July 12th, 2012: Warped Tour, a/k/a Erin R. Kelly’s Christmas.

Oh you guys, I can’t even begin to explain how badly I need this day every year. It’s that one day where I don’t give a shit what I look like, how much I weigh, that my finger is engagement ringless. Mama don’t care! On this day, I’m not a mom, not a girlfriend, not a Law Firm grunt, not a blogger or a serial annoyer; I am just a music fan. I wake up with butterflies in my stomach – that awesome feeling of being on a roller coaster going up a hill? I’ve got that the whole way up until the gates of the venue are opened, and then it’s just an all-day, unrelenting rush of emotiblahblahblah blah blahhhh Erin is a scene ladykid who probably has a drawerful of YOLO tanks.

No one comes here to read this emo shit. Bring on the dramzzz, right?

There was definitely a big scoop of pre-Warped drama, stemming from when Henry nearly couldn’t be my date, CAN YOU IMAGINE? He almost had to work that day (actually, he was supposed to work that day but pulled some strings, moved some shit around, did what he had to do to keep his big bitchbaby girlfriend placated) and even tried to PAY Christina to go with me, which would have been a disaster so thank god she’s too wishywashy to say yes. (Worst Warped Tour ever was 2007 when I went with her and her sister; just awful.) My alternate date was Chooch. This seemed like a swell idea at first, probably because I was drunk when I thought of it. But can you imagine? Maybe all three of us together (with a SWAT team behind us) would be OK, but Chooch and me alone? No.

(He was actually on board to go once he saw pictures of Warped Tour that included girls in bikinis. Scandelous.)

I cried. I stamped my feet. I slammed doors. I didn’t talk to Henry for an entire day* because of this and made sure everyone at work knew that my boyfriend was a horrible human being.

*(That’s a long time for a couple who barely fight! No seriously, that wasn’t a joke.)

But then two nights before the day of Warped Tour, Henry came through and said that he would indeed be able to go. The next day at work, I was called a “crybaby” and “spoiled brat” by unnamed co-workers.

(Lee.)

I would have gone by myself if I had to, but I sure was happy that my official Warped Tour partner was able to come along for yet another year.  And I don’t care what he says, we both had a good time. I think Henry’s favorite part was when we were up front during Of Mice & Men and got to see the conveyor belt of injured fans being carried away by security staff and medics, such as:

• girl with busted nose so bloody, it almost appeared that it had been ripped entirely off
• guy who landed supine on the asphalt
• guy who was 100% unconscious
• girl who was crying hysterically to the chief security guy; Henry postulated that she had something in her eye (I have no idea where he got that idea) but I’m pretty sure she was telling him that she was touched inappropriately by another security guy.

The downside to Of Mice & Men was that Blood on the Dance Floor was playing after them and one of their members TOUCHED ME when he was cutting through the crowd to get back behind the stage.

 I apparently thought this was worth capturing for posterity.

The band I most wanted to see this year was Warped Tour darlings Pierce the Veil, because it’s the only band that Henry and I both mutually love. They just released a new album last week, and their first single features Kellin Quinn on guest vocals. It is so fucking sick, you guys. So fucking sick. What makes me like them so much is definitely the lyrics. Their songs are morbid, romantic (in a the truest Romeo & Juliet sense), heart-wrenching and violent all at once, without sounding like a funeral dirge. They make you want to dance while Vic is singing about post-mortem kissing.  Lyrically, I can’t help but compare them to the Cure and I think if Robert Smith ever read some of their lyrics, he’d be hard-pressed not to crack at least half of a red-lipsticked smile.

Basically, they write the songs I would write if I could write songs. I think Vic Fuentes is fucking brilliant.

For some reason, Pierce the Veil gets lumped in under the Bands That Little Girls Love OMG category, I guess because they’re a bunch of super cute Mexicans? But really, these guys BRING IT and the crowd can get pretty violent.  When bands play on the stage under the ampitheater, it makes it hard for those of us overprotective of our bones to get as close to the stage as we want. Everyone jams in this tiny pit between the front row of seats and the stage and it just looks completely unsavory to me and my old lady joints.

