Neither had I until last week. So here you go. This is a medley of songs performed at a record store. It just cuts from song to song.

addendum: i just ordered two of her albums from amazon and i bought one more from iTunes. it's official - i am smitten with Regina Spektor.

Sorry for the dearth of posts lately. I'm in finals mode and that means I'm cranky and I don't have much to say. I did enlist the help of two (2) pinch-bloggers, but both (both) are apparently slacking. Maybe they have less to say than I do? Not likely, knowing what I know about them.

This is MPB, (Mr. Pinch Blogger), once again I am stepping in temporarily to help out Mr. P-man in his time of need. I have decided to continue with this ridiculous nom de guerre on this blog for a few reasons: 1. I have a complete and utter lack of creativity when it comes to these things. 2. I have a sad attachment to acronyms stemming from the symptoms detailed in reason #1. This weekend I went to the Kentucky Derby, which seemed post worthy, so now you are all subjected to associated musings on the topic. Part 1 of ?

Part #1 - Morning of the Derby

Backstory: My extended family is from Louisville, so the Derby is a big deal to them. I'd never been before, mainly because it always falls on the first Saturday in May, which for me is traditionally reserved for either cramming for finals, taking finals, or having just taken finals and erasing the memory of them in a local bar. Now that my long and illustrious college career has (sadly) come to an end, I can go to the Derby. So there I went.

One of the first things I noticed on approaching the Derby is that Churchhill Downs is not exactly in the nicest part of town. It was an interesting juxtaposition to see stretch limo after stretch limo roll through streets lined with falling-down houses, littered with trash. The occupants of the limo seemed indifferent (if not a little scared) by the locals, which isn't all that surprising. We parked and made our way to the entrance.

Since drinks at the Derby are famously expensive, we made arrangements to bring in our own liquor to save some $$$. We hid a fifth of Jim Beam in a "floppy flask" - its alot like a Camelback bladder with a waist belt - on my younger brother, who happens to be wearing a hard neck collar due to a broken neck sustained snowboarding (perhaps another post topic?). The plan worked, and we arrived on the grounds JB in tow.

Immediately after entering, it became apparent that Derby attendees fall into two categories - drunks in normal clothes, and drunks in fancy clothes. We were striving for the latter category, me in a suit and the wife in a silk dress & Derby hat. We made our way to our seats, and started drinking whiskey & cokes (me) and mint juleps (the wife) ASAP.

To be continued....

The story continues....

So, after arriving at the Derby, we set off on our noble mission to achieve an appropriate level of intoxication for the affair - plastered. The JB was well utilized to this task. Sidebar: If you are going to try to smuggle illicit materials into such a venue, I highly recommend having someone with a serious injury to plant it on. It really works like a charm.

The day of the Derby includes 12 races, and the big show is #10. We arrived at race #4, by about race #6, we were all pretty well sloshed. The drinking certainly wasn't helping the gambling. I was making more exotic bets, sure I would hit the big payday eventually. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. I lost all my bets on the Derby itself, about $50 worth.

By this point, my mom (like I said, this was a family affair) was starting to get a little worried about little brother in the neck brace. He had apparently found the favor of one of the female bartenders, and she was making all his gin and tonics doubles at no extra charge. Which brings up another sidebar: there's nothing like a neck brace to get you some sympathy. The double gin and tonics, combined with the heat and humidity (it was like 85 degrees & 100% humidity), were beginning to take their toll on little brother. He's about 6' 5" tall, which only exaggerated the swaying motion. Luckily, he was coerced to sit down and made it out without incident.

After the big race, my older bro and I took a walk over to the Derby infield to check out the carnage. The derby infield is more like the bastard lovechild of a Nascar race and Mardi Gras than a horse race. The place is filthy, the grounds turned into one giant mud pit, with the walking wounded staggering around half clothed and fully drunk, often covered head to toe in mud. The Port-a-potties were overflowing in some places. It was just gross. Somehow, I think Queen Elizabeth skipped this tour.

We came upon a huge crowd of men circled around some figure, presumably some drunk chick about to flash. Apparently she was reluctant, because there was alot of booing and the crowd quickly dispersed. After about five minutes we decided we'd seen enough and headed back to the betting window over by our seats.

This is where the true genius of having 2 extra races after the Derby comes in. The betting windows were packed. All the winners were trying to parlay their success, while all the losers were making a last effort to break even. I fell into the latter category. My brother and I decided to place a wheels trifecta bet on race 12. essentialy, all of the following were neccessary for us to win: horse 7 had to win, either horse 3 or 5 had to get second, and any of the other horses could get third. Our minimum bet cost us $10. We went back to our seat and race 11 was starting. i looked down and noticed that our bet was actually for race #11, and not #12 like we thought. Then I looked up and saw that our bet was falling into place. Watching the horses come down the final stretch was pretty fun. As it turns out, we won, with a pretty nice payout. In the end, I won back all I lost plus a little extra. all betting on the wrong race.

by the time we got home, we were pretty tired from the sun and booze. we had grandiose plans to go out that never materialized. the older part of the group blamed it on their age, those of us with wives blamed it on our wives, and little brother with the neck brace just vanished into his room. in the end we were all in bed about 10 PM sleeping off the 12 hours of gambling and booze.

