The Low Voice

A couple of years ago, during a socially turbulent time, I was extremely reluctant to go out alone. Really, I was pretty much reluctant to go out at all. One night in April of 2008, there was a Guns n Roses cover band playing at The Majestic and I'd won tickets. I was feeling really down and like I had no friends, and I really didn't want to go to the show. However, a call from my mother changed all that. "Reemie," she said, "Go to that show. Go see a band you love (never mind that it wasn't the real band - I loved them anyhow) and have fun. Put on some lipstick and comb your hair, and go have a good time." And I did. And this happened.

I often hear my mother's words of wisdom ringing faintly in my brain when I'm having that feeling of social anxiety or apathy. I am extremely thankful for those words because, although I usually substitute lip gloss for lipstick, the motivation that comes from those words usually ends up in me having a fantastic night, and often, seeing amazing bands. As was the case tonight...

About a year ago, a few friends and I were in a Record Club. It was just like a book club, only we listened to albums instead of reading boring books. Sorry, it's true. It really didn't last long, but the first album we had in our club was Boxer by The National. I thought it was a beautiful album and fell in love with the singer's voice and the drummer's skills. So when I found out The National was playing here in Madison, I bought a ticket right away. And thanks to me mudder's words (my Mom, guys, my Mom), I actually went to the show tonight! Lip gloss and uncombed hair and all.

The show was beautiful. It was at The Orpheum, an old theater on State St. in downtown Madison. I love seeing shows there because you can climb all the way to the top and literally sit in the back row and still see and hear the band really well. There's also something peaceful about being up there, maybe by yourself or with a couple of other people, watching not only the band, but the giant crowd dancing and yelling and listening right in front of you. It was really the perfect venue for this band who filled the space with their huge but gentle sound. Musically, this band is tight as hell, and they get extra points from me because there are two sets of brothers in the band. Family band!

The singer of The National, Matt Berninger (a non-brother) has one of the most distinct, memorable, smooth, lovely voices I've ever heard. There's just something about a low voice. Have you noticed? I was trying to put my finger on it during the show, attempting to recall other low-voiced vocalists that affected me as much as this singer but I struggled. All I came up with was the guy from Modern English and the guy from The Smoking Popes. Both bands are somewhat unremarkable to me. Fine. Inoffensive. So what is it, then, about that low voice? Want to have a listen and help me figure it out?

I guess it's just that you don't hear voices like that very often. Sure, there's the occasional Guy Who Can Sing "Old Man River" Very Well, but that guy doesn't really do to me what Berninger's voice does. He is romantic and passionate, and when he grasps the microphone with two hands, I take him more seriously than, say, one of his higher-voiced cohorts. Could it be that I see the baritone voice as that of a "Real Man?" Am I completely stuck in gender stereotypes despite my years of screaming about "breaking boundaries" and "defying dichotomies" and all that other college talk? I mean, maybe we should take a hint from this:


A man shouldn't sound like chimes when he walks! He should sound like bass drums and pelvises shaking back and forth, right? That's a man, man. Like Matt Berninger.

And so maybe this whole blog entry wore the mask of seriousness and sincerity, all just to reel you in and have you sit attentively just so I could once again force upon you the genius of "Petite Feet." Maybe I just can't stop talking about and singing "Petite Feet." So what? Or maybe I'm just tired. I don't know. I mean, I did just think that baby on the commercial was wearing a kimono when it was actually a regular boring t-shirt. Either way, it's my blog and I do what I want. But, to be sincere, The National was just lovely. I'm so glad I went and wore lip gloss.

My favorite song:


And a lovely review from The AV Club here.

Happy Birthday, Dadoo!

My father turns 65 today, September 17th, 2010. Just a few weeks ago, he told me about a conversation with a friend of his. His friend asked him if he felt like he was entering old age. My dad replied "this has been the year of old age, and I'm through with it. What begins next is my New Age."

I am constantly and consistently inspired by my father. He continues to teach and learn every day of his life. His positive attitude and outlook on life is remarkable. He acts out of love and compassion, always offering whatever he can to others. I know he was like a second father to many of my friends growing up, and I'm so grateful that I have gotten to, and still get to, have him as my father every day.