I grabbed two seats in the first row after the barricade, which Henry was totally not thrilled about. (He even “pretended” to “not see” where I went, so I had to sit alone for a few mintes before the set started. I had to stop myself from squealing to the teenage girls next to me, “OMG DO YOU THINK KELLIN WILL COME OUT AND SING WITH THEM!?” I mean, duh, of course that was going to happen considering Kellin’s band Sleeping With Sirens is also on Warped Tour this year. DUH, YOU GUYS.

A circle pit erupted almost immediately, causing a wall of bodies to press back against the barricade, which in turn pressed back against the row of empty seats in front of us.

“Um, I hope they used good bolts,” Henry yelled in my ear, pointing at the green plastic seats which were now being angrily thrusted against our thighs. And then the lady in front of Henry turned around and they shared some HAHAHAHAHA FUNNY REMARK about the peril we’d be sure to find ourselves in if those bolts gave out. That’s OK, lady, I’m sure Henry will save you first when the avalanche of bodies comes crashes through the barricade and I’m left vivisected and needing a wheelchair for real.

 And then I couldn’t stop fixating on it. I started looking up at the rafters, imagining other things that could go wrong; but despite all the Final Destination paranoia, I was still able to enjoy the show. (And cry a lot. God, I love them.)

Fucker put his arm up and blocked Kellin Quinn (OMG KELLIN QUINN CAME OUT AND SANG!) right when I took this picture.

I really loved Henry for about fifteen minutes after Pierce the Veil’s set. Residual ephoria, I guess. I don’t know. But that all ended later on during Sleeping With Sirens. He was behind me the whole time, as far as I knew anyway, and when I leaned back during the last song (our never-wedding song!!), it was not Henry’s nondescript shirt-covered Mountain Dew belly that I found myself lovingly resting against, but the SUNKEN IN CHEST OF SOME ACNE-RIDDEN SWEATY TEENAGE BOY, WTF HENRY?! Oh, I wanted to die.

And that’s when I saw Henry HUNDREDS OF YARDS (I don’t even know what yards are) away from me. I stormed over to him after the set was over and he said, “What? I was hot. I didn’t want to stand in the crowd anymore.”

HE COMPLETELY MISSED OUR (MY) SONG!!!

I stormed off quickly toward the stage where Taking Back Sunday had just started playing, purposely losing him in the process. This happens once every Warped Tour. It’s OK, you guys.

Then this text exchange panned out:

When he found me, I tried to psychically knee him in the balls, but my pissed-off act never lasts around him anymore. I guess I’m just too downtrodden at this point. We made eye contact and then both started laughing and lived happily ever after until I started bugging him about buying me merch. (Finally bought me a Vans tanktop near the end of the night when most of the other tents had already been taken down.)

The brightside is that Henry was already at that particular stage, because he actaully paid attention earlier and knew that Taking Back Sunday was on the day’s itinerary. D’aw, Henry loves me!

 Bands We Saw:

• Chelsea Grin
• Four Year Strong
• Vanna
• Emily’s Army
• Funeral Party
• We Are the Ocean
• Title Fight
• You Me At Six
• Of Mice & Men
• Pierce the Veil
• Sleeping with Sirens
• Miss May I
• LoveBite
• Chunk! No, Captain Chunk!
• Anthony Ranieri (acoustic)
• Bayside
• Taking Back Sunday
• Breathe Carolina
• I Fight Dragons
• The Used

 I don’t know what else to say. It was a wonderful day, but if I write anymore, it’s going to start sounding like the shit I write in my diary, with bubble letters in pink ink SMEARED BY MY ERRANT TEARS.  In a nutshell: we saw some incredible bands, ran into Blake who immediately panhandled on Henry, I got to release a ton of built-up angst and rage,  Henry got to take a short nap in the grass and for the first time since 2004, I was able to hear The Used without getting upset. I don’t even think I hated anyone that day.

Until next year, my fair Warped Tour. :(

And it’s good enough to make me wanna fall in love
So now you’d better think close
And hear the sound of your voice
We’re screaming, “why can’t we just be friends?”
It’s not that easy, but it’s half of the fun
To see you throw the first punch now

This is relevant to current situations in my life and I am guilty of listening to it approximately 87 times a day for the last month because Pierce the Veil provides therapy for me that laying on a couch in a cold office will never come close to achieving. There is so much more I could say about that, but I know no one reads this shit for music lessons.

