Nothing Comes Between Me and My Jeff Tweedy

Not even the fact that soon-to-be-ex took his girlfriend to the concert,

or that my date, 6 foot and gorgeous, was my 14-year old daughter.

Not the fact we had to sequester ourselves from our mutual friends at dinner so no one felt awkward. And if I sound bitter here, that's because I am, you mutual friends.

Or the Noodles and Company restaurant which Daughter picked out of all the great places to eat in Ann Arbor.

Or the fact that Noodles and Company doesn't sell alcohol.

Or that Hill Auditorium in The Peoples' Republic of Ann Arbor, home of the Hash Bash, does not sell alcohol.

Nor the fact that even though I ordered tickets the day they went on sale, we were seated in the nose-bleed section.

Yes, the nose-bleed section where people were constantly getting up from their seats and disrupting my view. Yes, those people must have had alcohol which needed removal from their systems.

Damn them.

Nor the fact that I've been separated one year now from soon-to-be-ex and though it was my decision, it's still hard to see "our" favorite band separately. Plus, he got the microbrews. And the girlfriend. And the friends.

Damn you.

But....when My Jeff Tweedy strums on his acoustic and sings, "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart," life has meaning.

Nothing or no one comes close.

Well, I guess those guys that Daughter and I visited after the show aren't too bad. That Ben & Jerry. They're okay.

posted at Humor-Blogs

Desperately Seeking Jeff Tweedy, Hoppy Ales and a Desiginated Driver (in that order)

God, I'm pathetic. Really, really pathetic.

Let me start at the beginning. Hell, let me start with a topic sentence and a few supporting details.

The People's Republic of Ann Arbor is known for many things. The first of which is the U of M football team. But because I live in Ohio State, I'm not permitted to say anything more under penalty of law.

Ann Arbor is also known as the liberal bastion of the Midwest--kind of like a Berkley minus the sun and San Andreas Fault. So it's of no surprise that during the election, Obama Hope banners were plastered throughout the city.



But being a city after my own Humor, a local business decided to change its banner on the day after the election:




Gotta love that.

Ann Arbor is also a city after my own Hops. Yes, Ashley's has 1,248, 894 beers on tap:









And as you know, I love me my Hops.

Lastly, Ann Arbor is also known for its support of the arts. In the summer there's the Ann Arbor Art Festival, in the Spring the Hash Bash , and in the winter, The Ann Arbor Folk Festival. 

This year the headliner on Friday was My Jeff Tweedy of Wilco. 

Yes, a rocker and experimental musician who once produced a song with 15 minutes of strange electronic synthesizer sounds, headlines a folk festival--gotta love that. 

And as you know, I do love me my Tweedy. 

Especially when he sings Ann Arbor's own original folk classic, I Want to be Your Dog.

But #$&$5w46qir%#$$#%sdf9347343$#&# is it hard to stalk this star!!!!!!

My offer of $5.00 and a photo on my blog only made the guard at the stage door grasp his gut and topple over with laugher.

Needless to say, not meeting this No Depression Star threw me into a deep depression. What could I do except drown my sorrows at Ashley's after the show?

And here's where the pathetic comes in.

I met a few foreigners there and we drank and drank and drank and basically closed the place down. Now I'm used to drinking with the Irish, who get drunk and sing songs such as I'd Love to Bang the Bangles.

But these guys were from some northern European country and seemed slightly more...how can I put it...anal...than the fun-loving and ever-romantic Irish. We ended up staying after hours and setting this up:

But no worries.  Ann Arbor is also the Mecca of Conservation, meaning all those bottles will be recycled.  

As for the Folk Festival next year, I'm stopping at the ATM to get a large amount of cash beforehand and wearing a pushup bra.  

'Cause when it comes to meeting My Jeff Tweedy, I must always maintain:

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More Hops and Hope at Humor-Blogs. 

BTW, gotta love that 59-year old Springsteen, eh?

If I'm a Hippie, I'm a Hi-Tech One

According to the comments on my previous post it seems I am a Hippie because what?

I skinny dip?

I couch surf?

I make my kids walk to school?

OK. OK. That's groovy.

So I guess it won't surprise you that like any Hippie worth their weight in tie dye, I'm going to the Ann Arbor folk festival this month.

Headliners on Saturday are Pete Seager and Kris Kristofferson (hey, remember he wrote "Me and Bobby McGee" and "Help Me Make It Through the Night").

But really, I'M NOT THAT MUCH OF A HIPPIE that I need to see Pete Seeger and the dude forever stamped in my mind as the guy making out with Barbara Striesand.

No. I'm going on Friday night when the headliner is My Jeff Tweedy. Yep, if you've been here before you know that I'm a bit of a Wilcohead. And if you're new around here, meet My Jeff Tweedy:




And I must make a confession. I AM THAT MUCH OF A HIPPIE that I will be participating in the time-honored tradition of showing one's ultimate gratitude for the performance. I mean, it will be Jeff Frickin' Tweedy!

Only instead of a lighter, This Hippie will be using her Teen's I-Pod Touch:











You see, I am nothing if not a WITH IT Hippie.

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Stay tuned for This WITH IT Hippie's top ten bloggy crushes

Most of whom can be found at Humor-Blogs.

Groupie or Stalker? You Decide

At the risk of not revealing too much I found out that when Colin Farrell’s in town for the Toronto film festival he goes to Hemingway’s for a drink. What a coincidence! I go there too when I’m in town for the festival. And I am in town every September (but mainly to run into John Cusack).

So I parked myself at the bar in Hemingway’s and waited and waited and waited (and accidentally learned all about hockey while waiting). Colin was a no show. Newspapers reported he got a little bogged down with picking up a homeless guy and finding him an apartment.

Friggin’ homeless guy.

And then I ate at a restaurant in Malibu where John Cusack reportedly sits at the counter eating his avocado eggroll. After a no-show, I hopped over to the nearby drugstore. I figured he'd have to buy toothpaste sometime. I waited and waited and waited (and accidentally counted 34 different brands of toothpaste among countless whitening and breathe refreshing products). Turns out John was in Chicago visiting the family.

Friggin' Cusack family.

So I couch surfed in Chicago—but not to run into John. I was there for the real guy in my life - Jeff Tweedy (and yes, for a harried with children chick I do get around). Last February I bought a scalper’s ticket on eBay (after seeing this guy twice in the last 6 months) because I love Jeff Tweedy. I mean, I LOVE JEFF TWEEDY. My life’s motto: WWJTD.

And who is Jeff Tweedy? This, Internets, is Jeff Tweedy:



And hang in there for Nels Cline's fabulous whammy guitar stuff.

Muzzle of Bees

There's a random painted highway
And a muzzle of bees
My sleeves have come unstitched
From climbing your tree

And dogs laugh, some say they're barking
I don't think they're mean
Some people get so frightened
Of the fences in between

And the sun gets passed from tree to tree
Silently, and back to me
With the breeze blown through
Pushed up against the sea
Finally back to me

I'm assuming you got my message
On your machine
I'm assuming you love me
And you know what that means

Sun gets passed, sea to sea
Silently, and back to me
With the breeze blown through
Pushed up above the leaves

With the breeze blown through
My head upon your knee
Half of it's you, half is me
Half of it's you, half is me

For more Music Mondays, check out Soccer Mom in Denial. For more folks in denial, check out Humor-Blogs. For more Wilco and Couch Surfing in Chicago, stay tuned.