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

Kurt Travis – “It’s All Over”

I was revisiting the latest Kurt Travis solo album last night (“Everything Is Beautiful”) and forgot how much I loved it, especially THISSONG OHGODBESTILLMYHEART. Chooch and I were watching live performances of it on YouTube (and also PVRIS interviews, because Chooch and I are scene girls); we love taking over the TV and making Henry sit sadly in a corner, wishing he was watching some dumb show on Spike TV.

“Maybe if it was a live Judas Priest video, you would care,” I said.

“Yeah, because that’s what I do in my spare time: watch live Judas Priest videos,” Henry snapped.

Anyway, this song is everything, please listen. (If you hate it I’M SORRY. I DID NOT WRITE THIS SONG.) I can’t wait to see Kurt again soon. (Ideally, not with Jonny Craig next time*.)

*OMG this is a Henry guest post and it’s worth reading if you’re a fan of Henry being angry and forced to do things.

Disclaimer: I can’t write objectively about Dance Gavin Dance and this post is all over the place because I’m like a little kid who just ate three meals of candy.

Before I get into the juicy details of last week’s Dance Gavin Dance show, please indulge me while I explain the sordid history of this band and what it has been like to be a fan: I go through a lot of phases, musically, but my love for Dance Gavin Dance has only gotten stronger over the years. From the moment I first heard them in my car, driving home from Cincinnati in the winter of 2008, I was entranced. I had just randomly downloaded a bunch of their stuff based on their band name and the fact that they were listed on PureVolume as post-hardcore and that is MY FAVORITE GENRE. (The amount of times I have struggled to explain what ‘post-hardcore” means to people at work is hilarious; it’s kind of like the new “wtf is emo?” in that it’s almost impossible for me to put into layman’s terms. Wiki it, I guess? Good luck!) Downtown Battle Mountain is right up there on my Stranded on an Island album list.

This was also, sadly, the start of a 7-year relationship-threatening obsession with their original clean vocalist, Jonny Craig. Thankfully, he’s no longer in DGD, which is great because I hate him now and he could have easily destroyed DGD.

Jonny era:

To this day, I have yet to hear another band that sounds even remotely like them and, in my opinion, they have only gotten better with age. The only time my love for them was strained was after they kicked out Jonny for the first time and replaced him with Kurt Travis for two albums. Look, I LOVE Kurt Travis. But during that time, their screamer Jon Mess had also left the band and his role has always been one of my favorite parts of DGD. (In fact, I think I actually fangirl over Jon more than anyone else in the band.) I only saw them live twice during the Kurt Travis-era, and ironically once was a tour where past, present and future DGD vocalists were all on: Jonny Craig was there with Emarosa, Kurt with DGD, and Tilian was there with Tides of Man. (This was in 2009, and it was also the first time I ever saw Of Mice & Men and then fell in love with Of Machines, who are sadly no longer together.) It just didn’t click with me, though I have much more appreciation for the Kurt albums now than I did then.

Kurt era:

The summer of 2010, they brought Jonny back for a new album and a tour and this was supposed to be their swan song; Jon Mess came back too and it was like the biggest music orgasm for me. I got to see Jonny perform with DGD twice after that and it was like a dream come true, and then they announced that they were going to write another new album with Jonny and it seemed like their future was so bright. Except that Jonny is a forever fuck-up and they ended up having to kick him out again, in the middle of a tour. It seemed like this was it for them for sure. Maybe Jon, Will, and Matt would just make their side project, Secret Band, their priority.

