I do this thing where, as I’m writing blog posts, I’m actually hearing myself talking in my head to a group of imaginary friends, kind of like when you’re preparing to take the stand in a murder trial by staring at yourself in a mirror and clearing your throat a lot. So while I was thinking of all the things I wanted to say in this post about Emarosa, my brain-voice was machine-gunning the words at such an alarming pace that I gave myself a headache.

In other words, I am fucking stoked as hell to tell you, imaginary friends, about how it felt to see Emarosa at Warped Tour last Thursday, a/k/a THE BEST DAY OF 2015 THUS FAR.

If you’re a new figment of my fake readership, let me give you a brief run-down of my love affair with Emarosa and why I didn’t give a shit who else was playing at the same time as them that day because this day trumps all. I fell in love with them in 2008 after Jonny Craig got kicked out of Dance Gavin Dance and picked up by Emarosa, currently in need a new singer. Jonny Craig was It for me back then so naturally Emarosa became my favorite band.

Jonny fucked them over big time in 2011, and so the rest of the band really had no choice but to part ways with him. Jonny was all, “Good luck Emarosa, you guys are nothing without me” and for awhile it was starting to look like he was right; they all but fell off the face of the earth, popping up sporadically to let Facebook and Twitter know that they weren’t done, they were still writing music and looking for a singer.

It took them three years, but they found Bradley Walden and proceeded to record their best album to date; it has never felt better being an Emarosa fan. My pride for them is so ridiculously over-the-top that you’d think Chooch was in the band.

Thinking of the shitty position that Jonny put Emarosa in (remember the MacBook scandal?) always leaves me with the bitter taste of chopped cabbage in my mouth.

(It’s worth noting that Emarosa only played the first leg of Warped Tour, and then a day after their last date, Jonny’s new band Slaves jumps on for the last leg. There was absolutely no overlap. #soblessed that the Pittsburgh date got Emarosa and not misogynistic, drama-perpetuating Slaves!)

I always get real on edge right before seeing a band that I’m super into, so around 4:30 (35 minutes before their set time), I started to feel pretty barfy, coupled with some intense pants-peeing giddiness. I mean that in all of the best ways, like back in high school when you would hide behind a corner, waiting to take a clandestine photo of Scott Dambaugh with your 35MM camera; or when you would have your mom drive you past his house; or when you and your best friend would walk “casual” laps around the mall while you hoped to spot him slinking about lazily in his billowing Stüssy pants, OMG IT WAS JUST LIKE THAT.

It had been raining, and I mean RA-HAY-NING, intermittently all day long, and it conveniently started up again right before 5:00. I was bummed, because Emarosa has been making huge waves this summer on Warped Tour, and were even bumped up to the main stage for one of the dates, thanks to their incredibly energetic performances. They’ve been growing more and more popular, and the pictures I had been seeing online showed that they were drawing really big crowds for a band playing on one of the smaller stages.

Unfortunately, the rain drove a ton of people clear to the other side of the venue, beneath the amphitheater’s sheltering roof, leaving very few of us to brave it out before the Kevin Says stage. By the time Emarosa came on, the rain was coming down in bullet-like sheets, and there were times I had to shut my eyes because it felt like my contacts were being knocked off my eyeballs.

But it was worth it. Fuck the rain! Bradley gave zero fucks about the weather and spent 95% of their set immersed in the audience. (The few times he was actually on stage, he was busy busting out basic gymnastics stunts and spinning Will upside down. He has done nothing short of busting his ass to win over the old Jonny Craig fans, and in the process, he has garnered a ton of new recruits as well. If I wasn’t such a blathering mess in these situations, I would like to hug him and thank him for breathing new life into Emarosa. And then I’d like to grovel in the faces of Will and Jordan about how grateful I am that they didn’t stop trying and how I never gave up, and how proud I am of them and most of all, fuck Jonny Craig! He was nothing but poison. I wasted so much time defending him when all he gave back was slurred performances and humiliating encounters. I’m too old to fuck around with that.

Moments after the above picture was taken, Bradley had crowd-surfed his way over to where I was standing and I got to touch him and was like OMFG about it for the rest of the day. Chooch likes to tell everyone that I cried, but I promise you I didn’t actually cry. I only cried once all day, and that was during PVRIS’s set. (MORE ON THAT IN ANOTHER POST.)

This was actually only my seventh time: 3x with Jonny as the singer, once with Tilian Pearson who was filling in when Jonny was forced to go to a detox facility, and 3x with Bradley. I am here to report that this was the best performance of them all. I was so excited that this was Chooch’s first time getting to see them live! He seemed really into it, and we were right in front of the barrier so he could see perfectly (not like Bradley was ever on the stage!) but there was a moment when I looked over my shoulder at Chooch and he was making this anguished face, so I thought to myself, “Oh boy, here we go. The Brat is surfacing.” Because he has a pretty low threshold when it comes to doing things he doesn’t want to be doing, so I thought maybe he had grown tired of Emarosa so quickly and was about to start whining about wanting to go home.

Boy, sit yo’ ass down. We ain’t leaving when Pierce the Veil is on next!

Anyway, I found out later that his contorted face was out of repulsion because there was a couple behind me who were making out, God forbid.

Just, wow. Bradley proves over and over that Jonny isn’t the only golden-throated angel in this scene. It makes me laugh that after Bradley had joined the band, Jonny was tweeting about how Emarosa wasn’t “allowed” to ever play “his” songs again, but they are. And Bradley is KILLING IT. “Set It Off Like Napalm” coming out of his mouth is almost too much for me to handle.

If we’re being honest here, I don’t think Emarosa is going to be this scene’s best kept secret much longer. They are too good and deserve mainstream success. I’m rooting for them so fucking hard.

***

Right after the last song ended (1996 On Bevard!), Bradley said he was going to be at their merch tent meeting everyone; after dropping the mic, he ran straight up that soggy, muddy hill, true to his word. We quickly followed, and thanks to the still-heavy rain, only about 20 people beat us there. There was a little bit of time to spare before Pierce the Veil, so I asked Chooch if he would be my proxy and meet Bradley and Chooch was like, “Yeah, duh.”

He’s clearly a pro at rubbing elbows with bands now, you guys.

“I dare you to tell him that he’s better than Jonny,” I said, laughing as we stood in line.

“What will you give me if I do?” he immediately asked, his wagering cap securely fastened under his chin. It’s never free with him! What happened to the days when the mere act of accepting and completing a dare was all the glory needed?

So I promised him a dollar. That little crook.

I know Chooch already posted this picture in his own blog post, but it is too glorious not to repost over and over again.

God I can’t even remember what happened now when it was Chooch’s turn, I was shaking so bad. But I will tell you that right after I took this picture, Chooch started to walk away but then turned back and said, “You’re better than Jonny.”

“Thanks, man!  I agree,” Bradley said, propelling me into a tailspin of IS THIS REAL LIFE.

I shot myself with a horse tranquilizer just in time to chime in with, “We’re Team Emarosa!” Bradley probably said “thanks” or something, but I couldn’t hear past the psychotic ringing in my ears.

“You’re so goddamn awkward,” Henry said after we walked away. WTF I felt like I was being pretty OK and normal for once? I dwelled on it on for the rest of the day, trying to recreate in my head what I must have sounded like. Probably Bullwinkle. So, thanks, Henry. I’m glad you fucking fell down the hill!

***

I’ve been going through serious withdrawals like I always do after a show, particularly Warped Tour. But the good news is that I’M GOING TO SEE EMAROSA AGAIN TOMORROW NIGHT IN CLEVELAND, WOO!

Hello world. This is Chooch and I’m going to tell you about what I did at Warped Tour. The first half, Erin.Is.Bae will do the second.

Part I: Pvris

I met Lynn Gunn at Warped Tour and I was so happy. I wanted to do that all day. And it was towards the end I met her. I was lucky because I was going to be the last person in line but someone begged the guy to go behind me. Because he didn’t want to look like a jerk in front of me. So I was 10x more happier. She’s in a band named PVRIS and they’re my number 1 favorite Band. They aren’t that old of a band they are pretty new. They’re from Boston.

Part II: NSN

I also enjoyed watching NeverShoutNever they were good. A lot of girls probably cried but I couldn’t hear over the noise. He used to have brown hair but now he has blonde hair. If you like BryanSTARS (Who does?) you might know he did a interview with Chris like about 2 years ago and Chris said that he didn’t want to answer bullshit questions to Bryan and he cried. It was actually sad.

Part III: We Came As Romans

I loved them! I saw them at my FIRST Warped Tour. I really want to meet them but I cant because they wont do a meeting*.

*(Erin here: I think they did do a meeting but it conflicted with something I wanted to do. And what I want to do trumps all.)

You should listen to them right now! Here’s a link to my favorite song:

I’m listening to them right now while I’m writing this. I really like them.

Part IV: Bradley

I met Bradley from Emarosa and mommy cried because she touched him. Also when we watched them people were making out behind me and I was really mad. His arms all warm and his hair was wet because shitty weather has to happen. I also told him that he’s better than Jonny. (In case you don’t know who Jonny is he used to be the singer of Emarosa and mommy liked him and now hes a douchebag and in a band named Slaves.)

VI: Merch

Well, I got CDs, shirts, comic book, two water bottles (one that I already broke the very next day and one that’s meant to be taken outside that I got for free by saying SKATER MOM to the people at the Vans tent), and gross stickers that came with a Koo Koo Kanga Roo CD called Gross.

