Guys! I have some crap to show you. I’ve been working hard in my fake studio this winter!
First up is a portrait of Albert Fish. It’s weird, but because I spend so much time looking at serial killers because of my greeting card line, my first instinct when I get a blank canvas (or, in this case, wood) is to paint one of their faces. Usually I stop myself but the other night, I was painting Albert Fish before I even realized it. I think I need help, you guys.
Here is a giraffe painting I made for Lisa’s daughter Gigi’s nursery, which is giraffe-themed. I call this one Gigiraffe:
Here’s a bonus picture of me and Gigi when I brought the painting over and Lisa made me dinner, but first I had to babysit Gigi, which I was fine with, it was the split second where I thought Lisa was going to say “Will you help me cook this shit” instead of “Will you keep an eye on Gigi while I cook this shit?” that really made my heart stop. Anyway, Gigi and I were fine! I mean, she accidentally fell into a crevice (don’t worry, she didn’t cry!), tried to steal my money, and smeared my lipstick all over her face, but we listened to Pierce the Veil together so it was all good.
I’d like to think if this was the Babysitter’s Club, I’d be Claudia.
And then I painted a co-worker’s dog! Because she asked me to, not just because. Pets are really out of my wheelhouse (not like anything is really IN my wheelhouse, aside from scribbles and smears) but I felt pretty OK about this one and Cheryl seemed to really like it too!
I’m slowly starting to make prints of some of my paintings. Not all of them, but some. Especially the Twin Peaks ones, because I love those damn paintings! I still have so many more characters from that show to paint, and hopefully some new ones too once the show comes back next year, wooooo! That still feels like a dream.
I got an itch to resurrect the old bathroom plaques too, for no reason other than they’re just really fun to paint, and it’s something I can do while watching the hockey game and by watching the hockey game I mean trying to not watch the hockey game because the Penguins have been stressing me out lately. So if I’m not painting during the hockey game, I’m playing word games on my phone during the hockey game.
Anyway, all of these prints and plaques are available over at Somnambulant, or you can request a custom one here! Please pass this around! I’m still trying very hard to build up my shop to where it was back in 2009 before I had my cry-baby I HATE ART meltdown. THANKS!
Today’s Barb-post is two-in-one: two times she masterminded creepy surprises-in-a-box for me because one of her main priorities here at The Law Firm was to keep me happy and placated.
1. Law Firm Lamb Cake
A few months ago, someone was trying to get my work friend Kaitlin to buy a lamb-shaped cake pan that they didn’t need anymore. Included in the email he sent to her was a picture of what the finished product could conceivably look like, so she sent it to Barb and me because it was so horrific-looking.
Of course I took to it immediately and tried to convince her that she really needed this cake pan, in spite of its exorbitant cost.
“Not for that price I don’t!” she assured me.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it though and even found one that was much more reasonably-priced. I didn’t buy it though because I figured it would just be another thing to nag Henry about.
“Clean the house.”
“Do the laundry.”
“Cook my dinner.”
“Propose to me.”
“Put this makeup on.”
“Bake me a fucking lamb cake.”
A lamb cake just might be what it takes to break Henry’s back and leave me single and helpless.
Anyhow, I dropped it, but the use I had for it was always still in the back of my mind.
For some reason today, I brought up the fact that Henry dropped the ball for my thirtieth birthday. I have some pretty deep-rooted esteem issues, so this isn’t something that I’ve gotten over yet. Probably won’t, either, without a hearty helping of therapy.
“You couldn’t even get me the only thing I wanted for my last birthday, a fucking black forest cake!” I cried petulantly.
“I couldn’t find anywhere to get one!” Henry yelled back.
“I gave you two months notice that I wanted one! You could have BAKED one, motherfucker.”
I was still bitching about how he didn’t even love me enough to bake me a stupid birthday cake when I arrived at work.
Feeling utterly sorry for myself the whole 10-floor elevator ride, I walked around the corner to my desk only to find a large box with a post-it that said Open Carefully.
“She’s here!” Barb announced, and people started coming out of their offices and crowding around. I couldn’t imagine what was going on.
It wasn’t my birthday.
It wasn’t my workiversary.
Was I getting fired and they were trying to soften the blow?
To throw me off even further, Chris chimed in and asked, “Did you get your hair cut?” and I found myself bracing for another one of Those Episodes where I slightly modify my appearance and everyone swarms around me with spotlights.
Apprehensive is one way to describe how I felt. There were maybe six people watching me expectantly. I reached for the box lid, because that’s what they kept probing me to do, and we all know I do as I’m told. But then Barb commanded me to wait as she hit play on The Whiffenpoof Song, so now not only did I have a surplus of hungry eyes feasting upon me, my every robotically awkward movement was to the tune of singing Muppets.
Please don’t let it be a crappy spreadsheet, I thought, as I eventually buckled and ripped the lid off like a Bandaid.
It took a few good seconds for it to sink it, that awesome pins-and-needles sensation of being sufficiently stunned. Then I laughed. Then I almost cried. Then I laughed some more.
Apparently, this had been in the works for awhile. Barb placed an in-house classified ad and found someone who was willing to lend her the cake pan. Kaitlin baked the cake and then some of my friends here helped decorate.
This, after the babyish argument I had just instigated in the car with Henry. Fuck you, Henry. SOME PEOPLE are willing to bake this bitch a cake. Even now, I keep pausing to look over at it adoringly. People kept suggesting I wrap it up and I was like “I AM NOT COVERING THIS, EVER!” (But apparently it’s because they thought it was actually going to be eaten. As if. I want this thing to petrify and sit on my fireplace mantel for the rest of ever.)
I’m just so unbelievably touched that my friends here would do this. It has officially become so much more than just a lamb cake, and I’m beyond stoked to put my plan into action this weekend. STOKED BEYOND BELIEF.
Law Firm Lamb Cake went on to inspire my friend Casey to make a song about it, and it also became an Easter Glenn, too!
ALL BECAUSE BARB PLACED AN AD FOR A LAMB CAKE PAN.
Came into work today to find a large box beside my desk, all wrapped in a candy cane print. It was from Barb and she told me to open it immediately; within seconds, a small crowd of people privy to the box’s contents had gathered at my desk
I opened it and immediately almost pissed my pants. A few weeks ago, I was at the flea market with Tommy and Jessy and took a picture of this creep-factory of a doll. Of course, by the time I got home that day, I was kicking myself for not buying it. I even checked when I was there two weeks ago with Andrea, but didn’t see it and felt extreme sadness and regret.
Barb knew that I was coveting it and went back and bought it for me for Christmas and I can’t even believe it I am dying of happiness right now punctuation what!?
Of course, everyone was like, “That is so creepy! Why do you want that?!” and then it was fun to watch as they realized they had already answered their question.
Sean came over and caught me cradling my new (old) doll. He shook his head and said, “Hey, if you’re happy, I’m happy.”
Bridget was like, “OMG THAT’S SO DIRTY HOW CAN YOU PUT THAT SO CLOSE TO YOUR FACE!” or something equally as chastising and oh look she just came back and said, “I wouldn’t touch that if you paid me and I sincerely suggest that you anti-bac your hands.”
