So, recently my friends and I have tried to embrace being young, single, and in our mid-20s by throwing a weekly dinner party.
I hosted the second one last night and it definitely had its up and downs.
I threw the party at a friend's house because I felt like there would be too many distractions at my own.
The problem with this friend group, which consists of about nine people, is that everyone has different taste buds and two of those attending are vegetarians. Being the enormous meat eater that I am, it threw me for a loop. So to be safe, my original menu was healthy: salmon on top of a rice mixture of some sort.
Then the complaints started rolling in. Some didn't know if they liked the fish, others wanted chicken (which I think is too bland), and others were all for it. I thought it was extremely rude for everyone to be so unappreciative. One of my friends even suggested that I ask everyone to pitch in some money, which I was NOT about to do.
Regardless, it was time for a new menu that would make everyone happy. So, I opted for linguine with two types of vodka sauce, one with sausage and mushrooms and another without the meat (to appease the vegetarians).
Aside from a lack of enough pots and pans, everything went smoothly. I tried to do a wine tasting, but by the end of the night my girlfriends were getting antsy looking for the $13 boxed wine and weren't really paying attention to the flavors of the various bottles - as long as their glasses were full. Well, can't win them all.
Even though there were no serious hazards, you could tell I still had my training wheels on. I'm planning on hosting another one soon but want to spice it up a bit more and get a little creative.
Any ideas? Themes? Menu item?
--- Kelly Boquard
My boyfriend and three of his close friends finally closed the deal on their apartment, and move-in day is this weekend. The cool thing is, it's not your average year-long lease in your average cramped quarters. It's a beautifully restored three-story house downtown, and they got it for a complete steal considering the condition and location.
While they've all made it clear that their new "home" isn't going to be an obnoxiously loud party house, I know it will be a nice bachelor pad, especially for football and hockey seasons. As I continue to shop for my Boston-Buffalo care package, I'm wondering: should I be picking up anything special for these guys?
I know I won't be much help with move-in. My weak muscles can carry lamps and kitchenware, but I pretty much draw the line when it comes to couches and TVs. So I'm thinking my help can come in a different form. Maybe a case of cold beer and a homemade dinner of chicken enchiladas? Or is that too Martha Stewart?
What's a nice housewarming gift for a bunch of guys in their mid-t20s?
--- Molly Hirschbeck
There are a couple of things that are never cool to do at a bar. You know, things like clinking your bottle of beer over your buddies so it spills everywhere; taking someone's tip and using it to pay for your drink, and anything that involves fighting. That's a very abridged list, but you get the point.
Until a recent outing, I didn't think it needed to be said that guys dancing on the bar, tables or chairs isn't cool either. I thought it was a pretty well-accepted belief that only girls should dance on things above floor level. There are a variety of issues wrong with "dude who dances on anything but the ground."
First off, unless you're break dancing, tap dancing or Irish step dancing, a guy should never be dancing by himself. I defy any guy to try to look cool by getting his groove on alone. Girls, on the other hand, are quite the opposite.
Never was this more apparent then when golfers from the Australian National Team rolled up (via limo) to a Lewiston watering hole after the final round of the Porter Cup on Saturday. They were nice guys just looking to have a good time, but they turned the place into a PG-version of Club Marcella.
These guys were all about dancing on elevated platforms while yelling "Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi." It was entertaining at first, but the novelty wore off quickly.
I give these guys some credit, though. When the bar drowned out their shouting with a "USA"
chant, they emphatically cheered along.
So whether you're going abroad or staying domestic, never dance on a bar if you're a guy. And if you are in a foreign land, don't chant the name of your home country; no one is impressed by your patriotism.
Especially if you're American, because apparently not everyone likes us.
--- Andrew Rafferty
While sitting between the rain drops Thursday night during the Gin Blossoms performance at the
square, I felt like it was 1996 again.
Seeing local band More Than Me take the stage like some kind of rock-NSync-meets-Maroon 5
surprise brought me back to high school, heck, even before high school, when I first heard the band's CD from my cousin, their fellow student at Kenmore East High School. Their sound is good; More Than Me is polished, clean and upbeat. They reported that they won VH1's song of the year contest and have a single out on Kiss 98.5.
It was really that kind of night, when I remembered staying up to listen to the "Kiss 10 at 10" every night or taping my favorite songs off the radio in middle school. And I think the nostalgia was catching. Lots of other twentysomthings, though not exclusively, bopped around when the Gin Blossoms staples "Hey Jealousy," "Til I Hear It From You" and "Follow You Down."
Granted, most of the songs sounded the same, and Robin Wilson proceeded to throw up the "rock on" symbol using his index and pinkie fingers more often then was necessary or even cool, but still, standing in the slush hearing a lead singer from the '90s who hasn't lost his chops (sorry, Johnny Rzeznik) was great.
