So I promised ya’ll Cory Branan would bring some good stories, right? As per usual, the man did not disappoint.

I drive down to the show, park my car and walk up to the venue. Who’s walking down the sidewalk towards me? Well it’s Mr. Branan himself. He smiles and waves and walks up and gives me a big hug. My entire life has just been validated. Cory Branan knows who I am. We stand outside and talk for a good ten minutes. A little catch up, the new Lucero, his new album, the other bands playing…Good Old War and The Honorary Title. Cory describes Good Old War as what he wishes the Avett’s were. Jared from The Honorary Title walks by and Cory introduces me. Tells me he just did laundry so his hugs will smell better, give me another one and says “See you inside, darlin’.”

Best.

I go inside and I’m hoping at least one person I know may show up. I grab a beer and wait. And wait. And wait. No one. Sadface.

Cory sits down at the bar and motions for me to come sit with him. The first two bands are local. Ok fine. They both finish and he looks at all of us and says “time to go work.”

Remember the girl who told me I had great tatters and was cute as shit? Well she and I get to talking, she remembers me from the last show. We hang out and watch Cory’s set and sing along to every word. I love shows like that. It’s a short set and he didn’t even play The Walkaround. Fail, Cory Branan. Fail. I asked him why he took the fucking out on the album. He got all technical and talked about the meter and blah blah blah. Then tells me he should have left it and that he inadvertently taught some fiver year old kid the word fucking with that song. Amazing. The guys from Good Old War came out and sang Wayward and Down with him. That was awesome. I was planning on leaving after Cory, but he asked me to stay. Um, ok.

Cory packs up and comes and hugs on my new friend and I. He wants us to watch the next band, which is Good Old War.

HOLY FUCK, YA’LL.

If you follow me on Twitter or Last.fm you already know…favorite new band. Three dudes. One acoustic guitar. Their voices blend so beautifully it almost chokes me up. The harmonies…gah. I just stood there in awe. I didn’t even realize Cory had gone back to his merch table. I wanted them to never stop playing. They were incredible. They sound even better live than on their album. Fuck.

I walk over to where Cory is and he’s hanging out with my new friend and her husband. They are all getting pretty drunk. Cory keeps showing my tattoos to everyone. Everyone keeps saying the same thing, “I’ve seen those on the internet!” I am an internet celebrity, ya’ll.

Cory introduces me to a girl I have seen at a lot of shows and somehow already knew her name. She books shows down in Louisville. We’re talking and Cory decides to autograph a poster for me. Now, he decided to personalize it too. He draws hearts all over, writes my full name, middle name included, and draws an arm on the snake and the wolf and puts my tattoos on the arms. The poster is the one for the split with Jon Snodgrass. He tells me when Jon comes through to have him finish decorating it. I tell him Jon is never coming through here. Miss Louisville pulls out her cell phone, calls Jon Snodgrass and HANDS ME THE FUCKING PHONE.

I can’t breathe. I am totally sober. I can’t do this. By the grace of God it goes to voicemail. Jon Snodgrass has no fucking idea who I am. So I leave him a voicemail. I LEFT JON SNODGRASS OF DRAG THE RIVER AND ARMCHAIR MARTIAN A FUCKING VOICEMAIL. I catch my breath and walk back inside.

We start talking about the new Lucero album again and how awesome Good Old War is and next thing I know Cory has Korean food and chopsticks. He picks up a big clump of noodles and proceeds to feed them to me off the chopsticks. After he does it, he says “That was really hot in a weird way!” He wants to share with everyone. So he goes around feeding everyone.  I have pictures of Cory Branan feeding me Korean food. As Nola put it, classic l&c. He tries to feed me a third time and drops some down into Cleveland. Then offers to fish it out. That man loves my boobies.

We eat all the delicious Korean food and we are just being silly and taking pictures and talking now. He tells us about these girls who grabbed his cock in one picture. Apparently Cory does not believe in underwear. So he starts talking about his dick and how it’s “not going to win a scholarship” but it’s above average and he was wearing tight jeans that night. I am dying.