Clearly, now you know why I like to go to Warped Tour: bands, music, meetings, merch!

 [Erin.Is.Bae here: I’m gonna owe him a damn cabbage roll now for writing this.]

Sometime last month, Kurt Travis posted that he was trying to book a house show in Pittsburgh. It was an off day for the headlining solo tour he was doing and if you’re a regular reader or have the misfortune of working with me, you may recall that I begged Glenn to let me offer his house.

Spoiler: he said no.

But luckily, some guy took care of business and promoted the house show on Twitter. My emotions ran a veritable Tough Mudder.

First, I was completely stoked because I haven’t seen Kurt since the last time he was with A Lot Like Birds and I think that was 2 years ago at this point.

Second, I was overwhelmed because a house show meant Kurt would be totally accessible and you know how ridiculous I get. BANDS ARE PEOPLE TOO, ERIN.

Third, the tiny modicum of adult rationality I keep buried beneath my abundance of wanton abandon managed to surface and I was concerned for my safety because this house is in collegeland and what if it turned into a HOUSE PARTY and I get roofied? DOES THAT STILL HAPPEN? I’m pretty far removed from all of that.

Fourth, I felt preemptively self-conscious because while I don’t FEEL old, for this particular music scene, I AM old. It would be much less easy for me to blend in at a house show.

Fifth, I felt panicked because every single person I asked to go with me said no. If this show was at a venue, I wouldn’t have even bothered asking anyone. I’d have just gone alone.

Sixth, whimpering pity party sadness that Terri, the only friend I have who even knows who Kurt Travis is, lives in stupid Philly.

Glenn and Todd were loving this.

“You’ll have to show us the stitches from where they take your kidney,” Glenn said before he left work on Friday.

And Todd was all, “I used to live in Oakland [where the house is located] and nothing good happens in any of those houses.”

Oh and before you ask, Henry said no before the details of the house show were even finalized.

I had a small glimmer of hope when I ran into Blake’s ex-girlfriend Shannon at the mall Wednesday night. She is acquaintances with the guy who booked the show and said she was certain he wouldn’t roofie me, but that she didn’t know any of his friends, so…. But then she said she might be there and I got really excited so she reiterated the “might” part.

My seventh emotion was that of RELIEF on the day of the show when Janna agreed to go with me.

***

I made Henry drop us off there because I wasn’t trying to add the stress of parking in Oakland to my teetering stack of worries. First, I made him do a driveby of the house, which was actually a row house that seemed to have zero activity going on around it. But then we saw a group of young people (probably 21?) walking toward it so Henry was like, “Get out.”

“Not until they’re gone!” I cried. I didn’t want them to see me getting out of my dad’s car, god Henry.

It was around 7:30, so…now or ever. Janna and I tentatively climbed the steps to Planet Vegeta (lol). The front door was open so I walked in and found some guy lounging on the couch in a room that was in your standard college kid state of haphazard uncleanliness, the promise of tetanus  and rodent infestation lurking beneath every casually-strewn pizza box.

“Is this where the Kurt Travis show is?” I asked the comfortable man.

“Yep, it is!” he answered not in the apathetic manner I was anticipating, but in a friendly, inviting tone instead.

When I’m nervous, self-deprecation falls out of me like hot, salty ejaculate from the mouth of a hooker with strep throat. (Sorry for the porn-fingers.) I vaguely recall saying something about being “too old for these things hahahahah *kill me*” and he just laughed and said, “Everyone is out back. Make yourself at home!”

So, narrowly avoiding kicking a soccer ball through a window, we wound our way through the kitchen and out a screen door, where KURT TRAVIS was hanging out with the other bands. Small cliques of people were sitting around awkwardly, so add two more to the awkward party, I guess!

It was REALLY uncomfortable for about the first 20 minutes. I’m not going to lie, there was a split second when I considered leaving. But then Dylan, the guy who booked the show, came over to take our money and mark our hands with a green X. Someone put on an 80s playlist, Madonna first and then The Cure came on which calmed my nerves considerably. Especially when the music stopped because the owner of the phone it was playing from had to make a call, and when he came back, someone asked, “What should we put on now?”

“I was happy with The Cure, but whatever,” Kurt said in a way that meant “PUT THE CURE BACK ON.”

(They did not put The Cure back on, but whatever.)

Then Janna was like, “I really hate to have to do this—” and here is where I thought she was going to hold up her phone and show me that her Uber confirmation because SEEYA, this scene ain’t for me, bitch!

“—-but I have to use the bathroom really bad and I’m so afraid to go back in there.”

Oh, thank god that’s all!

But then I realized that this meant she was going to be leaving me out there, alone, OMG.

A minute later she came back.

“There’s no one in there to ask,” she complained.

“OMG, just go back in and look for the bathroom. I promise you that these people give zero fucks about a strange girl using their bathroom,” I said. It was bad enough that I was already the Old Lady at the House Show. I didn’t want to also become The Old Lady at the House Show With the Other Old Lady Who Shit Herself.

And so Janna forged her way back into the house and located the bathroom without even needing a map, as evidenced by the victory text I received from her that said, “I found it. Nobody here to care that I walked up here.”

Janna, conquering frat house floor plans, one campus at a time.

Meanwhile, I was leaning against Divorce.’s van, cracking the fuck up by myself, because what a fucking night already. It’s funny how this shit is normal when you’re 20 years old, but when you’re 35, every single second of it was fucking hilarious. I kept texting updates t o Henry, Corey, and Wendy, who actually said that she would have gone with me if she didn’t have to go to a wedding. AND SHE IS PREGNANT, YOU GUYS. That is a true friend.

Then a rousing game of hacky sack started up and I was silently praying that no one would kick it to me because I am a failure at hackying the sacks.

I texted Henry, “Some guy* is sitting in Kurt’s van, staring at me. He looks like a young Charles Manson, help.”

Henry: “Lol.”

Thanks, Henry!

*(I couldn’t figure out where I knew him from, because he looked so familiar. I was running down a list of bands in my head, but I couldn’t place him in any of them. Turns out he was helping with merch on this tour and I recognized him because the Blue Swan scene is so small and I’m always seeing him pop up on Instagram and Twitter because he’s friends with pretty much all of those bands. I am way too immersed in this scene, help me, I’m drowning.)

Around 8:15, divorce. was ready to start and everyone was ushered down a precarious set of spiraling concrete steps into a tiny basement, and then the night proceeded to go from 100% awkward to 100% FUCKING AWESOME.

These guys are from here (Pittsburgh), and that makes me proud because they are just the kind of passionate, gritty emo/grunge band that I find myself often craving.  I’m keeping on an eye (and an ear, oh ho!) on these ones. They’re gonna go places.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

I already can’t wait to see them again!

After their set, everyone retreated for the cool air. We sat down in the parking lot and Janna complained about being sweaty and wanting water. That’s not being very punk rock, Janna.

While we were waiting for Save Us From the Archon, Janna and I talked about looking for new jobs, trying to get out and do more things, and Chooch. It occurred to me that we were sitting in a back lot with a bunch of people 10+ years younger than us passing around bowls and drinking cans of cheap beer, while we were talking about grown-up life bullshit.

It’s ridiculous that this post is so age-focused but please remember that the music scene I’m into is young and I really am an anomaly.

And then Janna said, with just a note of surprise to her tone, “I liked that band! They were good!”

“Well duh, Janna. I don’t like sucky music!” scoffed my music-snob alter ego. Seriously! If people would actually pay attention to what I say, then maybe they would be listening to good music, too. NO ONE TAKES ME SERIOUSLY! #pityppartyonpioneeravenue

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

This was my second time seeing local mathcore favorites Save Us From the Archon. If you don’t like any music along the lines of post-rock, then you probably definitely won’t like SUFTA. Me? I think they’re brilliantly gifted musicians and, as someone who has no musical talent (save for playing the clarinet moderately well in middle school), it blows my mind watching their hands and fingers move and trying to work out in my feeble mind how they play such crazy-technical shit that makes my chest feel like an alien is about to punch its way out. It’s a frenetic, metal-tinged meltdown in all of the best senses.

(Needless to say, Henry was not sad that he was missing them. We saw them last year at the Hail the Sun/Stolas/Icarus the Owl show at Smiling Moose.)

There was a girl nearby who looked in awe and said, “OK, I am definitely learning how to play the guitar.” That made me happy.

While SUFTA was playing, the sun had set, so we retreated from the basement to an absolutely beautiful, mild night. There was even a slight breeze and it felt so fucking good after sweating in that basement. “It’s practically winter out here!” I said to the girl who wants to learn the guitar and she agreed and THAT IS HOW YOU TALK TO PEOPLE, APPARENTLY. I’m relearning these things.

Some young guy walked past us and said, “I have to sit down; my legs are killing me.”

I laughed and said to Janna, “God, who’s the old person now!?”

You guys, that’s Kurt going nuts during Adventurer’s set, no big deal. He kept grabbing the mic and singing along. It’s fucking refreshing that there is so much camaraderie and passion between bands. They told us that Kurt is their mom, which is adorable because you can tell that he looks after the young bands he take s on the road with him and I JUST WANTED TO CRY because I’m an emotional wreck even on a good day. Add amazing live music to the mix and I’m suddenly a house wife watching a Nicholas Sparks movie.

(By the way, Adventurer? They’re a three-piece post-hardcore band from Michigan. Go get stoked on them, NOW. Kurt doesn’t just take any run of the mill band on tour with him.)

