My Life in Various Meats, Volume 2: The Stick Chronicles

Just to get it out front here: Yes, I tore the hell out of my knee Saturday. Yes, it hurts like a beeotch. Yes, I required some medical attention to stop the bleeding. No, I was not drinking. Yet. No, I was not wearing high heels. Yet. No, it was not during the set, it was immediately prior; which resulted in a lovely bandaged, bleeding-through knee during our rough, non-transcendental, awkward in the sunlight set. It is best if you were not there.

Maybe my aching, swollen, infected, skin-free kneecap is contributing to my sour mood. Maybe I am aching for some chicken on a stick. But I digress, as this is Volume 2 of my meat-laden weekend adventures, not a continuation of today’s previous bitchfest.

Do you know how it is always 9000 degrees for Artscape, and you complain ‘why can’t it be cooler’? Well, guess what happens when the weather is cooler? Nine million more people come out. It was fun, as always, but the gorgeous weather combined with no overlapping headliners to divert crowds to various stages -- internet, it was PACKED. Like, I could not even hear Cake from where I was sitting packed. Not that I needed to hear Cake anyway. So after some wandering around, following up my breakfast bacon with lunchtime chicken on a stick (food of the gods, I say), we hopped into Ace’s Jaguar and headed over to Jackie’s house for a more civilized time.

Yes, I said Jaguar and yes, people looked at us as we pulled into the Wine Source in Hampden like we were gangsters. It was AWESOME. The highlight of my weekend was coming out of the store, seeing Lesley lounging in the back seat of the Jag chatting on her cell phone as though she was casually arranging a hit.

Jackie has such a lovely back garden with real vintage wicker furniture, and truly is the hostess with the mostest. Suddenly, there was jazz trickling over from a neighboring yard, people started showing up with various items to grill, and wine and brie was set out. We ended up with a veritable feast of grilled pork, vegetables, wonderful white wine, and pleasant conversation. It was a relaxing and surprising end to what I had assumed would be a rollicking day.

I guess you really cannot plan truly fun times. The spontaneity is part of the joy. Also, James passed out on Izzy’s dog bed. That was pretty joyous too.