My father always taught me to face my fears with humor, to laugh when I'm frightened, and those times come when I am terrified and have no idea how I got to be this 31-year-old-supposed-adult and what I'm supposed to do ever in life. And I hear my father's laugh in my head, contagious and wonderful, and suddenly nothing seems all that scary at all.

Here's to a beautiful, hilarious, joyful, and peaceful New Age full of even more love and happiness, Dad!







Since I am, apparently, obsessed with my father, here's a link to about ten other blog entries I've written about him.

I'm Sort of Feeling Like an Ass Tonight

Hey. Ever heard of photobombing? It's just a creative way of saying that you're either 1) ruining people's nice pictures, or 2) being a genius. Examples:


Look. There were like 28 of us at a White Sox game, and I didn't give an eff about the score of the stupid sports game, and I was trying to have some fun. Hence, this awesomeness. Sometimes photobombing also happens at family functions. Weddings, birthday parties, barbecues...you name it!


Sometimes one might even photobomb the first time they ever meet a person!
And sometimes, photobombs don't really happen on purpose. These are the photobombs that make me the most nervous, because what the hell happened here?!
Anyhow, photobombs are a beautiful thing. There's a whole website dedicated to photobombing. And you know what? I've submitted at least five of the above photos, and none of them have been posted by the website. None! Lame. I'm going to start my own website that's all about me and how awesome I am, and I'll photobomb the hell out of everything and post every single picture. Just wait until you see that website.

Maybe this is how I will get famous...

One Of Each!

Have you ever been met with a difficult decision regarding food? Like, you're out to breakfast and you want those spinach crepes, but also some corned beef hash, and maybe some flapjacks, and possibly even some cheese-covered hash browns. What's a girl to do? If you're my sister and I, and you have nothing to do all day except go to Target and buy new headbands, then you take your damn time and get all of those items during your leisurely brunch. It's called...

ONE OF EACH!

It's also called Being Awesome, but that's another lecture for another time. One Of Each is a beautiful thing. Alls you need is a friend or partner, in addition to yourself, who is good at sharing, an open mind towards food, and a hearty appetite. On a good day, I have one of those three (the hearty appetite, duh). I'm a picky eater, I know. And honestly, I really hate sharing food. This one time, I even said no to my friend's five-year-old son who asked me for a bite of my sandwich. Well, to be fair, I gave him one bite, but when he asked for a second bite, I said no and that he had to go ask his dad for something to eat. While he went, I hurriedly polished off my sandwich. Sorry, kids. I don't share well. The one main exception is when I'm out to lunch with my mom or sister, and we happen to have the same taste for two (or more, apparently) different things, and we go splitsies. Which brings me back to my original point: One Of Each.

Tonight was one of those nights in which I was hungry but had no idea what I wanted. I started boiling eggs, but I didn't know what I was going to do with them. I ended up making egg salad with dill pickles cut up in it. Delicious, but I didn't really want much of it for dinner. So, I chose to make a One Of Each meal. English muffins or bagels are great for this type of meal since there are two sides to them, and each side can consist of totally different things. You could, hypothetically, use crackers and have One Of Each times a zillion, but you might want to tone it down a bit. Nobody likes a crazy. Unless you're a great kind of crazy. Then I like you.

Anyhow. Here were the ingredients involved in tonight's One Of Each dinner; creamed honey, Laughing Cow cheese (original swiss flavor), fig jam, and peanut butter. Concerned about combinations, eh? Don't worry - I had a vision.

First you have to get yourself a delicious english muffin. This is a honey-wheat kind. It smells so good coming out of the toaster.

This is the Laughing Cow cheese. It spreads easily. That's what she said. There's no time! But that is what she said.

Laughing Cow cheese gets topped with the fig jam, obviously. This was inspired by my mother making an appetizer one Christmas: brie with fig jam. Then, my sister tightened it up on a separate occasion by getting brie with mushrooms in it and topping that with fig jam. Holy delicious. I guess you could say, then, that this is the busted up version of both of those. Busted up, but delicious, mind you.