Not only that, but a 3-year-old, there with his mom and dad, proceeded to make friends with everyone on the steps of the statue. Those of you who faithfully read Jeff Miers' Sound Check column know he wrote about bringing children to concerts early and often. While I don't advocate taking them to the 3 Doors Down show tonight at Darien Lake, I think the Gin Blossoms are benign enough, even if the square isn't always so. And I was pleased to dance around with the little fella while he soaked up some music education.
Makes me think of my first concert: 98 Degrees at the Erie County Fair.
Ah, memories.
---Kristen Rajczak
So I do not want to cultivate the notion that I typically go out on Monday nights, but I will admit to doing so the last two weeks. It was not without reward. I stumbled upon this amazing concept: Free Chiavetta's chicken at the Old Pink.
Being a Southtowns native from Springville, this discovery is nothing short of astonishing. Having a part of where I am from in a bar just down the road from me is a notion I have no trouble getting behind. And did I mention, it is free.
Now I am also aware the Century Grill provides free bacon to its patrons on Saturday nights. Another fascinating concept.
Given that it took me 25 years to unearth the Old Pink/Chiavetta's phenomenon, I am surely in the dark on some other unique bar offerings (aside from standard fare) out there. Fill me in. And does this whole idea enthrall anyone else like it does me?
---Geoff Nason
This week's Thursday at the Square is something I have had circled on my calendar for a while. The Gin Blossoms, whose "New Miserable Experience" was a staple in the soundtrack of my formative years, are coming back to town.
For the longest time I considered the band sort of a guilty pleasure, but after coming to know its influences -- including power pop legend Tommy Keene -- I no longer feel the need to apologize for enjoying the group. Besides, the songs penned by the late Doug Hopkins are soaked with the sound of one of my all-time favorites, the Replacements.
Getting back to the soundtrack theme, though, I fondly recall leaning heavily on tracks like "Hey Jealousy" and "Found Out About You." One reason was because they were endlessly replayed on the radio (remember what one of those is?); the other was that they dulled the insecurity of those teenage years.
I used to think Hopkins relied on experiences from his youth to generate such angst-filled offerings. After pulling the album off the shelf for some prep listening this week, though, the obvious dawned on me: He and the band were in their 20s when they wrote this stuff and absolutely drawing from their present. It makes sense, because I sure don't have this place figured out yet and would argue I am exponentially further away from an understanding.
Soul Asylum, our own Goo Goo Dolls and the Grateful Dead are three other bands I relied upon then and still spin now (mostly the older stuff, but some of the new releases, too). There are others, like Green Day and the Offspring, that I probably have not listened to in years.
So what about you? Anyone else feeling somewhat nostalgic about the show? It should be neat looking around to friends, exchanging glances and smiles indicating this is our music, while some inattentive youngsters cluelessly wonder what all the fuss is about.
And what are some of the bands from your formative years that you either still enjoy (on your iPods) or are ashamed to cop to?
---Geoff Nason
Bodies aren't supposed to bounce off the ground.
But for the second time in a month, that's the image I saw when going to work. Normally I wouldn't write anything because accidents happen all the time, but this particular scene stayed with me all day. This was the second motorcycle accident I'd seen at the exact same intersection where the rider had flown over the handlebars and hit the ground hard.
The first time I was waiting to make a left turn, and I looked in my rear view mirror only to catch a glimpse of a biker crashing into the car behind me and flying over his bike. All I saw was a body flying, and I quickly pulled over to the nearest parking lot, thinking the worst case scenario: the car had hit a bicyclist.
Fortunately, everything turned out OK. No one was hurt (though shaken up), we were able to call the police on my cell, and by the time they got there, everyone had resolved the issue.
This morning was a different picture. I was the first car waiting at a red light, and all of a sudden I saw a motorcycle heading full force into a streetlight pole directly in front of me. The rider was thrown off, the bike rolled a couple of times, and several parts went flying into the street. My stomach was in knots; it seemed like there was no way this rider would walk away as easily as the first had.
I pulled into the same parking lot as before, and by the time I ran over, another man was talking to the rider and calling 911. She was sitting up, OK by some miracle, and completely aware of the situation, even reaching for her own cell phone to call police.
She told us she thought her bike had gotten stuck in first gear, and that was what she believed had caused the crash. After a few minutes, a crowd had gathered to help move the bike (which was streaming gasoline) and support the rider. I walked away as police arrived, but as I started driving back to work, I had to pull over for a second because my heart was beating so fast.
Sure, it shouldn't be a big deal for me. My car wasn't physically involved in the crash, no one was hurt and plenty of help was available. But there's something about seeing someone so physically vulnerable, getting thrown so forcefully and violently, within only a few yards from your own vehicle, that really sticks with you. I know I'm an adult, but at those moments, I feel like a scared and disorientated child.