So I started writing up this long and detailed account of the DBT show I went to last Saturday (full of witicisms, poignant observations, and the generally high quality of writing P-man's readers have come to expect), but of course I forgot to save, so the computer gods rewarded me by having IE crash. Boo.

So here lies the abbreviated version:

* I went to see DBT in Boulder last Saturday at the Fox Theatre
* They are playing a new style on this tour referred to as "The Dirt Underneath"
* I am borderline obsessed with this band, a review of my Ipod play count reveals I've listened to "Women Without Whiskey", "Outfit", and "Decoration Day" a combined 250 or so times, or approximately 1 full day of my life devoted to just these three songs
* The show was awesome, they managed to rock even acoustic, and a good time was had
* Mike Cooley got so drunk on stage, he couldn't keep a rhythm for the 2nd half of the show
* Somehow this seemed appropriate
* The band never mentioned the fact that Jason Isbell left, nor played any of his songs
* Thats a shame because his songs are some of my favorites

That is all.

-MPB

Much has happened recently. I went to my last law school class of all time. I've taken three final exams. I went to Austin for a wedding and got very drunk and danced up a storm. I rode my bike a few times. And I have enlisted the help of another pinch-blogger. Or rather, she volunteered. Her name is Pajama Grrl and she likes pajamas.

Tonight is my very last final exam of law school, EVAR. I am very excited. I graduate on Saturday and I plan on having a drink in my hand for the entire period in between.

Posted by MPB:

So perhaps the title of this post is a bit on the err... dramatic side, but I had a reasonably unsettling experience this weekend. I went riding at a trail just outside of Denver known as Buffalo Creek, a nice set of trails consisting of fast, flowing, tight, singletrack. For some reason when I go here it always rains. I usually cut my ride short, only to have it blow over about the time I'm driving away. On Sunday, I decided to test my luck when the dark clouds rolled in.

On the first half of the ride, I did a little amateur weather forecasting and convinced myself that this too, would blow over. As they said in G.I. Joe "Convincing yourself is half the battle", or something like that. But alas, about half way into the ride, the evil looking cloud decided that I would be punished for my hubris.

Buffalo Creek lies in an area that was ravaged by a fire five or so years ago, so you often go long stretches with no trees around. It was in just such a stretch (of course) that the rain drops started to fall. Then, lightning cracked, and it sounded pretty close. I was in the middle of a long climb (of course), and looked around and the trees were still a good distance up the hill (yup). Now, I didn't turn around and go down hill to find trees, because then I would've had to ride back up again when the storm passed (I'm a genius). So instead I started pedaling my ass off to get to the trees (the threat of imminent electrocution is an excellent motivator) and the hail started falling before I got there. It started out pea sized and got bigger. I was wearing a sleeveless jersey and immediately regretted my choice of clothing. My amrs were bright red from the pelting. Various thoughts went through my head: "I'm glad i have a helmet on"; "I wish I would've brought a jacket", "Ouch, that hurt".

Finally, I made it to a fallen down pine tree (which still had most of its needles) for shelter. I hung out there getting pelted only slightly less often for about five minutes. I had an Espresso flavored GU, I waxed philosophically on my predicament. Finally, the storm blew over and I pedaled away, relieved, and vowing that next time I'd cut the ride short when the clouds rolled in (but I probably won't).

MPB

Posted by Pajama Grrl:

Sometimes I have to laugh at the situations I put myself in but at least others can laugh with me. For example, I have been living in a 3-bedroom house with two other people for about a year. One of the roommates is a “normal” 25-year old chick and we get along great; the other roommate is a 31-year old male divorcee that seems nice but is just plain strange. He thinks that eating fried chicken at home is healthier than eating fried chicken out just because he is eating AT HOME. He DAILY eats an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s delicious ice cream by himself. He is a perfect candidate to be Jenny Craig's next spokesperson.

But his eating habits aren’t the only thing that is completely strange about this roommate, I discovered last week that this 31-year old dude has a pet HAMSTER. Yes, Particleman fans, he has a pet hamster, as in those little furry rodents that you have as a pet when you are in grade school after begging your parents for weeks if you can have a dog and then to shut you up they give you a hamster.

So next time you want to gripe about your roommate not taking out the trash, just remember at least you aren’t living under the same roof as Baxter the Hamster.