Oh god, and then Kurt. I’ve seen him twice with Dance Gavin Dance, three times (at least) with A Lot Like Birds, and once by himself when he was on Jonny Craig’s solo tour in 2012, but none of those times even come close to being as perfect as this was. It doesn’t get much more intimate than seeing a singer you respect that much…..in some dude’s basement.

Adventurer acted as his backing band, and there was a hilarious moment where Kurt hunted down Steven (Adventurer’s guitarist) and kept trying to kiss him until, at last, he was successful and everyone cheered.

He sang “Desperate” and I was like *HEART EYES* because that song punches me in the gut every time.

At one point, Kurt brought up the fact that he was the oldest person in the room, I can’t remember why it came up now. But we made eye contact when he said that and I shook my head “no.”

“If anyone in this room is older than 31, raise your hand.”

I raised my hand.

“You??” he said in a shocked tone, which let me tell you, I truly appreciated. “No.”

“Yep. I’m 35!” I announced, and everyone craned their necks to get a good look at the token old broad.

Kurt shook his head and smiled. “Damn, I thought for sure I was the oldest one here! OK then, I dedicate this next song to you!”

O M F G.

In that moment, I was filled with gratitude that Janna was there as a witness. FINALLY, BEING OLD WORKED IN MY FAVOR!

(I still don’t feel old though. And I was showing more signs of life than half of those comatose motherfuckers last night!)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

Kurt asked, “Anyone here like The Cure?” There were only two of us in the basement who answered affirmatively. Kurt told us that when he was a kid growing up in Sacramento, his mom was a dancer for Reebok and Adidas and he would often accompany her on drives back and forth to LA, where he would spend a lot of time listening to The Cure, specifically “Disintegration.”

“This next song was heavily influenced by The Cure,” he explained, before playing “Everything Is Beautiful.”

Meanwhile, Steven had stepped on glass or a syringe or who knows what and a small pool of blood had formed on the basement floor while the tour manager ran to get a first aid kit. And he just kept right on playing.

Kurt declined Steven’s request for him to kiss it.

I don’t even know what else to say about this night other hearing his beautiful voice within a small cinderblock-walled room was something that I will never forget and I definitely would have lived to regret it had I not gone, just like I still to this day regret missing a Frank Turner house show in 2010 because I had just started an evening assignment with a temp agency, ugh forever. I remember that I considered calling off and Henry, who rarely says no to me, gave me a Look that said, “Are you fucking kidding me, we’ve been poor as FUCK for the last year, you are GOING TO THIS JOB AND YOU ARE GETTING PAID.” Ugh, sometimes Henry has a point.

***

After the show, I waited semi-patiently while two guys fan-girled in Kurt’s face, because I had decided that I was not leaving this house without officially meeting him. And saying, “Can you sign this?” after I bought his EP from him in 2012 does not count.

“It was totally worth being the oldest broad in the room for this,” I said, trying not to gush.

“I couldn’t believe anyone here was going to be older than me!” he laughed.

Then Janna popped up from out of nowhere and said, “I’m older than her, just so you know” and I was like “GTFO YOU ARE NOT GOING TO RUIN MY MOMENT!” so then she retreated into her hole and I went on to tell him that I’ve always been a huge Dance Gavin Dance fan, and I obviously love his current band A Lot Like Birds, so it was worth enduring a potentially awkward situation to see him that night.

He graciously thanked me AND THEN GAVE ME A HUG!

He told me a little bit about the tour, and how he was said that In Angles couldn’t be there tonight (and I was sad too because I have been listening to them ever since he first gave them a shout out on Instagram) and it’s just really awesome how humble he is, and always ready to support and promote other bands before talking about his own. He is a real diamond in this scene.

I didn’t want to keep him any longer, so I wished him safe travels and then Janna and I headed out of the basement.

“Way to steal my moment, Janna! God, I was waiting for you to pull out your cane to prove you’re older than me!” and Janna laughed but I was serious!

Then Henry and Chooch rolled up and I screamed in Henry’s face, “KURT TRAVIS DEDICATED A SONG TO ME AND HE HUGGGGGGGGED ME!!!” Henry was like “…..” but Chooch had a ton of questions about this, because Chooch gets it, you guys.

***

This night.

It was utter perfection.

In fact, it was better than rolling cabbages down a hill toward Jonny Craig bowling pins.

P.S. In case you care, this is my all-time favorite Kurt Travis song even though it’s a Dance Gavin Dance song:

P.P.S. I survived and my organ-count is the same as it was Saturday morning, so in your face, GLENN!

It happened in between PVRIS and Emarosa. We were walking down a hill, headed to the Black Craft Cult merch tent because Henry wanted to get a larger size in the Lucipurr shirt he bought for Chooch. Henry was in front of us when Chooch spotted the Warped Youtubers tent over to the left. A small line had formed, idiot girls waiting to get their pictures taken with these kids who are inexplicably Youtube famous.

What a world we live in, where the term “Youtube famous” is a thing.

“I want to meet BryanStars,” Chooch decided right then and there. “I just want to hear him say ‘Werped Ter.'”

As I mentioned in a previous post, Chooch and I like to watch these Warped Tour videos on YouTube and crack up at how some of the Midwestern Youtubers say Warped Tour. Bryan Stars is the major one who we ironically watch, and it drives Henry up the wall. He absolutely cannot stand this kid, because Henry is an Internet bully.

I’m not really sure how Bryan Stars became “famous,” but he has been interviewing bands on YouTube for years. One of his sit-downs with Never Shout Never turned into a notorious shit show and Bryan Stars is so beloved by his fans, that NSN ended up taking a lot of heat for blowing up at him. (Christofer Drew even made him cry!) It is incredibly painful to watch.

So we get in line and I’m like, “Whyyyyy are we doing this? This is so embarrassing!” and Chooch is all, “No it will be great. We’ll just hear him say Werp Ter and then we’ll leave.”

And then Henry realized we weren’t behind him anymore and had to retrace his steps. Please see above photo for his reaction when he saw what we were in line for.

“Daddy’s so disappointed in us,” Chooch laughed.

So then it was our stupid turn and Bryan was all, “Hey man, what’s up?”

Chooch: *becomes a cabbage*

Me: *Gets Warped Tour schedule wet with tears as I see all the bands we’re missing at this moment*

Bryan: Do you watch my videos?

Chooch, nervously: Uh….not really.

Me: *dies slowly*

Bryan: Do you want a picture?

Chooch, shrugging again: Sure, OK, yeah, I guess.

Me: *take the fastest picture of my life while backing away*

Bryan: Do you want to meet Jordan? Hey Jordan, come here.

Chooch: *……….*

Me: *please make it end*

Jordan: *lots of awkward body movements that I think might have been a wave*

Me: *This is so dumb*

Bryan: Um, so, do you like, want to be in a band when you grow up?

Chooch: Uh, not really.

Me, desperately attempting to make a fissure in the ice: I want him to be, but he’s going to end up being something stupid….like a doctor.

[No one laughs.]

Jordan: *reaches out awkwardly to shake my hand*

Me: *swept away in a gust of awkwardness*

Bryan: So…..are you having fun at Werp Ter?

Chooch: *explodes*

And then for the next hour, Chooch relived this moment and cracked the fuck up.

I was so pissed off at him though, because they were so awkward to begin with, and Chooch was making it worse by barely answering their questions, so then I felt obligated to say words and the whole time I was like WHY AM I STANDING HERE WITH THESE KIDS?!

Meanwhile, we found out later that right after we ditched Henry to go to the Warped YouTubers tent, Henry slid down the hill.

That was literally the only bad part of the day. Henry slid down the hill.

AND WE MISSED IT.

But, Chooch got to hear ‘Werp Ter’ so I guess that’s all that matters.

(Ugh, it pains me to admit this, but those guys were super sweet and adorable, even while slowly pulling us down in their awkward quicksand.)

Today, I was going to further desecrate and defame my relationship with Henry by writing IN DETAIL about the horrible, dreadful, almost-broke-up-over, July 3rd we had. And I still probably will, but today I was way too preoccupied with JITTERS and GIDDINESS and ROLLER COASTER STOMACH because it’s motherfucking Warped Tour Eve and all I want to do is fantasize about this:

and daydream about this:

and get stoked for this:

and Chooch is going to cry over this:

I’m going to attempt to live blog tomorrow because I love live blogging and I love Warped Tour and IT JUST MAKES SENSE because god forbid I forget to record a single Henry frown or scene kid side-swoop or EVERY TIME I DIED. I even made a “Don’t Forget” list at work today, like I even really needed it, but it made me happy to write things down that I need to bring with me to WARPED TOUR, ahhhh!

I love that my work friends play into this shit with me. Todd was even on the Warped Tour website, looking at the list of bands, and sarcastically saying things like, “Wow, I’m really excited that H2O is going to be there.” And then when I was leaving, they were like “OMG HAVE FUNNNN!” like I was running off to get married. Even Glenn mumbled, “havefun.” when he left today, but I think he is actually pretty stoked because he finally gets a reprieve for a day.

***

Chooch and I were fighting in the car on Sunday (what else is new), and I  cried, “Chooch isn’t going to Warped Tour with us because he’s going to ruin my day!”

Chooch yelled, “Oh please, SHE is going to ruin MY day!”

Henry chimed in and said, “I don’t know what you two are arguing for. The only one who ever has their day ruined at Warped Tour is me.” He’d rather stay home and manscape his beard into a cabbage patch. 