Nina and Wendy cried a little bit when they saw it. Mitch and Lee seemed to approve. Chris, who was here when I opened it and looked thoroughly flabbergasted, just walks by now and gives me leery motive-questioning looks.
He fits in so well with all my creepy shit and Jesus pen!
He’s coming home with me this weekend for our annual Christmas picnic in the cemetery, but I think after that, he’ll reside here in The Law Firm. I like the reactions he’s provoked.
This just solidifies what I already knew: Barb is the best co-worker ever and most attentive friend.
I just learned that Barb bought this the same day I was at the flea market looking for it.
I have been carrying it around the department with me and it occurred to me that I am holding it with more natural panache than I have ever held a live baby.
So this one time in January of 2011, I thought it would be a Good Idea to bring in sea monkeys to work. Some people ended up REALLY LIKING THEM, but no one more than Barb, who I think might have imprinted on the horniest one:
Then I made the mistake of showing her the below sea monkey video, which she became obsessed with and just admitted to me today, 4 years later, that she still has it saved to her favorites.
Today’s Barb tribute is about how, even in the wake of sea monkey death, she remains calm and brave, forever our Law Firm rock.
In Memoriam: Sea Monkey #1
I wasn’t at my desk for more than ten minutes when I noticed the dead body.
I always do a quick sea monkey count when I get to work. There have only been four adults for the last few months now, even though two of them have been furiously fornicating off and on. Maybe it’s not hetero sex that I’ve been spectating like someone completely hard-pressed for office porn.
Anyway, today the count dropped to three. The deceased was lying in the middle of the intersection (my sea monkey tank is a miniature city), looking fragile and completely snuffed out. My heart was banging against my ribcage as I prodded it with the feeding spoon, but it only caused its limp body to ride the waves in a decidedly dead fashion.
“Hit and run?” one of my co-workers asked, and I yelled at him for making jokes. TOO SOON.
Wendy encouraged me to scoop him out. I thought it was because she was going to give him a proper burial, but it was actually because she wanted to sniff it and then taunt passing by co-workers with its dead sea carcass.
I took it off of her before she decided to get all Anthony Bourdain and eat it like its some fucking Toys R Us delicacy. On a Post-It, I laid out its dead body all nice and gently and immediately realized he or she had no name. Barb kept calling it Sea Monkey #1, so I went with that. Sorry for being generic, #1.
I displayed its body on the ledge next to my desk and promptly forgot about it. One of the analysts, Chris, came over and was talking to us. When he walked away, Wendy shouted, “It moved!”
“It’s been resurrected?” I cried excitedly, thinking I could scrape him back into the tank. But then we quickly realized that he hadn’t moved so much as been SMUDGED by Chris’s elbow when he was leaning against the ledge.
Barb said, “Well, he needs to come back here so we can examine his shirt.” She then called him at his office and told him to come back, that it was serious.
Once he found out what was going on, he was pretty annoyed.
All that remains: a tiny balled-up smudge in the upper lefthand corner.
It was absolutely horrific. It’s still sitting up there, festering in the barbaric ball Chris rolled it in like it’s nothing more than some kid’s booger, ready for a’flickin’. So now when mourners come over to say goodbye and wonder why they can’t see #1 in his true, God-given form (though I’m 99% sure God had nothing to do with the creation of sea monkeys; more like some freak scientist pissing around in his mom’s basement), I have to explain over and over again the brutal act starring Chris’s Elbow.
What a way to be remembered. What a fucking way to be remembered. Goddamn.
Barb then sent out a department-wide email:
It is with deep sadness that we announce the unexpected passing of Erin Kelly’s Sea Monkey #1.
#1 will lie in state at Erin Kelly’s desk for the duration of the today and all day tomorrow. A brief memorial service will be held at 5:00 pm tomorrow for those wishing to attend.
#1 was a fabulous pet. He (she) never jumped out of his (her) container when the lid was off, a sign that he (she) was mentally stable and had no thoughts of spontaneous suicide. #1 brought pleasure and laughter to our department, and he (she) will be sorely missed.
Please stop by at some point to pay your respects to our lost friend and also to provide words of encouragement to his (her) remaining bowl mates.
RIP, #1 – we will miss you!
I can only imagine that the next step will be to slap his picture on our department Wall of Death.
Get your 40s ready, my friends.
[Present Day Side Note: The only person who came by to pay his respects was Lee. You tried, Barb!]
This is an oldie-but-goodie from 2011, when Barb practically revealed her secret life as a doula. WHO WILL DELIVER LAW FIRM BABIES WHEN BARB IS GONE? Amber, I guess you’re on your own.
It all started around 4:30 on Wednesday. I was REALLY BUSY, working HARD and DILIGENTLY, when Sandy walked over to my desk, looking all pale and scared-rabbit. All I managed to decipher from her hushed tone was “bathroom” and “water broke.”
I immediately started to panic because we have two pregnant girls in our department, and neither of them should be walking around, breaking water.
But then I heard “travel office” and my compassion dulled a bit, because it was just one of “Those People” who share the same floor as us but aren’t cool enough to be a real part of our department, yet they like to swipe our food when we have parties like that’s going to infuse them with our Awesome.
Sandy, Barb and Sue were all in the bathroom together, probably saying disparaging things about me, when the owner of the broken water called out from behind a stall that she needed someone to get one of the travel office ladies. Right now, I’m picturing the “Fuck off” look that likely had taken over Barb’s face, until she learned that this poor girl was pregnant and splashing around back there in amniotic fluid.
Somehow, Sandy was able to slink back over to my desk to tell me what was happening.
“I’m really bad in emergencies,” she said in a small voice. So now I know that Sandy and I would make the worst superhero team in the history of comic books. In the background of each cell, you’d see Sandy, paralyzed and pale-faced with her emanating fear blending into the gray background, while I’m throwing up all over my cape.
It didn’t take long for a small crowd to form by the bathroom. Kristen stopped by my desk, having just broken through the crowd of birth fans. “I’m the girl you want in an emergency,” she said, all smiles, as if there wasn’t some pregnant lady spilling baby juice all over the department. “But, I’m going to Starbucks!” There’s our third superhero, drinking a latte while the world collapses around her. Sometimes I go out for drinks after work with Kristen and Sandy, and now I’m starting to rethink this. I feel so unsafe!
Meanwhile, Sue was marching all over the floor with her game face on. I’m not sure where she was marching to, but I know it wasn’t to pilfer through Barb’s snack drawer like it usually is. She was going to call 911 but said the girl had asked her not to because she didn’t want to ride in an ambulance. Sue disappeared around the corner, and I assumed she was going to her office to retrieve her forceps. And Barb was running around, looking for spare clothes to give the girl who was apparently pretty drenched. She was going to steal Wendy’s gym clothes but thought better of it and ended up giving the girl a pair of her own sweatpants.
All this fuss over spare clothes when someone could have just asked Gayle. She could have crocheted something right quick with a nice Navajo pattern. She probably would have given the girl matching earrings too, and maybe even thrown in a floral headband for the baby.
DO NOT FORGET THAT SANDY WAS THERE TOO! Barb re-worked the script every time she recounted the bathroom horrors to other co-workers, completely writing Sandy out of it. If you ask me, that’s discrimination against scared people and I don’t think Sandy should stand for it.