But then they announced that Tilian Pearson, formerly of Tides of Man, would be their new singer. I was on the fence. In 2011, I saw Emarosa with Tilian as an interim singer; Jonny, who was trying to be in Emarosa and DGD at the same time that year, was forced off the Emarosa tour and into detox on the same day as the Pittsburgh show. Tilian’s brother’s band at the time was also on that tour, so I guess that’s how Tilian came into play. Tilian did fine…but he wasn’t Jonny. And this is how I felt the first time I saw him with DGD at the Altar Bar. It felt wrong to me. But you guys, when they eventually recorded new music with Tilian, everything fell into place and I made a statement that I never thought I would say: Tilian is my favorite DGD singer. They just sound so cohesive with him, and he has really gotten more comfortable with performing the old stuff too. All of that said, it has been a really rewarding time to be a DGD fan. I’m Team Tilian, and DGD remains one of my favorite bands of all time.

(Henry is probably reading this and thinking, “Trust me, this is the short version.”)

Tilian era:

ANYWAY! I’m so excited because their second album with Tilian just came out in April and they were here in Pittsburgh last Sunday! I had butterflies in my stomach all weekend and kept shouting, “AREN’T YOU SO EXCITED?!?” in Henry’s face. Surprisingly, he doesn’t hate them like you would expect him to. He admitted a few years ago that he kind of liked them and I just knew it. The Robot With Human Hair Pt 2 was his ringtone for me for awhile, for Christ’s sake! He just doesn’t like being the token Old Man at all of their shows, is all.

• Henry was annoyed because instead of sitting in the car and waiting for doors to open, he had to stand in line with all of the kids. To be fair, the average age was probably about 24, but I guess when you’re as old as Henry, even that constitutes as a “kid.” There was this one teenage boy in front of us, though. His name was Collin and I know this because his mom pulled up alongside the line in her mom-wagon and started shouting, “Collin! Collin! COLLIN!” until he dejectedly left the line and walked over to her car with his head down. “I can’t wait to do that shit to Chooch,” I laughed. “Yeah, except you’ll be calling from another part of the line,” Henry mumbled. And this is probably true. Unless he starts listening to crappy bands when he’s older.
• I had a tiny container of miniature Altoids, and I tried to get Henry to pretend like they were Grown-Up drugs with me, but he was like, “Don’t be stupid.”
• As soon as we got inside Mr. Small’s, I saw Christopher Kim at the Polyphia merch booth and I got so excited! He recently made waves for leaving Jonny Craig’s current band, Slaves, and has been pretty candid on Twitter about how fucked that band is so of course I love him because Team Anyone But Slaves. I was too shy to say anything to him so I took the creepy way out and tweeted about seeing him and then he favorited it so basically, we met.
• Henry plied me with Angry Orchard in an attempt to get me to stop talking a mile a minute. I WAS SO EXCITED!!!!
• Stolas was the opening band. We saw them last September with Hail the Sun and Icarus the Owl and I loved them immediately. They’re on Will Swan’s label, Blue Swan, and are part of this intricate, technical post-hardcore sub genre that I feel like DGD should take full credit for; they’re the godfathers of this style at this point. I’ve never been a fan of prog-rock in the traditional sense, but when elements of this style is car-crashed with a post-hardcore foundation, it makes me want to start punching faces. Stolas was the perfect way to start this night. My favorite part about them is that some parts of their songs downright sound like incantations. Henry’s review: “No.”
• I like to call Henry “bae” sometimes, ironically of course, just to annoy him. But when I’m really giddy, and I was Really Giddy, I apparently called him my ride or die. “Can I choose ‘or die’?” he mumbled, while continuing to look at whatever uninteresting info his phone was showing him.
• A band I used to love was playing whilePolyphia was setting up and I played Henry’s favorite game with him, which is “Trying to Get Henry to Guess the Band & Making Him Feel Like Shit When He Fails.” Here are the clues I gave him:
  • This album is called The Ugly Organ.
  • Henry hates them.
  • Tim Kasher is their singer.
  • His other band is The Good Life.
  • We saw them at Coachella in 2004.
  • Saddlecreek.
  • “My ego’s like my stomach– it keeps shitting what I feed it.”
    • If you guessed Cursive, then you have one more point than Henry does.
• Hail the Sun is amazing. That’s literally the note I wrote myself in my phone. This was my fourth time seeing them and they just keep getting better. We saw their drummer/singer Donovan outside of the venue when we were in line and even Henry knew who he was because HE CAN’T ESCAPE THIS SCENE. Imagine how boring his life would be if he was with a girl who only listened to the radio. Boring, but probably a lot happier and with less headaches, haha. Henry’s review: “*shrugged* It’s too early in the morning for this. You should have been a news reporter.”
• The crowd was so much better than at the Circa Survive show earlier in the week. I was basically in love with every one there. Maybe those really were Grown-Up Drugs in my Altoids tin….
  • The cider also helped.
• Polyphia, holy shit. This was my first time seeing them and they blew my fucking mind. Like CHON, they’re also 100% instrumental. The crowd went apeshit over them and I think it says a lot about the talent of a band when they can capture the attention of young people without gimmicks or, you know, a vocalist. Henry did not like them, but that means nothing.