We do this super fun and not at all obnoxious thing where we play Warped Tour “survival” YouTube videos on the TV and Henry gets so irritated because it’s always some apathetic scene kid drowning in their own Hot Topic sponsered ennui, making awkward faces, and telling everyone not to forget to bring their ticket and how like staying hydrated is important and shit. There was one girl in particular who got on Henry’s nerves so bad that I subscribed to her channels and then put on a video of her talking for 8 minutes about how she had nothing to say, followed by a tutorial with her friend Maddie (who is not going to Warped Tour this year) on how to follow boxed cake directions. 

Chooch’s faves are the YouTubers from the Midwest who pronounce it “Werp Ter.”

***

There is no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.

EMAROSA THO!!!!!!!!

You know how I’m always mentioning that I keep the radio on in my bedroom at all times because I need to keep tabs on current music even if I don’t like it because I’m obsessed with knowing shit about all music? Well, every now and then I’m rewarded for enduring the occasional Meghan Trainor ear-slaughter and one of those times was last April when there was an ad for a short-run, acoustic-electro Smashing Pumpkins tour. When I heard the bodiless voice-over man say that it was at the Carnegie Music Hall in Homestead, I thought I heard wrong. So I googled and sure enough, it was Trufax up in that radio piece.

“I need to go to this,” I said to Henry in the urgent whisper I adopt when things are Urgent and need to be Whispered.

Henry was basically like, “Godspeed” and went to bed.

Tickets went on sale ta few days later and I was kind of hemming and hawing because we had Chooch’s birthday party coming up and I didn’t want to be spending too much money, but then I was like FUCK IT I WILL JUST GO ALONE. And since I waited an entire 2 hours after tickets went on sale (due to the Hemming and the Hawing), I wound up with the last seat in the last row in the balcony. I WILL TAKE IT, I shouted to the universe and then yelled for Henry to fetch me my wallet.

I never heard or saw anything advertising this show again after that. To the point where I was actually concerned that it was some kind of hoax. Like maybe it was actually a Smashing Pumpkins cover band? But I guess that’s kind of what the Pumpkins are these days: a cover band fronted by Billy Corgan. But still, I was willing to pay to see this, no matter who was standing up there on that stage with him.

The show was Tuesday, June 16 and people at work were excited that for once they actually knew a band that I was going to see! It was pretty adorable.

I was kind of bummed that I was going alone, but at the same time, I needed this night. Going alone was probably the best thing for me, in all honesty. Plus, I was happy to have a seat. I’m not usually down with seated events, but it had been A Day.

As soon as I entered the Music Hall, I made a beeline for the makeshift wine bar and ordered a double grigio and then headed up to the balcony, where the usher asked me if I was with the man behind me and I haughtily responded, “Nope. I’m alone.” Now show me to my fucking seat!

I was actually pretty content with my seat. This wasn’t something that I felt the urge to be right up front for, and I was happy that I was, as previously stated, the last seat in the last row, next to a wall, and the broad who sat next to me was older and extremely inoffensive (and she disappeared after the first few songs and never returned). As were just about everyone else in the chunk of seats below me. And even when the seat in front of me was claimed, I could still see just fine.

Katie Nash was already playing when I got to my seat, and once her set ended, the next band, Yoon Do Hyun, started within 10 minutes. I love a flawless transition!

Yoon Do Hyun is a Korean rock band, and their English was adorably shaky. I didn’t really know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t the singer opening his mouth and letting out an Elvis-esque croon. Fuck, his voice was huge and unexpected. I really enjoyed these guys, and their set was a very appropriate length.

Right around 8:30, Billy walked onto the stage alone and the whole room just lost their fucking shit. It was really intimate, being in this small venue with what I would honestly consider one of the greatest singers of my generation. He sat down at a piano and began to play “Tonight, Tonight” and again — everyone lost their shit.

And then like clockwork, the Fashionably Late squad all showed up, causing the ushers to have to run around with their flashlights; people having to stand up to let these tardy assholes get to their seats; and the obligatory angry murmurings that arise when the rest of us, who got there ON TIME, had to have our views obstructed.  I guess when you’re old and rarely attending shows anymore, all manners and couth go out the car window on the wings of the latest Taylor Swift song playing from your radio. But, that was the only lowlight of the whole show, so I can’t complain too much. The lady two rows in front of me was doing enough of that for the both us, and I loved her for shouting, “WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!?” to the older people conversing loudly across the aisle, like they were having breakfast at Denny’s and not listening to Billy Corgan perform some of his best songs.

WHY!? Why pay $50+ for a concert ticket if you’re just going to TALK during it? I will never understand what it’s like to be someone who only attends shows for the novelty of it all.

Anyway, Billy performed the first handful of songs alone, and then his current guitarist joined him for most of the rest of the show. Katie Cole filled in on bass and guest vocals here and there, and because of this, a rumor started that she was officially the new Smashing Pumpkins, but according to her Facebook page, this is untrue. I’m not sure the Pumpkins even have an official bass player right now and to be honest, I quit keeping up with the ever-revolving door of band members a long time ago. It’s too much!

Parts of the set were electro, and while I noticed that people were bitching about that online (OMG he used a drum machine!), I enjoyed that aspect of the night as well. Especially “Ava Adore.” That is my fucking jam. And anytime I hear “Today,” I am back in middle school, listening to mixed tapes sent to me by pen pals way cooler than me and telling my mom that I need to go to Waves and buy Siamese Dream on the ASAP.

“1979,” and I’m back in Lisa’s parents’ minivan.

Really though, who doesn’t at least love ONE Smashing Pumpkins song? (If more than 5 people read this blog, I could anticipate an influx of comments informing me of people who don’t like at least one Smashing Pumpkins song. “The lunch lady at my junior high.” “My neighbor’s drug dealer, Kemo.” “Probably all of Billy Corgan’s ex-lovers.” “Your butt.”  OK I GET IT.)

There was only ONE SONG in the entire set that I was like, “Nope. Nopenopenope. LALALALALALALALALA. *fingers in my ears*” and that was motherfucking “Landslide.” I hate that song with such a passion. I hate the original Fleetwood Mac version (and no, I don’t hate Fleetwood Mac, typically). I obviously hate the Dixie Chick’s cover. I would wager that I would even hate a rendition by The Cure. And I’m sorry, Billy, but I hated your take on it too. I just HATE THAT EFFING SONG.

My mother may or may not have something or a lot to do with that.

Here is the set list for anyone who cares:

• Tonight, Tonight
  (piano solo)
• 99 Floors
•  Today
• My Poor Troubled Heart
  (traditional)
• Freedom Ain’t What It Used to Be
  (Zwan cover)
• For Your Love
  (Zwan cover)
• Drum + Fife
• A Stitch in Time
• Mayonaise
• Prairie Song
  (Billy Corgan song)
• Jersey Shore
• Sparrow
• Perfect
• To Sheila
• Behold! The Night Mare
• For Martha
• Blissed and Gone
• Ava Adore
• Now (And Then)
  (Billy Corgan song)
• The Crying Tree of Mercury
• 1979
• Run2Me
• Pinwheels
• Stand Inside Your Love
  (duet with Katie Cole)
• Landslide
  (Fleetwood Mac cover)
• A New Poetry
  (Zwan cover)
• Encore:
• Spaceboy
• I Am One
  (tease)
• Siva
  (tease)
• Rhinoceros
  (tease)
• Bury Me
  (tease)
• Snail
  (tease)
• Crush
  (tease)
• Suffer
  (tease)
• Snail
  (tease)
• Tristessa
  (tease)
• Window Paine
  (tease)
• Daydream
  (tease)
• Geek U.S.A.
  (tease)
• El-A-Noy

So that whole Gish teaser during the encore was allegedly spawned because some guy down on the floor was being an asshole and pissed Billy off so he was like, ” I am only going to play 10 seconds of all these songs, fuck you.” There were several times during the night when he would sarcastically answer someone’s heckle-like demand with a sardonic, “Whatever you want, buddy. I’m here to serve you.”

What an odd, beautiful creature Billy Corgan is. I was really happy, and—-dare I say it?—-#blessed to get to hear these old familiar songs performed this way. The evening, those 2 and a half hours of gorgeous music, relaxed me in ways that a day at the beach never could. I’m getting pretty good at doing things alone. Between this and seeing the Kurt Cobain “Soaked In Bleach” docudrama the night before, I have been feeling super nostalgic for my teen years lately, bouncing back and forth between gangsta rap and then, anytime I was in Lisa’s car (which was A LOT), alternative. I guess all I need to do now is revisit some old Scarface tracks.

***

The best part about all of this is that, after hearing me, all hyper and buzzing from the latest concert-high, spasmodically recounting the show to Henry, Chooch expressed interest in hearing their music. I YouTubed some of their videos for him and he asked me a lot of questions, like, “So, what? Is he like a vampire or something?” because I guess Billy is just too pale for Chooch’s comprehension. And then I brought out my Mellon Collie double CD and The Aeroplane Flies High boxed set and he started pulling out liner notes and basically devouring as much as he could. The next night, I walked past him while he was playing whatever stupid game he’s into at the moment on the computer, and I realized that he was listening to “Bullet With Butterfly Wings” on Spotify and softly singing along.

THE BEST.

Daddy was so happy when he dropped us off because he didnt have to go. We were in line for an 1hr and 2 cars went in a 1 way lane like right toward each other and it was crazy and then some broad was talking to us about stuff. And I had garbage in my hand when the garbage dude came by and I had to chase him in front of EVERYONE!