I bet when Barb tells her non-Law Firm friends about Waterbreak ’11, it entails her ripping the door right off the bathroom stall and delivering one of “those babies” right then and there with her auxiliary knapsack of obstetric apparati.
Something like an hour had gone by before Sandy finally snapped out of it and realized she had a towel that she could contribute. She walked by later, triumphantly holding up the soggy towel in garbage bag. She was going to take it home as a souvenir, but Sue convinced her to throw it out, which I think is rude because people should be allowed to collect the things they want to collect.
Me? I just sat there and watched all the adults handle business. It was exciting. I’m glad no one asked me to help. I mean, YES—I was a Girl Scout, but the only thing that taught me was how to dance to NKOTB’s “Funky, Funky Christmas” and to Quick! Find a Man to Do Everything For Me. (Couldn’t find a man, but Henry will do.)
Later that evening, the travel lady we dislike the most came over with her scary, soul-piercing eyes to tell us that the girl’s husband had come to pick her up and she was currently en route to the hospital.
“I’m going to have nightmares,” Barb said after the travel lady walked away. She was probably talking about the entire odyssey, but I was still shivering from the icy-penetration of travel lady’s eyes. All I could picture was a stork with travel lady’s head on it, so I told Barb about it in hopes of planting the image into her subconscious and it growing into some gnarly night-terror.
And then, because catastrophes totally wind up my giddy-box, I laughed about this so hard that I started crying at my desk.
[I didn’t want to post this until I knew for sure that everything was OK. Travel Girl had the baby that night; she was 2 months premature, but they are both doing fine. Barb prefaced her email to me about it with: “I know you don’t care, but…” I do care! Kind of!]
In honor of Barb’s last full week at The Law Firm, I am going to repost some of my favorite Barb-inspired stories. Because:
It’s the right thing to do.
The Penguins would approve.
To start it off, I’m going to share the story about the time Barb had the BEST idea ever.
Today was shaping up to be a pretty ordinary Thursday. I was in a so-so mood when I strolled over to Barb’s desk around 2:30 today for a visit. Nate and Debbie S. were there too, and what we were talking about wasn’t very note-worthy, just some mild banter.
And then Glenn walked by.
“We should start a rumor that Glenn is a lesbian,” Barb said. I don’t recall any overt hysterics from Nate or Debbie over this suggestion, but I fucking DIED. I was laughing so hard I had to walk away. Then I realized I had walked into a dead-end, so I turned around and had to find the nearest chair to sit in to keep from showering my co-workers with gleeful urination.
“THAT IS THE BEST IDEA EVER!!” I squealed once I was able to speak again. I can totally picture him in a flannel and skinny jeans at a Tegan and Sara show, can’t you?!
So I was walking back to my office-thing and saw Glenn sitting all lesbianly at his desk and I lost my shit all over again. Amber2 looked concerned because when I get this giddy, it oftentimes appears that I am under some sort of duress, the kind of red-hued scrunched-up face one might put on immediately after learning of the death of a loved one or Corey Haim. Unfortunately, this is also my Ugly Laugh face.
I tried to explain to her what was going on, but this only resulted in my having to SQUAT DOWN and bury my face in my arms. Every time I opened my mouth to talk, I could only manage to vomit out incomprehensible, muffled sounds.
“I’ll just email you!” I wheezed. Even better is that there is a new processor who just started last week and she sits right in front of Amber2, which is unfortunately pretty close to me, so she gets to overhear all sorts of weird things that may or may not have something to do with weird things and me.
This uncontrollable laughing alone carried on for over an hour without reprieve (for me or those in direct vicinity of me). And then I started telling more and more people (most of whom were like, “That is not really that funny”) so eventually, Glenn was all, “Ha-ha, what is going on?”
This only made the remainder of my sanity expire in a mushroom-cloud explosion of tears and laughter and I had to literally run away from him.
Finally, I emailed him and said, “Barb just wanted to know if you like the Indigo Girls” which confused him even more.
I can’t even look at him now without hearing “Come To My Window” in my head. I tried to get my friend Natalie, whose office is right next to Glenn’s desk, to walk by him while singing the chorus but she was just like, “I hate you.”
I printed this out and taped it to his desk.
This is the best rumor ever! Does anyone have an “L Word” DVD I can put on his desk?
The bristles of his brush ground hard into the nooks, flicking up suds stained with a subtle rouge, but now Norbert needed a break. He had been scrubbing the same spot in the rug with little relenting. Norbert balanced the brush against the lip of the bucket, stood and stretched his arms over his head.
It was a grand room. A deeply stained parquet floor had a chance to peek through where there weren’t expensive European rugs strewn about. Norbert only admired the beer steins and antique piggy banks decorating the fire place mantle for a few brief seconds before his eyes were pulled upward to a portrait of a resplendent woman.
“That’s my Katherine.”
Norbert spun on his heels to find Mister Williams, his barrel chest cloaked in a silk smoking jacket, framing the wide doorway into the parlor. Four thick slabs of fingers casually gripped a rock glass of scotch, which he subconsciously swirled with slight wrist flicks while his pinkie hovered incongruously. In between inappropriate slurps, Mister Williams slurred, “She was the love of my life.”
Norbert wiped his sweaty palms against his sullied coveralls. “I’m sorry, Mister Williams. I didn’t mean to snoop. I just needed to stand up for a moment; there’s one area of the rug over there that’s tougher than a nun’s habit to remove.”
“Beautiful, ain’t she?” Mister Williams continued, as if Norbert hadn’t spoke. He belched without apology.
“Why, yes sir,” Norbert admitted. “She’s stunning.” He looked away, not wanting his admiration of the woman in the portrait to appear salacious.
“She could make Hell feel like home,” Williams whispered, having moved in close enough to stroke Katherine’s oil-painted complexion with his scotch-free pinkie. He was standing close enough now that Norbert gleaned he hadn’t bathed in quite some time. Stale cigar smoke, urine, sweat and a mausoleum-quality musk clung to Williams like a protective wrapping. When Norbert said nothing, Williams asked, “Have you ever really danced on the edge, carpet cleaner?”
Norbert, growing overwrought, shook his head stupidly. “No, but I once had unprotected sex with four and a half Thai prostitutes.”
“Four…and a half?” Williams repeated questioningly, making eye contact with Norbert for the first time. Norbert looked away quickly, embarrassed by the vacancy and loneliness he saw in the gaze.
“Y-yes, sir. You see, there were these Siamese twins, and I, I only did it with the half that had the vagina.”
Williams wasn’t listening. He had set down his crystal rock glass on a chess table and had moved to the other side of the room where he stared catatonically at the wedding ring imprisoned flush against a rheumatic knuckle. “That’s what it felt like to love her: like dancing on the edge. Knowing that at any minute you could fall and nothing would ever be the same again, but the thrill you get? The thrill that tickles the base of your spine and makes your innards feel like they’re on a roller coaster with naked women to Babylon?” Williams put a cork in his monologue long enough to pinch a cat hair from his lapel and take a drowning gulp of scotch. “That thrill is what keeps you from stopping even when it gets dangerous. Love. She was the love of my life,” he repeated robotically.
“What happened, why aren’t you together anymore?” Norbert asked apprehensively.
Williams shot his head back and laughed uproariously. The scotch on the chess table quivered, and somewhere, something dropped from a wall.