And then……..DGD!

Here are the notes I had in my phone:

• THUG CITY
• EVERYTHING IS AMAZING
• PERFECT CROWD
• JONNY WHO
• TILIAN IS THE BEST

Oh no, tangent: What I love the most about DGD fans is that most of them are music geeks in that they understand and appreciate the technicality involved in DGD’s music. These are the kinds of people who want to meet Will Swan after the show to talk about time signatures and ask him about his pedals. This is why I think that DGD is so fucking underrated. They’ve been unfairly marginalized and stuffed into a generic scene pigeonhole, which is why I think that their fan base remains young. Young people keep their minds open when it comes to music. Granted, there were some people at the show around my age, but it made me wonder: why hasn’t their fan base grown with them? Why do people hit a certain age in their 20s and just abandon what they used to love? I hope that doesn’t happen to me, ever.

DON’T PANIC, I’VE GOT A PLAN:

Tilian can sing any of the Jonny-era songs with motherfucking panache.

I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY! This post is all over the place, just like their music, and just like my brain. One of the things that I miss most about Barb not working at The Law Firm anymore is that I wasn’t able to go to work the next day and vomit all of my feelings onto her desk. She was always so good about patiently listening to me jaw off about DGD! I remember telling her a long time ago that I liked this music because it panders to the dysfunction in my head; it’s what my brain would play if you plopped it on a turntable and put the needle down.

“I just love Jon Mess so much!” I shouted to Henry. “Did you know he’s a genius?” I LOVE REMINDING HENRY OF THAT! I have never loved a screamer so much before.

I didn’t stop moving the entire night and my body spent the next two days reminding me of Sunday’s perfection. I think I smiled all day long on Monday. MONDAY! Come at me, work week; I just saw DGD.

I’m so proud of this band for powering through all of the shit and turmoil and managing to create two beautiful works of art with Tilian. It feels so good to be a DGD fan. One of these days, I’m going to finally get that Robot with Human Hair tattoo. He might be holding a sword-speared strawberry.

Henry’s review: “I’ve heard all of these songs. Many times.”

HAHA SIKE. This is just another post about Warped Tour and not actually the maniacal manifesto/illegible murder confession that I think some people (Henry) have been nervously expecting.

Every time I look at the Warped Tour lineup for 2015, I feel like I might have immaculately conceived. The only downside is that there is no way I’m going to be able to see every single band on my list; there are just too many and some are bound to overlap. #musicfestivalproblems

In all of my obsessive Warped Tour thinking/planning/daydreaming, I uncovered some photos of Chooch that I never posted from his first time at Warped Tour in 2013. They were lost in some random desktop folder, probably Henry’s fault.

Christofer Drew is offering 45-minute songwriting classes this summer and Chooch and I have been talking about whether he wants me to sign him up for that or not. It costs extra, and if he’s going to get all starstruck like the last time he met Christofer, then that’s kind of a waste.