So I will just keep beating Henry’s ear with my emo dissertations which includes the line, “THIS SONG MAKES ME WANT TO DIEEEEE” while crying behind my Mary Kate sunglasses.

Their new album comes out today. This coincides with the July Birthday celebration at work, so when I eat my cake today I’m going to be celebrating the growth of one of my favorite bands instead of my birthday.

  I already told Barb this yesterday and her non-commital “Whatever” made me feel like she’s OK with that.

(Ew, and apparently GLENN and LEE are also July babies and Barb threatened to make me stand in between them when the cake thing happens.)

I’m not depressed, but I feel kind of like I’m in a bubble. Needs more Warped Tour. :(

FML. FML. FMFL.

Was forced to go to Warped Tour again. It was pretty terrible but not as bad as in previous years, mostly because we are only marginally poor now so I was able to buy as many bottles of Coke as I wanted and I even bought FOOD this time instead of sitting under a tree, nibbling on contraband granola bars. (Erin still did this because she is a cheap whore and honestly thought she was going to save money to buy merch; little did she know she was funding my free-flowing supply of COCA COLA.

)

I don’t even like Coke.

It was hot, but not “need to apply Desitin in a bathroom stall” hot.

The first shitty band we saw was Chelsea Grin. They weren’t even on the stage yet and I knew I was going to hate them based on their bleeding eyeball signs. And then they came out and the screamer started screaming and it was like being anally probed by their band name’s font. Then the screamer started to sing and I said, “He should just go back to screaming” and Erin did that thing where she looks at me like I don’t get it. But what is there to get about a band who sound like a satchel of shrieking newborns on steroids. Of course Erin would like that shit because it sounded as schizophrenic as one of her daily temper tantrums.

I got a free beef jerky sample and that was pretty good. Here is a picture of me eating that. I don’t know what stupid band was playing during that though, but I bet there was screaming in it.

Then I ate some wings and fresh potato chips. Here is a picture of me eating that too. Sure, my meal cost about $20, but I didn’t mind so much because that was one less pair of scene kid YOLO booty shorts Erin could buy from some obnoxious merch dick. The fact that some stupid band was shouting on a nearby stage negated the happiness that I felt from the food. At least I got to sit down while I ate, but that was only because Erin was waiting for some other band to start playing so she let me.

And then that band began playing and I got to re-taste my meal.

Everyone depended on me to hold up the barrier during Pierce the Veil. We are all lucky we’re alive. Those kids really act like feral hillbillies when they hear music sometimes. I was hoping one of them would hit me so I could punch them back call my mommy call the cops.

I know, it looks like I am sleeping while standing in this picture. That is because I am.

I’m surprised there was not a terrible band there called Sleeping While Standing.

Ugh, I hate kids and I hate music and I hate kids who love music. And I hate whatever band that is, too.

Sometimes I just walk away because I need to sit down.

Don’t look at the half-naked 16-year-old. Don’t look at the half-naked 16-year-old. Don’t let Erin see me looking at the half-naked 16-year-old.

Oh shit, don’t let the half-naked 16-year-old’s DAD see me looking at the half-naked 16-year-old.

COME AT ME, BRO.

Got to take a nap on the lawn during Breathe Carolina, which was great, but then I dreamt that I was drinking Yoo Hoo out of Jeffree Starr’s mouth with Jonny Craig. Woke up needing a cold shower and pissed that I know who Jeffree Starr is thanks to fucking Warped Tour.

Then the Used screamed some songs and I finally got to leave.

Highlights: beef jerky; avoiding Blood On the Dance Floor; not getting stuck in parking lot traffic on the way out.

Lowlights: Finding Erin after I lost her in the crowd; the existence of Blood On the Dance Floor; everything else.

Music has really gone downhill since I played in that Ted Nugent cover band when I was in THE SERVICE.

(I may have had some or a lot of help writing some or all of this.)

I am in a complete state of comedown today. Yesterday was such a blur: I wait all year for it and then it’s over in a whiplash-inducing flash. I’ve already cried in mourning. But the euphoria definitely outweighs the depression!

Before the gates opened.

