Haunted WHAT?!
This was a busy week that ended in a busy, but good weekend.
I went this weekend up to Highland Park (next to New Brunswick, where I went to school) to visit my friend Alison. Friday night we saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which was, in true Tim Burton style, very weird. Good, but not as good as the original (because I tend to be stuck in my childhood when it comes to things like Willy Wonka and random 1985 Alice in Wonderland TV specials featuring Ringo Star and John Stamos), and there was a whole extra WillyWonka-misses-his-dad-and-that's-what-makes-him-so-weird subplot of which I was not a fan. But anyway.
Saturday was Siren Music Festival at Coney Island. Being that I am far from hip, cool, indie, or anything of the sort, I hadn't heard of more than maybe one or two of the bands playing, but who am I to pass up a free concert in a place I've never been? (Okay, I've probably done it before, and might do it again, but whatever.) So we took the train into Penn Station and hopped a subway to Chinatown. I had my very first bubble tea (strawberry), we had some lunch, where I was forced to use chopsticks*, a talent which I do not possess, and dropped a dumpling into a plate full of soy sauce, thereby splashing my white shirt and ruining my look of cuteness for the day. Typical. Whatever.
So from there, we got back on the Q and rode to Coney Island. The rain stayed away, and the crowd was good, and the music (which we didn't end up listening to a whole lot of between exploring the boardwalk and eating) was also good... but I have to say that the most memorable part of the weekend, by far, was a band called (and I don't say this word ever, so you guys are getting a real treat, since it's needed to convey the story, and I'm writing it, not saying it, though it still makes me cringe) Haunted Pussy. That's right.
We walk up to a crowd of people watching this act, brandishing a sign that says they name of their band, and then "Our spooky metal music will make you cry." And it almost did.
The band consisted of three people: One guy playing some creepy electric guitar riffs, and two women dressed in torn lingerie, an assortment of shoes, and dramatic blood-like makeup who danced like a hurricane was blowing them around, getting in people's faces, bending over the wooden police barricade things that were up, and "singing." Except that their singing was actually more like ghostly chanting, because there were no words...
And I was totally creeped out.
Which of course just made fodder for ridicule later. Because once Christine and Alison knew it freaked me out, they spend the rest of the day chasing me around with their pelvises forward and chanting ghostily. Well, not the whole rest of the day nonstop... but it happened a number of times, including (by Alison) in line at Nathan's, and while watching Spoon, during which time I could not stop lauging and ended up crying all of my makeup into my eyes. As a matter of fact, that was my reaction every time they did it. It wouldn't get old. The whole thing was really just rediculous, but it made the whole weekend!
Which was good, because of Sunday.
So Christine invites me to this luau that her former employer is having at the JCC. And I'm all thinking that I'm going to go, have a couple beers, and if no alcohol, at least some good food and people to talk to. But guess who was there when we arrived? Um. 8 six year olds. In case you are waiting for me to finish the list, you can stop, because aside from the mom and two mom-helpers, what was it. We walked in on 8 six year olds decorating foam visors, and were then asked to turn around and go buy an ice cream cake and some batteries from ACME. So we did, and we came back and ate half-slices of pizza and a small assortment of kosher foods, chilled for about an hour, and we were on our way back to SoJo. I was glad when I realized Christine didn't think it was a good time either, because for awhile I was wondering what I was going to say to her.
The ride home was relatively painless, sans the pain-in-the-ass traffic that always lingers around exit 8A, and the scattered downpours, but I kept seeing a mirage of my bed ahead of us, and cannot wait to crawl into it right now!
* Okay, not forced, but I was too proud to ask for a fork until I gave up about 3/4's through the meal.
I went this weekend up to Highland Park (next to New Brunswick, where I went to school) to visit my friend Alison. Friday night we saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which was, in true Tim Burton style, very weird. Good, but not as good as the original (because I tend to be stuck in my childhood when it comes to things like Willy Wonka and random 1985 Alice in Wonderland TV specials featuring Ringo Star and John Stamos), and there was a whole extra WillyWonka-misses-his-dad-and-that's-what-makes-him-so-weird subplot of which I was not a fan. But anyway.
Saturday was Siren Music Festival at Coney Island. Being that I am far from hip, cool, indie, or anything of the sort, I hadn't heard of more than maybe one or two of the bands playing, but who am I to pass up a free concert in a place I've never been? (Okay, I've probably done it before, and might do it again, but whatever.) So we took the train into Penn Station and hopped a subway to Chinatown. I had my very first bubble tea (strawberry), we had some lunch, where I was forced to use chopsticks*, a talent which I do not possess, and dropped a dumpling into a plate full of soy sauce, thereby splashing my white shirt and ruining my look of cuteness for the day. Typical. Whatever.
So from there, we got back on the Q and rode to Coney Island. The rain stayed away, and the crowd was good, and the music (which we didn't end up listening to a whole lot of between exploring the boardwalk and eating) was also good... but I have to say that the most memorable part of the weekend, by far, was a band called (and I don't say this word ever, so you guys are getting a real treat, since it's needed to convey the story, and I'm writing it, not saying it, though it still makes me cringe) Haunted Pussy. That's right.
We walk up to a crowd of people watching this act, brandishing a sign that says they name of their band, and then "Our spooky metal music will make you cry." And it almost did.
The band consisted of three people: One guy playing some creepy electric guitar riffs, and two women dressed in torn lingerie, an assortment of shoes, and dramatic blood-like makeup who danced like a hurricane was blowing them around, getting in people's faces, bending over the wooden police barricade things that were up, and "singing." Except that their singing was actually more like ghostly chanting, because there were no words...
And I was totally creeped out.
Which of course just made fodder for ridicule later. Because once Christine and Alison knew it freaked me out, they spend the rest of the day chasing me around with their pelvises forward and chanting ghostily. Well, not the whole rest of the day nonstop... but it happened a number of times, including (by Alison) in line at Nathan's, and while watching Spoon, during which time I could not stop lauging and ended up crying all of my makeup into my eyes. As a matter of fact, that was my reaction every time they did it. It wouldn't get old. The whole thing was really just rediculous, but it made the whole weekend!
Which was good, because of Sunday.
So Christine invites me to this luau that her former employer is having at the JCC. And I'm all thinking that I'm going to go, have a couple beers, and if no alcohol, at least some good food and people to talk to. But guess who was there when we arrived? Um. 8 six year olds. In case you are waiting for me to finish the list, you can stop, because aside from the mom and two mom-helpers, what was it. We walked in on 8 six year olds decorating foam visors, and were then asked to turn around and go buy an ice cream cake and some batteries from ACME. So we did, and we came back and ate half-slices of pizza and a small assortment of kosher foods, chilled for about an hour, and we were on our way back to SoJo. I was glad when I realized Christine didn't think it was a good time either, because for awhile I was wondering what I was going to say to her.
The ride home was relatively painless, sans the pain-in-the-ass traffic that always lingers around exit 8A, and the scattered downpours, but I kept seeing a mirage of my bed ahead of us, and cannot wait to crawl into it right now!
* Okay, not forced, but I was too proud to ask for a fork until I gave up about 3/4's through the meal.
posted by Jess at 11:41 PM
1 Comments:
Jessie-poo....update!
Post a Comment
<< Home