And for the second side of the english muffin, we start with the creamed honey. I'd never had this before, but picked it up from the farmer's market yesterday from the Marsden's Farm booth. It's lovely!

Actually, the peanut butter goes on first (chunky, in this case), and the honey is spread on top.

For an extra touch of class and flavor, chop up some banana slices. Chop them diagonally so they look beautiful, like this.

Look! One of each! Living in harmony on this simple plate. If only the world could take a hint from this delicious food and the concept of One Of Each...

That's a bite I took. Then I had to stop taking pictures because I was too hungry for awesomeness.

So there you have it! One Of Each! And here's a bonus picture from my beautiful drive back from Columbus, WI this afternoon. It has nothing to do with One Of Each, really, but it is mighty pretty.

So Long, Ole Snaggletooth. Hello Regular Guy.

WARNING! If you're my brother or Alex, don't read this blog. Or at least don't look at the pictures. For some reason, certain people don't like seeing a close up picture of my face with a broken tooth hanging out in the front. If you don't want to see that picture either, then you should probably just stop reading right here. And also, you should probably get ready for me to give you a hard time and call you a wiener a lot. I just don't see what the problem is. It's just a broke-ass tooth! Man up!

So here's what happened. When I was 19, I was going to school at a lovely little liberal arts college in Beloit, WI. One of my good friends from high school, Straight Edge Rob, had come to the same college with me, and we lived in the same dorm our freshman year. One night, I believe in February, we were hanging out in the lounge of our dorm with a bunch of people, being innocently stupid, as most 19 years olds tend to be. I was doing a headstand in one of those big lounge chairs when I felt something hit me in the mouth. It didn't hurt at first; just felt weird and not right. I heard, sort of in the distance, our friend Gail exclaiming "Oh my god, Robert, you broke her tooth!" I came down from my headstand and put my hand to my mouth. Sure enough, there was a gap in my front teeth! My front left tooth had been broken in half in the front, and then angled upwards so there was almost no tooth left at the back of it. "Oh my god oh my god oh my god" I kept saying, looking at Rob. He looked horrified, insistingly saying "It was an accident!" I looked in the mirror and screamed, full out. I had a giant hole in my mouth. Damn.

A couple of questions are probably floating around right now. Namely, I imagine, "what broke your tooth, Reem?" Well, my friends, I'll tell you. It was a plastic hair pick that Rob had thrown. Yes, one of these:

Rob kept saying something about how it must have been the trajectory and angle at which the pick came down and hit my tooth that caused it to break in half. I was skeptical, but I really did know he couldn't have thrown something at me that hard on purpose. Or with that good aim. It was definitely an accident, but um...yeah. What an accident.

I assume the second question you're asking is "what happened to the part of the tooth that broke off?" Well...I can say with about 95% positivity that I swallowed it. The thing is, I don't remember swallowing it, but everybody else seems to remember that happening, and the tooth was nowhere to be found, so...I guess I swallowed the piece of tooth. Whoops a daisy.

Here is a picture of me shortly after it happened. I've been reluctant to share this in the past, not because of the ugly gaping hole in my teeth, but because of my crazy ass eyebrows in this picture. Yep, I'm sometimes vain. Not vain enough to resist posting pictures of myself with broken teeth, of course, but almost vain enough to not show you my pre-waxing-days eyebrows. Now you know everything.
See the broken tooth? The Cosmo comes into play because not but an hour before Rob knocked out my tooth, I'd been doodling on the cover of that Cosmo magazine, and had colored in Cindy Crawford's front left tooth. The same tooth I got knocked out! Creepy, eh?

