That's a long-locked Beck at United Palace Theater on Wednesday. Amazing show in a gorgeous theater with killer seats. More (and less) very soon.

And now, an old-fashioned weekend report! This one was packed with fun activities, kids. I think you'll be impressed. Friday night after a visit with Ellen in her smelly apartment, we met up with Nick and Stacey at Abigail's Cafe for a lovely meal, then checked out Franklin Park, a "beer garden" (read: bar with outdoor patio that sells beer) a block away. Good times in Prospect Heights.

On Saturday we headed to the last show at McCarren Pool (sniffles). Sonic Youth put on a fairly awesome show under a purple sky that never quite let loose. Probably one of the best shows I've seen there. Wolf Eyes not so much, but I'll let it slide. After the show we dined at Dumont and then made our way to this crappy house in East Williamsburg where my friend Pete was playing with his band, Von Hayes. Unfortunately we had to leave early, but it was fun while it lasted.

On Sunday, after watching the requisite several episodes of Mad Men (we're caught up now, phew!), we dressed in our comfiest shorts/bathing suits (for one of us this was one garment) and went for a long-ass bike ride down to Fort Tilden, a former military base that's now a national park with great, underpopulated beaches. I was expecting more large military structures, but the bunkers were mostly hidden. Effectively bunker-like, I guess. But long stretches of pretty dunes made up for it. We ate sandwiches and pluots, basked in the warm sun, and squirted each other with our water bottles. A fittingly Labor Day weekend activity, eh? Unfortunately I got a flat tire on the way back, which wasn't very fun.

And then today we started off with a delish blackberry cosmo (mine) and bloody Mary (Carl's) at Bocca Lupo before meeting up with Matt and Jason to go to the West Indian Day parade. I'm not really much for parades, and this didn't cure me of that, but it is quite a scene. The "floats" are basically tractor trailers that carry gigantic speakers designed to blow your eardrums out of your head and lotsa people on them, many of them ladies dressed in bright colors and/or feathered headdresses and/or spangly bikinis. Most of these ladies are not on Weight Watchers. They are not counting their points. So it's loud and chaotic, but the real attraction (for us, anyway) was the food. I can't even remember how many portions of jerk chicken we had. We also had goat, oxtail, coconut and curry vegetables, and a free virility-enhancing elixir for Carl (hee). And in case you were wondering, yes, Matt did get in trouble for wearing that headband.

Hello? Is this thing on? In all likelihood it won't be, soon enough. The tumblr is just too easy compared to this lumbering old dinosaur. But for now, a vacation update!

Carl and I took our second trip this summer to points West, and an epic trip it was. We started out in sunny Portland, Oregon, where our host, Jami, immediately spirited us off for a breakfast of disgustingly fattening biscuits and gravy. After a spell settling into our awesome place int he southeast section of the city (complete with elaborate chillout garden!), we went for a walk downtown, got some crazy good coffee, hit a brewers' festival, and scored some rental bikes, which ended being key. Those bikes carried us all over the city, from downtown's Powells books and various resale clothing shops (where I ran into a high school friend) to hilltop vistas and local music festivals, from the Hold Steady to ridiculously sugary doughnuts and back to home base, from record store to ski lodge-themed lounge to...oh, you get it. Lotsa cool shit in Portland, and it didn't rain at all.

Until the day we left, that is. We set off for our three-day jaunt down the coast in a persistent gray mist. It was not our fave. How to see all the majestic sights of the mighty Pacific, churning against cliff faces? So we drove, and stubbornly got stuff to cook over the campfire. And actually it was a great meal: shish kebabs de-kebabbed and fired in tinfoil. Eaten in car due to rain. It was a little sad. And our tent wasn't exactly rainproof. So we basically slept and got the hell out of there the next day at the crack of dawn, and thank jebus it was much nicer. Oh, the big rocks we saw! Goonie ships around every corner, practically. And then the redwoods! Boy, did Carl have a boner for those redwoods. We camped in 'em, too. Very cool. On the third day, we got up and did a little walk through them. So impressive! We were kinda sad to leave them. But we were consoled by an awesome breakfast in an unlikely little town, and later by a little detour to Sonoma, where we bought a bunch of wine for our next hosts, John and Leanne.