Chooch was all pissed off a few weeks ago because he was waiting for the bus that takes him to the after school program, when some middle school girl walked past him, saw that he was wearing a Pierce the Veil shirt, and said, “You probably don’t even listen to Pierce the Veil.” Bitch, he was singing Isles and Glaciers songs when he was still sitting in a CAR SEAT, so shut your dumb face.

If she only knew that he was practically born into this scene! Last night, I was YouTubing live Dance Gavin Dance videos while Chooch was putting together some Minecraft Lego thing, when he said, “Put on something from when Kurt Travis was the singer.” And then we watched an entire A Lot Like Birds show.

Because clearly, Chooch is a poser.

I hope we see that girl at the Sleeping With Sirens show next month. You know, if she was able to get tickets before they sold out in less than 5 days.

I posted a picture of my Warped Tour ticket (it’s the special 3D collectors ticket with Choonimals artwork, duh) on Instagram and WARPED TOUR REGRAMMED ME!

^^^^ Totally the apogee of my Instagram tenure.

TWO MORE MONTHS. TWO MORE MONTHS. TWO MORE MOTHERFUCKING MONTHS!!!

Me, looking around at all of the groups of friends who were stoked to be seeing Circa Survive together: Don’t you wish we had a crew?

Henry: Nope. I wish you did.

*********

Tuesday, April 28th marked my 4th time seeing Circa Survive in the span of one year. (The 6th time seeing Anthony Green in general, though, if you count the Sound of Animals Fighting and Saosin.) And it’s  too early in the morning for me to attempt and count how many times since 2005. Suffice to say, I really love this band and I was giddy as fuck all day at work because I was going to see them that night.

We went straight to Millvale after Henry picked me up from work and ate at the Grant Bar & Lounge. How have I been going to shows at Mr. Small’s for more than a decade and never eaten here?! And to think we were originally going to eat at the Subway across the street.

This place was everything I love in a dive: First, you have to walk through the bar to get to the dining room so you can take a quick tour of the town’s underbelly. And the walls are faux-stone! It was so Bavarian! I LOVE BAVARIAN.

Old school waitress buzzer!

I can’t really explain why else I liked this joint so much, other than you could tell it hadn’t been renovated since before I was born. I love dark, cave-like restaurants.

Henry had a burger and I had a grilled portabello sandwich with homemade onion rings. The food was fine (my Yelp nemesis gave them a thirty paragraph review all to say that his experience was “fair, a three-star experience, the Thesaurus taught me 92 new words as I was writing this review.” Fuck, I hate that man so badly. Of course, he gave 5 stars to the place in Millvale I originally wanted to try, so now I’m glad we didn’t go there), but it was really the ambiance that made it special for me. (Until the bitch-baby in the booth across from us started acting like an asshole and of course no one cared because she was the granddaughter of one of the waitresses and every single person eating there was a townie and used to it.)

We were about to pay the check when I overheard the old broads in the booth behind us inquire about the desserts, and our waitress started bragging about the coconut cream pie. THAT IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE PIES. But it’s really easy to get a shitty piece. They ended up ordering it and when I saw that the topping was whipped cream and not meringue (a thousands fist-shakes in the face of meringue), I had to order a piece ASAP.

And I shouldn’t have, because my stomach was already emitting a series of beeps and shocks to remind me that it was over capacity.

But, pie.

COCONUT CREAM pie.

It was the best damn coconut cream pie I have ever had, and I felt so strongly about this that I wrote a “Dear Grant’s Bar” love letter on the back on the check. (Henry was just happy that it was a positive ode for once, and not one of my infamous THIS PLACE SUCKS I HOPE YOU DIE death threats that I may have been known to scrawl from time to time before dashing out the door.)

However, those last forkfuls of food (what would my Yelp nemesis have used here? Vittles? Sustenance? Something Arabic?) really sent my digestive system into overdrive. I thought I would feel better once we walked to Mr. Small’s afterward, because walking off a meal typically helps me, but no. I spent the rest of the night in deep regret. And by regret I mean that I reached a point where I couldn’t even stand up straight. And of course it was a sold out show, and the balcony area was VIP-only that night.