Cory is pretty drunk by now as are new friend and her husband. She keeps hugging me and telling me she really thinks she’d like me and she wants to hang out. So she gets my number and makes me promise to look her up on facebook. Cory keeps hugging on me and grabs my wrists and kisses my tattoos. He then apologizes for giving them some tongue. He says something about them tasting as sweet as something. I’m having a total out of body experience at this point. Sober as hell and having the time of my life. I keep trying to leave and Cory won’t let me.

After a million goodbyes, hugs and kisses I manage to leave just before midnight. Seriously. Best. Best. Best.

I walk out with my new friends and they happen to be parked right in front of me. I call BNB and wait for them to pull out. The don’t, so I pull around them. New husband friend rolls the window down, I roll mine down. He calls me a wiener. I tell him he’s a wiener and I repeat the evenings events to BNB as I drive home with the biggest smile ever on my face.

I post all the pictures when I get home and I am too giddy to sleep. I finally wear myself out around 2:00. Then I wake up every half hour between 3:00 and 6:00. Ugh. I drank a lot of coffee today.

So this morning I posted my new favorite song on facebook:

Wifey’s cousin leaves me a comment. “You know the lead singer is my cousin, right?”

…Are you shitting me? NO. I DID NOT KNOW THAT. This universe is so fucking small. I am in total shock over that. How is it I have a very vague connection to this amazing band? How am I hanging out with Cory Branan? How am I getting messages on my facebook from Max Fender telling me he’s to awkward and shy to go to a show by himself when he sings such personal songs in public?

WHO AM I AND WHEN DID MY LIFE GET SO FUCKING EPIC?

Ever since I came home from this last trip to NOLA, I have had this renewed sense of self. I am so full of confidence. I am reminded daily of how fucking lucky I am. I have made so many new and amazingly cool friends and the old ones have stuck by me and helped me get to this place. I’m the happiest I have ever been. I am busy as hell and work is stressful, but even that makes me happy. This city isn’t making me miserable like it did before. I found my peace. I think I’ve found my calling too. I need to write, ya’ll. I mean really write. It’s burning inside of me.

Totoro and I had a conversation this week about how is it she’s going to school for music business and I’m living it. I just want to drown myself in music lately. So much good new stuff to listen to. I need ten more pairs of ears. I also need to go to sleep. I’m going to the baseball game tomorrow night with Banky, MFEO and Frog (MFEO’s husband). Best.

In case you were unaware, I am not a carbon based life form.

I am made of pure awesome. Remember how I was all emo and woe is me and shit? Well, slap my ass and call me bipolar but I am loving life today. Why?

1. Jeff Zentner
2. I told Douche McGee off a little bit
3. The Bartender lives!
4. My Wifey
5. Fred aka Weekends
6. Care packages

Ok, so let’s start at the beginning. 1. Jeff. This is Jeff:

The Future Mr. Capitals?

Jeff up there sent me a little note via last.fm earlier this week. He suggested I may like his music based on my tastes. I click on him and we have super awesome musical compatibility. I listen to a few of his songs. I think whatever corner of my heart was left intact crumbled. I’ve been pimping him out here and on twitter all week. He is my dream man. He plays the fucking steel pedal, ya’ll. He writes the kind of songs that haunt you. He is my fall soundtrack. I can already smell the crunchy leaves on the ground. Happiness is…

Anyway, Mr. Z and I have been messaging all week on last.fm and I added him on myspace last night. That’s how I keep track of all my music, truly. Anyway, he leaves me this:

THIS IS MY REAL FUCKING LIFE. Ok, first of all, there’s all of about two people on Earth who could call me sugar without getting disemboweled. I think I’ll keep him on the short list. I. AM. IN. LUUUURVE.

2. I’m not going to talk about this other than I got my p’s in a big old twist last night over something stupid and I decided enough was enough. I had shit to say to him so I said it. He said some things back. That’s all I’m going to say.