San Francisco, see. That was the final stop. John and Leanne were excellent tour guides (you get the feeling they do this a lot), ferrying us around to the best sights, like the Mount Davidson cross and a cliffside perch on Stinson Beach (perfect for eating kettle corn), and the best food, like the sweet potato sandwich at Atlas Cafe (YUM), and the best events, like (of course) JERRY DAY. Like we wouldn't go to that? Imagine a crazy old hippie in overalls and nothing else lumbering up a hillside on crutches and shouting, "I love you guys!!" and you might be there. We also had some epic feasts at home, and got to watch Leanne almost cry with joy upon opening a giant buddha. Anyway, it's far enough away that the most awesome details may not be foremost in my mind, but I know we had an excellent time.

And that's the vacation roundup! I hope you are happy, Betsy. And anyone else that might be checking/reading. Full set of photos is here.

Just flew back from Hilton Head and boy are my arms...itchy. Despite not getting burned, I seem to lately be susceptible to this weird colorless rash on my arms. Booo, sun! But of course yay sun, and beach, and beach bocce, and beach biking, and tennis, and hundreds of dollars' worth of good homecooked food (fish crepes! seafood paella! uh...hot dogs!). Carl and I took daily tennis lessons; we hope we improved our games, but as our drill sergeant/dance instructor Hank made sure, we definitely know how to at least look like tennis players. I think I'll hear his "Pose! Pose!" commands in my dreams. We also celebrated my dad's birthday with a nice dinner out, and America's birthday with a hilarious drive around a labyrinthine parking lot hemming and hawing about whether to actually park and view the fireworks (we didn't, really).

And that is pretty much that. I would write more (no I wouldn't) but I am starting a new job tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep. But before I go, I have a couple of grade-A videos for you. First is an amazing one of my older brother, Paul, showing his ninja skills in getting up out of his beach chair. Then we have my father dancing along with brother Steve. Both are WELL worth your time, I promise.

This weekend we witnessed the hitching of Stacey and Nick on a lovely stretch of the Jersey Shore. Carl and I missed the Friday-night prewedding barbecue due to his heinously massive workload (seriously, eff the Olympics at this point), but at least we were there for the important parts. Stacey, looking radiant, wore a gorgeous gown with sparkly straps; Nick, slightly less radiant, wore an orange tie and some rather strange mandals. The rabbi referenced Henny Youngman and Joan Rivers at the ceremony; we all laughed. I hope you all like that fourth shot down because in the process of trying to take it I spilled bubble juice (in lieu of rice) down my dress. Later I spilled a bit of cosmo down it as well, but the drapeyness saved me from looking like a total a-hole, and the damage is less than might be expected. We stayed at a pretty awful motel where some rooms lacked things like cold water and working lights, not to mention comfy beds, but hey: The pool was nice, and we had fun anyway. Some of our crew got sunburned whilst completing an unexpected two-hour walk down the beach back to said motel from the best brunch spot in town. This is why cars are, sometimes, a good thing. And why sunscreen is always a good thing. (I sunscreened myself before going to brunch because I am just that paranoid, people.) Anyway, a fun, sloppy cheers to Stacey and Nick, one of the happiest, coolest, most easygoing couples I know. Full set of photos here.

Also, Carl kept getting mistaken for the brother of the bride. Pretty funny, and yet understandable:

Exactly one month later, I present: pictures of my mom and Howard's new log cabin in Bumblef Bethel, Pennsylvania, visited last weekend. We would have gone hiking, or strawberry picking, or engaged in who knows what other Mom-recommended activities in the hilly-yet-farmy area, but it was a sweltering 95 degrees and so mostly we just sat around and swatted flies. Next time!

In other news, tonight I had yummy Peking duck (not as good as in China, duh) and in a couple weeks I'll be starting a new job at an old employer. Whee!

For links, go to my tumblr. I don't want to hear any guff. Did you see that Barack/Michelle fist bump? Pretty awesome (though of course, if Bush did it, we'd think he was a moron).

Mother's Day...in Brooklyn! We were treated to a rare visit from the Moms on Saturday (Mother's Day Observed). Carl and I served a brunch of egg muffins with goat cheese, asparagus and pancetta (mmm), strawberry and orange mint salad, and homemade bread, with relatively minor kitchen freakouts on the part of the chef. Then we took a stroll down to the Promenade and boarded the 2 train to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, which the Moms had seen on TV. So, we wandered around for a couple of hours, looking at lotsa pretty plants with delightfully fun names, like Dumbcane, then headed back to the homestead for some pizza (and one serious kitchen meltdown). It was a really nice Mother's Day, if I do say so myself. (Luckily, Mom said so too.) Full set of photos here.