Wiping a viscous sluice of drool from his cleft chin, Williams’ face turned stony as he spat, “Because that’s her you’re scrubbing from my Persian, carpet cleaner.”
Thank the fucking Good Sweet Brown that it is Friday. This week was a….weird one. Let’s bullet it out.
I mentioned in passing earlier this week that BARB is leaving the Law Firm. Words cannot express the emotional paralysis I’m experiencing because of this. WHO WILL TAKE CARE OF ME?!?! I suggested that she train Glenn and we all had a good laugh. Who will post passive-aggressive signs in the kitchen when someone leaves their dirty shit in the sink for more than 5 minutes, or send snippy emails to all the right people when our printer gives up the ghost for the 87th time this week or there is an alarming stench emanating from the restroom!?BAAR-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-ARRRRRB, DON’T GO!!!!
SPEAKING OF, we were out of plastic spoons in the kitchen for a few days and I kept having to go to a different floor to get some. Then I would come back to my desk and fill Glenn in on my latest quest, because he lives for these updates. When I came to work the other day, this was sitting on my desk, because Glenn apparently IStryingto be New Barb! I t old Amber-with-Child that this means Glenn andIarebasicallyBFFs now. A few minutes later, she asked me where he was and I was like, “I don’t know. We’re not THAT good of friends.”
But back to the spoons: to use them or nah? THEY MIGHT BE LACED.
Several of my friends postedthatJNCO is coming back! I was like OMG memories because I used to wear the shit outofJNCO,Stussy,KarlKani (that was my SHIT), and Cross Colours. I started Googling the other brands and was so stoked to see that they’re all still around, but theKarlKani hoodies especially made me catch my breath. I kept shoving my phone in Henry’s face so he could really marvel overtheKani signature name plate on the shirts. Henry was like, “Nope. Still don’t remember.” HE WAS THE GODFATHER OF URBAN FASHION,forTupac’s sake! I was really going hard down memory lane at this point and asked Henry if he remembered the clothing store Merry Go Round. He said yes, probably just to placate me, and I went on to tell him that’s where I bought all of yo-girl threads. “Cross Colours in particular had an entire girls’ line of clothes, but I always wanted the boy stuff. Because I was a THUG,Henry.” Henry sighed and murmured, “Yeah. I keep forgetting.”
Ugh, why didn’t I keep all those old clothes?! Now I feel sick over this.
OMG THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER HAPPENED. The other day, Barb was all, “Yo, how far into Breaking Bad are you?” and I was all, “Blahblah blah Jane and Jesse” and Barb was all, “DID YOU NOTICEWHOJANE’S DAD IS!?” And I was like, “Whatno who?!” and she was like, “He was on some soap opera years ago, I can’t remember if it was Another World or Days of Our Lives, and for some reason all I can remember is that he had a girlfriend named Calliope—-” I cut her off to cry, “EUGENE!?!?!?!? AND HE WAS AN INVENTOR! AND WHEN HEANDCALLIOPE GOT MARRIED HER DRESS LIT UP!!!” and then I had to run back to my desk and YouTube it before my head exploded because if there is one thing I fucking go bananas over, itis1980s-era Days of Our Lives, people. So then that night, I was so excited to tell Henry, but apparently my lead-inwastoo over-the-top because he thought it wasgoingto be something more amazing, and I’m like MORE amazing? What more could you want? Eugene fucking Bradford is on Breaking Bad!
The next day, I told Barb that I watched another episode of Breaking Bad the night before and was so excited to see that it really is him, and I even cried out JOHNDELANCIE! when his name popped up in the opening credits. Then we were talking about Calliope and I mentioned that Arlene Sorkin was like, my style icon as a kid and Barb was like, “Oh I didn’t know that was her nameinreal life.” I told her that of course I knew her name, because I kept a Days of Our Lives scrapbook when I was in elementary school. Don’t be jealous.
Eugene was last seen in Salem in 1989, after which he disappeared in his time machine.
Yesterday, Glenn was telling campfire tales about the OLDEN DAYS when it was unheard of for school’s to have 2-hour delays due to weather. “Except for that one time in the 70s when the rivers froze and the barges couldn’t get through.Schoolswere closed that day.” Then he and Patrick launched into some sordid conversation about gas fireplaces and I was like, “Where am I? Is this Hell?”
Also, Glenn lectured meonnot watering my stupid spider plant often enough. “Look at it, it’s all desiccated,”hemonotoned. “MAYBE THAT’S HOW I LIKE MY THINGS!” I cried defensively. Glenn must have just learned the word “desiccate” because he seemed excited to use it. Why couldn’t he have been this active when I was live-blogging our terrible late shift?
Barb would never lecture me. Whenever she tries to teach me to do something new (like, use an apple corer or find my way around town), she always swaddles her words in baby’s breath and whatever material the gloves that handle the Stanley Cup are made from, and punctuates it with a reminder that I am a special, special star.
OK, girl talk: Pretty much have spent all week obsessing over Lynn Gunn’s (singer of PVRIS) relationship with Love, Robot vocalist Alexa San Roman. And thank god, too, because I am so over Whitney and Sada. All they doonInstagram is post club flyers and pictures of their post-workout smoothies!! So I’ve officially hopped on the fast train to Lynn & Alexa Town. Of course, this obsession is salt/wound, but I don’t care. Last night, I was babbling on to Henry about something that I read about them. “I saw it on the Lynn & Alexatumblr,” I excitedly explained. Henry responded with a stretch of intensely disappointed frowns. “WHAT HENRY?! HASHTAG RELATIONSHIP GOALS, OK?!” Seriously. I wish I could go back to my early 20s and bag a hot lesbian singer in a beanie and then hold hands at Warped Tour. I clearly chose the wrong path. #LESBICORE
Thank god Henry is so goddamn patient with me.
Today I’m wearing a shirt that I forgot bought in the junior department of JCPenney’s and apparently it’s a “great color on me.” Sometimes coming to work is a real feel-good experience. And while I really appreciate the compliment, I’mma pretend it was really coming from my figmented girlfriend who sings in a make-believe post-hardcore band.
Me in my nice-colored shirt.
The security guard just tromped past my desk with a new security guard who looks like a 1980s serial killer….or Henry in the 90s. I feel considerably less safe.
Wednesday, February 11th, fuck yeah! That was the night of the Pierce the Veil/Sleeping with Sirens World Tour here in Pittsburgh. They played here for two nights because Pittsburgh goes HARD for PTV; I wanted to go both nights but Henry was like YEAH RIGHT PICK ONE so we went the second night because everyone knows that the second night is the best. (That’s a thing, isn’t it?)
We went to Rivertown first for a quick pizza dinner and drinks, passing the ever-growing line of kids outside of Stage AE. Worried about not getting a good spot, I lied and said that the show started at 6. “An early show tonight, I guess,” I shrugged, and Henry didn’t question me. I rushed him out of Rivertown around 5 so we could get in line.