I got the tooth fixed pretty soon after that, and had a couple of temporary crowns that fell out from time to time, usually in food or right before I had to get in an airplane. Very stressful. I had bad dreams about teeth falling out for about a year and a half after that and still have them every so often. Most recently (three nights ago) I dreamed that I had braces and the wire came off, which revealed the fact that I had no teeth at all on the bottom right side of my mouth. All gums, smooth and soft, that I could feel when I ran my tongue over them. So gross. One positive to come out of this, however, was a poem that my dad wrote and sent me right after this happened.To the best of my memory, here is an excerpt:

Reem laughed very hard with a mouth that opened wide
When from a far off land came RJ comb and busted her tooth apart!
One half went down in her guts and gave her the diarrhea!
The other half was broken and triggered the hysteria!
Reem called up her parents and cried out her heart
Thinking that for the rest of her life, she'd have to work at WalMart...

Oh Dad! I can always count on you for laughter during stress. Thank you! By the way, RJ was what we called him in high school, and how my parents knew him.

I eventually got a permanent crown when I was 20, which was a relief. And really, it wasn't too bad until the last couple of years or so, when I realized my fake tooth was looking longer than the rest of them. I called it my Snaggletooth. Apparently it wasn't evident to very many people, but there are definitely pictures in which it's obvious. Like this festive holiday one:

Or this one, which is one of about 20 that I took at all different angles in order to fully display Ole Snaggletooth. See it?

Needless to say, it was time to have it taken care of. This, in addition to the fact that I needed a root canal on the tooth and I had an abscess above it that was starting to weird me out. I went to the dentist, a very nice man who hums along with the Lite FM station in his office while he works, and over this summer, have had three dental procedures to fix my tooth, hopefully permanently.

During my second visit, they removed the old fake tooth and put in a post to help stabilize the permanent one I'd get a few weeks later. In between the removal of the fake tooth and them putting in the temporary one, I asked to look in the mirror. To my surprise, the leftover real tooth that was there was a totally different shape than I'd imagined. I think it looks like a sideways pacman, or maybe a shrunken head, in a way, but you can decide for yourselves (by the way, this is the picture Emil and Alex were mad about. Whatever, man):

When I asked the dentist and dental hygienist whether I should take a picture of this, they were both emphatic about me not documenting this. The dentist even said "You don't want to remember what this looks like, do you?" Hmm, I guess he didn't think I looked too good, eh? I guess some people don't think broken teeth are funny. Like Emil and Alex and Dr. Kosovec. Waa waa. You know what though? When they left the examining room, I jumped out of the dentist chair and snapped that photo real quick on my phone. I'm not one to let a golden moment go to waste. I just can't.

This morning was my last procedure, and I got my permanent crown put in. It's such a weird feeling to have my tooth be the same length as the rest. Also, the old crown was super thick in the back and this one is normal, and it's so strange. But I think it looks pretty nice! I'm trying not to micro-examine every inch of it, but I think it's okay.




And that's the story of my tooth, babies! Thanks to those of you who lasted through all the pictures. Were they really that bad?

Going to Homes Coming to Home

After I visited my friend Helen in New Orleans earlier this year, I wrote something somewhere about home and Home and coming to your home and going to others' homes. I thought of it again after I visited my friend Anna's hometown in Iowa, but I can't for the life of me find where I wrote it, or remember most of what it said, but this one line is ringing in my brain.

This is why we have to visit each other.

In an attempt to carry on with that...We need to be in each others' homes, to see the worlds in which we live in order to come closer to understanding this person. To see them water their plants and take out the trash, and walk down the street while neighbors greet them. To meet their friends and participate in their social lives. To eat their favorite foods and walk around their favorite tree. To have them point out the spot where they played their first gig, or had a really lovely date. To look closely at how they decorate their home, to see what they like to look at on an every day basis. What matters most to them. What is important to them. We need to go. Be in the person's home to truly see them. To see how they live and what they love, and to love them, love the experience of it all.

I feel this so strongly in Atlanta when I visit my sister. Yes, this is different from when we're in Chicago. This is her life, and I'm looking at it, loving it, being a part of it. Needing to be there more often. And then the other reminders: Go to Austin. Go to New York. Go to San Francisco. Go to Portland. Go to France. Go everywhere. Invent teleportation. Know the people I love. Learn about their lives.