We then rushed out (sans Mom) to see Ladyhawk, a bunch of Canadian rockers whose headbanging jamminess reminded me a little of My Morning Jacket. Carrie Brownstein and I recommend.

I have been instructed in no uncertain terms to "update this shit." This, despite the fact that I have been diligently, enthusiastically updating my awesome tumblr page. So much funnin' over there, and yet still I get guff. Being the people-pleasing middle child that I am, and being that I haven't updated in a solid month, I will throw you all (Carl, Brandon...anyone else still loading this bitch up?) a bone. Here are a few things I have been up to lately:

- Enjoying the new Raconteurs album. Seriously, that is some hot shit. I would say it is so far my album of the year. So effing rock and roll, I can hardly stand it. I'm also really liking Teenager's debut album, "Entitled." These guys and gals rock, too, in a lower-key, Kinks meets GBV meets Velvet Underground sort of way. You can buy their album on iTunes. And you should.

::: Teenager, "Droppin' Out" :::

- Making my own ringtones for my new phone. After years and years of my trusty Motorola flip phone, I purchased a Samsung slider phone. Unfortunately, it sucked in a variety of ways. The way the bottom row of keys butted right up against the lip of the phone, a slider, made me feel like a stubby-fingered George Costanza when texting, and the menus were pretty retardedly organized. Why does it take 82 button pushes to send a text? After some hemming and hawing (because that phone is pretty cute, people), I returned it for the sleek, elegant LG CU515. It is extremely user-friendly, to the extent that it even knows I'm constantly switching my phone from vibrate to ringer and has a dedicated button that does just that. Awesome. And it's pretty in plum! Currently I'm sporting MGMT's "Time to Pretend" for the ringer and Mussels' "Wake Up Boy, Look Alive!" for the alarm tone. (Pretty annoyingly, it doesn't let you use downloaded tones for the text alert. I was all set to have Bob Pollard's funny "Thank you!" for that, which I took from his comedy album.)

- Running and biking. Last week Carl and I started following the marathon training schedule. We've been running mostly down around Red Hook, which is an awesome place to run, because there aren't too many people around and there are long stretches of road, and of course Red Hook is just cool. This week has been a little lazier, as Carl is now claiming his body doesn't run well in the morning. Eventually I'd like to run a marathon, but we can't do the New York one this year because Randi is getting hitched that weekend. So I'm thinking I'll learn how to run this year, maybe do some races, and then maybe next year the marathon. We also did the 5-Boro Bike Tour on Sunday, which was a lot of fun and not that hard. We did about 32 miles out of 42, not feeling like dealing with Staten Island and the ferrry and riding back to Brooklyn from Manhattan. Dorktastic pictures here. I now want a bike of my own.

- Eating a lot of homemade bread and pizza. Carl even got the giant pizza paddle (technically called a "peel"). His pizza is delicious. Hence the need for running....

- Planning fun summer things, like showers of all kinds, and vacations! Carl and I will be heading out to Portland and San Francisco in late July/August, so you can be sure at least of an update in August (heh). If you happen to know of any Cool Shit going on there and then, let me know.

- Obsessing over Battlestar Galactica. In fact, I'm trying to finish up this update so I can go watch at least one episode before work. As usual with cool shows, I'm late to the party. Season one pretty much blew my mind though.

In fact, I really need to go watch it now. Later kids.

This morning I busted out the ol' 3.2-megapixel camera (!) (that shit is old! and not even mine!) to document the glorious floral outpourings on the way to the work. Brooklyn is abloom! Spring, she is a'comin'! And soon, a new camera will be a'comin' too. I'm looking for a sweet one I can stick in my pocket. Anybody have any recommendations?

These are pictures from a dinner party that took place two weeks ago! Sorry for the delay in posting, folks. (As an consolation, I have been blogging almost daily [!] at my tumblr). Anyway, this was a dinner party given by former roomie Kurt for a select group of previous residents (and boyfriends) of our storied Rivington Street apartment, where Kurt still lives—and decorates. It looks fabulous in there, better than any of us girls were ever able to make it. Kurt went all out, purchasing entire place settings for the meal, which consisted of: horseradish egg salad mini-sammies and asparagus spears to start; salmon atop little puff pastry things with green beans; and a flourless chocolate cake for dessert. Totes yummo! Of course, after dinner the Madonna went on and it turned into dance party 111. I really can't wait for the final blowout at that place.

