Mother Mother Kicked My Ass

July 22, 2011

Any of you out there ever heard of Mother Mother?

No, it isn’t the modern day version of Sister, Sister. (Although the name would be totes appropriate, because didn’t Tia Mowry just have a baby? I’m pretty sure she did.)

Anyway, yeah, Mother Mother isn’t a teeny-bopper-turned-modern-day-mother sitcom. Mother Mother is actually a “Canadian Indie Rock Band” from Vancouver.

Yes. Vancouver.

And they were playing last night at Great Scott in Allston.

Yes. Great Scott.

You know, that bar that most people stop going to as soon as they turn 21 and can get into places with their own ID? That place.

And I was there.

OK, you’re probably asking yourself– How the hell did Lindsay end up at Great Scott at 11:30 on a Thursday night getting drunk on Hoegaarden and jamming out to a Canadian Indie Rock Band with a bunch of hipsters with piercings in every place on their body other than their ears?

Enter– my boyfriend.

I won’t name him, because he doesn’t like it when I talk about him here. But, he is the main reason why I’m suffering horribly at work today, so there is really no way around mentioning him in this post.

To protect the innocent, I’ll call him…Moe.

Moe has been known to like some really obscure (and sometimes very strange) bands. So, as was the case last night, sometimes I find myself going out in the middle of the week to different dive bars around the city to see one of these obscure bands in person.

I never mind going. Nine times out of 10, the band ends up being pretty damn good.

And even if they suck, at the very least I know I’m guaranteed a night of prime people watching.

And did I mention the tickets were $8? Eight dollars. I mean, that’s cheaper than a round of beer.

So, off to Great Scott Moe and I went.

Now, I don’t know if it was the heat, the good music, my suppressed inner-hipster alter ego, or the fact that I was feeling a little randy being out so late on a work night, but it might be safe to say I maybe had a leeeee-tle too much to drink.

Orrrr, maybe a lot too much. (My hands have the shakes as I’m typing this. True story.)

But, hey, it was Thursday night. Even if I felt horrible the next morning (which, um, I do), at least I only have one more day of work to get through before two glorious days off.

Yes, well, even though I only have one more day before the weekend, I’m practically dying at my desk right now.

I woke up this morning and literally looked like I had been run over by a truck.

I had mascara smudged under both eyes to the extent that I’m not sure if it got like that in my sleep, or if at some point during the night I decided I wanted to blend in with the emo-hipsters by smearing my make up from my bottom eye lid to the tip of my nose.

I also must have slept with my right hand hand under my cheek because in addition to my mascara, I had a nice imprint of the admission stamp the bouncer gave me adorning my face.

My eyes were bloodshot. And for some reason, my left eye didn’t want to open all the way, resulting in me looking like I had a lazy eye.

And, oh dear, my hair…

I looked like I had stuck my finger in an electrical outlet, gotten shocked until my hair stood on end, and then tried to fix the ensuing afro by putting it in a pony tail on top of my head.

Basically, I would have fit in better last night if I had just gone looking the way I did this morning.

It was not pretty my friends. Not pretty at all.

I actually shrieked a little when I turned on the bathroom light and got a glimpse of my face.

I’m looking a little better now that my emo-makeup has been washed off and my hair is tamed into a bun.

And I’m thinking once I get some food in me, I’ll feel better.

But, all in all, last night was worth it.

Moe got to meet the drummer. (His name was Allan. Nice guy. I like to think if they ever make it big, I can say “Oh yeah, I saw them waaa-aaayy back when they were first starting out at a little bar called Great Scott. I clinked beers with Allan. You know. The drummer.“)

I got to get my groove on with all the other rebels who were defying their bedtimes on a Thursday night.

And you can never go wrong with good music and cold beers on a hot night.

So, to all you skeptics, I recommend Mother Mother. I’ll leave you with this, for your listening pleasure:

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3 Responses to “Mother Mother Kicked My Ass”

  1. DAD Says:

    Bad habits are hard to break!

  2. Brita Says:

    We should introduce Moe to Luke! I bet they’d like each other.


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