I returned home tonight to wonderful food at my favorite Thai/Vietnamese restaurant and lovely catching up and conversation with my girl Genia, the regular routine. But then, Cycropia at the breathtaking Orton Park with old, giant trees lit up in blue, giant white orbs of light hanging from their crawling branches, and people in costume dancing and swinging on trapezes. Their grace. The quiet awe of the audience. People ducking out of the way so others could see. Strangers smiling. Walking everywhere all night and not driving at all. Running into friends on the street. Walking to the lake and seeing the moon reflect on the water, one single bright star below it and millions more shining clearly in the sky. That's my home. I'm home. I wish you all could see it.

Oh, Hey Music!

As we drove to North Georgia today to visit a zedonk (half zebra, half donkey - pictures and story to come soon!), my sister and I were talking about music and the most important albums in our lives. I'd done a note on this awhile ago on facebook, narrowing it down to 30 albums that were influential or important to me over the course of my life, but it was really fun to bring it up again, discuss together and compare notes. So, here's my list! I highly encourage you to make your own list, if only for my satisfaction and curiosity as I like you all and find you very interesting. For real, let me see your list. Leave it in the comments or write it somewhere else and link in the comments. I like you. I want to know about you and your music. Plus, music is awesome. Come on now.

Peter, Paul and Mary - The Best of Peter, Paul, and Mary - Ten Years Together
This is the first album I remember listening to as a kid. We had the record, and we would go see them at Ravinia (big outdoor music venue near where I grew up) most summers. Definitely instilled a love for vocal harmonies in my kid brain.

The Pointer Sisters - Breakout
The first tape I ever bought. I think I was 6 or 7. I remember listening to "I'm So Excited," "Neutron Dance," and "Jump (For My Love)," then rewinding it and listening all over again. Sometimes I would try and listen to "Automatic," but I thought it was boring and never got very far with it.

Michael Jackson - Thriller
We also had this one on vinyl. My favorite song was "Human Nature," and I saw the video for "Thriller" at way too young an age. I still get creeped out by Vincent Price's voice.

Jesus Christ, Superstar - Soundtrack
I have every word memorized, and I've seen the play 6 or 7 times, and I used to perform the entire thing in my room when nobody else was home, and my secret dream is to play Judas in a production of this musical. Don't tell anybody.

Led Zeppelin - Disc 2 of the Box Set
My sister owned the box set, and we'd set our cd player to play "Black Dog," "Over The Hills and Far Away," "Immigrant Song," "D'yer Mak'er," and "Stairway to Heaven." Once I finally listened to the rest of the disc, and the rest of the set, they became one of my all-time favorite bands.

Mötley Crüe - Dr. Feelgood
This was the first cd I ever owned! Sara gave it to me for Christmas in...7th grade? It came in the long box, and I loved it. I still have the same copy of this cd, and I still love it.

Guns n Roses - Appetite for Destruction
What do I even say about this? I think it is the most rocking album ever made. WAY ahead of its time. I mean, jesus christ, it was released in 1987! Crazy. I have two copies: one for the apartment and one for the car. It is my all time favorite album.

Liz Phair - Exile in Guyville
Oh Liz! You did so much for me. This was one of the first albums that introduced me to any kind of feminist ideals, and one of the first solo female artists I ever loved. Hearing her sing about sex and love was eye-opening for me.

Tori Amos - Little Earthquakes
When I was 15 or so, I needed Tori music more than I realized. Although I totally make fun of her now, I still listen to this album during my more angsty nights. Her lyrics were something I absolutely needed to hear at that time. And also, duh, piano rules.

Hole - Live Through This
Oh man. I think I also needed to hear some screaming when I was fifteen or sixteen. This was one of the first albums that made me want to play the drums. I used to try and sing along, but after a couple of minutes, my throat would hurt and I'd just drive fast. Every time I listen to this album, it's over too quickly.

The Violent Femmes - Add It Up
I had this tape playing in my car for most of my junior year in high school. It's awesome. I finally got to see them at the Aragon when I was seventeen, and it's still one of the craziest shows I've ever been to.

Ani Difranco - Not a Pretty Girl
Similarly to Tori, I needed to hear somebody saying this stuff. Saying that crazy shit had happened to somebody else, and hearing power and survival and inspiration in the music and lyrics.

