How to go to shows alone

I just got back from a Northside Festival show at McCarren Park with Beach Fossils, The Thermals, Jens Lekman, and Of Montreal.  Guess who I was most excited about seeing?  It was just as great as I hoped - maybe even a little greater thanks to a couple surprises (How did I not know that The Thermals have a kickass lady bassist?  Why did Jens Lekman have such an adorably tiny tambourine??)

I went by myself, which I've learned seems weird to some people.  Sure, it's partially because I'm an introvert at heart and I'm fine doing lots of things alone (there's probably some deep psychological reason for this, related to a childhood spent talking to myself, but let's not broach that topic here).  But it's also because I was tired of missing out: why should I skip doing something cool just because I have no one to go with me?  Balls.  I would rather do something cool alone than not do it at all.

I've pretty much got the show thing down to a science now so I thought, HEY, maybe if I share my own going-solo tips, someone else will feel empowered to pop their own going-to-shows-alone cherry!  Trust me, it's painless:

1. Don't arrive too early.  The hardest part to get used to is that lull before any bands start and you're just standing around.  Of course, now that we all have the internet in our pockets, it's easy enough to stare into the glow of your phone to kill time, but that's no fun either.  Unless you're there to see the opening act, plan to get there right when they've started playing.

2. Have a pee, get a drink, then stake out the best spot.  I like to wait until the band right before the one I want to see starts playing (the... runner-up?) then get a drink, because the bar is usually less crowded by that point.  Then I use the rest of the band's set to worm my way to the front.  Because, yes, I like to be in the very very front.  This is probably the best part of going to shows alone - standing wherever you goddam want to.  This also gives you extra time to scope out the crowd and try to move away from any obnoxious teenage girls talking too loudly and wearing cat-face makeup (FYI: I was not successful in doing this at McCarren Park).

3. Drunk text your friends.  Maybe you're still feeling lonely in between bands - it's OK!  Use that time to tell your BFF about that girl in front of you with the horrible tattoo or how there's a hot pink amp on the stage or how this dude looks like someone you went on a date with and maybe it's actually him or wait, no, maybe it's not him, never mind.  You can also be civil and just watch the band set up, but let's be real - you'll probably drunk text your friends.

4. Don't take photos or videos during the set.  Yeah, I said it.  OK, fine, FINE, let yourself take ONE photo of each set if you absolutely have to, but puh-lease don't spend the whole goddam show with your iPhone in the air recording a million shaky memories.  It's never going to be as good as experiencing it with your own eyes and ears.  Plus, Brooklyn Vegan or some other cool blog is going to post beautiful photos taken with beautiful cameras and you can just steal those.  I mean... reuse them as needed with the appropriate credits given.  Just listen to the music.  Let it sink into your bones.  Love it.

5. Dance like a fucking maniac if you want to.  This is really a rule for any life situation, but is especially applicable here since your friends aren't there to make you self-conscious and you don't know any of these people around you so fuck them.  I mean, be respectful of people's space and all that, but just DANCE.  If you're lucky, the other cool people will dance with you.

6. Leave whenever you want.  Maybe you're not a huge fan of the last band/song.  Or maybe you just really really need a sandwich.  Or maybe the teenager with the cat face keeps "accidentally" smash-dancing into you and you need to stop yourself from kicking her in the vag.  No big deal - you can leave.  You don't have to wait up for your friend who's chatting up the roadie or buying every piece of merch.  That said...

6.5. Stay as long as you want.  Maybe YOU want to buy every single piece of merch.  Or maybe you just want to have another drink while the crowd thins out.  Whatever you do, DO NOT attempt to talk to any band or artist unless you already know them personally or they approach you.  I'm serious - not even if you can see them right over there and they look so friendly.  (I should really write a companion piece to this called "Reasons You Should Never Talk to Your Heroes.")  Just go when it's time to go and spend your journey home replaying all the best moments in your head.  Eat your sandwich on the train if you want - it's OK because you're really fucking hungry and you earned it.

See?  Not that hard!  Tell me if my methods work for you and/or if you are a going-solo champ and you think I missed something.

(And to that girl with the cat-face paint who SAT ON THE GROUND during Jens' set: enjoy being sixteen while you can.  Soon you'll realize people aren't looking at you because your ripped-up tights look so cool, they just want you to please move.  I really hope the press got a picture of your dumb face with me looking surly behind you.)