But then another garbage dude came by and I was so embarrassed.

1ST we saw Nick Santino. Kellen Quinn was watching it and the girls in front of us saw him first and then 3 seconds later everyone saw him. I liked his music it was cool and he did a cover of Nirvana.

Kellen said “F***!” and Nick said “That’s a f****** bad word Kellen.”

2nd We saw The Summer Set and first they played Maybe Tonight. I sang along to every song but it was the song Legendary when Pittsburgh f***** up and didn’t sing the part. Legendary was the last song and I was so happy. I had to pee so I went to the bathroom with mommy because I didn’t know where the bathroom was. And when I went in the bathroom Josh the guitarist for The Summer Set was in there and if it was Brian Logan Dales the singer I would be like OMG WOW WOW OMG. So when we went back upstairs we lost our spot so we went in the back to watch Sleeping With Sirens. Oh yeah almost forgot when during The Summer Set Brian said look around around you and I waved at some girl. Oh yeah and when Kellen came out for Sleeping With Sirens everyone screamed and my ears started to bleed.  Then I got 2 shirts and McDonald’s since it was right next to the Altar Bar.

Oh yeah it was my first time at the Altar Bar and it was fun.

I felt so bad for Chooch at Warped Tour last summer, because he loves The Summer Set so much (see one of his guest posts here from two years ago!) and he ended up being so sick that day that he could barely enjoy it. So when I saw on Kellin Quinn’s Instagram that his band (Sleeping With Sirens) was going to do a limited-date, small venue acoustic tour and they were taking The Summer Set with them, I knew that would be the perfect birthday present for Chooch. But then I saw the venue for Pittsburgh was the Altar Bar, which is pretty small and SWS typically sells out bigger venues than that, so I sat at my desk at work and made sure I bought tickets the exact second they went on sale. And it’s a good thing too, because that bitch sold out fast.

But then I had anxiety, because what if it was a bad idea. Sold out shows are a bitch to contend with for adults, let alone when you have a nine-year-old in tow. “But it’s acoustic,” I reminded myself. “It will just be a roomful of hysterical teenaged girls.”

Probably not too hazardous.

But then I had different anxiety, because what if the day rolled around and Chooch was like, “Well…I’d rather just stay home and hang out with the neighborhood kids.” Because he’s fickle that way.

To my surprise, he actually suggested waking up at 7am and getting there “early.” I mean…Sleeping With Sirens is a popular band, but not THAT popular. I told him we’d get there about an hour before doors opened to ensure that we could try and get a good spot. I’ve been to the Altar Bar enough times to know that there is a small area with banquet-type seating off to one side near the stage, and my hope was to get there early enough to snag a spot over there so that Chooch could stand on the seat in order to see.

Henry dropped us off at 5:3o and Chooch and I walked down an alley to get to the back of the line, which had already snaked around the block. Motherfuck.

Standing In Line

The line was relatively uneventful, no one was being unruly, etc. We all just kind of sat around on a sidewalk and prayed for time to speed up. Around 6:00, everyone stood up and the line began moving, like someone had sounded a cowbell and we all obediently rose and moved forward. Now that we were all standing, the mom in front of us took this as her opportunity to strike up conversations with everyone around her. She could have been Robin’s sister, plucked right of the 70s and dropped down in front of us in 2015. She had straw-like hair in a multitude of ginger hues and was rail-thin; her voice came out on a bed of gravel while she chain-smoked Marlboros and I was bracing myself to hate her with the smoldering heat of Snooki’s skin after an hour in the tanning bed.

I feel confident that her house is full of macrame, earth-toned afghans and beaded curtains. 

“Is that your brother?” she asked me, while gesturing toward Chooch with Burning Cigarette #17.

I hit “recall” on all of the catty judgments I was mentally inserting in my Ginger Mom slam book. This broad could stay. And then she and Chooch had some awkward exchange about how they both like The Summer Set while he made SOS eyes at me behind her back. Shit got weird with her a little later but I’ll reserve that story for this week’s bullet point post because I don’t want it to stink up the memory of Chooch’s good night.

Several staff members walked around and got everyone hooked up with their age appropriate wristbands. They were checking IDs for the 21+ wristbands and when they got to Chooch, one of the guys said, “I don’t think I need confirmation that you’re under 21 buddy, unless you have some kind of Gary Coleman condition.” Ginger Mom and I were the only ones who laughed at that because everyone around us was too young to know who Gary Coleman is. GOD THAT WAS DEPRESSING.

Doors opened at exactly 6:30 and everyone entered the Altar Bar swiftly and without incident, thanks to staff being on the ball with the pre-wristbanding.

Inside, Pre-Show

Once we were inside, I grabbed Chooch’s hand and we ran over to where the seats are, which is kind of like two booths forming a right angle. The one booth-seat-thing is right near the stage, while the other one …. oh fuck it, here’s a diagram that I drew just for your sake, Blog:

The crowd was already about 20-heads deep in front of the stage, and the first booth-thing was claimed, but the second one had a spot open right in the back, perfect for Chooch to stand on and not worry about blocking anyone behind him. Also, we had a perfect view of the closed-off area next to the stage, so we got to see the bands before they walked out on stage.

Two moms were sitting on the other end of the booth, and I got to watch as the one slowly and painfully texted with her daughter, who was upset that she wasn’t as close to the stage as she wanted to be, and it’s not fair that so-and-so was closer because SHE likes Sleeping With Sirens way more than so-and so, OMG! Mom was like, “Everyone knows that the number one rule for concerts is first come, best spot. You are fine where you’re standing. There are a lot of people further back than you. There is not such thing as fair. This is real life.” DANG MA, ALL THAT TOUGH LOVE IS GONNA BREAK A PHONE.

Meanwhile, the skater douche who had the other side of the booth kept popping up onto the back of it, and I just knew that as soon as the show started, he was going to plant his ass there and block our view. And, he did. He turned around every once in a while and I tried to claw out his eyes with my icy glare. Fucking dick!

The blonde ponytail belongs to the slow-texting mom.

Nick Santino

Nick Santino was the opener, and once I was able to verify that Chooch could see even with that motherfucker propped up in front of us, I tried to tuck away my ire because this night was all about Chooch and as long as he could see the stage, that’s all that mattered. Besides, there were several large screens across the room from us so anytime I felt the urge to actually see what was going on, I could just look there.

Chooch’s first real concert was Pierce the Veil at the Chameleon Club in Lancaster when he was 6, but I think this was a much better experience for him. His attention span is definitely better, so he was pretty focused on Nick Santino’s set, except for when he looked over to his left and realized that Kellin Quinn was standing in the doorway, watching Nick from the side of the stage. Chooch elbowed me and pointed, and eventually one of the little girls next to us also spotted him and then an excited murmur spread like scene-fire around our area as all of the girls began having hysterical fits of unrequited feels. I have to admit though that the general consensus was to be chill about it so that Kellin wouldn’t be bothered. There were several girls that shrieked his name and basically all of them (there were about 30 who had surfed their way over to our corner) were trying to take clandestine pictures of the poor guy who was honestly just trying to support his friend on stage.

Chooch thought this was hilarious and kept laughing and rolling his eyes. I wanted to tell him THAT COULD BE YOU SOMEDAY but I’m trying not to pressure him. Sigh.

(Nick Santino was kind of boring to me, you guys. Although, he did a pretty nice cover of Nirvana’s “Teen Spirit” which I enjoyed. “Guys, he really did say ‘albino.’ I googled it!” one of the girls near us yelled to her friends, holding up her phone. DOUBLE SIGH.)

Sometime in between Nick Santino and The Summer Set, I was popping a piece of Mentos gum into my mouth right as the Foo Fighters began playing over the sound system and I sadly realized that there was no one there who would appreciate this irony. Maybe the miserable dad standing next to me, but ew—stranger danger.

The Summer Set

Chooch was stoked by the time Summer Set came on and it melted my cold, black heart to see his little lips moving along to all of the words. They covered Ed Sheeran’s “Sing” at one point and Chooch LOVES Ed Sheeran, so he furiously dug his phone out of his pocket and recorded the whole song.

BLESS HIS FUCKING HEART.

He never took his eyes off that stage, except for when he was grinning at me and making power-fist motions when certain songs happened. He ain’t no part-time fan, ya’ll. He knows the discography.

^^ This is why I wanted to get there early. No way was I standing in the middle of that with a nine-year-old.

I have to admit that while I would probably never listen to them if not for Chooch, they are actually really great live. They kept my attention and also Chooch’s, which is really no small feat. I won’t go into detail because Chooch said he wants to guest-post, but I definitely was glad that I was able to get us tickets to this because he honestly seemed to genuinely appreciate it, and that’s amazing because Chooch might not be spoiled in the traditional sense where we rain down money and toys and electronics upon him, but he is certainly spoiled when it comes to experiences, so sometimes he reacts pretty blasé about things, which drives me nuts. Like, dude, you’re at an amusement park, why are you scowling?! Things like that have been known to happen from time to time and then Henry and I will start yelling at him for being ungrateful, which always makes me laugh because it sounds like I’m yelling at myself.

So I had a fear that we would get there and he would just be like, “Yeah, so?” But no—he knew he was experiencing something good and I could tell that he was taking it all in.

Plus, girls. He is ALL ABOUT THE GIRLS these days, and he got quite a bit of attention from them.

