Ah, to be young and little and thinking it’s a good idea to wear summer clothes when it’s ass-cold out: Saturday night, Girlie and I turned up at Flat Rock to catch The Unit, a hilarious cover band partial to taking requests from the crowd (including “It’s Raining Men,” which I requested), when this little longhaired girl and her douchey Pete Wentz boyfriend with a horrendous underbite—clearly impervious to both the music style and the cold based on the pot smell coming off her—took off her corduroy jacket and started flailing her arms and swaying in that Dead/Phish way. Poor thing was wearing a halter dress not unlike one I bought from the Guinness Flagh some 11 years ago—same color except longer and with a red bra underneath. Ever the asshole and to Girlie’s amusement, I started grooving with her, but when I stopped she came up and yelled, “You can’t stop when you’re free!” (snerk—I know, right?), to which I replied, “That’s true. Now go put some clothes on, Hippie Girl!” but by then she’d grooved out of earshot. Other funny things from that night include the drug dealer who bought us a round after watching his stuff when he went out to make a sale and the girls who were doing the equivalent of pole dancing without the pole: Girlie calls that their “vaguely entertaining, yet completely useless skill set.” I just wish I was still that limber, IF I ever was.

Brian Vander Ark played the last of his month-long series at Schuba’s last night, and as much as I’ve seen him the past year (five, six times, I think), last night was probably the best yet. He played with a group of musicians he’s befriended over the past year or two, and they were really good, though much as I dig folk, it was a bit too mellow after two Stellas and I retired to the bar, where some kind soul threw some Clash into the jukebox.  But he opened up with my first favorite song of his, “Then We Fell,” about a couple who contemplates leaving the U.S. after 9/11, and ended with my second favorite, “Someone Like You” because I kept requesting it when he took requests. I just wish he didn’t have to play “The Freshmen” every. time. I see him. I know it’s everyone’s favorite, but it’s not like you don’t hear it enough on any adult-contemporary station. Why you gotta ruin MY show-going experience!??

Forgot to mention this in my vignette dump of last week, but I grabbed lunch with my college boyfriend a couple weeks ago. Nothing big—we ran to Subway—but as we were yapping, I kinda got the impression he still thinks of me as I was in college (read: TRAINWRECK). So I shared my thoughts with Poppy, who reminded me that to someone who’s married, MOST things single people do look exciting even if they’re really not, and it’s not anything personal; and most people are who they are by time they’re 17-ish anyways, so if you’re a little dramatic like I was (snerk), that doesn’t usually go away. He kinda said the same thing when I told him I think he still thinks I’m a trainwreck the other day, and that there are some ways in which I haven’t changed. That’s true; my penchant for attracting crazy remains unabated.

The other thing I forgot to mention: I covered the grand opening of a casino hotel last week, but do you know I turned down the invite to stay overnight and get the royal treatment because I thought it would be improper, yet I could’ve because it in no way biased my coverage!?? Dumbass. Actually, you know why this bums me out so? Not because I could’ve gotten a massage or hobknobbed at swanky cocktail party. Nay nay. I’m bummed because I wasn’t among the first to ever sleep on one of them cushy hotel beds, thereby NOT leaving my DNA for the blacklights to pick up during an investigation.