And to Jens: you're the best.  Always.  Thanks for coming back to Brooklyn.

Love,
Molly

Why can't I quit you, Web MD?

I am in the middle of the lamest Memorial Weekend ever.  It's the kickoff to summer!  The best season ever!  Barbeques and drinking outdoors and wearing your whites and three days of no work!  Unless you're me: working all three days, pretty broke, and fighting off a weird stomach bug and the hypochondria that comes with it.  So instead of crashing that party I can hear down the block, I'm drinking some pretentious-sounding "Digestif" tea, making a Flavorwire-inspired playlist about being broke, and playing with the Web MD Symptom Checker.

I know, I know - Andrea and Mom, if you're reading this: I'm sorry.  I know I said I would stop plugging all my symptoms into Web MD because all it does is convince me that I have a brain tumor and then I call one of you and hysterically yell "I HAVE A BRAIN TUMOR!"  (Oh, and Mom, if you did magically find this blog, I think I have a lot of other things to apologize for.)

But tonight I'm lonely and Web MD just gets me, you know?  We have a special relationship.  I'm like "Web MD, I think I have food poisoning from the kamikaze dressing I bought from Sunshine Mart!" and Web MD is all "Baby doll, hush, according to your symptoms you have 20 different diseases to choose from!  And they all have dramatic consequences!"  And then I think "You know what?  If I do have Type 1 diabetes, I can deal!  I can still live my life!  Halle Berry does it!"

But now I'm coming back down from the medical high and trying to be sensible.  I probably don't have diabetes (or cystic fibrosis... or IBS...) and it's probably just something weird that I ate that's causing these *ahem* "digestive issues"... probably that dressing (which would be sad because it was so tasty).  I'm going to keep pumping myself with fluids (one Vitamin Water and two coconut waters so far) and just hope I'm better tomorrow.

OK, back to my lover Web MD though: can we just talk about how crazy awesome some of these symptom options are??  Here are my faves:

• "Taste words when they are heard"
• "Multiple bruises of different ages"
• "Craving alcohol"
• "Inappropriate behavior"

I have a diagnosis for those: YOU'RE A PASSED-OUT DRUNK.  I also love how there is a symptom option of "broken bone."  I can diagnose that one too: YOU HAVE A BROKEN BONE.  Duh.

I hope you're all having a lovelier night than I am.  Although, to be fair, I'm currently typing this while chilling on my fire balcony and it's kinda nice - there's a breeze and the city is all lit up and I haven't dropped anything.  I guess there's still hope for an exciting day tomorrow, since that's the real day we're "celebrating" anyway.  Anyone having a barbeque that I can crash?  I'm already hydrating in preparation.  Unless I'm dead from diabetes-induced kidney failure tomorrow morning... in which case, I'd like Halle Berry to speak at my funeral.

Happy Rapture!

I sure hope Jens survives.

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: hip-unemployed-ster

See what I did there?  I stuck "unemployed" in the middle of the word "hipster"!  Get it?  "Hip-unemployed-ster"??  It's the caption for this hot photo:

I was originally posting it as an example of what my life has become now that I am officially, for real real, no joke, DONE with CAP21.  I declared on October 28 that I wasn't coming back and I have upheld the promise.  Now I'm spending lots of time hanging out in a big sweater that keeps my neck warm and drinking cheap beer.  But then I uploaded that photo and scoffed at myself.  Really, Molly?  A striped seventies mom sweater?  Bangs all up in your eyes?  Visible (albeit backwards) Jukebox the Ghost poster in the background?  PBR??  You hipster fuck.  (However: can we acknowledge how awesome that nail polish is?  It matches the can!!)

So... yeah.  Oops.  I'm keeping it there so you can scoff at what my life has become right along with me.  Let's consider it a caption contest.  If you can think of something better than "hip-unemployed-ster," you win a prize.  Probably something lazily homemade.

Maybe I'm just bitter because I never had a proper going-away party...

me: drunk

  at

  work

 andrea: You devil

 How are you getting drunk at work?

me: we just signed the lease for moving onto the 5th floor and had cake and champys

  and i pretended it was my going away party

 andrea: HAHAHAHAHAHA

  yes.

 me: so of course it was GREAT

PS: I still have all the office keys, CAP21.  If I return them can I get my soul back?