“Are you kidding me?!” Henry cried, double-checking his ticket once we were already firmly planted in the snaking row of scene kids. “It says DOORS at 6, not SHOW at 6!” And I just laughed, because duh. So we stood outside in the cold for the next hour while crackheads tried to get us to buy their black market PTV t-shirts (my favorite was when one of them dropped one on the ground, accidentally stepped on it, and then waved it around in the air, hollering about how great the quality was). The wait in line was mostly OK, the group of kids in front of us were relatively tame, but the one had her mom with her and she got increasingly more showboat-y as the wait progressed. She kept trying to be all self-deprecating about her age (39) but then tried to make up for it by bragging relentlessly about all the shows she’s been to. (BLACK SABBATH. BREAKING BENJAMIN. THE VERY FIRST WARPED TOUR EVER OMG.) And then she was like, “CLUTCH IS SUPPOSED TO BE COMING HERE SOON I WOULD LIKE TO GO SEE CLUTCH I THINK THEY’RE PLAYING HERE NEXT WEEK CLUTCH CLUTCH CLUTCH” and it was like, “OK WE GET IT YOU LIKE CLUTCH.” Personally, I don’t like Clutch, and this bitch was making me dislike them even more. She just kept going on and on about all these old concerts and how she was probably dating herself, because you know, being “old” means you have to go to great lengths to prove that you still like music.
So I kept trying to raise Henry’s arm in the air while obnoxiously crying out, “Judas Priest! Ted Nugent! CHEAP TRICK!” For some reason, this just put Henry in an even worse mood and then he looked like this:
I was going to launch into a rant here about age versus music and why does it even have to be a factor, but I’m trying to live a stress-free life and that topic just makes me angry. I’m sure Henry could offer up a transcript of the rant he had to listen to before the show at Rivertown, if anyone is interested. (Kidding. Henry doesn’t listen to me when I speak.)
Bottom line is you’re never “too old” to be a fan of a band. If I didn’t go to a show because I was afraid of being the oldest one there, or having people mistake me for a chaperone/mom, that would just be a shame. And also, I would probably not go to a LOT of shows then since most bands I like have a young fan base.
Once the doors opened, the line moved relatively quickly. Henry and I got separated at the security checkpoint, and he was extremely dismayed to learn that I made it in first and claimed a prime spot against a railing. I thought this was a Good Thing since he didn’t want to go all the way onto the floor with the children (plus, I wanted to be able to see while still being in the midst of things, so this spot was seriously the best of both worlds because we were raised up just high enough that no one could stand in front of me on the floor and block my view); apparently though Henry had hoped that we could go upstairs with the parents in the balcony. I just laughed, because no. I told him he was welcome to go up there alone, but he always gets scared when I get faux-courteous. Who knows if he’ll get castrated later for taking me up on my trick offer.
Now is the part where I type words about the bands that were there, so you are welcome to peace out.
I am notoriously snobby when it comes to girl singers. I always have to laugh when Scene Fems get all up in arms that there are “never enough” females on Warped Tour because why flood the tour with mediocre music? PVRIS is one of the few bands with a female lead that has actually gotten my attention in awhile. I hesitate to describe them as dark electro-pop, because that usually calls to mind something of a more Goth nature, but to me they sound like a glorious collision of synthpop and post-hardcore. They are SO YOUNG and started making waves in the scene before they even had an album out. I like that they’re bringing some estrogen to Rise Records, and I also like that they have essentially been groomed by Blake and Sierra from Versa. It shows. Lynn’s voice is just what this scene has been missing. Ugh, they are wonderful. This is why I can’t write about music for a living, because it’s all HEART EYES and UGH YOU GUYS THEY PENETRATE MY SOUL. Can’t turn off how I feel, ever.
This is basically the same way I felt when I first heard Paramore back in the day. “Fuck yes, a singer-broad who doesn’t annoy me!” I can’t wait to go see them 934790374 more times. They remind me a little of The Flir, and I fucking loved The Flir so much but then they just kind of….stopped.
Henry said they were “OK” but that “the singing needs worked on.” You can catch Henry on the next season of The Voice, by the way.
I think I’ve posted about them on here before, but here is an acoustic video in case you felt the urge to put something in your hearing orifices.
II. Mallory Knox
They’re from England and this was their first time on tour in the States. So that was cool. I don’t know what else to say. It’s not that I didn’t like them, but my attention was definitely elsewhere during their set. The Penguin game had started and I was frantically checking my phone for updates, etc. and then I saw on Instagram that EMAROSA announced they’re playing Warped Tour this summer so I was basically peaced out of Mallory Knox’s set from that moment on….until I heard what I was sure was about to be a Whitesnake cover and then realized that the singer just kind of sounded like David Coverdale. I shared this observation with Henry, who just frowned and shook his head no.
Maybe I need to listen to them some more, I don’t know.
III. Sleeping With Sirens
Sleeping with Sirens is kind of THE BOY BAND of this scene. Their opening video montage even spoofed off of that, actually. So when Mallory Knox was over and the SWS backdrop slowly began to rise, the girls in the crowd went ballistic. “Take it easy!” Henry spat disgustedly into the general area. “They’re not even coming out yet!”
Truth: I was disappointed when this tour was initially announced and I saw that Pierce the Veil was co-headlining with SWS. My feelings toward SWS have really run the gamut over the years. When I first heard If I’m James Dean, You’re Audrey Hepburn back in 2010, I was all a-smit with Kellin Quinn. Granted, he looked like a little scene fetus, but that didn’t change the fact that this was going to be The Song that Henry and I fake-danced together at our imaginary never-wedding. I even considered having it choreographed. I used to walk the high school track by my house after work some times and I would listen to that song on repeat, with complete and utter disregard to the rest of the album.
But then I saw them live and was like, “Oh.” At first I thought it was just because it was Warped Tour. Sometimes bands just sound better inside grimy venues at night, than on some tiny stage in a parking lot, you know?
But then I saw them several more times, in a variety of settings.
He cannot sing live, you guys. I don’t know what it is. Acoustic, he’s not too bad. But with a full band, up on a stage, it’s like, “No, go home.”
However, I was shocked this time around because he didn’t sound as terrible as he normally does! But then Henry pointed out it was because they turned up everything else. And then I was like, “Oh. That makes sense. Never mind.”
Ew, agreeing with Henry makes me feel itchy.
But this is not to say that the rest of the band sucks! They are actually pretty wonderful have always saved the show every time I’ve seen them. They’ve definitely jumped on the fast track to fame, so their shows are pretty spectacular on the ol’ eyeballs nowadays. It’s all kind of lights and videos and streamers — you know, things to distract you from the vocal flaws!
OK FINE, I totally wear Kellin’s clothing line and keep a picture of him on desk.
The one huge highlight for me was seeing Nick Martin, who assumed the role as their guitarist after Jesse Lawson left in 2013. I LOVE NICK MARTIN SO MUCH! Back in the day, I used to play one of his old Underminded songs over and over in the car and sigh dreamily to Henry, “Isn’t he the best screamer ever?” Of course Henry answered with a frown.
I met Nick in 2009 when he was on Craig Owens’ solo tour. He is such a fucking great guy. He was also in Isles and Glaciers and then Craig Owens post-Chiodos “I’LL JUST START MY OWN BAND!” band D.R.U.G.S. But then Craig went back with Chiodos and basically left the rest of D.R.U.G.S. hanging. So it’s nice to see that Nick got himself a gig with a successful band, playing for bigger than crowds that he was with D.R.U.G.S.
