Vacation Highlight: The Avett Brothers

A couple of months before my vacation, I noticed The Avett Brothers were touring Europe. Well luck was on my side, they were going to be in Paris while I was in Paris!

My St. Patrick's Day was spent with a few boys from North Carolina and it was awesome.

I've seen them before, in Vancouver with Steve and it was great, but they are more accomplished on stage now and I know their albums better. The boys brought their banjo - thank goodness, and I'd like to make a request to them to include it on all future records, it was the one thing I and Love and You was missing.

The crowd was small - the club's capacity is 250 and it wasn't a sold out show. The guys were awesome. A foot-stomping good show, and the French crowd was surprisingly knowledgeable about the music. They played I Would Be Sad which, let me tell you, will break your heart with every listen.



Seriously.

They were an incredibly gracious bunch, thanking the small crowd every chance they got.

All-in-all, splendid!

The rest of Week 1 - Pooped

The rest of week one was exhausting. The thing I forgot to mention was that two days before the Opening Ceremony, the company I work for was involved with a very large, very important event. What this meant was I had already worked 60 hours by the time Friday rolled around.

But fuck it - the Games are only here once, so party I did.

That made the following days more mellow. I watched hockey games with Team Vancouver, saw a live taping of the Colbert Report, did a media tour with CNBC, and just played it cool. The houses were super busy, and difficult to get into.

But on that Thursday, Jarod came for a visit. After a brief presentation, he realized I was right (as always) and that the Games were something he had to see. So he did.

That Thursday I fetched him from the SkyTrain station and we wandered about like tourists. We sat, we smoked, we gawked at the cauldron and the rings, went home and got ready to go out again. I had received a guest pass to USA House and Jarod tagged along with me.

This was the same nigh Evan Lysacek won the gold medal.

We got off the elevators and were greeted by huge group of people with their camera ready. They were disappointed it was just Jarod and I. I was totally freaked out.

We saw Vera Wang, hid out in a corner and were ambushed by a little press event. The gold medal was maybe 5 feet away from us - and we were Canadian! I had no idea how affected I would be by the medal, or to be near someone that happy. Imagine working your whole life for something, and then, just hours earlier, you achieved your goal, your hardwork paid off and you are the best at what you do.

Whoa.

Jarod. the photog, got some great pics of the medal and such. We had a fun little time. We left, went for a pint or two (I can't remember) ate some pizza, then went for third dinner at 3AM. On a Thursday.

We gorged and went home to ready ourselves for the next two days. I may have slipped into a light diabetic coma.

Day 2 - Exclusive!

On Saturday, I woke with a spring in my step. Despite the copious amounts of wine consumed the night before, I was up quite early.

There was work to do! On this Saturday, I was doing something not a ton of other people get to do - I was accredited for the Main Press Center. What does that mean? Well, the MPC is where all the officially accredited media hang out. They write their stories, attend the press conferences, run editorial meetings - basically, the MPC becomes their offices in Vancouver. 

There amongst the New York Times and USA Today was me! I was able to sit in on the first daily press briefing, where the questions focused on the very sad death of the Georgian luger, the riot that had finished minutes earlier and the malfunctioning hydraulic at the Opening Ceremony. It was an actual real press conference - with several language options and a room full of journos with their notepads and hands up. 

Cool. 

After the MPC I ran home to get all Canada-ed up. The Queen and her husband had graciously hooked Team Vancouver up with box seats to Canada vs. Slovakia Women's Hockey. Yup, the game where we won 18-0. While the game itself was one-sided, the crowd was incredibly gracious. In the end, Slovakia got a standing ovation and opened up their private pavilion because we were such gracious hosts. 

yay us!

Afterwards, Miss Sarin and I failed at getting into any houses on Granville Island, but ended up on a magical walk the brought us to the best view of everything going on - right next to Science World Sochi World. 

That's where I grabbed this shot of Sochi World. You see, the firm I work for helped to arrange for Sochi World to be at Science World. I remember putting together pieces of the pitch that made this happen!

Again, taken from my Blackberry. My good camera didn't arrive for a couple more days. 

Wowzas

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind. I will try my best to recollect all the best events, and let me tell you, there were a lot.

I can say, without hesitation, the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics rocked my socks.

I drank for two weeks straight. I stayed up late for two weeks straight. I waited in lines for two weeks straight. And I got swept up in the Olympic movement in a big way.

It has been almost a full week since the Games ended and Vancouver may never feel the same to me again. For two weeks, this city was electric. The energy was palpable and everyone was kind and good-spirited. Now, back to normal. Ugh, I hate normal.