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: deal with it

I'm fighting a cold and bitter that I still have to go into CAP21 tomorrow.  Someday I'll post about the actual fun stuff that Andrea and I did this weekend, but right now it's grouchy time only.

me: dang theatre people  andrea: ugh. i have no patience left

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: Dear Bjork - please give me a job

Holy shit you guys: what a fucking MON-DAY.  I had a glorious weekend - sleeping, dancing, drinking, cooking, "True Blood"-ing (aaah, why I am so addicted?) - and then it all went downhill starting at roughly 10:01am this morning.  Payroll, banking, spreadsheets, photos, and emails got the better of me for a straight 10 hours or so - I didn't even have time to hide in the bathroom and bang my head against the wall.  Finally, I stumbled home, so psyched to put on my jammies and chill out with my pals Bravo and Sabra, and discovered my entire fucking wardrobe rack had broken in half and I had clothes all over my room.  Thanks a bunch, Monday!!!

I shouldn't be so over-dramatic.  I did find temporary extra space for my clothes in our hall closet and I am currently in my jammies eating hummus and watching mindless television despite all this.  It just doesn't give me much hope for the rest of this week.

All of this has nothing to do with mine and Drea's Bjork and "Biggest Loser" obsessions, but it does make for a nice contrast.

molly: i'm having such a bjork day

 andrea: that sounds colorful and awesome

 molly: it's mildly depressing, but still awesome

 i wish she was here serenading me in person

 andrea: don't we all

 molly: "bachelorette" is my jam lately

 andrea: that's a really good one

 molly: it's so dramatic

 andrea: you know what's dramatic? the biggest loser

  dear god the TEARS

 just put the donut down, lady. it's cool.

 molly: oh yeah, that too

  oh my god, they should have bjork as a GUEST JUDGE

 andrea: HAHAHA

 molly: then the world would explode

  can you imagine???

 it would be like when she was on spaceghost

 andrea: oh my god, that was AMAZING

 molly: they'd ask her questions and she's answer in nonsense words

  yeah, i want to watch that right NOW

 andrea: with her odd little accent

 molly: "large persons, you have to run with the horses and sunshine and love your pink hearts and no more eating cakes"

  "sneakers are shiny and laughter"

 andrea: oh my god.

  YES

molly: it's like engrish

 andrea: only better

Yeah, I do want to watch that right now:

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: gettin' old

That's right, I'm OLD.  At least, I sure felt old after unfolding myself from a four-hour bus ride from Boston to New York City this afternoon and hobbling into work.  My gimpy side was acting up and even though I limped around the office and kept yawning with exhaustion, they still made me open envelopes and take notes in meetings and stuff!  SHEESH.

But then I got home and went for a run, went grocery shopping, made dinner, and made a double batch of cookies.  And after I publish this here post I still have plans to wash dishes, paint my nails and watch awesome things on Hulu.  So I guess I'm not old, I just have work-induced laziness.  And insomnia.  Getting there...

molly: there is some kind of giant backyard party going on next door

  which would be ok, if it weren't TUESDAY

who does that on a tuesday?

  am i getting old?

 andrea: who does that on the tuesday after fucking memorial day weekend?

 molly: i guess it will be more annoying if it's still happening in 5 hours

  yeah, really

 andrea: seriously, haven't you partied enough?

 molly: right now it's mostly just annoying because i don't want to shut my windows and we're competing for music

andrea: that sucks

  people suck

  i mean, its not that late, but its tuesday, like for realsies

molly: right?

  if it is still happening in a few hours, i'm going to yell that out my window

 andrea: yes!

  i love that

 molly: "people, it's tuesday, like for realsies!"

 andrea: there were some cats having sex outside my window like a half an hour ago i think...

 molly: but i'll put curlers in my hair and put on a housecoat first

 andrea: i should've yelled at them

  yes!

 molly: yesssss ewwww that happens a lot here too

 andrea: and a green face mask

  I actually muted the tv and went over to the window all "what the crap?"

molly: yeah cause it sounds like babies dying

 andrea: i don't even know what to liken it to..

  it was upsetting

PS: If anyone can find me a link to the clip of Maya Rudolph's re-appearance as Whitney Houston on SNL this past Saturday, I will love you forever and buy you a drink or... something.  It is crucial to Andrea and mine's growing collection of videos to loudly re-enact on the subway.