Finding out Pierce the Veil’s set time was our (my) main priority.

Henry, dryly before Chelsea Grin even took the stage: I can already tell I’m going to love THEM.

I try to let him sit every couple hours.

Emily’s Army. I had a crush on the boy scout.

Ugh, Funeral Party was so sick. Of course there were only 10 people watching them with me because there were no gimmicks or ridiculous wardrobes or KISS-copying.

Waiting for Pierce the Veil.

;

Took this for Chooch. Missed him so much. :(

On the phone with his sister, fondling a broken pair of sunglasses he found on the ground.

AUSTIN CARLILE MAKES ME HAPPY. He screams the demons right the fuck out of my body.

Seriously, the best Mexicans ever. I love Pierce the Veil so hard and will probably start crying about it in 3….2….

The ever-omnipresent Jeffree Starr.

Our annual “I’m Stoked, Henry’s Not” picture. Henry actually did smile a few times though.

LIKE WHEN KELLIN QUINN SANG WITH PIERCE THE VEIL, ADMIT IT HENRY.

Backne popping during Sleeping with Sirens. Please join me in my repulsion.

Finally succumbed to exhaustion around the 7PM mark and crashed on the lawn during Breathe Carolina.

I still have to take the pictures off the regular camera, and I’ll be back with those and an actual account of Henry’s agony.

Fuck, that was the best day of the summer and I can’t wait to do it all over again 100 more times.

You with me, Henry?

Chooch started nosin’ through some of my old stuff in the bedroom while I was focusing on ruining Henry’s nap, when suddenly he laughed behind me and exclaimed, “What IS this?!”

Oh god, please don’t let it be some archaic vibrator or drug paraphernalia, I thought.

But it was just an old Bobby Brown cassette single, probably purchased at my favorite record store, Waves.

“Oh shit, we have to play this!” I screamed, while Henry was trying to convince Chooch we don’t have a tape player because he didnt want to deal with it. (You know, trying to nap and all.)

So then I spent the next 15 minutes struggling to mend an old tape player while Henry begged us both to just go downstairs. Finally, I achieved success! (And also a large quotient of dust in my nostrils.)

Finally, my bedroom was pregnant with the tinny tones of Bobby Brown crooning about humpin’ around while Henry rolled his weary eyes.

“Mommy, what’s this?” Chooch asked innocently, handing me a holographic bullet-like object, which for a moment I actually did mistake for a lady toy.

“Oh, that’s just a lighter that doesnt work anymore,” I said, but as I absent-mindedly struck it, a flame squirted out. “Oh, shit, it does work!” I laughed, tossing it back at Chooch’s chest.

“Yeah, so give it back to him, that’s great,” Henry mumbled, dragging a hand down his dark eye circles, at which point Chooch chucked the lighter at his face and we died laughing. And by “we,” I of course just mean Chooch and me. Henry has to relearn that function after the accident. And by “accident,” I of course mean out relationship.

There was no point to this, but Andrea is coming to Pittsburgh this week (she arrives after midnight!) and I am hyper! And I have at least three posts to write about my beloved Big Butler Fair but can’t find the time so I’m all stressed out but then I remembered, wait—this isn’t my job and no one cares.

Speaking of my job, I’m off all week!

This will never fail to make me lose it!

Ironically, listening to Drake (the rapper formerly known as Jimmy “Got Shot” Brooks on Degrassi) has been an immense help in getting through the Law Firm Walking Challenge.

As soon as this is over, I need to have a Degrassi marathon. My brother Corey doesn’t know it yet, but he’s bringing the (Canadian) snacks. My house is a pit, but you guys can come too.

Happy Father’s Day! Now go listen to this song and make more babies!

We’re making our annual Father’s Day trek to Kennywood with Blake, Henry’s mom, Laura and Mike. The Handas might be out there too so I’m going to pretend I have the whitest, honkiest hip hop crew today.

And I have a Law Firm Walking Challenge update, so check back! Or not!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All this pedometer-checking has me tight-roping on the edge of sanity.

But it’s OK. I got this.

(Also? Team Wheelchair Jimmy 4lyfe. Fuck a Chris Brown.)