The Pixies - Doolittle
I had a lot of friends in high school who I was intimidated by because they had "advanced musical taste," and loved The Talking Heads and They Might Be Giants and others who I totally didn't "get." I got The Pixies though, man. I got the shit outta them.

Immortal Beloved - Soundtrack
All Beethoven music. It formed what I wanted to do with my life. For real. After hearing these recordings, I knew I wanted to dedicate my life to music. And it was the first time I heard my most favorite piece of music ever in life (2nd movement of the 5th Piano Concerto) Thanks, Beethoven!

Concrete Blonde - Bloodletting
Another from my sister. Johnette Napolitano's voice is one of my favorites, and was perfect for those confusedly-angry days of high school.

The Mix Tape Emily Weaver gave me for my 16th birthday.
First time I heard NOFX, the Descendents, A Tribe Called Quest, and the first time I really listened to Sly & the Family Stone, Sam & Dave, and Ella Fitzgerald. A HUGE influence in my developing musical taste at the time.

Prince - Purple Rain AND The Hits 2
I love them both. I associate The Hits 2 with driving to summer school the summer before my junior year. There was this ten-day period where my parents took my sister to look at colleges and drove my brother to Space Camp (that's right, Space Camp!) and left me home alone, and all my friends slept over in my parents' family room and we drove to summer school, listening to Prince. And Purple Rain because...well, dude! It's Purple Rain!

Beastie Boys - Ill Communication
I get this surge of energy when I hear them. Every time. I remember having fantasies of having MCA as a roommate, doing it with Ad Rock, and playing video games with Mike D. I'd still do all of those things.

Portishead - Dummy
I think that, for awhile, I may have been a little depressed in high school and college...

Björk - Homogenic
This is the only album besides Appetite of which I have two copies. The song "Jóga" is one of the most painfully beautiful things I've ever experienced.

Jeff Buckley - Grace
I listened to this album non-stop the summer of 1999, between my sophomore and junior years of college, right after Sarah Wallbank died. I would literally sit in my dorm room and cry and write and then wander around in a daze. It's still sort of hard for me to listen to this now.

Jane's Addiction - Nothing's Shocking
Another of the most rocking albums, but with a lot more beauty than Appetite. Every time "Summertime Rolls" comes on, I think of Christopher and laying in the bed in my dorm room on a beautiful, sunny day, and I feel more alive and full of love.

Hot Hot Heat - Make Up the Breakdown
Hands down one of the most upbeat, fun albums ever. The lead singer of this band is like maybe my height and has this great head of puffy hair and wears jeans that must be from the little girls department. But I digress. I mention this album because it marks a point at which I started listening to music that was way more fun and a little less...serious?

The Dismemberment Plan - Emergency & I
I remember Kaleb letting me borrow this album and telling me to listen to the track "Spider in the Snow." I did, and I was hooked. I've listened to this album in its entirety at least twice a month for the last 7 years. It just works.

Le Tigre - S/T and Feminist Sweepstakes
I listened to these a lot whilst living in the Womyn's Center at Beloit College and while playing in The Koochies with Sarah, Cody, Helen and Nicole. Very meaningful days...Once again, more wonderful ladies saying more things I needed to hear.

The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
"Fight Test" will always make me smile. I listened to this a lot when AJ-then-Tony was making his solo album and I got to play piano on it. This album means summer to me.

Postal Service - Give Up
Ben Gibbard's voice, while totally wienerific, is pretty lovely, and I actually listened to the lyrics of this one, unlike most music I listened to after 1999. Beautiful music for winter or summer days, which I think is a rarity!

Devotchka - How It Ends
The first album I ever owned by this amazing band. I love them.

Simon and Garfunkel - Greatest Hits
This album is one of few that I listen to while I'm in Ireland. One, because it's one of the few albums that whoever is there can agree on listening to. And that's only sometimes. But also because being in Ireland can often be bittersweet, and this album always helps me remember that when I want to come home, I already sort of am. Also, remember in Almost Famous when Anita puts on the song "America" and tells her mother "this song explains why I'm leaving home to become a stewardess?" Awesome.