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: another reason we need our own film crew

It's true: Drea and I spend a lot of time bitching about our jobs, but at least our analogies are different every time.  I think I could someday string all our job rant analogies together and it would be a perfect sitcom.  Or at least a B-movie screenplay.

molly: btw, i'm curating more widget and sassoon laughables from our old chats and it's totally saving me right now

 andrea: Oh man! I should be doing that!

 Instead, I'm listening to a baby WHINE AND CRY FOREVER FOR NO REASON while I talk to you

 You think you have problems kid? Oh I'm sorry, is it too dark in here, is your mac and cheese not to your liking? Shall I wipe your ass again?

 molly: HA

  did you forget the sprig of parsley with that mac?

  maybe that's it

  or maybe you should heat those baby wipes with your breath

 andrea: Maybe I should run screaming into the rain and twirl in circles at my glorious, glorious freedom

 molly: yeah! and hire a steadicam to follow you!

 andrea: Hee hee!

 andrea: GARBAGE

 the world is garbage.

  Siiiiiiiiigh

 molly: it sure is

  except for the parts with dancing

  those are golden

Aaaaand scene.

REALLY??

I saw a big truck advertising this on my way into work yesterday and almost did a vaudeville-style spit take of my coffee:

Really, universe?  Why the crap do we need an Ed Hardy energy drink?  Hasn't Ed Hardy spoiled enough clothing and merchandise across America already?

Perhaps more importantly: what kind of energy requires the specific Ed Hardy brand?  The energy to squeeze out the last of your hair gel to perfectly spike up those frosted tips?  Or maybe the energy to make it through the final coloration of your vaguely Asian tramp stamp?  Good god.

I bet this stuff tastes like Mountain Dew mixed with Axe body spray.

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: career opportunities

 I think I've reached the peak of quarter life crisis.   I just opened an IRA today (!!) and the fact that I am planning for the days when I will be a sassy old lady is sorta mind-boggling.  I mean, I now have a brokerage account and yet the windows in my bedroom are covered with tapestries being held up by thumbtacks because the thought of sizing and buying and installing blinds is too much for me.  Yeesh.

And of course I still don't know what I'm doing with my life, other than sneakily blogging while pretending to organize files.  Maybe I should have a dance party and invite rich moms and their babies and call it "learning."

 andrea: You'll never guess where I am right now

 molly: ummmmmmm

  a holiday inn breakfast buffet?

  a canoe?

  india?

 andrea: I'm at a baby class for bou-gie moms

  Unreal

 Seriously, I'm gonna kill myself

  I hate my job

 molly: baby yoga?

  i hate mine too

 i want nothing more than to go to the gym and then go home and watch bad movies and drink red wine and make pumpkin cookies

 andrea: Oh no, this is ANOTHER baby class

 molly: good god

 andrea: Because one wasn't enough

 molly: what could babies possibly be learning??

 andrea: Oh my god! I would KILL for that day right now

  Well right now they're learning to pop bubbles

  I guess

 molly: wow

  what a skill

parents PAY for that shit?

  i need to start teaching bougie baby classes

 andrea: You have no idea

 This woman seems like she does a few lines in the changing room and then sucks down some helium before she does this

  You have to be willing to make the necessary sacrifices

 

I think could deal with some coke and helium if it means I get to blow bubbles in toddlers' faces all day. 

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: Nerdy McNerdpants

Links, cat photos, lolspeak - just another Monday in my brain.

andrea:http://whythefuckdoyouhaveakid.com/

molly: oh wow i love it already just for the title

  oh my... is this nsfw?

 or just that first pic?

 andrea: nsfw?

 molly: sorry, not safe for work

 i keep out myself as a message board dork when i use internet speak

  *outing, rather

andrea: yeah, dork

molly: omg i'm toats lol but u <3 me irl

 andrea: irl?

 molly: :) :)

  in real life

 andrea: oh my lord

 molly: i can haz dork prizes!

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: whatEVER, fashion!

