who always comments on my blog posts…the only one…singular…not plural. Ahem. We were really looking forward to this concert because we know every single song and have been obsessed with them for FOREVER (meaning: we thought the Opening Act was Mumford and blurted out “HER” when the word was “ME” in the song. Winners).

Anywho, since school has decided to take advantage of me, like a jock with a roofie, I had to drive to the city of smog inhaling Angels after class. Doesn’t sound that bad does it? Well, not initially, but then I had to go and wake-up at 5am. Um, I’m sorry but if it is still dark outside then my face should be planted on a pillow with drool all over it and I should be having dreams about Collin Firth feeding me Bahhhhhh-gels. What? It could happen.

Driving in LA was what I was looking forward to most. There are so many fun car games to play, like:

1.       Don’t hit the hipster crossing the street; or

2.       Honk as loud as you can and for as long as possible

After successfully dodging a man wearing jeans so tight that I am sure he will never utter the plural of “ball” again, I took a nap in a Target garage, and then made my way to the concert line. Boy oh boy was it a lucky day. GUESS WHO I GOT TO STAND IN FRONT OF? You’re probably thinking it was someone famous. No. It’s better. Recovering druggies. I was standing there. Alone. For an hour. I heard more about Jesus, needles, and wagons than I have in my entire life. The best (worst?) part was when Jamie finally arrived and said “I read that blog post and I was like ‘I want whatever Lauren’s snorting or shooting-up.’”  I kid you not. They got silent after that. 

I am going to sum up the next 5 hours:

1.       Pretty sure God shat wannabe hipsters into that concert hall. Jamie and I looked like Housewives compared to all of the emotionless, scarf/oxford/suspender wearing hipsters.

2.       Deodorant. No one wore it. What the shit, people?

3.       Opening Act, aka, Erykah Badu’s and Amy Winehouse’s crack baby.

4.       Amazing Mumford concert. AMAZING. Just next time, I would prefer that they don’t snort coke for 3 hours before the show, so I don’t have to wait 3 ½ hours for them to hit the stage. Thankyouverymuch.

Hot Damn!

Hot damn! This song makes me want to go all Striptease up in this heezy. Where's a dirty stripper pole when you need one? I love songs that make you want to do a little dip and make that scrunchy/kissy sex face. Thank you bald Annie Lennox.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLykoLuljWM

New Music, Puh-lease?

I am in desperate need of new, up beat, fast paced, running music. Okay. I'll be more serious. "Slow-walk, perhaps jogging, but I want to be running and if I wasn't such a fat ass I would be running" music.

Please. Please. Please. This is a desperate plea. I will send you cookies and my liver (if you're into that whole "black market" thing). Or, if you need a kidney in the future, I can help you find someone who wants to give you theirs. Oh. Did you think I was going to offer you my kidney for your music recommendations? No. I'm sorry. A liver is one thing. I already bar hopped with Patricia (my liver). But my Kidney? That's just being silly.

Also, try and steer clear of Rihanna. She is so yesterday according to Hill Duff.

Gavin De-LOVE

I have been obsessed with Gavin Degraw since my junior year of college. My obsession really started when the hairriest man in the universe - my ex-boyfriend of course - would sing Gavin songs to me. It was so romantic. His drinking 37 beers in one day...not so much. POINT IS, if Gavin could make my relationship with a hairy drunk hobbit last 7 months too long, then Gavin deserves a medal, a big gulp, and a blog post.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgh9T1easaU

You're obsessed now too. Aren't you? Well, BACK THE HECK UP. He's mine.

Concert My Heart

People are pressed together. A tiny ball of sweat begins to build on the nape of our necks and sly smiles of anticipation engulf our faces. We are all here for the same reason. Music. Even better, live music.

For me, concerts are a form of instant gratification. The way the loud music fills your ears and the beat magically lifts your feet, your arms, and every other body part that is able to move in the tiny space you are allotted.

Last night I went to see the Avett Brothers. I was recently introduced to their music by one of their long-time fans. He's borderline obsessed with them. Every car ride is a ride with Avett. I enjoyed my infrequent and short encounters with their music. The words are simple and easy to follow, but the meaning is beautiful and deep. So, I was excited when the extreme Avett fan asked if I would like to go to their upcoming concert with him. I wouldn't know any of the words, but I would attempt to familiarize myself with their music by plugging them into Pandora. Technology win.

We arrived at the small venue. A huge grin spread across his face. I feed off of other peoples excitement, so this was an immediate rush of adrenaline. We grabbed our PBR's and positioned ourselves in the center of the room. Close enough for my hobbit height and far enough to not get trampled.

First, the opening act. They were amazing. Upbeat, sweaty, and passionate. A beautiful compilation of blue grass, alternative, and country. I was being pulled in. So effortlessly too. Like a drug, without the horrible headache that follows. Opening acts tend to make me nervous because they can make or break the mood. You may go in excited to see the main act, but the intro could be horrible and leave a bitter taste in your mouth. This opening left me wanting more. Truth & Salvage Co., find them and listen.

Time for the main event. At this point I had to pee so bad. Probably the worst I have ever had to pee since that trip to Disneyland when I was 8. But I refused. I was not moving. I was too pumped at this point to break my concentration with a trip to the loo. And then, there they were. Taking the stage in record time and breaking into a melodious fervor immediately. The crowd began to sway almost instantly; hands in the air and heads cocking forward as they screamed the words to the song. No, I did not know the words to the songs. Did I still sing? Yes. The lyrics were somewhat predictable, which made it easy to follow and display my white girl moves (tapping the foot and shaking the head). Like their opening act, Avett displayed the same intense passion for their music. Sweat dripping into their contorted mouths as they sang. The emotion they intended their music to provoke was easily grasped and displayed by the audience. The slow songs made us sway and exchange shy smiles with our partner, while the fast songs made us clap and yell the lyrics with our partner.

I couldn't have asked for a better concert experience. I left the venue sweaty, smiling, and excited to purchase my first Avett/Truth & Salvage CD. Oh, and in case you were wondering, I did make it to the bathroom. Praise the lord.