The next day, Jami and I went thrift shopping and hamburger eating in Williamsburg, then she had a lovely champagne and cheese party, where we put stuff on Cracker:

I need to go to the gym now, because Carl has been fattening me up with homemade bread. But here is a selection of items from the tumblr.

Raven-Simone's unintentionally hilarious video for "Double Dutch Bus," featuring the lyrics "fee fie fo fum."

AM New York likes Mussels. Word is spreading!

Kim Deal disses Stephen Malkmus for no good reason.

Satirical muxtape from the master of indie-rock satire, Catbirdseat.

Here are some nice things I can say about my trip to Austin for South by Southwest: The weather was really great. I saw some pretty good bands. I received a free copy of Readymade magazine and quite a few free beers. I had a delicious avocado margarita. On balance, though, it was not my most favorite vacation ever. At the risk of sounding like a total curmudgeon, here are the things about South by Southwest that totally sucked: Not having a badge or wristband to get me into the nighttime showcases. Sure, I could have hustled around more, wheedled bouncers, and sometimes paid a cover, but after spending my days at all the free parties, I was too tired to deal with the hassle. Not to mention sick of being alone, another major feature of this trip. Granted, I went down there alone, with a few pals floating about, but most of the time I was on my own. And that sort of sucked. Friends were dissing me left and right. If I hate going to shows by myself, imagine me going to three full days of shows by myself. Not that fun, folks. I think I have concluded that I just don't need 72 straight hours of live music. And (again, I knew this going in) I didn't get to see much of Austin, lacking a car to get around, instead seeing the same insides of clubs and backs of heads that I can see at any time at home. So yeah, not the best vacation.

That said, there were distinct pockets of fun. On Wednesday, the first official day, I stretched my newly bared legs out under the welcome sun at Mohawk, a great venue with a huge patio and free-flowing drinks. Nico Vega, a spitfire of a ladysinger with a rock bite, started things off for the Gothamist/Austinist shindig. I then headed over to Emo's for a band I'd read about on a blog, These New Puritans, who didn't quite live up to whatever promise I'd attached to their mp3s. This band did not rock. Next up was Yacht, an electro band who also failed to moved. Loved the Raveonettes, though. Have I mentioned I absolutely adore their new album, "Lust Lust Lust"? Around this time I hooked up with Whitney of Pop Candy fame; we each drained a Shiner Bock and headed off to see the Kills at the Fader Fort, a large, shady venue that also included a bunch of useless rooms and piles of jeans available for purchase. The Kills were great: sexy rock 'n' roll at its finest. We walked back to the Mohawk and caught the Shout Out Louds, then headed off with her cousin, a local, for some yummy tacos, of course. Following an industry-heavy drinks party, Whitney skipped off to R.E.M. and I went to go pick up my passes to the Old 97s day party, supposedly waiting for me at the Sheraton. They were not there. I then walked across a highway overpass and a weedy parking lot to a CVS so I could purchase sunscreen and aftersun lotion for my by-now painful sunburn, and hailed a cab home.

The next day, my buddies Mussels played a great, rockin' set (as usual) on a sunny afternoon at Home Slice Pizza, making Idolator happy as a clam, which of course made ME happy as a clam. That day I also caught Okkervil River (who I love and who didn't play long enough at all) and Blitzen Trapper in a packed little tent at the Schuba's party, followed by bitterly funny troubadour AA Bondy (who I bet my friend Cormi would love) and the amazing Bobby Bare Jr. in a parking lot. After an aborted attempt to get to the Witch and Dax Riggs show and a check on the Old 97s situation ($25 cover; not playing till 1 am; no thanks), I grabbed a couple of subpar street tacos and called it a night.