Devotchka - A Mad and Faithful Telling
This album signifies a turning point in my life - right around a year ago - and has been a sort of necessity to me for the last year. I can pick out specific chords in "Along The Way" that lift up my heart. I get chills when I hear Nick Urata's tired voice on "Undone." Every time I hear this album, I feel like I'm discovering something new.

Written on 2/26/09.

Speaking For Me

If I could just hire all my favorite musicians to walk around with me every day and play songs on command, I'd feel a bit better about my lack of ability to speak and say what I want to say on certain days. At the end of this honestly beautiful day, which is at the end of a very emotional couple weeks full of love and family and sadness and beauty, a time during which I am having so much trouble verbally articulating anything I'm trying to get across, at least I can count on music to help me out. Some of the beauty, specifically, I'm feeling and appreciating as of late, and specifically today and tonight:

Simon and Garfunkel - For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her


Led Zeppelin - The Rain Song


Loggins & Messina - Danny's Song


Andy Williams - Moon River


Björk - Jóga


Jane's Addiction - Summertime Rolls


Music is pretty magical, don't you think? I hope you have some time to listen.

Family Story Six: We Taste Meat, Cheese, and Beer.

On March 7th, 2010, my L'il Brudder Emil sent an email to our family listserve inviting us all to purchase a Groupon for a meat, cheese, and beer tasting at a bar in Chicago. Yes, we have a family listserve. And yes we will most likely engage in any group activity having to do with food and drink. And I know you didn't ask this question, but yes, when we attend an event at your establishment, we will descend upon you like a swarm of hungry vultures surrounding a wounded animal, and we will attack your food-related products like a lion taking down a gazelle. Okay, so I just compared my family to wild animals and Animal Planet specials. We sort of are like wild animals. But with cute shoes and well-manicured eyebrows. And usually, a lot of charm and wit.

Anyhow, 55 emails and 115 days later, several of us had bought the Groupon and found a time to meet up. Also, "several" means "12 - 14." With this in mind, Emil smartly called Villain's (the bar that was hosting this Groupon event) ahead of time to let them know that we had 7 people who had purchased the Groupon and 5 or more others that would be coming along to either participate in the meat and cheese tasting, or to have something else to eat and drink. Very thoughtful, Emil, especially since we'd planned it for the Friday night before July 4th, which is the same weekend as the Taste of Chicago and about a zillion other events. You see, we plan ahead.

Unfortunately, when we arrived at Villain's, we were informed that the Groupon deal was not available on this particular weekend because of the potential busyness spilling over from the Taste of Chicago. We were told this news as we looked around the bar and counted about 8 other patrons. Um...yeah. Emil got pissed, and rightfully so, since he'd talked to the guy the day before to let him know we were coming in. While he argued with the manager, I took the opportunity to go out front and sweet-talk Nick the Bouncer who we'd chatted with on our way in. And this bouncer subsequently became the star of the night. Within about 6 seconds of me mentioning (nicely) that they weren't going to honor the Groupon, Nick had run inside to "take care of it." See now, that's what I like to hear. "I'll take care of it." "Forget about it, it's done." "I'll make sure one falls off the back of a truck." I love this way of doing things!

Anyhow, long story slightly shorter, Nick saved the day and somehow convinced the manager and the chef to do the Groupon deal, and everybody was happy again. See, sometimes you have to ignore the manager and go straight to the bouncer. Bouncers get things done. My favorite part of it was when Mladenka, Emil's girlfriend, turned to my brother and exclaimed, "See! Reem was very nice and sweet and she got what she wanted! You have to be sweet!" Thanks, Mladenka. Sometimes, my charm works. And sometimes it results in the family getting to taste meat, cheese, and beer. (DISCLAIMER: Emil is plenty sweet. I was just sweeter in this particular situation. Mostly because the bouncer was totally fine and I was feelin' flirtatious).