Some general impressions:

• The Integrated Security Unit was amazing. I am generally not a big fan of cops, because they are big and intimidating, and I'm often drunk in public, but these guys were amazing. Not once were they menacing or intrusive, from what I saw. All I saw was them acting as crowd control - with my best interests in mind.
  
• Holy bridge & tunnel. I feel so elitist, but Granville Street was easily the least amusing place to be in the world - each day was like a normal Friday night. It was full of stereotypicals from the nethers. I'm not going to be derogatory, so I will stop there.
  
• I want to become an Olympic gypsy. I want to go to Sochi and work there for four years. I am in love with this feeling of community  and enthusiasm. It is intoxicating, and I am generally the most cynical person around. I received several comments on how my demeanor was so out of character. It kinda was.
  
• I was surprised with how enthralled I got with the sports. Going in, I really didn't care about the 'sport' of it all, I was all about the parties, but after a couple of days, I was watching them quite a bit. The thing that amazes me are the storylines these athletes play out - I can't even read Joannie Rochette's name without welling up. Fuck - it's happening again.
  
• I became an emotional mess. From Joannie to ever news montage with sappy music to every damn player profile. Ugh, I was constantly tearing up. Stupid emotions getting the best of me. 

I will go into greater detail, I promise, but I wanted to leave you with this:

Me and an actual gold medal around my neck. Not with plastic around it, or a show medal, but one that was handed to an Olympic champion. 

Neat right? 

Sinners and the City

Before you get Vegas, you get context.

My friend Andi and I worked at the hotel together. She is a couple years younger than I am, single and hot. We were planning on going to Amsterdam and Oktoberfest, but the months flew by and we forgot to save money. So, we went to Vegas because, well, you couldn't beat the deals.

Seriously, we actually were able to stay at the Wynn! I thought the only way I'd ever get to stay in a property like that was if someone else was paying for it.

Ok, so now you know.

As soon as we got there, we oohed and aahed at how lovely the property was. We dashed to the roomed and were blown away by it. So big! And everything was just perfectly appointed. We changed, darted to get some food and lazed by the pool. It was 37 degrees that first day.

Yes, you read that right.

After the pool, we napped, slept till midnight accidentally and got up to get ready. By the time we got to the club, it was 1AM and a pretty big sausage party. But we're troopers and tried to make the best of it. heh. It wasn't hard.

We drank, we danced, we chatted with boys, we almost got into a fight with one, we made new friends, oh and we got into the club for free.

We were awesome.

A Bachelor's Life

Smelly Paul pointed out a few days ago that I am living a bachelor's life.

Going out on weekdays, doing random ridiculous things, basically, living a very selfish life. And not being one little bit apologetic for it.

And I unapologetically admit that is a perfect description.

As of late, Sarin have been living like we're older and smarter 22 year olds. Saying yes to random things and trying to be open to time being spent outside of our respective apartments. And, well, it's awesome, exhausting, but awesome.

Since September long weekend I have been: to Seattle for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, seen Franz Ferdinand in Malkin Bowl, been to a magazine launch party, went to The Pet Shop Boys with my boyfriends, seen The Monotonix, Holy Fuck, and I just got back from Las Vegas with my friend Andi.

Holy shit, I had no idea how ... busy September was until I wrote about it.

You'll get semi-full details of my trip to Vegas soon enough.

Seattle Saturday

So, Sarin and I came up with the BRILLIANT idea of driving to Seattle, spending the night, going out, seeing the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and coming home for Franz Ferdinand.

We are the fucking coolest chicks alive.

Saturday, we drove to Seattle - which is, in our minds, bizarro Vancouver. We did a bit of shopping, went to the Experience Music Project and went out.

This was our night out:

Walk outside to smoke. A boy talks to us and asks us where we're going. He tells us of a different place, we go, and continue to get ridiculously intoxicated.

Sarin was a pimp and totally got us drinks all night. It was pretty sweet, I'm not going to lie.

As the bar is closing, some hot dude starts chatting with us, and from there on, the details are fuzzy.

What we know:

We got home ok.

So, really, all the fuzzy doesn't matter. We didn't lose each other. Yes, some questionable life choices were made, but in the end, all is well.

Sunday morning, however, was ridiculously painful.

Art Star

This weekend, something I never thought would happen, is happening.

Sarin and I are heading to Seattle. And we are going for a very specific reason:

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs are playing the Bumbershoot Music Festival.