We ended up all of the way in the front row, but over the side, so I could lean against the stage all night. And lean I did. At some points, I was also sagged and half-collapsed across it, too. The pain was real and just kept getting worse.

The opening band was CHON. I knew that Henry wouldn’t like them. I whispered, “FYI, they don’t sing” when we were waiting for them to come out. Henry HATES that. But I have been following them on Facebook for a few years and was excited to finally see them. I heard a girl nearby ask the guy next to her if they were the same style as Circa Survive. The guy and I both laughed at the same time, and he said, “Uh, no. Not at all.”

I’m sorry, Henry, but they were pretty sick to watch and I felt like they were channeling Chuck Mangione at times. I don’t listen to this style of music very often, but it served as a nice reminder that vocals aren’t always necessary to feel something, and I am definitely guilty of focusing too much on the singing sometimes.

Balance and Composure was next and I have to be honest here: seeing that they were on this tour made me even more excited about it because I have liked them for years yet have somehow never seen them live!

I have also never really paid attention to what they look like, so I was in for a shock when they took the stage because Jon, the singer, looked so much like my co-worker A-ron that I started to wig out a little bit. I kept taking pictures to send to all of my work friends, and the next day 98% of them were like, “Holy shit, are we sure it’s not really A-ron?!” except for TODD who said that it only kind of looked like him, and JEANNIE who frowned and said “not at all” and that it just looked like “an average guy with brown hair.”

“If everyone else said it didn’t look like him, you would say it did,” I said to Jeannie in a huff, which just made her laugh BECAUSE IT’S TRUE! She enjoys being the voice of dissent. But whatever, because when I saw A-ron that day, I said to him, “I’m surprised you’re here today after your big show last night” and then I showed him the picture and A-RON HIMSELF WAS LIKE OMG. But showing him turned out to be a mistake because it totally went to his head and then he kept making air-guitar motions and that was just weird.

Anyway, seeing Balance and Composure was worth the wait. I loved it, even though my stomach was like, “NOW can we go home??”

“Remember that coconut cream pie?” I dreamily said to Henry after CHON, punctuating it with a tiny burp.

“It wasn’t that great,” he mumbled.

Somewhere in between CHON and B&C, the super normal, inoffensive and unassuming girl who was next to me moved to a different spot and before I had the chance to move over into her vacated space, the grossest couple usurped it from me. The girl was about 5 feet tall and had SCENE HAIR. I haven’t seen SCENE HAIR since 2009. It was big and teased and so close to my face that I fixated on ripping out the bobby pins all night. And she stunk, you guys. Like Love’s Baby Soft and filth.

Now I’m picturing her trying to visit someone in jail with all of those bobby pins in her gross hair.

Her boyfriend was this big fucking Jersey Shore gorilla juice head who was wearing a TIGHT DRESS SHIRT.

You know how sometimes you just can’t help it, but you hate someone on sight? These were two people who did not have to give you any more of a reason to hate them other than just existing. AND THEY KEPT LOVINGLY GIVING EACH OTHER PECKS ON THE LIPS as if I wasn’t already having a hard time holding back my bile. I was having vivid hallucinations of yanking the rat’s nest off her head, I just couldn’t stand her. And during B&C, she spotted Anthony Green and squealed to her boyfriend and then jumped up and down and clapped her tiny little scene-fairy hands and I was like OH HOW FUCKING SWEET. YES I’M SURE YOU HAVE A SHOT WITH ANTHONY GREEN.