Chooch will probably deny this vehemently, but during the last song (“Legendary,” which made Chooch yell, “YES!” while hugging himself because: “I knew it, Mommy! I knew they’d play this last. I knew it.”), I for sure saw his eyes shining with tears. He is totally my son.

Sleeping With Sirens

Chooch wanted to just leave after The Summer Set, but I convinced him to stay for a few SWS songs. I used to really like this band about 5 years ago, and it’s not that I don’t like them anymore, but Kellin Quinn annoys me sometimes and I have seen them enough times to know that he’s probably going to sound eh, so-so, OK. However! I do like it when he sings acoustically and I felt that we’d be remiss if we didn’t stick around for a little bit. So after The Summer Set, I took Chooch downstairs so he could pee (he ended up being in the bathroom at the same time as one of the The Summer Set guys and was completely cool about it!) and then we went back upstairs and staked out a spot in the back of the room, where we prepared to have our ears shredded by the shrieks of 600 fan-gasming girls. And as expected, it sounded like Michael Jackson in Japan when Kellin Quinn stepped on that stage.

Luckily, the second song they played was my favorite, so we ended up leaving after 4 songs total, and I didn’t feel bad about it.

The crowd was annoying and it was a real sweat box in there, and not sound like some stupid VISA commercial, but seeing Chooch genuinely enjoying himself and, let’s face it, being a little starstruck when he saw Brian Logan Dales, was totally worth and I would (probably) do it all over again. I’m thankful that 99% of the bands he likes are at least in the same scene as most of the stuff I listen to, so it’s really not as excruciating as it would be if he was into 5SOS or Justin Bieber or whatever other prefab, manufactured pop band out there right now.

And if he did like that type of music? Oh well, I guess I would still support him.

(And by that I mean have Henry go with him!)

I am so grateful that Chooch and I got to spend a few hours together without fighting. Because that’s usually what happens when two people are so much alike: BICKER CITY.

***

I’ll end this with a picture of Chooch and The Summer Set from last year’s Warped Tour. He actually had a fever when we were there, oops.

I bought tons of new plants yesterday and I have so much to tell you about them, B(otany)log! But it’s hot in my house and I don’t have much time today, so instead let’s spotlight my favorite one of the lot: CARLY.

My brother Corey wanted me to name one of my plants Carly, after two Carlys: Carly Simon (because of that famed game night where we were playing Catchphrase and all Henry said was, “I don’t know….she’s a singer” and I jokingly screamed, and I mean SCREAMED “CARLY SIMON!” totally randomly and it ended up being right, wtf) and also Carly Rae Jepsen, based on the obsession Chooch and I had with Call Me Maybe during the summer of 2012. (Remember Ross’s Blackberry?!) But that particular plant didn’t look Carly-esque, and that plant became known as Stefano DiMera.

But then I saw this Pink Vygie (heh heh heh vygie) at some nursery yesterday, and I was like, “That’s the one! That’s Carly!” because it’s got the thorny parts to represent Carly Simon bad-assery and unconventional beauty, and the pink stem-things reflect CRJ’s bubblegum pop. (I AM DEEP IN THE PLANT GAME, PEOPLE.)

I didn’t realize that Carly was going to have FLOWERS on her until we got home (because I don’t read the informational tags that come with the plants after that part that states their species) and Henry was like, “Oh wow look the plant bloomed” in his typical “who cares” tone and I was like, “SHE HAS FLOWERS ON HER!?” Even more apropos! WHAT A POP STAR!

I adopted Carly at the perfect time too, because my CRJ obsession has been reactivated with the buzz of her upcoming album release. I AM OBSESSED WITH THE TITLE TRACK “EMOTION”! It reminds me of rollerskating parties at Spinning Wheels in the late 80s and I just feel so happy and excited for summer.

I can’t even say she’s a guilty pleasure, because I feel no guilt. MY LOVE IS UNABASHED.

And then this joint is the perfect couple skate jam and why am I sitting in my dining room writing this and not gliding gracefully around a roller rink RIGHT NOW?! Ugh. Everything I’ve heard from this album gives me those dreamy late-80s pop feels. I am really anxious to hear the tracks she wrote with Tegan and Sara and Sia.

Ugh, I love you, CRJ.

And in case you read the Ross’ Blackberry post and wondered “WELL?! DID HE GET HIS PHONE BACK?!” the shocking conclusion can be read here.

Friends, what we have here is a collection of photos & words from the last week(s) that have been accumulating on my phone and in my head. Let’s address them, shall we?

•  Stella & Dot Thing

I had a super spur of the moment Stella and Dot party for Wendy. My house isn’t air-conditioned and it’s practically summer, so I kept the guest list to a minimum and all snacks provided were store bought. TOTALLY UNLIKE ME. But Henry was like, “I am not slaving away in the hot kitchen, also you spent all of our money last night on your tattoo.” So we had birthday cake frosting Chips Ahoy, cherries, some type of Target scones that were better than the Chips Ahoys, chips, and Bagel Bites which JANNA kept calling PIZZA ROLLS even though there is a HUGE DIFFERENCE, so then Barb was calling them pizza rolls too because she is easily influenced and I was getting so mad, which made MONICA purposely call them pizza rolls because she loves to antagonize me! And Barb spilled her drink within 60 seconds of being in my house! What a Janna-move! And Chooch stole Chris almost immediately because he freaking claims her every time she and Monica come over and I have to fight the urge to cry, “She was my friend first!” But then I usually do end up crying about it. And then I tried to record Janna telling Wendy the story about how she became addicted to ‘Tussin, but she totally flipped out probably because it was time for another slurp and she was getting agitated.

•  Glenn’s New Nickname
  

Flockin Nockin for short, yo.

He called me simple AND slow this week. 

• See Also: Erin&Corey-ish

Finally, a way for the rest of the world to describe my brother and me!

• AMISH PEOPLE MOVIES

For some reason, our TV was like, stuck on the Up channel for days, and I had never heard of this channel before, but it all started with ironically watching 7th Heaven reruns while Henry was making dinner, and letting out dramatic OH NO!s and other such concerned interjections, and then I found myself watching that other 19 kids show, the ones that seem slightly less creepy than the Duggars, and all the while I kept seeing previews for some made-for-TV-movie called Love Finds You In Charm, which was clearly a spin-off of Love Finds You In Sugarcreek. Throw in some Jesus-y commercials, and I eventually realized I was watching some type of Christian person television channel. However, that didn’t stop me from, again, “ironically” watching Love Finds You In Charm, which quickly turned into me getting sucked in and crying, and Henry saying goodnight.  Basically, an Amish bitch chooses the right one, and not the creepy Englisher (THAT’S WHAT THEY CALL US!) who initially wooed her with his pompous talk of The Big City.

Amish people are amazing. I wish I had had an Amish baby. Thanks a lot, Chooch. Way to be born a fucking Englisher.

• ME N BAE

I like calling Henry “bae” because it is annoying as fuck and while I do most things in life with unabashed mediocrity, I am world-class at annoying the fuck out of one Henry Robbins. (And probably a small village full of other people too.) Except now I have a succulent named Bae too. OH WELL, THE MORE BAES THE BAE-IER.

• PGH SERIAL KILLER

One day last week I was carousing around town on my break and I could sense this man keeping pace behind me and naturally I was convinced he was a serial killer and I made Henry stay on the phone with me because I was in a sparsely populated area and totally freaking out and Henry was like “He is not going to kill you. Probably.” And then he wound up STANDING NEXT TO ME while we waited for the crosswalk light thingie to come on and I was trying to take his picture while keeping Henry on the phone and I could hear Henry saying, “Hello? Hello? What are you doing?” So then I let him pass me because I couldn’t take the anxiety of having him behind me anymore and then I was just like FUCK IT and went back to work because I was so stressed out and Glenn and Todd were like, “Why are you back so soon?” except that they really didn’t say that because they never notice when I’m there or not but don’t worry I told them anyway and then I showed them the picture and Todd was like, “That just looks like a man going to get some coffee.”  SO DID TED BUNDY.

• GAVE ALL THE VAMPIRES BACK TO GOD

Cold was my fucking jam for many years in my early 20s and I have been revisiting them a lot lately. So let’s end this shit show with one of my favorite Cold tracks, Sick of Man. Don’t keep your feelings hidden like a psycho, guys.

I fell down the music rabbit hole with my friend Terri again tonight, which is definitely one of my favorite stress-relievers. It’s so much fun to piggyback off each other’s texts, like when she mentions The Dear Hunter and I’m like, “OMG do you remember Dear and the Headlights?!” and then it’s Paper Rivals to Paper Chase, and we both find ourselves remembering bands we haven’t thought about in years while learning about new ones at the same time. I am so thankful for this!

When she mentioned This Day & Age, it was like blinking and being back in 2004. Kind of painful, but familiar and comfortable, making mix CDs and titling them with disparaging phrases about Henry (of course). He would get so pissed too, because his kids (who were still pre-teens back then) would inevitably read the titles and then we would all be sitting in the car, laughing maniacally and ridiculing Henry; god, we were so good at that.

“Were” — lol forever!

(This is actually from 2003, but this expression was accurate for 2004, too. And 2005. And 2006. And…YOU CAN COUNT ON YOUR OWN.)

The whole point of this is that my mind started to spiral out of control with memories of all those old mix CD songs and Orange Island popped into my head and now I can’t stop hearing this song. It also goes to show just how long Rise Records has had me under their spell.