Here are the brave 7 of us (Layla is hiding in the back) who participated in the tasting. You can see the 5 servings of beer placed in front of each person. Doesn't it look nice and organized?
Here's a close up. Guess what! I have no idea what any of them are. But you can pick out a random five from Villain's beer list and pretend those are they.
And here is the meat and cheese! I have to believe that there would usually be a bit more to it all. Because, to be honest, this platter seemed a bit half-assed. Especially for what would usually cost $47 (we paid $20 each with the Groupon). I mean, I know it's only supposed to be a tasting, but...it was definitely lacking a bit. The extra touch of almonds or macademia nuts or whatever they were tossed sloppily on top seemed last-minute and a bit desperate. The portions were little. But maybe it's just different because I'm used to Wisconsin and to put it bluntly, people know how to eat here. EAT. In capital letters. See family, you'd love it here.
Another view of the platters. It was pretty hilarious to see seven of these spread across the table, along with 35 small beers. Oh, by the way, the beer was totally worth it. Especially since nobody liked the darkest beer in the middle and I got two "bonuses" of that one. Totally worth it!
One of my favorite parts of tastings is the tiny utensils that come with. Tiny things! Look at this little wiener spreader/knife!
There was this one thing on the platter that wasn't meat or cheese. Consensus decided it was a sort of apricot jam, but it wasn't of the regular jam consistency. It was more like a thick, really soft and almost melting fruit roll up. Appetizing, eh? It confused me.
After the first three or so beers, we started getting creative. This here is some meat with some cheese on it (oh lord, I don't remember what any of these are) and a green olive, sliced up and placed on top.
And this, thanks to Shadi, is my favorite combination of the night: some kind of prosciutto paired with a soft white cheese and a tater tot on top! Can you tell that we were several beers in by this point?
Absolutely delicious, and by far, one of the classier moments of the evening.
After finishing our tasting, we executed the successful tactic of leaving the establishment before they start to hate us. This only happens some of the time; the opposite has definitely occurred plenty of times, and I like to think that some of us try and avoid it now. Emil and I gave hugs and huge props to Nick, the lovely bouncer, who saved the entire night for us!
And, to top off one classy night, Shadi wore a helmet in the front seat of Layla's car for the entire ride to the next bar.
There he is, the classy gentleman.
And, to bring it all together:

Hell yes. A classy night had by all, thanks to food and drink, a lovely bouncer, a charming attitude, cousins, and a helmet. Good job, family.

Not a Review Because I Can't Handle Those: Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue

See now, this is why I can't be a critic or a reviewer or anything. I go see a show, take two or three pictures and then have to put my camera back in my bag so that my hands are free to wave around in the air. Looking classy, obviously. And I think of a couple sentences that I try and jot down on my hand or on the back of a receipt I find crumpled at the bottom of my purse, but then I realize the band is covering James Brown and I need to focus. On the fact that they're playing James Brown, not on sentences describing them playing James Brown. I end up with a tiny handful of blurry pictures and three nonsensical phrases in a text message I sent to myself that I later try unsuccessfully to decipher. It doesn't work. And it's just not for me, man.

So instead, I watch. And dance and smile and laugh and all that. And that's why I don't have much in terms of a review of Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue, who performed here in Madison last night at La Fete de Marquette.

I mean, they were brilliant. I'll say that. From the horn section to the rhythm section to the unbelievable guitarist to Troy Andrews (Trombone Shorty) himself, the band blew my mind. Troy played trombone and trumpet, conducted the band, sang, and danced. Nobody told me he could sing! And for real, he could sing. His voice has the depth and passion of a man three times his age, but he brought out a sexiness that just works so perfectly from a 23 year old up on a stage in front of you. You know? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.
Watch him make the music move:

Do you see? That was all I could get, because sometimes you have to know when to put down the camera and just watch. Or just dance. Or just smile so much that your face hurts and forget the details of the show. Let somebody else do it, and you go experience that show.

And of course, there's my unending love for and fascination with the musicians. Oh, these musicians! My mother may have told me, and my friends may have warned me, but I know and they know that nothing gets me quite like a beautiful boy playing guitar. I mean, please.

You know?