I have loved the YYYs since Big Daddy downloaded Fever To Tell on my computer. It was the first full album I had liked in a really long time. I put it on heavy rotation and kept it there. I became infatuated with Karen O. There is no other way to say it. She is the fucking coolest chick alive - easily.

This weekend is all the more sweet because seeing them perform has been in my grasp twice before, tickets in hand and everything. sigh.

My first solo trip to NYC I bought tickets for the second of two sold-out shows they were doing at the Bowery Ballroom. Unfortunately, a few days before the show, I realized that the show was on the evening I was leaving. I couldn't go and my heart was sad. I even made an attempt to buy tickets from scalpers, but alas, there were none.

The next time was the summer I interned in New York. I had tickets for a show they were doing at the McCarren Park Pool. Turns out, after working my ass off, impressing enough people and being offered a job there, I had to move the week of their show. I thought at the time, no worries, I am getting my dream, I can give up my tickets.

How naive was I?

Well, all that 'close but no cigar' business is over this weekend. This Sunday, I will be getting to finally see them.

I honestly don't think I have ever been this excited for a show before.

Other than Jarod's shumka dancing of course.

I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning

Well I am. So I will write.

This week has been busy. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, I am a busy bee, with people to see and things to do.

Ok, well, more just sitting around with Sarin, hanging out.

First, let me properly introduce you all to Sarin. She is, like so many of my favorite people, from Edmonton. And to best sum it up, she is my bizarro. We share many of the same thoughts and interests and well, kinda everything. She has her own versions of Smelly, Priscilla and confusing boys, that she makes my life feel less alone.

Anyways, my social weekend consisted of two houseparties and one amazing concert.

Friday night, Sarin and I went to a houseparty I was invited to by a friend, with the promise of boys.

And boys there were. Ladies, if you have been wondering (like I have been) where all the single straight men are, well, there was a house in Kits the all apparently lived.

The boy-to-girl ratio was ridiculous, but alas, none of them struck my fancy - well, to be fair, between the dancing to Jizz in My Pants to building a torch, they didn't have time to do much else. After watching one stand on a car, with no shirt and said torch in the middle of the street, we were confident the police would be arriving and darted out of there.

We grabbed some latenight (gasp) healthy eats at The Naam and headed home.

Saturday I met a friend for lunch at a Mexican joint by my place, hit the beach with another friend and then headed to the show with Ash and Sarin.

Phew, I'm tired just thinking about it.

After the show, Sarin and I went to another houseparty. I stayed for a little while, but then headed home.

The lesson from this weekend is that I am not a houseparty person. I have to be incredibly drunk to find any sort of pleasure from random, non-coherent interactions with strangers. I don't know how people find this enjoyable.

HOW?

Most people are stupid. Most drunk people are intolerable. So why, as a semi-sober person, do I want to interact with them en masse?

Sorry, that went a little ranty. My apologies.

Sidenote - the real issue with sleep problems is that I am now ready for a nap, but instead, I have to jump in the shower and head to work, where I am expected to be bright, and creative and presentable.

This is going to be a really long day.

sigh

Vegas University

So, I think I learned something in Vegas.

I think it was something I knew at one point, but had totally forgotten in the past few years, since the whole New York debacle.

I had forgotten to live my life.

MY LIFE

The life that had me talking to strangers, and going where I want to go, when I want to go. The life that is worthy of a blog and something to write about.

I mean, I loved my entire weekend there. There isn't a second of it that I regret, because I was fully living the life I had planned on living.

From our late night / early morning friend, to Zumanity, to the 12 Brits in the limo, (one of whom is apparently a semi-famous soccer player) everything was fucking brilliant.

Also, I went on the supermodel diet of Diet Coke and ciggies for most of May, so I was super skinny, and nothing helps a girl feel more like living life than looking skinny.

I don't know what in particular it was, I mean, I didn't feel different there, but I sure did feel different when I got back. I have a spring in my step. And well, I feel like something clicked.

It also helps that I got some boy attention. I hadn't received any boy attention in a while, between working my ass off and being depressed about P3, boys were not flocking to me.

But in Vegas, I had boy attention. One in particular. This adorable Brit plumped up my ego like a mofo, and while I can't remember his name, I am soooo happy that he stepped into my life.

I am kinda glad I can't remember his name though, because then I would be stalking online. And that would be bad.

Very bad.

So yes, through all the debauchery and dead brain cells, I came back from my weekend rejuvenated ... imagine how I would feel if I had slept.