How is this song eleven years old, my god.

In other news, the heat has melted my brain. I spent my whole lunch break today speed-walking around Pittsburgh, looking for plants because this is my life now, scavenging for house plants like it’s the new crack, and I wound up getting slightly sunburnt in the process and I definitely have a strong case of the sun-stupids. HOPE YOU ARE WELL. WRITE BACK SOON. (This is where you fold this up and put it in your pocket.)

I didn’t want to wait until #mcm (MAN CRUSH MONDAY) to post this, so let’s pretend like today is #fgf (FAVORITE GUY FRIDAY).

When I first started dating Henry, I was 21 and he was 35. A LOT of people were like, “Ha-ha, say goodbye to your life. Have fun listening to country music and drinking IC Light.” Because that’s what all 35-year-old men do? And I guess I was a little worried at first, because I loved road-tripping for concerts back then. My friend Wonka and I would drive all over to see our favorite band at the time, Cold. In the first few months we were together, Cold was playing in Hershey, PA and Wonka wanted to go. I was worried that Henry would be like, “YOU ARE NOT DRIVING THAT FAR AWAY WITH ANOTHER MAN.” But Henry understood even then how much these things meant to me, and he was OK with me going.

(I mean, I totally would have still went anyway because that’s the kind of selfish, arrogant, solipsistic fucking bitch that I am!)

But then Wonka started dating the future mother of his children, and our roadtrips came to an end. I had no idea that Henry would ever want to do these things with me, because I was so used to having completely separate lives from every boyfriend I ever had. But by that May, there we were, driving to Wisconsin to see Cold. And there have been many, many more concert-spurned road trips since then, whether he liked it or not!

Wednesday night, I was watching music videos on YouTube, because that’s just what I do, when Henry said, “Look.” He was holding up his phone to show me that this year’s Riot Fest line up was finally announced. I ran over and snatched his phone from him and immediately started freaking out because FAITH NO MORE. I had a feeling that they were going to be there so my eyes were blind to everything else on the list but that for the first ten minutes. And then the more I looked at the lineup, the more I freaked out. THE NOSTALGIA FACTOR IS OFF THE FUCKING CHARTS.

I started freaking the fuck out and chanting PLEASE CAN WE GO PLEASE CAN WE GO PLEASE CAN WE GO CAN WE CAN WE CANWECANWECANWE over and over but I was pretty sure the answer was going to be no because we kind of broke the bank when we went last year. But you know, I’m immature, head-in-the-clouds Erin and I don’t think about things like RENT and GROCERIES and BILLS. I was just about reaching Veruca Salt levels of brattiness when Henry got up from the couch in a huff and said, “Don’t start!” So I sat there, staring at the lineup and crying because these are things I cry about, when I got a text from Henry, who was in the kitchen. IT WAS A SCREENSHOT OF THE TICKET CONFIRMATION OMG CAN I KEEP THIS MAN FOREVER?! I guess he knew for awhile that going again was inevitable, so he was prepared.

And it’s a good thing, because I’ve had the days requested off from work since January.

I know I bitch about him being a killjoy a lot, but even though he really doesn’t like these things at all, he still does them because he is an A+ kind of guy. And I am super lucky to be with someone who maybe doesn’t  share the same passion for music as I do, but he understands that it is a necessity for me, like food and water. I crave this stuff! I can’t tell you how many times I have gone back and looked at pictures from last year’s Riot Fest because it puts me in a good mood. That weekend was so close to perfection, and I can’t wait to do it all over again with my frowning sidekick! #blessed

(Snoop Dogg is performing Doggystyle in its entirety. My 1994-self is FUCKING FANNING HERSELF with her Snoop lyric-doodled science folder.)

I am going to be so nice to him for the next several days months. Take all the naps you want, Big Guy!

***

I can’t wait for another 3-days’ worth of frowns! 

So yeah, naysayers: 14 years later and I’m having fun listening to whatever music I want while Henry drinks craft beer.  

Me: “Isn’t it weird how I’ve only had a moderate interest in Kurt Travis since 2004, and now all of a sudden I’m like OMG?”
Henry: “No. Because you’re Erin.”

********

When you’re feeling some type of way….

I was listening to the Kurt Travis-era Dance Gavin Dance albums last week and it was like something just clicked in my head, and I was hearing all of these songs I’ve heard 800x with brand new ears. I guess a lot of it has to do with the fact that, even though I liked Kurt before he joined DGD, I was pretty salty that he was replacing Jonny Craig.

(However, I have been really into Kurt’s current band A Lot Like Birds from the get-go, so who knows what goes on in my head.)

I’m sharing “Happiness” today because–ouch. It’s like when we put on the fake plastic smiles while our insides are being fisted by sadness and despair. Sometimes, it’s not palpable problems that have us feeling down, but it’s more of the abstract adversity in our heads. I think we can all relate to that.

Lately, I’ve been the equivalent of a Victorian broad passed out on a fainting sofa with her arm slung dramatically across her forehead, and for no real, discernible reason other than unresolved feelings coming to a frothing head, I guess. This is when music sounds the best to me. Not gonna lie: sometimes I crave these feelings because it makes me feel alive.

And also because it drives Henry crazy. I’ll play the same 2 second part of a song over and over and scream, “DID YOU HEAR IT THIS TIME?! WHERE HIS VOICE CHANGES A LITTLE BIT?! DOESN’T IT MAKE YOU WANT TO DIEEEEEE????” and he just looks at me like I’m nuts.

I’ve made him listen to “Happiness” approx. 87 times over the last week and he is like, “Nope. It still doesn’t make me sad.” So then of course that makes me probe him about his crying threshold. He said he would “probably” cry if I died, but not if I was just injured. And then he started listing random injuries as examples and it was making my wrists do that thing where they get extremely sensitive so I was begging him to stop talking and he was like “YOU STARTED IT.” And that’s the last conversation we had last night before falling asleep.

My favorite parts of this song are when Kurt says “over and over” because it makes my heart drop a little, and the line “waking up for what” because haven’t we all wondered that from time to time? I wish I could crawl inside this song and curl myself up against its soft entrails. DRAMATIC SIGH.

*******
Over the weekend, Henry happened to glance at phone and he noticed that my lock screen image is still Jonny Craig. “SERIOUSLY YOU HAVEN’T CHANGED THAT PICTURE YET?!” he asked incredulously, tinged with disgust.

I’m sorry! I know I said I quit Jonny Craig a year ago, and I swear to god I do hate that guy and I haven’t bought the Slaves album or his last solo album and I didn’t go see him the last 3 or 4 times he was in Pittsburgh, but it’s like a 12-step program, OK? I’ll admit that I only just unfollowed him on Instagram about 4 months ago.

Baby steps.

So I finally swapped my lock screen picture for one of Kurt Travis and Henry is like, “THIS IS NOT PROGRESS” but I’m doing the best I can, OK? At least Kurt is nice! (I met him in 2013!)

Also, LOL:

As you know, Internet Diary, Henry is a relatively good sport when it comes to putting up with the music I like*. But sometimes he puts his foot down when it comes to certain shows, and that’s OK because he endures a lot for me. Last night’s Pianos Become the Teeth show at the Altar Bar was one of the times I gave him a reprieve. It used to be that I would beg someone else to go with me or just not go at all, but I just don’t give a fuck anymore. So I bought one ticket and went alone, because after seeing this band at Riot Fest and then opening for Circa Survive last year, I have been dying to see them headline.

*(“Like” is an understatement; I fucking live for music. Even when I’m not listening to it, I’m reading about it, searching for it, talking about it, dreaming about it—Matt Mingus was holding my hand in my dream Friday night!–or flat out just hearing it in my head.)

Henry and Chooch dropped me off though, because that’s the least they can do!

I got there right before doors opened and there were only about 10 people standing around, so that was a pretty good sign that this was going to be a small crowd. Good for me, but bad for the bands. I went straight to the bar and ordered one of those beers-that-aren’t-real-beers (Leinenkugel Summer Shandy) and then proceeded to stand awkwardly in between two guys who were also there alone. One of my Instagram friends commented on my Shandy picture and said “ME TOO!” and I thought she meant she was also at the show, so I got all excited at the prospect of knowing someone there and having someone to stand with, but then she explained that she just meant she was also drinking a summer shandy.

So, still alone.

The downside of being 35 and still neck-deep in the music scene, I guess.

I stayed in the bar area for the first two bands: My Captain, My Sea and Gates. It was the very last show for My Captain, My Sea, a local band whose drummer has accepted a full-time job playing in the US Army’s bands. It’s a super shame because they’re great! But the whole time, I was thinking about how much Henry would have hated them. And that made me miss him. It’s fine once the bands are playing, especially since I can stand wherever the fuck I want, but in between sets I become 1000x more awkward than usual because WHAT SHOULD I DO WITH MY HANDS OMG HELP. So I texted Henry bathroom selfies and maniacally checked Instagram. Jesus, what did we do before iPhones?!

I was really interested in seeing Gates, too. Their music is just so beautiful and it made me feel like I was floating, but that could have also been because I was on to my second shandy at that point and I am a huge light weight because I drink so infrequently these days. Out of all the bands there last night, I feel like they were the most accessible, so here is a video. DECIDE FOR YOURSELVES, K?

After Gates, I left the bar area and went down to the basement to use the bathroom. The thing I love the most about the Altar Bar is that their bathrooms are on point. They even have a bathroom attendant, so I don’t walk out of there feeling like a petri dish for MERSA and ringworm like I do at Mr. Small’s & Smiling Moose.

