pop culture, reviewed

Last Thursday we went to see Rilo Kiley at the 9:30 Club and heck if Jenny Lewis didn’t break out the cowbell.  As my friend Sarah emailed me after she saw the same show in Asheville, “You mentioned cowbell.  I had no idea she was going to try to bring sexy back using the cowbell.”  But try she did and for all I know, maybe she succeeded.  Jake seemed to think she did.  It was a good show, even though Winona Ryder was apparently in attendance and we did not see her.  Brandi Carlile was also good the following night, although the crowd was a little too chatty at the beginning.  She performed two of the covers that so captivated me when I saw her in April, “Folsom Prison Blues” and “Hallelujah,” but also sang “Madman Across the Water” and a better-than-the-original version of “Raining in Baltimore.”  (August and Everything After, by the way, is 14 years old, and if that doesn’t make you feel old, maybe the fact that Automatic for the People is celebrating its 15th birthday will do the trick.)

What else?  We saw Into the Wild this weekend, because I love the book.  I liked the movie pretty well, too.  Some of Sean Penn’s techniques bothered me (namely the excessive voiceovers, distracting writing on screen in weird fonts, superfluous “chapter” headings, and unnecessary family movie flashbacks), but the acting and the story were so strong that they saved the film.  I’m developing quite the crush on Emile Hirsch, and Hal Holbrook gave a magnificent performance as an elderly man befriended by Chris McCandless.  (Holbrook and Ben Foster in “3:10 to Yuma” are my two Best Supporting Actor nominees so far this year.)

 Oh, and not related to pop culture, but the American Planning Association just named  our neighborhood one of the ten best in the country for this year.  They are right — our little corner of Capitol Hill is a great place to live.  I miss South Carolina, but there is plenty to miss about our current location if we ever move away from here, too. 

 

I don’t talk about our actual lives on this blog very much because, well, it’s just supposed to be about pop culture, plus almost all of our readers know us in real life, plus we mostly just sit around and talk about how cute and funny our dogs are, anyway.  Occasionally, though, I feel the need to share something we’ve done that’s unrelated to music or movies or TV.  This weekend was one of those times.  I have jokingly told people that because we just bought a house here (come visit!), our only vacation this year will be in our own (brand new, precious but tiny) backyard.  This is actually the truth but seriously, this weekend we had the most fun mini-break right in our own city.  Schmoop.

 On Friday night, we went to my favorite sushi place and had delicious sushi, and then, because I always want something sweet after sushi, I had the most brilliant idea:  the peanut butter pie at Old Ebbitt!  My number one favorite dessert in D.C. is this peanut butter pie, so post-sushi we walked past the White House to Old Ebbitt for coffee and dessert.  Awesome. 

Yesterday we went to Target and to see Knocked Up again.  This was also fun and very relaxing, but maybe not very vacation-worthy. 

But then!  Then!  Today, I feel like we just got back from a mini-break or something.  We had (a pretty darn good for the money) brunch on the terrace of a nice hotel here, overlooking their pretty grounds that are green and expansive enough that you can’t tell that you are in the middle of the city.  That was fun in and of itself, but after brunch came the really good part — with your Eggs Benedict comes a pool pass so you can sit by their pool (and poolside bar) all day long.  Heaven!  I’m neither a swimmer nor a sun-worshipper (SPF 45 and my freckles still popped out) but it was divine to lounge by the pool reading while Jake fetched us beer (him) and Diet Cokes (me).   SO FUN!  It was fun enough that I don’t even want to write where we had our brunch and pool combo because I fear Googlers will find it and it will become too crowded (but if you live here and want to know, email me!). 

Now it really feels like summer… and we still have all afternoon and evening to do our usual Sunday movie rental and takeout.  Good vacation indeed.

When Jake and I moved to D.C., I was sad.  I am a South Carolina girl.  I am from South Carolina.  However, there are a few things I have to come to love about our nation’s capital, and without question, one of them is the 9:30 Club.  I love the 9:30 Club.  Here’s why:

1.  You can show up to the 9:30 Club an hour before the show (or more, or less) and get a seat in the basement.  Now, maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, because a lot of people don’t know about the basement, but the basement almost always has a seat, drinks are cheaper, and there is usually good music playing.  (Read:  you don’t have to listen to bad opening bands, or fight the crowds.)