-Pajama Grrl

Posted by MPB:

So, looking at the concert calendar for this summer, I was pumped when they announced that the Old 97s would be playing at Red Rocks Amphitheatre outside of Denver. Red Rocks is a good place to see a show, and the old 97s are one of my favorite bands (I had a previous DBT-esque obsession with them), so what more could you ask for?

For the un-initiated, the Old 97s was one of those bands that were dubbed "alt-country", had one hit (Timebomb), told they'd be hugely famous, and then never heard from again as far as main-stream media is concerned. But they have quite the following, and they put on a fantastic live act. Its like they have two versions of every song: the so-so studio version, and the completely kick-ass live version. I've seen them in Austin, and left thoroughly satisfied, rather I mean thoroughly ROCKED, afterward.

So, pumped for the show, I look into it, only to find out they are charging 50 !@#$! dollars! I knew something was awry when I heard Starbucks was the event "Presenter". Something is seriously wrong when a coffee company is a concert presenter. Concerts go well with beer, with pot, with hallucinogenic drugs, but I've never heard of concerts going well with coffee.

To add insult to injury, the Old 97s are not only NOT the headliner, they are the second opener listed. So I'd be paying $50 to see one hour of the goods. Thats probably more expensive that the Police on a per-hour basis.

And Ryan Adams is the headliner! Ryan Adams! Doesn't he owe his musical existence to bands like the Old 97s? Ok, so I suppose their last two albums haven't been THAT good. But have they really fallen this far?

Apparently so.

-MPB

Firstly, big thanks go to MPB and Pajama Grrl for taking over while studying for the Bar exam has me chained to my desk. Ya'll are rocking.

Secondly, I really wanted to sum up my three years in law school in a descriptive and complete post because so much has happened during this time, but it's not gonna happen. This is a slightly abbreviated version.

Thirdly, i had the week from hell last week. Not only was I in class for about eight hours per day, but my car decided to stop working on Monday night. I got out of class at 9:30 and it wouldn't start. I called my friend for a jump but no dice. The engine wouldn't even turn over. Turns out my battery was completely dead so I had a new one put in and all is well now. The Honda keeps on ticking.

In other news, I graduated from law school. I have a Juris Doctor, or Doctor of Jurisprudence, or JD, or whatever you feel like calling it.* I basically paid $95,000 over three years to be able to tell people, in response to their legal questions, "it depends." When I look back at all the things I've learned, all the amazing people I've met, and all the friendships I've made, I am infinitely thankful for the opportunity to have gone to law school, and I'm thankful I have such supportive parents and understanding friends who didn't get pissed off when I wished them happy birthday three months after the fact.

People ask why I went to law school. There are so many answers to that question. In the end, if I really think about it and put aside all the baloney about making a difference and doing something interesting with my life (which is actually true), the real reason I went to law school was to meet people.**

When I went to law school, my goal was to meet smart and interesting people who were fun. Law school gave me that. So thanks everyone, it was cool. I may be moving to Dallas, but this site will (hopefully) always be here, and you all know how to find me anyway, website or not.

Ok, end sappiness.

From here on out, my life will be dominated by the Bar. I will be the Bar's bitch for the next two months. And then come July 24-26, i will make the Bar my bitch. Such is the plan. I will try to drop in every now and then to tell you all about how exciting studying is. I could tell you now, but I'd rather save it up.

*With one big caveat: as long as i passed all my classes. Grades aren't in yet. Keep your fingers crossed.

** There was another reason which you should be able to figure out for yourself. It's actually included in the first reason.

Posted by Pajama Grrl:

There are some people that are birthday people and some people that are not. I am a birthday person. I love celebrating birthdays with big, bad parties that make your body hurt for days. This month, I celebrated the 25th Anniversary of my Placental Detachment and it hurt for days… oh sweet, sweet pain that makes you drink an entire bottle of Maalox in two days. I am officially 25, in my mid-twenties, awaiting that quarter-life crisis that many speak of. I have been twenty five for 1 week, 4 days, 5 hours and 11 minutes and all I can say is so far, so good. No crisis here (yet). In fact, I have had a great birthday month: it started with a fabulous trip to Las Vegas and ended it with a rowdy, blurry trip to Chicago. Not too shabby in my opinion.

The older I get, the more I turn back to childhood activities that I once enjoyed. For example, I have been rollerblading, I have been playing on a kickball league for about a year and I recently had a slumber party with all my junior high/high school friends. And this is what I look forward to?! This and the trusty bottle of Maalox. But at least I know that at age twenty five, I can still have just as much fun with a bunch of old friends, crammed into a full-sized bed and talk and laugh and eat cookies in bed. The only thing that has changed since our teenage years is that we are all still in bed because we are nursing a hangover because that is what happens when you get OLD.

-PG