Back when I had a corporate AmEx card that mommy paid for (my name was spelled ‘Eirin’ on it, and I had grown so accustomed to signing my name that way that, for years, I would have to consciously think about the correct spelling in all other circumstances), I used to buy CDs like they were going out of style. (Oh!) CD Baby was my all-time favorite online shop of music and I would often order CDs based entirely on the site’s recommendation without even listening to a sample. I added some exceptional albums to my collection that way. (And also some exceptionally terrible ones.)

The Flir was one of those CDs. All I needed to see was that it was categorized as trip hop and in the cart it went without a second thought. The first time I listened to it, it was a muggy summer’s night in 2003 and I was on my way back to Pittsburgh from visiting my friend Moira in Greensburg, few cars on the highway, and I was entranced. The only way I can describe this EP is steamy and aphrodisiacal, a baby-making record with subtle, bass-driven hints of Disintegration-era The Cure. (Though Henry could never hear that.) We took a ton of road trips that summer and the Flir came along every single time. (This was back when Henry didn’t abhor the music I listened to. You know, when he was younger and hipper.)

(No wait, that never happened.)

I’m drawn to this kind of music every summer, and even though it’s technically not summer yet (someone would say it if I didn’t!) I’m sharing this on here today because it’s one of those hidden gems that sometimes you never find on your own. (And also because I’m killing time, waiting for Henry to finally finish his kitten story which he has been writing for approximately TEN DAYS now.) If you like it, you can get the whole EP here for FIVE BUCKS just do it.

Sorry guys. Sometimes I just REALLY want to post music videos on here!

First, here is an incredibly awkward video of Jonny Craig freestyling with Kurt Travis at one of his post-rehab I’m Back, Bitches shows that he’s been doing in (stupidly far away from Pittsburgh) California. I’m posting this because it’s basically his “pledge” to his fans that he will stay clean and that he “loves” us, but as Henry said while he was watching this: “Thanks guys! Don’t come talk to me after the show.”

We’ll see, Jonny. We’ll see.

And I think I posted this song two years ago, but every time I listen to it, I imagine fake dancing with Henry at our imaginary never-wedding, so I am posting it again, because I do what I want.

Carry on with yo’ Tuesday.

I was listening to the new Spill Canvas today when I felt this nagging urge to revisit one of my favorite songs by them, even though I knew it was going to make me all pathetic and wistful. (What else is new, am I right Jonny Craig doll?)

My 2007 Warped Tour experience was my least favorite of all the years I’ve gone to it, mostly because I went to the one in Cincinnati and it was kind of a clusterfuck, we missed Chiodos, and I was with people I didn’t really want to be with. (Oh, and my car’s engine blew out on the way home.) But, The Spill Canvas was there, and even though I nearly passed out during their set (it was close to a hundred degrees that day; people were passing out all up in that joint), it was one of the few highlights for me.

“The Tide” is actually my all-time favorite Spill Canvas track, but that song makes me emotionally handicapped. It’s just so fucking depressing.

Goddammit, I just listened to it.

Sometimes I pause the wrist-slitting dirges that I love to play on repeat and give more uplifting songs a chance. The Used has always been of those bands that makes me feel punched in the gut, because they’ve sound-tracked so much that’s happened in my life (including the entire first book of the Christina Chronicles), that they have this strong emotional and psychic pull on me. It has always, my whole life, been easier for me to say, “Here, it’s like this” and then play someone a song by the Cure, etc., than to use words to explain how I feel.

I listen to “Box Full of Sharp Objects” and I’m 23, aborting my first baby. I listen to “Blue and Yellow” and I’m 24, wondering why the faint scent of someone’s lingering perfume in my car is making me so wistful, and then years later nearly breaking my neck to turn it off anytime it randomly played because my heart just wasn’t strong enough. I listen to “I Caught Fire” and I’m 25 again, giddily dyeing Easter eggs and succumbing to spring fever, and then turning up the volume for “Sound Effects and Overdramatics” while Henry’s blood pressure raises in tandem. Let’s not forget being 29, listening to “Liar, Liar” and straight up raging over the realization that I no longer knew my best friend anymore. And then I listen to “Best of Me” and I’m 30, angry and bitter, not understanding how someone could so easily shut the door on me.