On my way back up the hallway after that, I passed what I guess was the green room and made super awkward eye contact with the singer of Pianos Become the Teeth, Kyle. HE IS SO INTIMIDATING! Instead of going back to the 21+ area, I moved closer to the stage. The bar area is really small and there were just enough chatty broads in there to make it intolerable. I might get some flak from other girls for saying this, because girl power or whatever, but girls are the most annoying part of pretty much any show I have ever gone to. I mean, is it that hard to SHUT THE FUCK UP while a band is playing?! Why do you pay money to go to a show if all you’re going to do is make strenuous attempts at conversing with your boyfriend who totally doesn’t care what you’re saying because HE IS LISTENING TO THE BAND HE PAID MONEY TO SEE? I don’t get it. How can  you be enjoying yourself if you’re SHOUTING into someone’s ear and they’re shrugging and mouthing the words, “Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

Maybe it’s sexist of me, but I definitely witness this coming from broads waaay more than bros. Just sayin’!

Girls, if you can’t keep your fucking mouths shut, maybe consider staying home.

People.

Then it was time for Loma Prieta and DANG did they hit the spot. Straight-up scream, friends. Straight-up motherfucking screamo.

I was laughing so hard on the inside imagining how much anguish Henry would be in if he was standing next to me for this band.

A little screamo goes a long way. Live screamo is a lot like being exorcised, I would think.

And then it was time for Pianos! This band is a thing of beauty. I don’t even know how else to describe them other than stressing how utterly beautiful their music is. And the way Kyle’s voice quakes, there is something about it that evokes real emotion and it’s hard not to feel anything listening to him sing. They ditched the screaming on their most recent album, kind of reinvented themselves in a way, and believe me — that album is tight. But the crowd last night came alive when they played old tracks. Kyle was the epitome of a tortured soul on that stage and it made my heart strum.

REPINE IS MY FAVORITE! I got choked up.

There were three girls next to me who were seemingly mega-fans and literally were swooning. I’m not kidding, fucking doubled over and fanning themselves. But then they goddamn talked to each other through most of it! DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN!? Why are girls such concert cunts!?

But the crowd was mostly inoffensive. And even though I was there alone, I didn’t feel lonely. We were all there together. Music is great that way.

Aside from inappropriately-timed conversations, it was a great show. I had the perfect spot near the stage (it was hard not to have the perfect spot—there was hardly anyone there!) and I left the Altar Bar with an even greater appreciation for Pianos Become the Teeth. So much beauty. So many feels. I’m glad I didn’t pass this one up!

Go listen to them! Feel the things! Buy their albums! Go to a show!

Then I had to stand outside and wait for Papa H to come and fetch me. When I got in the car, Chooch was “ironically” listening to the Kidz Bop XM station, totally negating my night of good music. Ugh, thanks a lot Chooch.

ETA: it is now Monday morning and I told Glenn my woeful tale of how I had to go to a show alone because Henry put his foot down.

“I could have been kidnapped!”

“I guess Henry was willing to take that chance,” Glenn muttered in his standard monotone. 

This image is from Puddles’ Facebook page.

Sometime last year, back when Chris still worked with me (MEMORIES), she sent me a Post Modern Jukebox video that featured a 6’8″ clown singing “Royals.” It was enchanting! (Probably not to coulrophobes.) I just really love clowns so much!

About a month ago, I saw that Puddles Pity Party was coming to the Rex in Pittsburgh and I was like, “THAT IS THAT SUPER SEXY CLOWN WITH THE HONEY VOICE.” So I texted Chris and she and Monica were like, “Let’s do this shit.”

And Henry was like, “Yay, you have people to go with you. Peace out!”

A week prior to the show, we were sitting at a table in the Laser Storm party room when Chris told me that she made the mistake of looking up information for his shows online and discovered that he relies heavily on audience participation. I hoped that she meant like along the lines of “When I say —-, you say —-” type of bullshit. But no, she meant that he will flat out pull people out of their seat and drag them onto the stage and make them sing EVEN IF THEY DON’T KNOW THE WORDS.

Do you know how much I love music? Ask me to sing a song off the top of my head and I will fucking FREEZE because OMG there are WORDS in that song? WHY CAN’T I REMEMBER THERE BEING WORDS IN THAT SONG!?!?

EVEN THE CURE.

We had pre-Puddles dinner at the Library that evening and I made sure to drink every last drop of whatever that blueberry beer stuff was that I ordered while Chris and Monica divulged insider info regarding their upcoming wedding. I should mention that on the walk there, we passed a young couple. The girl was all, “I LOVE YOUR TATTOO” and the boy was all, “AND I LOVE YOUR PURSE.” Chooch would have been so pissed, because it was my eyeball purse, of course.

After dinner, Monica saved me from basically falling off a cliff/stepping on a rake/shambling into traffic because god forbid I should be responsible enough to safely walk down a sidewalk. The sun was in my eyes, OK?!

Once we got to the Rex, my nerves started to kick in because PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME GET ON STAGE. I was acutely aware of Chris and Monica talking about DJ Qbert, who was performing at the Rex later in the week. Monica wanted to book him for their wedding but Chris said only if he plays one Garth Brooks song. It went something like that, I think.

We look sweaty because it was like 95 degrees out, and that is real sweat on our faces. #PittsburghSpring

The Rex is not very big, and the room was full of folding chairs. Because this was a seated event. So, chairs. We stood around like kids on the first day of school, figuratively biting our fingernails while trying to decide which seats would have us looking less like sitting ducks and more like invisible nobodies. We ultimately chose a row on the left, a few rows back from the stage. I claimed the seat right next to the wall and was satisfied because the wall jutted out in front of me just enough that I could use it as a shield if necessary.

My stage fright is on another level. I keep getting worse with age, too. When I was a youngin’, I was at some dinner theater thing in Switzerland with my family and there were men on a stage playing those Ricola commercial horns. They called for volunteers, and without telling my family I was doing so, I got up from the table and ran down to the stage to blow one of those fucking horns, because why the hell not. God, that seems so long ago!

Probably because it was. It was 1990, for fuck’s sake!

Anyway, now I need to be drunk to do shit like that, and I unfortunately was not drunk on this particular night.

It was getting closer and closer to 8:00 and no one had joined us in our row.

Monica kept looking nervously at the two empty seats to her right, but later she admitted that even though she was petrified of being singled out, she kind of hoped she would be. I hoped she would be too, because what would be the odds of Puddles striking twice in the same row of chairs?

Eventually, some single broad sat down at the end of our row. I half-noticed that she and Monica exchanged a few words, starting with “Is anyone sitting here?” and the next thing I knew, Monica turned to Chris and said, “Hey Chris, this girl had her car punched in L.A., too!” because Chris used to live in L.A. and had her car punched once. So then Chris and Single Broad started comparing car-punching tales and I thought to myself, “WTF could either of them had possibly said to each other to initiate the topic of car-punching?!” I asked Monica after the show and she sincerely couldn’t remember.

My theory is that the broad thanked Monica for saving her seat while she was at the bar, and Monica said, “My fiancée had her car punched one time in L.A. TOO BAD I WASN’T THERE TO SAVE THAT.”

It was super random* and weird, which made Monica’s request to have Chooch swinging on a wrecking ball at their wedding seem reasonable.

*(Turns out, having your car punched in L.A. is actually not so random, according to Monica’s new BFF; maybe the next season of Serial should be about that.)

But then it was time for Puddles! He came in from the back of the room, carrying a suitcase and IMMEDIATELY pulled some man out of the audience. Without giving anything away, I will say that he mostly didn’t torture his non-consenting volunteers too much. Mostly he just sung Happy Birthday to them, but there was one old man who he made sing “Yesterday” and I was so thankful it wasn’t me. You guys have no idea how terrible of a singer I am unless you were around for the Blogathon days, then you unfortunately do know, and might even have waking nightmares of me singing Andy Gibb. I TRULY APOLOGIZE.

I wasn’t expecting to do so much laughing, but Puddles is a great entertainer! My favorite part was definitely when he sang Sia’s “Chandelier,” which I recorded a snippet of for Chooch:

At one point, he totally seduced this one older man in the crowd who could have been Henry’s brother.

“I REALLY wish Henry would have come!” Monica cried, and I wholeheartedly agreed.

Oh Internet, can you imagine Henry getting pulled on stage by a giant clown?! UGH, Henry is the worst for not going! I’m glad I remembered that I’m mad at him!

And none of us ended up being traumatized by a stage summons! I do wish Monica had gotten picked though.

There were no openers so the show was just over an hour long, which actually felt just right to me. Afterward, we stood in line for free Puddles Cuddles, and my anxiety came back because I hate having my picture taken, but I HAD TO GET ONE because a picture of Puddles will look so wonderful in my future clown room. And then it ended up being OK, because I just made a sad face, which is more natural on me than a smile. So this is basically my regular face:

AND GUESS WHO LIKED MY PURSE, CHOOCH? Oh just my new friend, PUDDLES, no big deal!

On the way back to the car, we stopped at Le Petit Chocolat for cupcakes and chocolate, and I was pleasantly surprised! These were pretty damn close to my beloved Vanilla Pastry Studio masterpieces.

Clowns and cupcakes—what a night! I wouldn’t have known about Puddles if not for Chris, so thank you Chris! It’s always nice to go to a show that’s a bit out of my wheelhouse. #noscreaming