First things first - take a gander at what my blog would look like "transliziled." (The result of "Gizoogle"ing it - thanks Lynnea).
Now - the Bloc Party show last night. Overall sentiment: Meh.
Not a bad show by any means. They played tight, his voice was strong (sidenote: that was the most impressive part of seeing the Killers last week - that boy's got some LUNGS! Didn't falter a bit), the drummer is fantastic. But, it didn't really grab me by the...anythings. Which, is the true mark of a great show. I wasn't infused with the need to dance and jump to save my soul. But, it was alright.
My experience was somewhat hindered by the fact that the four all time worst people to be surrounded by at a concert were magnetically drawn to us. Scanning the crowd, I didn't see a single other act of such extreme uncoolness going on. We were a lightning rod. Let me explain.
1) The bouncers. This couple, directly in front of Liz for the first half of the show, and me for the second, bounced in unison - no matter what the song's beat demanded. This bouncing knew no bounds - including jumping on Liz's feet. They seemed to be drawn to Vienna-native feet in general, because when she dropped something and they all started feeling around on the floor for it, she grabbed my foot several times. The urge to shout "THIS ISN'T YOUR CELL PHONE! RING RING RING" while kicking her was hard to put aside, but I managed.
2) Mr. "I'm unaware of my size" guy. This guy and his pissant little friend had no problem with pushing us out of our spots to stand directly in front of us, and go NUTS with the jumpy dancing. Liz's analogy was, "It's ok to do that if you're smaller. You just have to be aware of what's intrusive. Like Missy, she doesn't know her size. It's ok for Luna to wag her tail in between the couch and the coffee table. But if Missy does it, the table breaks." We pushed this guy out of the way and got in front of him cause, well, it was just rude of him in the first place. His friend would not budge though. Whatever, that dude was wearing earplugs.
3) 5'1 and 3 sheets girl. This was my personal favorite. This teeny tiny little girl had apparently imbibed an entire keg before coming to the show. And just couldn't hold herself steady. And, I apparently looked like an excellent target. Her frenetic offenses included, but were not limited to: pouring my entire beer all over me (sierra nevada and a white shirt. yes, that does stain); grabbing my earring and pulling as she fell down; falling down again and flailing, claws out, in the direction of my face. If I wasn't 100% positive that I had been "that girl" at some point in my life, and were the fightin kind, there would have been a whole lot of steppin goin on. Jenna and I began an elbowing campaign after all that, but the dumb chick didn't even notice. Note to boyfriends around the land: rather than trying to coral your girlfriend if she's in that state, take her out of the epicenter of the crowd. Thank you.
Anyhow, it wasn't a bad night at all, just not the best show I'd ever seen. If the show had been amazing, we may not have even been plagued by any of that. My personal favorite exchange of the night was as followws:
Jenna: Amanda, there are a lot of cute guys here.
Amanda: I know!
Jenna: Like that guy over there.
Amanda: Yeah, that's who I was just looking at!
Liz: Oh, I don't think he's cute. I don't like blondes.
Amanda: Liz, he's not blonde - he's wearing a yellow hat.