They played “…James Dean” and I was trying to get Henry into it but he had the “Not enough beer in the world” expression on his face.
IV. Pierce the Veil
I don’t even know what to say about Pierce the Veil that I haven’t already. They have been firmly planted inside my heart for the last eight years and they inspire me so much. I can honestly say that I have never been to a bad PTV show (except maybe the one in Buffalo but that wasn’t their fault) and it’s pretty expected at this point that I am going to be emotionally ravaged for the next few weeks after. So I’m going to be really blunt and say that I don’t think I can write much about it, other than to say it was an amazing night that made me want to paint and write and potentially send an email that maybe I shouldn’t.
They played “Caraphernalia” and I almost chewed off my lip because THAT SONG. So much meaning. What’s so good about picking up the pieces, indeed.
JAIME!!!!!!! Henry was pissed that he missed this because he was off buying me a shirt, LOLforever.
“One of these days, that will be me up there, having my face sung to by Vic Fuentes,” Henry dreams.
Kellin Quinn came out to close out the show by singing “King For a Day” with PTV, which was expected. And good. I’m so happy to see Pierce the Veil playing for so many people now, but I selfishly long for the days when I was standing right in front of the speakers at a skate park in Buffalo with only about 100 kids behind me.
LOOK AT WHAT A LITTLE BABE HE WAS IN 2008!
Really, what I miss the most is hearing the old stuff. One of the last times I saw them, they played “Yeah Boy” but it seems like it’s so rare. I would kill to hear some stuff from “A Flair for the Dramatic” because to me, that is their best. I was whining about it to Terri (thank god for Terri!) and she said maybe they’ll do a 10th anniversary tour for it like so many other bands have been doing lately. I would fucking die if that happened.
After the show, we were briskly walking through the frigid night to the trolley station, when Henry said, “Tony cut his hair, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know!” I cried, because sorry, bro, I’m there for the music not the looks.
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. He cut his hair, definitely.”
Oh OK, Henry. For someone who doesn’t care about this shit, he sure has a thing for the post-hardcore coif scene. If Craig Owens from Chiodos even uses the tiniest spritz of Sun-In, Henry is all over that shit.
“Craig’s hair is lighter,” he’s been known to scream in the middle of shows.
So now I’m convinced that Henry dreams about being some kind of Scene Barber, snipping Vic Fuentes’s split ends, pomading Andy Biersack’s pompadour, freshening Jonny Craig’s fade and “accidentally” nicking his jugular. OMG we can call him Scene-y Todd!
Apologies for the shitty ‘shopping on this but I did this quickly on my lunch break at work and had to use PAINT. Ugh!
Preshow: We left early so we could stop and eat and drink before the show. It was early enough that when we got to Rivertown restaurant it was still happy hour, only I happened to be in the bathroom when the waitress explained the specials to Erin, and when I got back of course she didn’t listen to them or she did and chose not to tell me, then she made us leave early, because ” show starts at 6″ she said, only the doors opened at 6. So I lost a half an hour of cheap drafts, damn her already! So all I got was 2 wheat beers and a pizza, no time to try anything else.
Standing in line: Got to stand in line for the next hour behind the most annoying “rocker mom”, who at the old age of 39 had done everything possible when it comes to concerts, at least thats what she was telling the little 16 year olds that were around her, fawning over her every word. Thanks again Erin.
PVRIS: Needs work on singing live.Good on their CD.
[Ed. Note: Strongly disagree with this assessment. Lynn had me at hello. Or whatever her first word was. But apparently Henry the Voice Coach knows all.]
Mallory Knox: Didn’t really do anything for me. Was too busy wishing I could sit up in the balcony with the other parents, Erin said I could if I wanted to, that really means do it and Ill never let you live it down, ever. So I grabbed another beer and stuck it out.
Sleeping with Sirens: Kellin Quinn still cant sing live, they just play the music louder to drown him out.Opening of the show was cool. I believe it was after this set that Erin had a can that she wanted to throw away in the garbage can that was over the railing right in front of her, maybe a foot way. She waited for the guy that was in front of it to move, shot and missed, making the girl on the steps to walk down and pick it up, shooting Erin the evil eye the whole time, way to go.
[Ed.Note: Untrue. That girl was looking at me with utter veneration and reverence, because she recognized that I am a PTV Elder-Fan. We are a rare breed, few and far between, practically Scene Unicorns. Kids stutter in our presence.]
Pierce the Veil: Seen them many times good as always!
Favorite PTV song: Not sure , Don’t know the names of any of them. Since the names have nothing to do with the songs, I’m too old to memorize that shit.
This is how Chooch looked the day he got on stage at school to play Amazing Grace on the piano during the Trifecta Awards assembly. Luckily, it wasn’t a formal, dress-up affair so it was OK that he looked like the keyboardist of a post-hardcore band. Of course, I didn’t even know that this was a thing that was happening until the night before, when he looked at me and in all seriousness said, “I’m going to get on that stage tomorrow and say ‘Listen up, shit heads. I’m about to play Amazing-fucking-Grace and you’re going to RESPECT it.'”
I laughed so hard, but then said, “No seriously, please don’t say that.”
Finally got the prize package sent off to the winner of my giveaway! Henry walked in when I was wrapping it and said, “Oh my god. Here, let me—-never mind.” Because he knows that it’s futile. Anyway, I threw in some extra goodies, like a Somnambulant Skull and some Henry pins, woo! I love hosting giveaways! Enjoy, Courtney!
In between bands at the Pierce the Veil show last week, I checked Instagram and saw the BEST NEWS EVER! EMAROSA IS PLAYING WARPED TOUR! And luckily, Pittsburgh is one of the dates they’re playing. Conveniently, there is a two-day gap between their last day on Warped and Slaves’ first day. (I’m so thankful that Slaves isn’t playing Pittsburgh. Just knowing Jonny Craig was that close to me would make me dry-heave. And NOT in a fan-girl way.)
I was already like cry-cry-cry during the show but then once I saw this announcement, I was like CRYCRYCRYCRYCRYCRYCRY. God, please don’t let me ever stop feeling like this over these things!
Henry got a new phone and is excited that he can use emojis now. (I don’t know why he couldn’t before?) Anyway, I’m happy that he can now see the emojis I text him everyday. Bang bang, motherfucker.
OK, so we’re trying to watch our spending because we have so much shit we want to get down around the house, etc. but then I went and splurged on the biggest pre-order package for Dance Gavin Dance because 1. I’m worth it 2. HAND-WRITTEN LYRIC SHEETS 3. It’s goddamn DGD, guys. They’re one of my (many) weaknesses. Anyway, earlier that day I had my evaluation at work and it went really well (it is so nice being in a position where I’m appreciated!) so I used that as my TREAT YO’SELF excuse. I can’t wait for this album!!
In the spirit of Alyson rejuvenating my love for the Mehoover days, I made her an official Mehoover Valentine and now I wish I had thought to do this before Valentine’s Day, because I would have made one for EVERYBODY.
But no Mehoover Valentine could compete with the beauty that is this exquisite Paul Eugene Valentine which was included in this month’s newsletter. BE STILL MY HEART.
Me and my Marcy, who Chooch has taken to calling a skank. So rude.
Speaking of…(Chooch, not skanks.)