Then Gorilla Juice Head left her to stand ALL ALONE while he went and purchased practically one of everything from the merch booth for her, which she then kept in a pile on the side-stage area in front of her, and I swear to god she kept looking at me over her shoulder and then sliding her t-shirts closer to her, like yeah bitch, I’m going to steal your XS shirts. I just hated the way she kept looking at me, like I didn’t belong there, and I know it’s awful and I shouldn’t care, but it made me feel really uncomfortable (like I wasn’t already thanks to Grant’s Bar) and I started to feel like everyone was staring at me and that maybe I really didn’t belong there, and I haven’t had such low self-esteem issues like that at a show in a REALLY LONG TIME.

I would have just moved somewhere else, but I really needed to stay where I was because leaning against that stage was like a literal crutch for me, that’s how bad my stomach hurt. It was a sold-out show, and there was quite honestly no better place for me to go, other than home. And I wasn’t leaving without seeing Circa Survive.

Then this happened: 

WOW JUST WOW HENRY.  
Also, I felt disoriented because I swear every time we go to Mr. Small’s, something in there has changed. They’re constantly working on additions, which is great, but it’s made it seem very unfamiliar to me. I felt like a stranger in a place that used to be home.

And this is why this ended up being the worst Circa Survive show I’ve ever gone to. And it’s nothing against the band at all, because they were such amaze much wow as usual. I just could barely enjoy it.

They played all of my faves from Juturna. That album never gets old.

I felt like I was floating out of my body at one point. The pain, so real. Call an ambulance. And Henry kept getting pushed into me and every time I felt his belly pressing into my back I wanted to fucking murder him. I kept turning around to glare at him and he hissed, “What do you want me to do? Do you SEE all of the people in here?!” Ugh, I just didn’t want to be touched! It was terrible! Anthony’s antics were only making it slightly more tolerable, but I admittedly kept praying, “Please let this be the last song” 20 minutes into their set. It was hard enough standing there in physical pain, but the vibe from the crowd exacerbated my discomfort. Even Henry was like, “There were a lot of assholes there that night.” And Henry’s threshold for assholes is much greater than mine.

I was really looking forward to this show. I woke up with that excited thrill in my belly and spent all day at work bouncing in my seat, counting down the minutes. But, I guess they can’t all be wins, right? This show ranks at the bottom, with the 2005 Grog Shop show and last December’s Philly show with Terri tying for first place. That December hometown show was just so right on so many levels.

It took more than  two days for my stomach to make up with me. I don’t know what the hell Grant’s did to me, other than my stomach just being overly sensitive to greasy food these days. That’s one way to keep the weight off!

***

Today, while following Chooch around on a bike trail, I asked Henry some questions about his billionth Circa Survive experience. Here are his scintillating* answers:

*(I did not consult a Thesaurus on that, thx.)

What did you think of CHON?

*gives me a ‘don’t be stupid’ look*

Did you like Balance and Composure?

Ehhhhhhhh. Not really.

If you could use your beard to smuggle anything into a concert, what would it be?

I don’t know. I wouldn’t. Why do I need to smuggle anything in? I just want to get out. 

Do you like old or new Circa Survive songs best?

I don’t know the difference. *mumbles: I can’t believe I’m answering these*

What was the highlight for you? You’re sleeping!!

I’m not sleeping, I’m thinking! I don’t know. Two girls fighting at the end. 

Off the top of your head, name three bands that you dislike seeing even more than Circa Survive.

Whatever that first band was. Crone? Cron? 

Slaves. 

If Anthony Green started a line of barbeque sauces, how tempted would you be to try them?

That’s a weird question. I would try them, but only because it’s barbecue sauce.  

I would pour some on my Anthony Greenbeans and dip my Circa Surfries in it. How does it make you feel when Anthony spreads his mouth open with his hands?

Weird. 

Does it bring back prepubescent memories of sexual confusion?

*sleeping for real*

HENRY!!!

No. 

(I don’t think he understood the question.)