Yeah, that's right - we know what's UP, fashion industry!  You're all creating nonsense clothing as part of an evil ploy to make us wear ridiculous no-heeled shoes and diaper pants and then you laugh at us from your cave lair with the TVs where the secret hidden cameras are broadcasting our pratfalls.  Take THAT, fashion week!

What's that?  Fashion week is already old news?  All the shoes had heels?  Oh.

Don't mind me; I'm just trying to hit "publish" before midnight so I can gain a minor sense of accomplishment from meeting my weekly self-imposed deadline.  Alrighty?  Good. 

JEGGINGS!  (No, Rihanna, not even you.)

me: speaking of topshop, my latest newsletter from them says the latest thing is "jeggings"

  jeans + leggings

  JEGGINGS

  what??

 andrea: WHAT?

  NO

  WHY?

  NO

 me: I KNOW

i'm trying to send you a link, but i don't know if it will work

  i'm forwarding the email ad

 andrea: http://blogs.smarter.com/fashion/2009/04/08/fashion-trend-jeggings/

  UUUUUUUUUUGH

 me: you are so fast

  yeah, super ugh

 andrea: jeggings just skyrocketed to the most offensive word in my vocabulary

 me: i'm going to start slipping it into conversation

like an adjective

  "ew, this cheese is so jeggings"

they just look like really cheap kmart jeans for lazy people

 andrea: they're horrible

  i hate them

  i'm mad at topsshop for purveying them

 me: topshop purveys a lot of nonsense

they just luck out because they carry SO much stuff that there is more good than bad

 i remember when topshop was the first that i noticed to carry "harem pants" and i was all no no no no wtf

 andrea: ll the harem pantds should be burned

  NOBODY looks good in harem pants

  or jeggings for that matter

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: good thing I'm not a nanny

I hate to be a cliche, but oh my god you guys, MONDAY. Christ-on-a-bicycle-Mary-Magdalene-Peter-Frampton MONDAY.  Maybe my alarm interrupted my delicate sleep cycle at the wrong moment or something today, but GOOD GOD, I've been wanting to break shit since I stepped out of the shower.  Crazy workplace drama isn't helping.

If I were Drea though, I'd be dealing with poopy pants drama instead of sassy pants drama (yes, it's a fine line).  We trade horror stories throughout the day of babies vs. staff meetings and seem to conclude that both options are equally dreary.  Luckily I'm getting better at handling theatre people, but babies?  Sheesh, I don't even know how to change a diaper.

• 8/5/09 - 9:58am

 andrea: so, get this, I put Sloane down like an hour ago, and she hasn't gone to sleep yet

  but she's screaming like a tantruming banshee

 molly: maybe you need to sing her a lovely song

 andrea: and I have things to do

  so... I could just go pick her up, and put her in the stroller and go do those things, since she's not going to sleep anyway

  but...

 now I'm angry at her, and I don't want to give her the satisfaction of me giving in and picking her up

  what is WRONG with me?

molly: nothing's wrong with you, the screaming banshee baby is facahked

  i would just put her in the stroller but i don't know anything about babies

would that mess up her sleep schedule

 andrea: but I'm so MAD at her

 molly: or actually make her smugly happy?

 andrea: grrrrr MAD

 molly: not sure

 andrea: i feel like it'll make her smugly happy

 plus its hot out

  and while I do have things to do, I don't necessarily want to go outside...

  decisions

  decisions of an immature nanny

 molly: eh, just let her scream and be a brat then

andrea: yeah, that's what I was thinking

  thanks for the support

 molly: anytime

So yeah.  Don't ever ask me to babysit until your kid is like, ten years old.

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: why I live in Queens now

When I still lived in Brooklyn, I had a crazypants roommate named Margaret. Yep, that's her real name. Not even gonna change it because I doubt she knows this blog exists. If she does? Oh, hey, HI Margaret! You were a CRAZYPANTS ROOMMATE. But no hard feelings. Hopefully you're living in a happier place now where people fill the Brita to the right level, the silverware isn't exposed to the air, and your hairs are allowed to thrive all over the bathtub.