In other news, Barb resigned today and I feel the same way I do when the Penguins lose in the playoffs.
This song inspired so many paintings and stories in stupid 2008. I still have moments where I crave those days so hard, but mostly I ignore because what’s done is done, it is what it is, what happens in 2008 stays in 2008. Pick an obnoxious idiomatic expression and call it a day.
Today, however, the cravings were practically waiting for me at the foot of the bed when I woke up. And I will feed them, because I’m a moron. Time to bring back my emo side-sweep and brood in a corner with a canvas.
Hi guys! Entertainment blogger Spencer is back to give you some gritty alternatives to the standard rom-com flicks you might be queuing up for the big V-day.
Valentine’s Day can be a wonderful thing, between spending time with your significant other, celebrating your love, chocolate… However, it’s a very stressful day for many of us who find ourselves rushing to get reservations, picking apart nearly empty store displays for the perfect card, and praying that we got our SO a gift they’ll actually like. It can be, well, a horror.
So, instead of opting for a traditional, sappy, Valentine’s Day movie to watch, why not opt for something a bit grittier? We already know that celebrating the unconventional side of the Holidays can be an enjoyable experience, so why not do the same for Valentine’s Day? Here are some V-Day flicks to get your heart racing in an entirely different way.
This Hitchcock film features the classic story of boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, then boy and girl get attacked by flocks of blood thirsty crows! In the film we follow Melanie Daniels and Mitch Brenner, who meet in a bird shop and begin a little romance from there. That is until the birds in town begin to act strangely. It’s a classic film for a reason; it’s thrilling, it’s groundbreaking, and it has just the right touch of romance to warm the heart (before the birds get to it, that is).
This film made vampires popular before many of today’s Twilight fans were even born, and for good reason. Based on Anne Rice’s book, the movie tells the story of two vampires from the 1700’s (played by Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise) who are living, and preying, on the residents of modern-day San Francisco. Told from the point of view of Lestat (Cruise) the story chronicles his journey over the past 300 years. Perhaps the most disturbing part of the film comes with the introduction of Lestat and his friend Louis’s (Pitt) vampire “daughter” whom they rescue and train to be a blood thirsty killer in a riveting performance by a pre-pubescent Kirsten Dunst.
In an unconventional twist on the “love story about a couple who’s been married forever”, this film’s central characters Adam and Eve (played by Tom Hiddleston and Tilda Swinton) really have been married for centuries. When Adam, who is a wealthy and famous musician, becomes distraught at the state of the world, Eve, who’s living in Tangiers, picks up and comes to visit him in Detroit. Their peaceful moments together get turned upside down by the visit from of Eve’s spoiled little sister Ava. Things go from bad to worse, and the couple is driven closer by their obstacles. It’s a vastly underrated film that many missed due to poor distribution and promotion. Luckily it’s easy to catch through services like Netflix and DV.
Perhaps the most appropriate horror movie for the season comes in the form of this classic 80’s horror film. The film takes place in the appropriately named Valentine’s Bluff on the day of a big Valentine’s Day dance. In their rush to get to the dance a group of miners clock out early but forget there are men below. Soon after, the mine caves in and only one man is left alive. The lone miner, Harry Warden, goes on a killing spree in town as revenge. He warns the townspeople to never again have another Valentine’s Day dance and they oblige for 20 years. But nearly two decades later they decide enough time has passed, and boy, are they wrong.
Spencer Blohm is a freelance entertainment and lifestyle blogger who lives and works in Chicago. You can follow him on Twitter at @bspencerblohm.
Today my friend Alyson texted me and said that she had the urge to go back and read the fake LiveJournal I ghost-wrote for Henry. It was called MeHoover, because Hoover was his LJ nickname (he sucks the fun of out of everything). My LJ nickname was Ruby. I started “writing” this journal in 2004 after Henry and I had a huge political blow out and he called me uneducated. I was like I WILL SHOW YOU UNEDUCATED. Anyway, Alyson inspired me to go back and read some too and I was sitting at my desk, silently crying from the strain of stifling my laughter. So I was inspired to take advantage of Throwback Thursday and repost Hoover’s adventures at Magee Hospital one night while I was pregnant. Just a heads up, it gets a little TMI because that was Hoover’s m.o. back in 2006, I guess.
so this is what happened right – ruBY was standing in the kitchen on suNDAy and was like, “uh oh something happened” and she said a tiny bit of watery stuff leaked out of her u know what!!!! i was like “bitch we’s goin to the hospal” but she was all, “no way man my friend kara is comin over and i want to be hangin’ out with her, u no?”i was like “what if that bag of water inside your gut has breaked open?!” but ruBY was like “i am not concerned yo! go hang out with your kids” and she made me leave!!! i was so worried all day and i kept calling her cuz dude, i did not want to come home with blood all over my house and a giant 15 pound baby running all over the place, you no?
so then the next night ruBY went to class and she called and was like “HEY it happened again twice in a row” so i was like “bitch you better be coming home right now!” and I called the doctor cuz that is what a good boyfriend does. the doctor was all “you need to come in to the hospal so we can make sure youre WATER did not break!!” but RUBy was like “i dont think i is ready to be having this baby!” but i made her pack a bag anyway. she was crying and i was trying not to laugh cuz i love to see her in pain!
we got to the emergeny room and as soon as ruBY went to the treeage window and they seen that she is prego, they was like “COME BACK RIGHT NOW” and she left me in the waiting room with all these scary people!!
i was down there by myself for like a long time and some chick with a bleeding crotch was SMILING at me! i was like “bitch step off” i dont want to get more dieases!!
THEN some lady called down to the treeage (sp) place and told them my name and to send me up to the BIRTHING UNIT on the second floor! i was like “holy shit ruBY is having the baby!” but when i got there she was not popping out any bloody life forms. she was just sitting there. so i sat there with her.
we was sittin in this corner right and next to ruBY was a table with someones hospal food on it. It was wearin’ a cover, but damn did that shit stink!!! it was like mashed potatoes and some kind of meat. so This lady comes over and was like “is my food bothering you?” and rUBY of course was like, in shock since we was in the hospal so she did not use good judgment and said “NO the food is not bothering me” and then the lady left!! she just walked away and left her food there!!!
we sat there for like two hours or maybe more and i Kept thinking “damn that RUby better not be having no diseases going on down there” she can not be trusted u no? she is likely to have sex with a gold fish if not watched properly!! i think maybe that is why i love her so much (but dont tell her).
so then there was these women sitting there cuz the one girl was in labor and they was like rilly funny. we was laughing and shit with them and they made rUBY feel better (i liked it better when she was all pale and nervous tho). so then the girls mommy came over and sat with us. she was like, “bitch i no this food aint gonna stay here and continue stinkin!” so she threwed it away!! me and rUBY was like “horray!” cuz remember i told you before that shit stank! so like right after she threwed it out, the lady came back for it!!! Our friend was like, “Girlfriend i threw that shit out, it stank” and the lady pointed at us and was like “YOU KNEW IT WAS MY FOOD” and stormed off! i was like “Bitch please, we gots more important things to worry about other than your stinky food” and i was hopin to get a “HELL YEAH” from that black lady but she ignored me. i do not think she liked me cuz of my bandanna – some times it makes people think i am like some confederite dude u know? she LIked RUby though and calmed her down.
so then it was our turn to go back to the room with a nurse. she told ruBY to take off ALL her clothes and then she started to pull back the curtain to give RUby privacy and i was like “Wait!!” cuz i had to get back there to. the Nurse was like, “what, she won’t let you stay with her while she undresses?” and i was like “bitch is you kidding me? she will yell!” and the nurse pointed to ruBy’s big fat prego belly and was like “then how did you –” and i said “that’s different” and she understood. mayBe she thought some other sad sack knocked her up.