2.  Say you’ve been in the basement enjoying a (reasonably priced) cocktail.  You can make your way up to the club five minutes before the band starts and probably get a good spot.  Even if it’s sold out, it doesn’t matter.  The 9:30 Club is so awesome that you can stand in the balcony or on the very back of the floor and unless you have a giant standing in front of you, you’ll be able to see.  You’ll certainly be able to hear, because…

3.  The sound in the 9:30 Club is better than any club sound I have ever heard.  It’s incredible.

4.  The 9:30 Club books good bands.  In less than two years, I have seen the following at the 9:30 Club:  Ryan Adams,  Justin Timberlake, Lucinda Williams, Liz Phair, My Morning Jacket, Belle and Sebastian, The New Pornographers (twice), Shooter Jennings, Dwight Yoakam, Scissor Sisters, Wilco, Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins, Arctic Monkeys, and The Good, The Bad, and The Queen*.  Not bad, right?  In the next six weeks, we’ll also see Joseph Arthur and Peter Bjorn and John there, along with whoever else comes along. 

Love, love, love the 9:30 Club.  Love it.   

*Incidentally, it was the Good, the Bad, and the Queen show tonight that had us singing the 9:30 Club’s praises, and yes, I know that Damon Albarn claims the TGTB&TQ is the name of the album, and not the band — he introduced them tonight as “a collection of individuals” — but it’s far easier referring to them as The Good, the Bad, and the Queen instead of “Damon Albarn and Paul Simonon’s new project.”  And yes, the show was really good.  My favorite part was how Damon Albarn swaggered out  (in a top hat!), kind of like Amber on Saturday Night Live, just kind of standing there like, “Yeah, here I am, now clap for me.”  A good time was had by all.

That’s right, we live in our nation’s capital now. When you walk to the end of our street you can see the Capitol looming as big as day, and that is weird, but also cool.

We have been here for exactly one week and three days, and so far, all is well. It helps that we have been on vacation in our new city, so we’ve had time to explore (read: eat at all the many restaurants that are within five blocks of our house). We have eaten Cuban food, Belgian food, French food, Thai food, Italian food, Irish food, and had a number of Big Gulps from the Seven-Eleven around the corner. (Also, Slurpees. For $1.29 you can get a giant cherry Slurpee that comes with a free iTunes song, which means that you have just gotten 32 oz. of Slurpee for $.30. I think that less than a cent an ounce is a good deal.)

We like our house and we like our neighborhood even more. We have already met all of our neighbors and attended fun neighborhood functions! I went to a dinner party with my neighborhood sisters on Wednesday night and stayed for five hours. A five hour dinner party is clearly a success. It was such a success that we all made plans to get together again this past Sunday (more on that in a minute).

This week is Restaurant Week in D.C., which means that you can get a three-course meal at a good restaurant for $20 at lunch and $30 at dinner. We had lunch at Ceiba today and will have dinner at D.C. Coast on Sunday.

We have seen lots of old friends in town (but not all yet — soon though!) and had brunch and walked the dogs. Fiona is extremely popular. Little Sammy has had a rough time of it lately but we have a great vet already who is going to make him better and hopefully help us to fatten him up. There is a dog bakery around the corner that sells dog treats that I promise you would want to eat if you saw them.

I have also been to a gay cowboy bar with Caroline — we have plans to go back there this weekend.

But the one thing that I have done that made me want to re-enter the blogging world (when even Gary Busey on Celebrity Fit Club and Shooter Jennings and Harry Potter could not conquer my laziness) —on Sunday afternoon, with three of my new neighbors, I went and saw Hustle and Flow. People, let me tell you that you do not know how good a movie about a pimp and three hos could be until you see this movie. Seriously. I laughed, I cried, I clapped, and I bobbed in my seat a little while they were rapping (which was probably amusing to the people sitting behind me).

Jake says hi but he can’t be bothered to blog because he is glued to Entourage. He loves Johnny Drama a great deal.

I miss y’all, South Carolina peeps. Come visit!