ANYway... this is a good example of how I felt about living there:

• 10/15/08 - 11:47am

molly: oops i still haven't told margaret you're coming this weekend

i've barely seen her

let's surprise her and hope she leaves :)

andrea: woop!

molly: let's sneak into her open room while she's sleeping and just stand over her bed with beers in hand until she wakes up

andrea: i'm all in molly: amazing

Killing more fond adolescent memories...

Oh god, really? REALLY? A Green Day musical??

This photo is just... weird:

And Mike Dirnt looks like he'd really rather be elsewhere.

To be fair, American Idiot is miles away from the Green Day of my junior high years. Somebody call me when they make Kerplunk or Dookie into a musical. Now that I would see.

I can't wait for the Forever 21 knock-off versions

I wonder... how do runway models keep straight faces?


Also: I wonder if there is a PETA for Muppets somewhere composing angry letters to Jean-Charles de Castelbajac.

Thanks to Popserious for exposing me to this madness.

Must. Not. Roll. Eyes.

I was in Starbucks yesterday, in line for a FREE coffee when I was unexpectedly shocked out of my morning stupor.

(Sidetrack: I got a card from The Boss - that I think actually came from the NY Times but he tried to pass off as a thoughtful gift - for a FREE coffee on Wednesdays at Starbucks AND it's REUSABLE every Wednesday through May!! I LOVE FREE. AND CAPS LOCK.)

If you haven't been to a Starbucks in awhile (look at you, pretentious-non-consumer-face), you've been missing out on their crazily expanding music business. Not only do they play hit tunes in their cafes, but the name and album is displayed on a hot flat screen TV. AND if you have an iPhone or some such nonsense, you can download the song right there. And, oh my god, there is this thing called "e-mail" where you can send people letters without paper.

ANYWAY: my line-waiting-mood was lifted as the magic screen was playing "Que Onda Guero" by Beck - great morning song, in my opinion. The girl in line behind me asked what was playing, but the barista didn't know and the screen was blocked so I said "it's Beck, 'Que Onda Guero,' from Guero."

And she responded with a blank stare "Um... Beck? Is he, like, from the U.K. or something?"

I am sure my nostrils flared about six inches and steam came out of my ears, but I took a deep breath and said "Uh, no, he's very much American." There were so many other snarky words trying to get out, but I was very lady-like in containing them. This girl was my age; not 15, not 85, but clearly living in a cave of bad musical influences.

We re-convened by the milk and sugar station and she said, "Wow, thanks, I'm going to have to look for this guy!"

I said "Yeah, you should really go get every single album he's made." Although I should have said "YOU'RE WELCOME for saving you from the cave of bad music and years of awkward silences at hipster parties!"

Another day saved by Molly, musically opinionated sassbasket.

PS: doesn't Beck have the creepiest website ever? Damn.

You know you're poor when...

...you get excited about people giving away hair products on Craigslist

"Shampure" is unopened. I used the conditioner once. I use other stuff now but hate to throw this out. Want someone to take it.

You also know it's time to go to bed when you seriously consider emailing them.

Because I'm mean

Yesterday morning was an unusually packed one on the Manhattan-bound F train. I can almost always get a seat right when I get on, but this time I had to stand. I was not happy. So when a bunch of people got off at Jay St, I instantly grabbed the closest seat.

Then I noticed a woman standing right in front of me with a little boy in a stroller. I thought, "Oh crap, I should really give her my seat. That would be the polite thing to do." So I sipped my coffee and thought about whether or not I felt like being polite.

And while I sipped my coffee, the little boy kicked all the legs around him with his mini-Croc-covered feet, made a variety of loud beeping noises, kicked the Crocs off, and stuck his bare big toe up his nose.

And I thought, "Yeah... my feet hurt anyway." So I put on my sunglasses, closed my eyes, and turned up my iPod.

I CANT HELP THE MOOD IM IN, BUT RIGHT NOW IM THINKING THAT THE NARCISSISM OF THEATRE PISSES ME OFF

I just ate eleven mini donuts from the amazing Japanese store. They were fatty and sugary and wonderful.
Fatty fat fat.
Sugar.
Eleven.
ELEVEN.
Mmmmhmmm.

(Now I'm going to wander to a nondescript location where I'll do nondescript things like brush my teeth, twirl in circles, ride the bus, watch the news, protest the oppression of women, etc, etc, on and on whatever who cares.)

(No, I'm not drunk.)