--- Molly Hirschbeck
I finally went to the new Galleria Mall Regal Cinemas last night. I saw "The Dark Knight" and yeah, the movie was great. Moreover, the seats were beyond comfortable and the leg room even better.
But my experience was somewhat overshadowed by how hard it was to find a parking spot (since when do we need valet parking at the mall?), how hard it was to navigate the new part of the mall (a sign pointing to where the theater was ... but then wasn't) and the impossibly long line because one person was selling tickets and the ticket-buying machine I tried didn't have a working printer.
Apparently, the Galleria is still working out the kinks. But honestly, I can't blame it all on the Galleria because in trolling for parking, cars were idling in both lanes in front of a mall entrance, effectively blocking traffic. Talk about inconsiderate.
When I was younger, my parents never took me to the Galleria Mall because it was "too big." Discovering the joys of shopping as a teen, I started going there on a regular basis; it has more stores and a better selection. And now, I'm sort of in awe of the shiny new wing, even though I can't afford to do all my shopping there.
However, my new feeling is that the mall, in continuing to expand, will no longer be a place
to hang out. The corridors are getting too circuitous and the clientele less Buffalo and more
Canada.
Of course, that won't stop me from going to Delia's when I need new jeans, but after last night's less-than-people-friendly experience, I don't know if I'll feel the need to visit the mall weekly as a did when I was younger.
So, what do you think of the expansion? Too much, not enough or somewhere in between?
--- Kristen Rajczak
Batman pandemonium seems to be in full force, with more than 30 midnight/early morning showings in the Buffalo area the night "The Dark Knight" premiered, and more than hourly showings starting as early as 9 a.m. through the weekend.
I covered the midnight madness, interviewing full-grown people in face paint and Batman pajamas.
Obviously, the late Heath Ledger was a major focus of pre-film excitement, considering previews consisted almost exclusively of shots of his maniacally painted visage. (Christian Bale, who?) But I think for us twentysomethings, the Ledger draw goes deeper than a dead actor starring in a movie even though he has died.
For those who weren't old enough to party like it is 1999 in 1999, Heath was a quintessential heartthrob. I probably had a tear-out poster of him from J-14 magazine on my wall. My preteen self found him dangerously attractive in "10 Things I Hate About You" and the human embodiment of courtly love in "A Knight's Tale." His death is the only celebrity passing besides Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes's to make my inner-14-year-old cry a little bit. Our generation has been lucky not to have many young stars go the way of memorial air-brushed T-shirts.
And, yeah, Ledger's death hurt. (Though, of course, a celebrity death doesn't compare to losing a loved one … please don't misinterpret.) Ledger was just coming into his own as an actor with "Brokeback Mountain" and then as Joker in "The Dark Knight." And while people always make such comments posthumously, maybe he was going to be one of the major acting presences of our time. But personally, I think it stung because I am just coming into my own as a person, too. Ledger and I had both moved on from two-dimensional high school roles, and then he died.
Since Ledger died in January, I've had time to address my grief. But something about "The Dark Knight" strikes an unsettling chord. It's not the obvious "exploiting his death" line. Ledger starred in the movie and the absolute media blitz promoting his part could be a celebration of his life, OK, fine, whatever.
What weirds me out is the nature of the film. "The Dark Knight" is just another installment in the never-ending parade of new stuff cashing in on our nostalgia for our old stuff. I haven't yet seen the movie, but I wonder how I'll reconcile my anguish over my long-lost Bat cave play house with my longing for my deceased "future husband"?
-- Jessica Vosgerchian
Nothing brings me back to my freshman dorm building like the scent of laundry detergent.
I remember the first time I had to do my own laundry. I thought I had it under control but after four flights of stairs, I had to call my mom for her to reiterate the directions I had forgotten within the span of just a week or so. The laundry room smelled like someone took a big bucket of Tide and just soaked every surface with it.
In my new apartment, the one that I have been paying for all summer and stayed a scant two nights in, has a laundry facility much nearer to my apartment, and I have long mastered the intricacies of lights and darks. But I'm facing other challenges of growing up in my new place.
My roommates, who have been dating for about a year and half, just got engaged and I was named the maid of honor. In my excitement, I forgot that really, this is going to be a big job to do during my last semester of college this spring. Unlike the pile of jeans and Bright Eyes T-shirts I faced as a freshman, the gourmet cupcakes, scented candles and other wedding accoutrement I will be tackling cost money and take time to assemble.
Maybe the outcome won't be as satisfying as the scent of warm, clean towels emerging from the dryer, but I'm excited about all this. Helping to plan a wedding is a truly adult thing to do, marriage being one of the entryways into that daunting realm of responsibility.
Part of me feels young and energetic that I have friends getting married and I can help. The other part feels aged and worried that carefree days of watching "The Wedding Date" wrapped in fleece blankets with my friends are going to be over.
How did you feel when your first set of friends got married?
--- Kristen Rajczak