Friday my plan was to stick to the Pitchfork party at Emo's pretty much all afternoon, and that's what I did, bouncing back and forth between the inside and outside stages. I saw: Jay Reatard (okay garage punk); Fuck Buttons (suck); Bon Iver (great mellow music); Atlas Sound (amped-up atmospheric stuff); Fleet Foxes (more acoustic loveliness); Times New Viking (decent). After that I headed across the street to see Cloud Cult (quite good) and some awful jokey white-boy rap band with my old roommate Jen. Then I ate more tacos on the curb of bustling, cheesy 6th Street by myself before rejoining Jen to catch the Forms. Then I packed it in.

The thing is, I could have (and in fact have) seen most of these bands in New York. Maybe SXSW is awesome for networking industry types, dedicated partiers with badges or wristbands, or those with better luck in finding hidden-secret bands, but it just wasn't that awesome for me. I'm glad I got it out of my system, but I'm pretty sure I'm not doing it ever again.

Funny: Six-word reviews of 763 SXSW mp3s.

It's good I got all the ickiest sickness out of the way before next week, which is of course Austin and South by Southwest and avocado margaritas and I don't know, burritos? I spent some time last night SXSplanning, and it's looking like mostly day party city. I'm hoping I can buy my way in to see the Old 97s, too. Hit by a train in Texas! The heart flutters. They have a new album coming out, you know. Hopefully a little shopping can be squeezed in, too. I am super-excited, not least for WARMTH! See you soon, high 70s!

My buddies Mussels will be down there, too, playing Homeslice Pizza's day party on Thursday, March 13, and again on Saturday's Party on the Patio at Spiros Amphitheatre, wherever that is. They're also hitting the fine cities of Washington, D.C. (tonight!), Charlotte, Athens, Birmingham, St. Louis, Louisville, Chicago, Cincinnati (including a show at woxy.com!), Pittsburgh and Cleveland, so if you live in one of those cities, go see some good dudes play good rock. As Brandon once typo'd to me, it's going to be bandanas! And buy a CD! And/or a T-shirt. I've seen the new designs and hoo boy, are they cute. In fact if you see a girl in Austin rocking a Mussels T-shirt, it might just be me. Check myspace.com/mussels for more details.

A public service announcement: Whatever you do, DO NOT see Margot at the Wedding. What a miserable movie. Somehow the preview made it look all right, but it is a giant steaming pile of crap. How did Noah Baumbach do that? After "The Squid and the Whale" was so great? Oh, it was painful. Just awful characters being awful people, and not even in an interesting or illuminating way. DO NOT!

Besides watching movies, one of the things I was doing whilst laid up was watching American Idol, even getting past my usual hilarious rejects episodes and getting involved in "Hollywood week." And I found a favorite! Josiah Leming, a kid who was living in his car. Here he is singing Mika's "Grace Kelly" with a quavery emo voice, which was probably the quality that made me fall in love with him. The kid could not stop crying, ever! And he knew he was good. He is like the blonde love baby of Ben Kweller and Bright Eyes. But then, to his own visible shock and mine too, the judges cruelly cut him! He wuz so robbed! But he's doing pretty well for himself, made a bunch of money from sales of his songs on MySpace, and according to his cute Youtube update, he's meeting with some labels soon and hopes to have us an album this summer. And American Idol didn't even get to ruin him. Yay for him!

Okay. I have to go hack up some lung now. Bye!

I've been seeing a bunch of shows lately, actually. I also saw the Magnetic Fields at Town Hall on Friday night and wrote it up for Metromix. The Times had a similar view. And I was supposed to go see new Brooklyn resident Travis Morrison on Saturday night but stayed in to nurse an ailing stomach and watch Gone Baby Gone (excellent). Last night Matt and Carl and I dragged our tired Monday asses to Bowery Ballroom for another show by Super Furry Animals. We'd been blown away by them just last month at Maxwell's and decided to go back for more. The show wasn't quite as awesome (score one for tiny Maxwell's, I guess), but it was still great fun, evidenced by my often-shaking booty. Plus, they got a large portion of the audience to wiggle their fingers behind their heads, "because it improves the sound." In too-cool New York, this is a feat. And just good, silly fun. The Pita approves.

And later this week I have two more shows: Hallelujah the Hills opening for Evangelicals and Headlights, both of whom I have read about on the Internet so they MUST be good, at Union Hall on Friday; and Times New Viking (we missed them last night), Matthew Friedberger, Doug Gillard and GBV tribute band the Textbook Committee at Don Pedro's for the paperback release party for John Sellers' indie-rock memoir, Perfect From Now On, on Saturday. Whew!