Season Four, Episode Nine: Popping My Hipster Concert Cherry (A Review of Sorts)

So last Tuesday night I went to the Matt and Kim concert at the House of Blues with one of my friends.  Prior to stepping foot in the venue, I had heard of them a few times and listened to some of their music for literally the very first time on their Pandora station while I got ready for the show.  I decided to go in with an open mind, because I love music and will give anything a listen at least once.

So.  Many.  Hipsters.

I can feel their sardonic judgement.

I can feel their sardonic judgement.

Hipsters in denim.  Hipsters in scarves.  Hipsters wearing fedoras.  Hipsters in plaid.  Buddy Holly glasses.  PBR.  SO.  MUCH.  PBR.  Cardigans.  Chuck Taylors.  Irony everywhere.

AND BEARDS.  HIPSTER BEARDS ABOUNDED.

A hipster beard AND Pabst Blue Ribbon.  It's too much for one image. LOOK AWAY.

A hipster beard AND Pabst Blue Ribbon. It’s too much for one image.
LOOK AWAY.

I enjoy hipsters, for the most part.  I like that they ride bikes and urban beekeep and garden and the uncanny ability they have to go reside in a shitty neighborhood and BAM, almost instant gentrification.  I admire their dedication to microbrews and tattoos and the obscure.  Without them, I would not have Portlandia.  And I love Portlandia.

Without Portlandia, I would have never discovered the fabulous feminist bookstore ladies.

Without Portlandia, I would have never discovered the fabulous feminist bookstore ladies.

But anyway.  There were hipsters, and the sheer number of them in one small venue was mildly overwhelming.  So I went to message my best friend on Facebook Messenger (he is in the Caribbean and cannot use his phone because international rates and stuff), and I HAD NO CONNECTION.  I cursed the House of Blues gods for blocking my 4G and proceeded to take notes in my Notes app of the funny stuff I thought of while the show went on.  After the show (which I really enjoyed), I read over my notes and realized they might make a witty blog post.

So here y’all go.  Matt and Kim, AS IT HAPPENED (four days later):

I hate tall people.

(I am 5’1″ and all short people will understand the hatred that is getting stuck behind anyone who is more than three inches taller than you at a standing room only concert.)

No matter how much you stand on your tiptoes, you can never really quite completely see.

No matter how much you stand on your tiptoes, you can never really quite completely see.

Either my whiteness is coming out and I have no rhythm, or either all the white people around me have no rhythm.

I’m going with all the white people around me because I feel like I can dance.

Sometimes.

Someone control the bros.  They’re getting out of control.

(Shortly after this, a drunken bro was escorted out of the venue for turning up too hard.)

I am the calmest person at this concert.

I don’t know how to dance to hipster music.

Like, is bouncing my leg and nodding my head appropriate?

I feel like it is.

That’s what I’m going with.

Oh hey…they’re covering “Ignition (Remix)”.  I love that song.

That man across the room is wearing the shortest, tightest jorts I have ever seen on a man.

You cannot deny his obvious dedication to a strict squat and lunge exercise routine.

You cannot deny his obvious dedication to a strict squat and lunge exercise routine.

They are seriously like Daisy Dukes.  He’s wearing denim hot pants.

I will not jump, Matt and Kim.  I’m in a room of uncoordinated young white professionals.

I am uncoordinated and the people around me are most likely uncoordinated and full of overpriced Downtown Cleveland beer, so...I'm just going to bob my head to the beat and look interested, okay?

I am uncoordinated and the people around me are most likely uncoordinated and full of overpriced Downtown Cleveland beer, so…I’m just going to bob my head to the beat and look interested, okay?  But you totally do your thing and stand on your drum.  You got this for the both of us.

I have upgraded my dance moves to wiggling my body and shaking my head back and forth.

Seems legit.

This band is pretty great.  I would be friends with these guys.

You guys can be my quirky musician friends who are the constant life of the party and get too loud when they drink.

You guys can be my quirky musician friends who are the constant life of the party and get too loud when they drink.

Oh…they busted out the fucking smoke machines.  You know shit is serious when they bust out the smoke machines.

Because nothing says shit is getting all kinds of real quite like the crazy smoke from a smoke machine.

Because nothing says shit is getting all kinds of real quite like the crazy smoke from a smoke machine.

Is this hip hop?

Oh shit…I can dance to hip hop.  And dance briefly to the blip of music I shall.

The guy in front of me smells like Beefaroni and stale PBR.

Perhaps he had stored some Beefaroni in there for later.  He might really love Chef Boyardee.

I could only get a shot of the back of his head, but I think that’s all I really needed for you to get the idea.  Perhaps he had stored some Beefaroni in his beard for later. He might really love Chef Boyardee.  I don’t know.  Also, I would totally be friends with the unimpressed concert bouncer security guy.  (And look, Jorts Guy makes a repeat surprise cameo!)

No Kim…I cannot FaceTime someone because I went over my data this month and AT&T charges $10 an extra GB.

Blue eyeshadow just is not flattering on ANYONE.  I don’t care who you are.

Wait wait wait wait…she’s gonna dance on their hands?

Holy shit…she’s dancing on their hands.

Okay…I am downloading their albums from iTunes when I get home.

(Here is an actual music video of Matt and Kim performing “Hey Now”.)

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Season One, Episode Twenty-Seven: Naughty Bloggers and Quite Possibly the Shortest and Most Random Post to Date

I have been a naughty blogger.

It’s been what, like almost a month and a half since I last posted?  For shame!

In my defense, however, things in the life of Lashawn have been pretty hectic, and in a good way 🙂  I’ve been training for the casino opening, and I have to say that although my roulette skills need some serious tweaking, I could probably deal a successful hand of blackjack in my sleep.  We open in like 26 days or some shit…super excited, but hella nervous.  It kind of feels like how I used to feel before going on stage and singing–butterflies in my stomach, heart pounding, a general feeling of excitement…all under the nagging urge to vomit.  Fantastic.  I’m sure I’ll do fine once I get my girlish nerves out of the way, which should hopefully be the first few hands at the blackjack table, or the first few hours I’ve dealt roulette…because god forbid I have another tear-filled breakdown at the wheel again like I did during training on Sunday.  We will just be optimistic and hope for the best.

I’ve also been spending time with my gentleman lover (hahaha that sounds so awkward and horrible, yet awesome at the same time–makes me think of Anchorman).  We have done pretty much a whole bunch of nothing, which sounds boring but is actually pretty splendid.  We did go on some fancy schmancy art walk through Tremont the other night, but neither of us was really impressed with it, which leads me to believe that 1.) we are neither cool nor hip, 2.) we don’t know crap about art (although it really seemed like the theme of the evening revolved around taking random photos and either framing them or screenprinting them onto a large canvas, and then selling them for like $250 a pop), and 3.) it must be an acquired skill that neither one of us possess.  We ate dinner at a restaurant that was virtually non-Lashawn friendly (meaning it was super trendy and had super gross food on the menu), but the appetizer and the bread was yum, so it wasn’t entirely a crap dinner for me.  I also got chocolates from my favorite little chocolate shop (Lilly Tremont) and cupcakes (A Cookie and a Cupcake), so the night wasn’t exactly a culinary bust.

I shall post more frequently, I feel kind of like a deadbeat parent…which shall never happen again.  I am going to post a delightful picture for you from our hipster date.  I think I could frame it and sell it for like $50, hahaha.