OK and then another nurse came in and asked rUBY all kinds of questions and i sat there and read a magazine cuz I really dont care about this female shit right? but then she asked ruBY her weight and now i know how much she weighs as a prego girl and let me just tell you that vomit burned my throat!!!!! i was like so repulsed!!! so i sat there and kept starin at the girl in the OIL OF OLAY ad in the magazine and thought “damn i wish she was my lover” just like that sofie b hawkins song.
then the doctor came in and shoved that metal thing up RubY’s thingie and i was like “holy shit man this is gross” cuz i never seen one in person before!! anyway, it was a good thing ruBY went in cuz she has like one of those yeast infection things and did not no it!! so her water bag thing was not leakin, but while they had her hooked up to the monitor she had a contraction and now she is ONE CENTAMETER dilated, what ever the hell that means. that is gross that ruBY’s crotch has that bread bakin’ stuff in it. i will not be touchin her for a VERY long time. she is dirty.
but damn, did RUby do a LOT of whining. can u imagining how awful she is going to be when she is pushing my giant son out of her crotch?? god, all they was doing that nite was sticking her thingie with this metal thing that like, pryed her open, and you would havethought it was the end of the world! i rilly wanted to kill her, specially now that i know how much she weighs. i like wont even hold her hand in public anymore and when i kiss her i have to close my eyes and when i do that, i can see her weight number flashing!! maybe i should play that number.
then she made me buy her a goddamn candy bar since i made her go to the hospal and she was not even in labor. i was like “here’s 75 cents fat lard!” i do not even care any more. i here that lots of dudes leave there women after they have a baby cuz they get so fat and then they never loose it and next thing u no, they is not moving from the couch and eating them bonbons all the live long day. and here i thought i was cheatin’ life by bagging a young chick like ruBY. boy was i wrong.
It all started with an innocent trip to Eat n Park after work last week. I worked late shift that night, so it was already well past 8 by the time Henry, Chooch and I got there. I couldn’t help but notice that the room we were seated in was full of older couples on dates. I could tell it was a date, and not just a casual “I don’t feel like cooking, let’s go out to eat” because every older person seemed smitten with their older person companion. In fact, one of the older person couples even sat on the same side of the booth and shared a plate from the salad bar. Every so often, male older person would lean over and kiss female older person on her temple. It was all at once endearing and nauseating, and I struggled to take a picture of them, eventually managing a slick under-the-table shot.
Another older couple arrived right before we left, and thank god because otherwise I might have died not knowing the precise way the female older person orders her side of broccoli (a double serving, extra-steamed so the florets are on the threshold of disintegration).
I couldn’t stop giggling about this, all these old people hitting the town (well, Dormont anyway) after hours on a Thursday night.
“It’s like a Boz Scaggs concert just let out!” I texted to some friends, along with the pictures. The responses varied from “I don’t know who that is” to “Is that some old singer, I guess?” to “*radio silence*”.
Was my inner old person showing? Or WAS I JUST IMAGINING THAT BOZ SCAGGS EXISTS? I could hear myself saying his name. Boz Scaggs. Boz Scaggs. Bozzzzzz SCAGGsssss. It was sounding more and more foreign until eventually it just sounded like a frog ribbitting under water.
I tried to defend myself, plead my case by insisting that “if you’ve ever been in a grocery store, you’ve probably heard a Boz Scaggs at least once in your life” while willing myself to conjure up in my mind my mom’s Boz Scaggs record that I know I used to play in the basement of my parent’s house, didn’t I? DIDN’T I?! JOJO?!
I mean come on: “Lido Shuffle”? “Lowdown”? “LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME”!??!?! That was a staple on all of my soft rock mix tapes when I was in high school! BOZ SCAGGS IS REAL.
And then my music-loving friend Terri rescued me from my self-doubt, because she too, has a space in her heart for his smooth yacht rock tracks. Then after Janna and I went to see Birdman on Friday, I made her listen to Boz Scaggs songs on my phone until she finally exclaimed, “Oh, OK! Yeah, that guy. He’s real.” And then she wouldn’t stop singing “Lido Shuffle” which made Chooch irritable.
Sunday morning, I awoke to “Lowdown” playing on my bedroom radio. No joke, there it was, wafting out of the dusty speakers like it was no big deal, just another Boz Scaggs Top 40 hit to stuff a Taylor Swift and Bruno Mars sandwich. I’ve been listening to a variety-type station in my room lately because of my penchant for nostalgic earworms and soft rock’s natural ability to ease me into a sweet slumber, even if it means having to tolerate the occasional current pop hit. How else do you guys think I get to hear Laura Branigan’s “Gloria” approximately twice a week? (Seriously, that station LOVES to play that song for some reason.)
Anyway, I excitedly texted Janna and Terri that “Lowdown” was on. And laying there in bed, taking in the jazzy trumpets and silky background vocals, I started to draw some comparisons to Steely Dan, another band I loved so much when I was growing up thanks to my step-dad, and even got to see them once about 15 years ago and it was amazing. (I had to choose between them and Yes! It was a hard choice.) So I spent a good chunk of my afternoon listening to Steely Dan, and then Emerson Lake and Palmer, and I really started to feel like I needed to grow a beard, put on a white leisure suit, and steal away into the night in my Chevy Van.
Somewhere during this time, Teri texted me and said that “Lido Shuffle” was on in the grocery store she was in! I started freaking out about this, and Henry was like, “Calm down. It’s not that exciting.” BUT IT FELT LIKE I WAS PSYCHICALLY WILLING BOZ SCAGGS TO SURFACE!
And then, this is the weirdest part, that evening Henry and I put on Breaking Bad. We’re way behind and only on season two so DON’T TELL ME ANYTHING. But in this particular episode, Walt is having breakfast with his family, and he starts talking about music with his son, and is appalled that his son has never heard of Steely Dan. I started laughing, since I had been revisiting Steely Dan earlier that day. Henry was like, “Whatever, not that big of a deal.” OK, just watch this:
MY HEAD NEARLY SHORT-CIRCUITED. I literally jumped off the couch and was shouting, “REALLY? REALLY?!” and Henry mumbled, “OK that’s kind of weird.”
Anyway, this is all a really long-winded way to tell you that after looking through Boz Scaggs albums all weekend, my new Glenn Defacing Project involves Glennifying RECORD ALBUMS!
IT’S ALMOST LIKE BOZ SCAGGS POSED FOR THIS PICTURE PURPOSELY KNOWING THAT GLENN’S HEAD WOULD ONE DAY SO PERFECTLY REPLACE HIS OWN!
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have the day off work, which I am now going to fill with more dreamy yacht rock until later tonight when Pierce the Veil blows my heart out of my chest. Don’t judge.