3 comments

Clearly, Dance Gavin Dance is one of my favorite bands in the whole entire world, so when they offered an extremely limited edition mega-bundle pre-order that included hand-written lyrics, my brain was like DO NOT EVEN LOOK AT THE PRICE JUST FUCKING PURCHASE! So I did and Henry was like, “That’s fine. I didn’t need to buy groceries this week.” Except that he kept those surly sentiments in his head because he knows better than to get lippy with me when it comes to band stuff.

I got my pre-order in the mail last week, and a day later, the lyrics were sent directly from Tilian Pearson! (I was very happy with the song that was chosen for me, too! Although, I would have been happy with any of them, to be honest, because this new album is perfection.) I couldn’t wait to go out and buy a frame for the lyrics, but then I was like, “HENRY CAN YOU MAKE ME A MAT OUT OF THE INSTANT GRATIFICATION ALBUM ART?!” and he did it because he is the fucking best in the whole entire world and I love him.

(I only love him when he’s doing shit for me, FYI. I haven’t turned soft on you.)

And now it’s on the wall, right next to the DGD painting I made back in 2008 out of the DGD t-shirt that Christina bought for me that fit too awkwardly.

I’m so happy right now. It’s the little things, guys.

And a big shout out to Mattias Adolfsson, the phenomenal artist who designed most of DGD’s album covers. I am infatuated with him.

Here are some pictures of things that happened today.

Apparently, I had just a smidge too much wine last night, because when I woke up this morning, I felt like I had spent the night at Burning Man, and not just hosting several friends for a Marcy memorial. Wine hangovers are my jam, if by that I mean that I just puked into a jar of Smuckers. Luckily, I recovered in time to be able to traipse around the cemetery with Henry while Chooch was at piano.

Traipsing.

The cemetery in which the traipsing occurred.

Me: “Why do you need a stick?”

Henry: “In case I need to hit a hipster on a bike.”

Valid.

Then we went to the mausoleum to pee and I wanted Henry to take fun and hilarious selfies with me but then I remembered that he’s against fun.

After Chooch’s piano lesson, we went to the playground in North Park, where Chooch managed to kick a soccer ball into his face, flip through the air, fall into a tree stump, and start bleeding all within 10 seconds. It was truly a sight to behold. Then he complained that he didn’t have anyone to play with and we were like THERE ARE NO LESS THAN 8 BOYS AROUND YOUR OWN AGE MILLING ABOUT AIMLESSLY JUST LIKE YOU’RE DOING, GO PICK ONE TO BE AWKWARD WITH.

Then after awhile I realized I hadn’t seen him for a good 10 minutes (there was some car race happening in the parking lot, and it was distracting me from being a parent).  “Where is our child?” I asked and Henry just shrugged. “I don’t know. Over in Pouter’s Field somewhere.” That’s when we found him sitting behind a tree like the Saddest Kid Ever, which was kind of apropos since it’s National Only Child Day (technically he’s not, but when your siblings are 14+ years older than you….).

And that is how Henry and I were guilted into kicking a soccer ball back and forth even though Henry has two broken Pallet Jack Feet and I was wearing TOMS. (Have you ever kicked a soccer ball while wearing TOMS? Feels fucking fantastic.)

Then we went to Kelley’s Dari Delite for ice cream and I changed my mind 18 times (seriously—hard ice cream or soft serve?! A milkshake or a sundae!?) but eventually opted for maple soft serve (maple is my everything) with crunchies and for once I felt pretty secure in my final decision.

Not actually whining.

And now I will leave you with my current favorite song from the new Dance Gavin Dance album, Instant Gratification, which comes out on Tuesday and you should go buy it. Borderline infatuated with it. OK fine, lose the “borderline.” I’m straight psycho for this record. I was trying to tell Henry earlier how perfect Tilian Pearson is for Dance Gavin Dance, and how it’s almost like Jonny Craig was never even in this band, but then I started to cry, because #emotions #posthardcoreprobs #scenekidsentiments

(That 2:07 mark, tho. Heart eyes for days.)