3. The Bartender. Ohhh man. Excuse me while I fan myself for a minute. *ahem* Ok. I’m ok. I’m not going to add him to characters yet, because I want to redo that so it actually makes sense. Also, it’s making the OCD in me crazy that it’s not alphabetized. The lazy in me doesn’t really care though. ANYWAY, damn bitch…stay on topic.

I tend to let my mind wander every now and then and recently it wandered to about four or five years ago when I met The Bartender. It was love at first sight for both of us. You have never heard so much shit talked between two people. I was hooked. I kept going back for more. Soon, we were going out nearly every night. We’d walk in and he’d have my drink waiting for me. He’d write me cute or funny notes on my tab…which was always one beer no matter how many I drank…it was great. It was dangerous. We were starting to fall for each other.

This was back in the days where Douche McGee and I thought it was a great idea to have an “open” relationship. So needless to say, one night when he was supposed to give me a ride home, we ended up at his place. We then proceeded to have the porn star sex. You know what I mean. The kind where you can’t get your clothes off fast enough. It was fucking intense. It was intense fucking. After that, we got really close. Like we may as well have been dating close. Don’t think I didn’t think about it. The thing that stopped me was I knew he’d break my heart. He’s fucking black Irish. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Tool. Textbook my type.

He called me at 4:00am one night. He got a DUI. I drove across town and picked him up and we had some serious conversation. And then we had sex. It was the second and last time. He moved to Texas for the Army. (my only Army, usually it’s the Marines…they fucking love me) When he came home for Christmas, he had a girlfriend. She knew damn well and good who and what I was. She came up and introduced herself and just about pissed on his leg. Savannah was there. She knows. The Bartender proceeds to get drunk, ignore her and spend all his time with me. She gets pissed and leaves. He asks me if I want to have sex in the bathroom. I get pissed and leave.

He shows up at the bar we went to. He can barely stand. He slurs something about having sex in this bathroom. Seriously. I know I’m painting him to be a total dick, he kind of is. We had many amazing conversations and he’s smart as fuck. He’s kind of like Banky, not a bad dude, but a shitty boyfriend. The point? I found him on facebook last night. We had a very long conversation today and he totally still wants a piece of this. Hello ego, nice to see you again. However, he is married and has a three year old. So, um…yeah. Not happening. Damnit.

4. The Wifey and I have been reminiscing this week about drinking whiskey in the crawl space at age 14 and burying wine cooler bottles in the woods by the house. No one would know we drank them that way. Riiiiiight. Bonfire at my place on Friday. Me. Wifey. Jameson. Sam Adams. Nothing like a night with your boyfriends.

5. This is Fred.

Hi Fred!

Fred is also known as Weekends. He writes songs that I love. He sent me a direct message on twitter tonight; “Do I know you?! It seems like I do. And for as fucking cheesy as that sounds, I’ve been to *that place you live* a few times. hmmm.”

Cutest direct message ever? Yes. Also…how fucking amazing is it that these people talk to me? It’s like when I get comments from Stick Figure Drawings/Sarah on myspace or twitter. The little music junkie in me pees herself. OMG, FRED FROM WEEKENDS JUST SENT ME A MESSAGE ON TWITTER!! I’m 15 again. I mean, nothing will ever beat the night Ben Nichols CALLED MY CELL PHONE….but it’s still mind blowing to me that I can have a conversation with someone I love and respect so much. I love my life.

I was thinking about it on the way home, how much I’ve grown up. I remember Nola DRAGGING me to talk to Mike Park when I was 15. I was bright red, stammering and awestruck. Do any of you know who Mike Park is? Exactly. But to me, he was a fucking god. I have met so many of these musicians I love and over the years I have managed to at least fake that I’m not a total spazz. I flirted with Tim Barry, made friends with Cory Branan and I still haven’t puked on Ben Nichols once. I am a fucking bad ass. I am cool! Ok, I am none of those things, but right now I feel like I have pure fucking awesome running through my veins.