Each album is a different chapter of the saga and I eventually had to stop listening altogether. It started to become masochistic.

But they just released a new album and morbid curiosity got the best of me. I posted this song today because “Together Burning Bright” doesn’t make me ache, it actually does make me feel like everything is going to be alright, like everything has come full circle. After these last few months (years, really), that’s exactly the kind of message I need. And perhaps you need something like that this morning too.

(I’ve been very much in my head lately; sorry if I’m not making sense.)

The Used is going to be at Warped Tour this summer. It will be the first time seeing them since I got in a fight with some drunk guy at their 2010 show at the House of the Blues in Cleveland. It will also only be the second time seeing them with Henry – the first was in 2003, I think. Back when Bert still puked on stage and Henry wanted to shoot himself.

I should be writing. But I was up kind of late watching hockey; listening to music and drinking coffee is the only thing I’m motivated to do right now. Although I did finally finish editing the photos from Chooch’s birthday party, so maybe I’ll write about that sometime tonight! “Hooray!” said no one!

Chooch constructed a model of Jonny Craig out of Legos and then what appears to be a stage with an audience.

“I put Daddy under here so he’s stuck and now he has to listen to Jonny Craig forever.”

Fuck, did I derive so much glee from that.

I love the cap of ginger atop Jonny’s broad Lego dome.

In other news, Craig Owens is back with Chiodos, wtf.

Even though he is my nemesis now, I’m still beyond stoked and was all overheated at work after I found out.

My friends at Alternative Press even had the smarts to check in with me to make sure I was still breathing after the news was twitter-bombed.

In other-other news, Chooch is getting his tonsils out on July 2nd. :(

Fuck. Xiu Xiu has been one of my favorite bands for the last 8 years, and still remains one of the all-time best shows I’ve ever been to, but their new album has totally taken them to a new level in my heart. Jamie’s voice is what the murmuring in my head sounds like, in case you ever wanted to know.

I wish he was laying next to me, whispering Urban Dictionary entries and autopsy reports to me every night as I drift off to sleep, I fucking love him so much and maybe I have had too much coffee already today or likely am beginning to ascend the roller coaster hill to Ultra Mania, but I can’t stop laughing all guttural and sinister-like.

Also, I think this is a sign that I need to start eating apples like Jamie Stewart. He obviously wanted me to see this video so that I’ll know I’ve been doing it ALL WRONG.

I make mp3 CDs when I’m feeling this manic and have already been mapping out a springtime track list in my head.

If you’d like a copy, say so! I like mailing things. (Read: I like giving things to Henry to mail.

)

ETA: Here is a picture of Henry’s reaction when I made him listen to “I Luv Abortion.”

The other day, I asked Henry why he stays with me and he said, “Because of days like this.” Then he told me not to post that on Facebook because he doesn’t want anyone to know he likes me, but I figured most people will just assume “days like this” means days where he barely has to talk to me.

My world has been in some fucked-up, emotional upheaval the last few months, for a multitude of reasons, but Henry has been here, having my back and picking up the pieces through the whole clusterfuck. I know I’m always busting his balls on the Internet, but I really don’t know what I’d do without him. There. I said it. It will always be Henry, marriage or not.

Plus, the first thing he did when he came home from work yesterday was check to see if I used any expired food when I made lunch for Chooch and myself. He always has our safety in mind. (But if he REALLY had our safety in mind, he would make sure there was no expired food in the refrigerator to begin with. What? It’s a valid point!)

****

I have been listening to Armor For Sleep with some fucking urgency lately, like it’s 2005. Oh, 2005.

Sometimes the past really should just stay dead. But, I guess we needed to find that out on our own. One day, I will finish writing that story, and it will be better than any pathetic poem.

Sometimes instead of writing on here, I just really want to share music. Not only does my Twitter friend Richie love to hate the same hockey teams as me, he’s also in a really amazing band called Diamond Dancer. I love them so much and periodically drop him hints about coming to Pittsburgh.

(PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!) Maybe someday Richie will let me conduct one of my lame interviews on him.

You know you love reading the awkwardness that is Erin interviewing someone.

I just want to lay in the cemetery on a beautiful spring day and listen to this song on repeat. Henry may or may not be invited.

[Interested in hearing more? Go here!]