pretty girls make graves: the end
1. They're not lying, that's one pretty band. The girls are pretty; the dudes, though, are even prettier. For reals.
2. Also: versatile. At various points, the guitarist drummed, the drummer played bass, the porcelain doll of a keyboarder played a piano-recorder and an accordion, the bassist sang lead and danced through the crowd, and the lead singer manned a whistle and clashed around (quite skillfully) on the cymbals. But it did, at every point, rock.
3. During intermission David and I pondered drug use at our respective workplaces, noting a surprising lack of coke among lawyers. When the band started a tiny, young girl next to us, in a spaghetti strap bright red dress most likely acquired for her junior year Spring Fling dance, jumped hysterically and kicked her feet so erratically we literally couldn't look away, and suddenly we realized where all the coke in the city was.
4. Dear Mousey Couple Who Stood In Front of Me: Doesn't your mom have a comfy couch, outside of my direct range of vision, you could make out on?
5. Thanks Pretty Girls Make Graves. You made me wish I'd become a fan before my last chance to see you live, but that does seem to be the trend these days.
Unrelated: Do they sell Iron Chef on DVD?