Here’s the thing. Jake and I are moving to Washington, D.C. in about a week and a half. If we haven’t already told you personally, I sincerely apologize. I have tried to tell everyone as we see them or talk to them, but haven’t been making too many big announcements because, well, it makes me cry.

Don’t feel bad, though. I’m really excited about it. We’re moving because Jake got a really good job that we think he will like a lot. We sold our house (to the first person who looked at it, before it even went on the market! I know!) I got a pretty cool job along the way that I think will be fun. We found a house to live in when we get up there, on Capitol Hill, near Eastern Market. (We’re renting, not buying. Do you know how much real estate in D.C. costs? More than it does in Columbia, that’s for damn sure.) We already have tickets to three shows up there the first week in August (Ben Folds/Rufus Wainwright, Liz Phair, and Lucinda. And The Shins/The White Stripes in September). We have very dear friends who we love who are in D.C. already. We will be closer to our friends in Delaware and our friends in New York. Fiona and Sammy can take walks in Lincoln Park and the Congressional Cemetery (you’re allowed to walk your dog in the cemetery — I’m not being weird).

So, all those things are awesome. We can’t wait for all those things.

At the same time, we had to sell our first house, which is sad. We loved this little house. Goodbye glass doorknobs and transoms and hardwood floors! We’ll miss you. I am leaving a firm that I absolutely love and colleagues that I am proud to call true friends. Y’all don’t know how hard that is to give up! I am leaving my book club, and while that might sound like a silly thing to think about, we have had that book club every month for over two years and I love the women in it. I will miss our Monday night meetings. I’m leaving law school friends and college friends that I have known for more than ten years. We will be a lot farther from my family (and slightly farther from Jake’s).

I’m also sad to leave the city of Columbia. I love, love, love Columbia. I love our neighborhood. I love not being able to go anywhere in this whole damn town without running into people that I know. I love Mr. Friendly’s and the Cat and Cleaver and Rockaway’s (though I loved that better pre-fire) and I like seeing Tony and the Walking Woman, just walking around.

Also, I am going to have to give up my car. For some reason this has upset me quite a bit. We don’t have a parking space in D.C., and we’ll both take the metro to work. It was almost time for me to start thinking about getting a new car anyway. Mine is ten years old — it was a high school graduation present and here it is, almost time for my ten year high school reunion. This car is much loved and well taken care of. It has been my car my entire adult life, since I was 17 years old. It took me through the summer after high school (best summer ever? quite possibly), college, law school, and the first two years of my marriage. That’s a good car. We realized, though, that it would be so expensive to register it and get a parking pass for it in D.C. that it will cost more than the car is now worth. So, it won’t be making the trip to D.C. For some reason I was okay with the new job/new house/new city thing, but thinking about not even having my trusty Rodeo makes me feel sort of heartsick. What can I say, y’all? I’m loyal. And I don’t like change.

I’m going to have to stop now. Y’all understand. I’m certain that we are going to love D.C., and I’m excited about going, really. I guess mostly I feel lucky to have lived so long in a place that will be so hard to leave. Columbia has been my home for a long time and I expect it will always seem that way.

(I also hear that people up there think that Maryland is the south. If you are one of the people that believe that, just don’t tell me. It will change my opinion of you.)

Y’all are going to write us, though, aren’t you? And come visit? You better. If you don’t, I will call you out publicly on the internet and you don’t want that kind of shame.

P.S. Last time we were in D.C., we saw a Hall and Oates tribute band called “Just Oates.” They didn’t need Hall — they was just Oates! They had black curly wigs on! You can’t get that kind of entertainment in Columbia, peeps! So there are definitely good times to be had in our nation’s capitol. Of that, I am certain.

P.P.S. Nothing to do with D.C., but just in case you were wondering. When I saw Tom Cruise on Oprah, I was shocked and horrified but he still seemed sort of harmless-crazy, you know, funny-crazy, like Britney is. After the Today show fiasco, though, he is no longer fun-crazy and is now mean-crazy. I don’t like mean-crazy. Tom Cruise is mean, and also ignorant. I think it is terribly, terribly offensive and dangerous to speak out against psychiatry and antidepressants that can SAVE PEOPLE’S LIVES and he ought to be ashamed of himself. Katie Holmes should be ashamed of herself, too, for not snatching a knot in his head.