Why I should win the award for coolest big sister

Last night I went with my brother to see the biggest Bay Area teen sensation, The Cataracs. Well, went with my brother is a bit of an overstatement. He was going and I was allowed to go as long as I brought my own friends and didn’t talk to him too much. Seriously, you’d think I was the little sister here, not 16 years his elder.

Tyler had been talking about this band and this show for weeks. Apparently they’re THE biggest thing right now. I listened to their music online, kinda catchy. Plus, the Rickshaw Stop is a cool little venue just a few blocks from my house, so it was easy enough to stop by.

So last night, headed down to the show with my friend, Deidre. As we’re waiting in line, the first thing that happens is the kid behind us says, "So, you ladies are kind of in the older crowd here." We hadn’t even gotten in the door, and we’re already standing out like sore thumbs. Really old, sore thumbs.

He goes, “That’s cool, I’m a little older too – I’m 21.” Yeah, us too, we tell him.

Although, as we were walking in the door, I overheard the exchange between that guy and the bouncer. Apparently, he was not allowed in because his ID wasn’t real. So, I guess he wasn’t 21 after all.

We get in to the crowd of teenagers and walk over to the bar, which, of course, was empty. As we place the only order of the night, I scan the crowd in front of the stage. There’s my brother, easy to spot because, though 15-years-old, he’s the tallest kid there. He and his friends are all decked out in their finest – baggy jeans sagging halfway down their thighs, baseball caps turned to the side, and – the finishing touch – backpacks. Empty backpacks, purely for style.

They’re up near the front of the stage, bopping back and forth and chatting to some scantily-clad girls. I decided not to interrupt his grove.

Another adult arrives at bar and it turns out Deidre knows him. We’re introduced and we ask him what his excuse it for being part of this teenage madness. Turns out he’s there because his friend is the band manager. Long story short, I chat it up with the band manager and he says, “Of course I can introduce your brother to the band.”

Now, armed with this new power, I go up to Tyler and his friends. Turns out he was a little bit happy to see me anyway, even before I busted out my VIP connections.

Needless to say, Ty and his little buddies were pretty stoked. Deidre and I did not stay to see the Cataracs go on, because it was already 11pm and we were tired old ladies. But before I left, I introduced Tyler to the band manager and gave his friends a sip of my beer. So, I think my job there was done. Coolest big sister ever.

In July!

Today I had to wear gloves on my bike ride to work to keep my hands from freezing. Ah, summers in San Francisco.

Darondo

Last night at the Independent, Molly and I were pleasantly surprised to see one of the most entertaining concerts we’ve ever been to. This was thanks to a certain crazy old man named Darondo.



I can’t decide which was funnier – the fact he only had three teeth (all located in the bottom left gum). Or the sexuality featured in his songs, including detailed instructions on how to best please your lady orally (it’s gotta be easier without all those teeth). Classic.

Rehoboth Beach

Today is the last day of my vacation in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. My family has been coming here my whole life. It’s a cute little town, with features such as a beach boardwalk, games, rides and bacon ice cream. But at 31, with no kids, I didn’t think there would be much here for me to do, and to be honest, I wasn’t really looking forward to the trip.

I had forgotten how great this place is.

The last five days have been blissfully spent relaxing on the sand, playing in the water, and spending time with my family and family friends. My teenage brother, who rarely speaks to the rest of us at home, has been engaging in multiple games of Monopoly, going on bike rides with me and following me around the boardwalk. My sister and I have been laughing in the water as we attempt to body surf in the Atlantic’s tiny waves. My mom, who is not a big outdoorsy person at home, has been walking down the boardwalk with me to sit outside and eat crepes from the little café on Penny Lane.

It’s been a pretty heavenly trip and I’m sad for it to end.

Maybe I can take some bacon ice cream home with me.

Grandmotherly Advice

I got a voicemail from my dad asking me to give my grandmother a call. It sounded urgent, so I tried calling her as soon as I got off the plane. There was no answer and it was getting too late to call, so I waited to call again until the next morning. I got her voicemail.

Grandma can’t call me because her fingers don’t work like they used to. At 95, her body is finally starting to catch up with her age.

I tried again the next day, starting to get concerned. This time she answered.

“Hi Grandma, it’s Audrey. I’m in New York, but Dad said you needed to talk to me.”

“Audrey, I’m so glad you called. I was thinking about what you said about not wanted to go on J-date, and I think you should reconsider. I was talking to my friend Vera, and she knows a woman whose daughter just married a man she met on J-date….”

This is why my grandma HAD to talk to me immediately! This happened the same day as the neck injury and the comment from the man on 2nd Street. I told grandma not to worry, that I was getting plenty of attention from random men on the street.

Cripple

I think god, or whomever is in charge, decided to have a giant laugh at my expense last week. On Thursday, Day 2 of my East Coast Vacation, I woke up with a sharp shooting pain running from my neck down into my back and shoulder every time I tried to move. I didn’t know what it was… pulled muscle? Pinched nerve? Broken collarbone? Whatever the cause, I was unable to go about my day regularly, as in, I couldn’t actually get up off the couch. It took me over an hour to dress myself – picking up clothes with my feet, bending my knee and then reaching backwards to grab the item, though I was then completely unable to pull said item over my head without cries of agony. Cate had a fun time watching me attempt to put on pants.

I finally made it out into the city, but I had to keep my head tilted to the right at a 45 degree angle at all times. I looked like a giant freak walking through the streets of Manhattan with my head off to one side. But then again, everyone looks like a weirdo in Manhattan.

As I walked down 2nd Ave in the East Village, someone did make a comment as he passed me. But it had less to do with my oddly positioned head and more to do with my breasts. Really? I’m walking stiffly with my head tilted to the right and THAT’S what you had to say? I found the whole situation pretty hilarious, although it hurt to laugh.

Back in New York

I am back in the big bad city of New York. I gotta admit, it’s not trying very hard to win me back over with this haze and mugginess. But what can I say, I still love it. I started my day off with an egg & cheese roll and an iced coffee with too much milk and granulated sugar… ah the sweet, grainy taste of New York.

Getting into my company’s New York office was a fun corporate adventure that brought me back to the days of freelancing – with the IDs, visitor passes, door cards, etc. A far cry from my office in SF where all you need to do is put your bike on the rack and take off your shoes when you go in the meditation room.

The highlight of my trip so far was the D-Listed marathon on Virgin America’s Direct TV. That Kathy Griffin sure is funny. Needless to say, I did not get all the work done on the plane that I had planned to do. So I’m doing it now in my private, windowed office (borrowed from a coworker who’s on the road). Here’s the view. I love those water towers.

Blended or on the rocks?

I have a newfound respect for bartenders. It is hard work being on your feet all day and serving thirsty patrons. I know, because I worked the bar at the Fillmore Jazz Festival all weekend with Molly and some of our friends. In case you have not heard of this particular festival, it is the largest free jazz festival on the west coast.

To add to the confusion of nonstop margaritas, beer, wine, and sodas, we had the cacophony of local jazz bands riffing in the background. I can handle blending margarita after margarita. And I can handle some wild jazz improve. But combine the two, phew… it was a long day. Fun though. And totally worth all the cash I got in tips.

Molly & Deidre working the crowd.


The blenders get a break during a lull.


Molly's so good she can make margs with her eyes closed.