Saturday, October 31, 2009
Sunday, as I'm sure you're all aware was Flogging Molly Day, which will go down in history as a day made of awesome. Even with all the crap that wasn't so awesome, it still makes the awesome list which almost makes me happy for the crap because at full awesomeness capacity, I probably would have just dropped dead.
The drive up was, well, a drive through the prairie. I was sorry that I forgot my camera tho and I didn't manage to get lost or anything. I also managed to avoid any wildlife around the highway, for which I am endlessly grateful.
Then there was Blue. She started off on the right foot with her perfect call timing. Google maps, as per usual, had given me some seriously stupid directions and I had just dug out my cell phone to call her to ask where in the bloody hell I was meant to go when it rang. Between her and her unfortunately mute husband we managed to get my car and myself there in one piece.
From there I met her kids (one of whom informed me that he can "jump as far as a ninja" and owns an axe specifically for killing zombies - guess who was my favourite), her dogs (both of whom are lovely but unfortunately either too big or too squirmy to steal without being noticed) and her cat (who is not nearly as scary as advertised). Blue, for the record, is not a serial killer which I was a little disappointed to discover.
After a little bit of a directional mishap, some incredibly dusty gas station candy and picking up food we made it to the show on time. The crowd outside was about what I expected, a good mix of people with a generous helping of the "too cool"/"asshole" crowd. When the doors opened and booze was added to the mix they became a pretty standard concert audience (especially for any band connected in any way with Ireland... gotta love the wanna-be Irish).
Neither Blue nor I drink so we spent a fair amount of time shoving drunks away from us and threatening physical violence on the next guy to put his arm around us. We also made friends with a couple of guys who assured us that not all guys are drunken losers and then started keeping score, guys vs. girls, for who was the worst behaved (I'm ashamed to admit it was called a tie by the end).
Flogging Molly was, as you may have guessed, ten shades of awesome. They put on a really good show and I was absolutely, pants-wettingly, excited to find that they sound almost better live than they do recorded (I fucking hate any band that sounds shit live). Super high energy with just the right amount of between song chatting and guinness drinking. I also bought myself some swag including a new jacket (which I've been wearing pretty much constantly since I got my hands on it).
And finally the crap, because you knew I wouldn't skip it.
Like I've said, the drunks were out in full force and while some of them were amusing to be worth it others were decidedly not. If I live to be a thousand I will never understand people who get slobbering drunk before the band even hits the stage nor will I understand people who feel the need to act like fucking assholes at a crowded venue. (For the record, I've been to lots of metal shows and I still think that moshing is fucking stupid. Moshing at FM is even worse. Stop acting like such a motherfucking douche bag.)
I ended up having to leave really, painfully early which blew goats. I had gotten a call from a friend of mine informing me that after a trip down to the states her boyfriend (another good friend of mine) had been denied entry back in to the country and might be deported without so much as a chance to come and pick up his things. I drove home early in case she needed me to come with her down to the border to talk to immigration as she was more than a little wound up and hadn't slept. It wasn't until I'd left the city that my mother called to remind me that I was meant to be teaching a class that afternoon... so no trip, but still a shit ton to do.
And on top of it all, the tooth that had been giving me trouble for a while had gotten worse. A two week migraine, more painkillers than any one person should ever take and a desperate to the dentist later and I'm now short one tooth. I'd complain, but at least my head doesn't hurt anymore.
Oh and in there somewhere was a trip to get a replacement birth certificate (for which they charge me a bloody fortune), a stop at the passport office (directly after the dentist - FUN!) where they informed me that I would need a different guarantor, a trip across town and back, another hour waiting to file my application and catching a cold.
So here we are. A week later. Fun stuff. I'll tell you all about the opening bands another day. They deserve their own post.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
In a little while I'm leaving to drive to Saskatoon. Why Saskatoon? Because that, my friends, is where I will get to see two very awesome things.
Bluepaintred AND Flogging Molly.
My head might explode from the sheer awesome. I'll report more on that later.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
- Realizing I really do curse that much and it gets more creative the more annoyed I am.
- Listening to me try to convince you to move to Canada as much and as often as humanly possible.
- Learning that I am the most indecisive person on the planet. Just make the decision for me, woman!
- Hearing me say "that's dirty" on a fairly regular basis.
- Having me ask a lot of stupid questions.
- My burping
and much, much more!
I got one, no problem. Put it in my wallet and kind of forgot about it unless it was needed to prove to someone that I don't actually have a middle name (why would I lie about that?). Gradually I stopped carrying my wallet but left a few things in there that I figured I didn't need to carry around all the time, you know, like my birth certificate.
Fast forward to two days ago. I printed off the passport application forms so the US will know I'm not a terrorist plotting to bring them down from within (suckers) and behold! I need my birth certificate so Canada, who is apparently forgetful and not very observant, will know that I am me and that I was born and raised in this wonderful land of hockey and beer.
My birth certificate, you'll remember, is in my wallet. My wallet is always on the table next to the TV by the coat rack. So imagine my surprise to find that now that I actually need the fucking thing, it's gone.
I have no idea. I have torn my house apart, twice. It's no where to be found.
What. The. Fuck.
Luckily, after talking to a surprisingly helpful and chipper woman from Stats Can. or where ever the fuck she was from, it turns out for a few bucks more I can get a replacement same day.
I'm blaming this all on you, America, for making me get a passport to begin with. Don't think we won't be having a chat about this when I get there.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
- As much as I'm not really a "touchy" person, I hug my friends all the time. It's just how we say hello and good-bye and whatever else needs to be said with hugs.
- I talk a lot. I know I do. I talk more and faster when I'm nervous or excited. Be afraid, be very afraid.
- I am prone to giggle fits, it's some kind of genetic flaw. This gets worse when I'm nervous or excited. (Seriously, all the women in my family have this problem.) This means that something stupid will set me off laughing and I can't stop. It's weird. I know.
- Yes, I am this sarcastic all the time.
- I often make an ass of myself and I stick my foot in my mouth so often it would be easier to say that occasionally I take my foot out of my mouth.
If you're wondering why I'm telling you all this, you obviously need to pay more attention to Robin's blog because I really did just rip off her post. Also, I'm going to Boston to visit Robin and Manly Man! Yay! And we're going to see the new Kevin movie! More YAY!
This, my friends, is going to be epic.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
I've been sick the last few days and I'm doing what I usually do when I'm sick. I'm watching Star Trek. Season three was still sitting on the coffee table so, rather than walking to the other room, I started with it.
Now for those of you not aware of it, season three is well known as the most over-the-top season made (which is really saying something). I guess that's what happens when you know your days are numbered. Why not just say "fuck it!"? And so, episodes like "Spectre of the Gun" and "The way to Eden" were born.
In a season full of WTF moments picking out just one episode and naming it the best (or worst, depending on how you're judging them) is a difficult task. More often than not the prize is awarded to "Spock's Brain". Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to disagree completely but I just think that "Spock's Brain" is a knee jerk reaction and one I understand. It's bad.
But honestly, in a season complete with space hippies, Chekov and several other men screaming like little girls, a gun fight at the OK Corral (shitty scenery explained by aliens rudimentary knowledge of the time period... riiiiiiight), Kirk being mistaken for a native american (alien civilization) god, Kirk swapping bodies with his ex and acting like a bitchy old queen, is it really so much worse?
As I said, I've been watching the whole season yet again and I defy anyone to watch "Spock's Brain" and "Plato's Stepchildren" back to back and tell me that "Plato" isn't worse.
This scene alone puts it miles ahead of the competition.