6. I get home last night and there’s a box on the kitchen table Hmm. What is? It’s from J-Bear. I open it to find a letter, “Care Package Instructions”. Inside I find about a million different flavors of shisha (the flavored tobacco you put in a hookah), Hello Kitty stickers, Hello Kitty figures, a mix cd (which he did and amazing job on) and not one, but TWO packages of Oreos. Mint and Double Stuf. Mah faves. I’m not kidding, I love this man. He said he wanted to cheer me up. Well, congrats sir. Consider me thoroughly cheered.

Now, I am exhausted. I took Lo-Dog for a super long walk tonight. We went up this fucking perpendicular hill that was made of dirt and tree roots. I think I killed him, the poor thing hasn’t moved from under the kitchen table. It was a good hike through the woods and around a big ass lake. A good three miles maybe. It was just me, my dog and The Avett Brothers. That, my friends, is an excellent evening.

Lo-Dog!

WAAAAAAAAAIT! One last thing!! Go visit Date Wrecks and tell Jami you love what she’s done to the place.

…is in Provincetown, Massachusetts at Bayside Betsy’s.

I have had a lot of clam chowder in my life, but this is the absolute best. A bowl is $6.95 and worth every penny.

The chowder doesn’t skimp on the clams, has plenty of potatoes, and does its artery-clogging job by tasting heavily of cream and bacon.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yes, I’ll admit it. I grew up in New Jersey. Why the shame, you ask? Because there is typically a gritty pride assigned to those of us raised in the state often referred to as “the armpit of America.” But I don’t get to take part in that. Because I grew up in Princeton.

Princeton is a little enclave of anti-Jersey. Everything is beautiful and clean. Instead of malls and mega stores, there is a carefully manicured downtown, full of locally owned stores and products that cater to the kind of clientele that would think twice before going grocery shopping in their gym clothes. Spillover of students, faculty, and staff from Princeton University means that most of downtown is brushed with a sheen of academic snobbery and Ivy League pride. Here and there, you can find pockets of alternative life, in the famed-yet-still-grubby Princeton Record Exchange, for instance, or the on-the-verge-of-another-health-code-violation-but-still-irresistible Hoagie Haven, but generally most stores and eateries in Princeton are picture-perfect.

And while yes, it is a rather bougie place, with its oh-so-trendy-yet-earthy local microroaster/cafe Small World Coffee, its new versus traditional ice cream cafes, and its hip-and-tasty brewery, at least you have the chance to eat well. And eat well I did. On weekend mornings, while average New Jerseyans might have whipped up some pancakes, my European-transplant father would often go out and pick up something from our nearby bougie food store. Baguettes, croissants, bread—we had a love of European carbohydrates in my family, and Princeton was always there for us.

So was it a surprise when I read on Serious Eats that the best croissants were in Princeton? Mais, non! But I was surprised at the store commended for its flaky, buttery, crafts of perfection—The Little Chef. A tiny store that only arrived after I’d moved away, they apparently make the absolute best croissants ever. Not just in Princeton, but apparently in all of New Jersey. In fact, they’re apparently so good that they beat out all the best croissants in The City. (Apparently, they may be America’s Best Croissants, but honestly? Once you’ve beat out The City, nothing else matters.)

Perhaps it’s time to visit the old chomping grounds again.

~~~

And it starts in my toes
Makes me crinkle my nose
Wherever it goes I’ll always know
That you make me smile
Please stay for a while now
Just take your time
Wherever you go

I‘ve been asleep for a while now
You tucked me in just like a child now
Cause every time you hold me in your arms
I’m comfortable enough to feel your warmth

It starts in my soul
And I lose all control
When you kiss my nose
The feeling shows
Cause you make me smile
Baby just take your time now
Holding me tight

Wherever, wherever, wherever you go
Wherever, wherever, wherever you go
Wherever you go
Always know
Cause you make me smile even just for a while

~~~

Rafael Nadal (ESP/1) defeated Fernando Verdasco (ESP/14) 6-7 6-4 7-6 6-7 6-4

Tennis is the most wonderful sport when it’s played like that. Rafael Nadal and Fernando Verdasco played the absolute match at a level I thought one could reach only in the craziest dreams. Every time you thought you had seen the best rally ever, they managed to show you a better one. There are no words to describe what happened on the Rod Laver Arena today (or night in Australia). If you haven’t seen this match, there’s no way for you to understand how good it really was, even if you have a look at the absolutely amazing statistics: 20 aces for Verdasco, 12 for Nadal; 52 winners and only 25 unforced errors for Nadal, the incredible total of 95 winners for 76 unforced errors for Verdasco; 193 points won by Nadal, 192 by Verdasco. This was just supernatural.

5 hours and 14 minutes. What a battle ! The two guys we were looking at weren’t tennis players anymore, they were warriors. Special congratulations to Fernando Verdasco, who left the court with a fantastic standing ovation after committing two of his four double faults in the last game, including one on the match point. A very sad way to finally lose for a stunning player who has deserved our admiration for his whole tournament and especially this match, of course. He made the crowd absolutely extatic with his huge forehand, in spite of his weaker backhand and, above all, with his phenomenal courage that made him win the fourth set after a sensational tiebreak when we thought it was finished for him since he was starting to cramp. Instead of that, he began to hit even harder, if possible, to give this match the fifth set it needed to really stay in the memories.

As far as Rafael Nadal is concerned, he’s the best player in the world at the moment, no question, and he proved it. Both players were on top of their game for 5 sets and 5 hours but, in the end, he’s the guy going further. We have to give him credit for his perfect physical condition and his unbelievable capacity to control his nerves and strengthen his game in tough moments. Hat trick, Mister !  He won the right to play the royal final against Roger Federer everybody was expecting, to decide who will be the last man standing.  But will he be able to give his best, especially if the match is long ?  The answer will take place on Sunday at 9.30 a.m., be on time !

They said so (you can almost hear their delicious Spanish accent through this transcription):

Rafael Nadal: “So was too tough. But for sure for me is amazing be in this final, especially with one match like today, no? Fernando was playing I think his best level in his career. He continues like this, he’s gonna have chances for be in any number of the ranking, no? So for win against Stepanek, 6‑4, 6‑0, 6‑0, against Murray and against Tsonga, he must play very well, no? He’s doing very well, yeah. Too well. (…) But today was, yeah, one of these matches you gonna remember long time, no? Well, the emotion was big, because in the last game with the Love‑40 I start to cry. Was too much tension, no? (…) He deserve this final, too, because his level was very well, very good. (…) Well, this little bit unlucky play one match like today, too hard. So for sure Roger gonna be in much better performance physically than me for the final. (…) Well, always is ‑ I don’t know ‑ special play against Federer any match, no? You play another final of Grand Slam is more exciting, no? (…) But for sure for me is amazing play another final of Grand Slam. Here in Australia, the first one. Well, unlucky all the time is against the same: the best. For sure, I prefer another opponent. But that’s makes big the sport, too, no, finals like this. (Talking about his position far from the baseline) Was tough to be more inside, no? What do you think? Did you see the speed of the ball or not (laughter)? I would love to be more inside, yeah. I gonna try to be more inside for the final, but I am playing against Federer.”

Fernando Verdasco: “You know, is sad, no, to play one match like this and lost after five hours. But, you know, for the other side, I need to be proud for the tournament I made and the level I played today also. I think it was unbelievable match. You know, we both played unbelievable. I think, you know, Rafa, I said always, you know, in these matches, five sets, he is the toughest player. You know, and I was there all the time, too. So, you know, for sure I will have this match in my mind all my life. You know, I’m so proud of all the things I made today and these two, almost two weeks. (…) But, you know, about the age? I don’t know what to say, no (laughter)? Anyway, you know, I was practicing this pre‑season in Las Vegas, like everybody knows, with Gil (Reyes, Andre Agassi’s ex-physical trainer). And Agassi have the best career after 30. So I’m 25. I’m so young (smiling). (…) We played unbelievable match. We need to be happy, no? (…) He (Nadal)’s a big friend. I wish him the best of luck in the final. I hope that he will win. (…) With Rafa you need to win the point three times more than with all the others.”

http://www.australianopen.com