Showing posts from July, 2016

Rock. Paper. Scissors. (part 3)


On the big day JD, The Pixarian and I carted off our various mothers into my mother's home so they could either have a good time or set the entire house on fire.  They looked a bit shifty eyed for a couple of old ladies so we left The Dalmatian, The Mute Deer Goat and The West Highland Terrorist to keep them an eye on them.

Us 3 concert goers had a quick meal. Well they ate, I squirreled away food in my hair from my hiding spot under the table while making loud smacking sounds with my mouth to appear as though I was chewing. You know, casual. I was also blinking out questions to JD:

"Traffic cams okay?"

"Do we need to take the M├ętro?"

"Does this panic attack make me look fat?"

"Why are we doing this again?"

"Do we have cash for the parking?"

"Did you check the traffic cams a 7th time?"

"I have to poop."

That last one wasn't a question but it is good to state that out loud then blog about it. No tim…

Rock. Paper. Scissors. (part 2)


So that fateful day in January, by some sort of miracle, e-tickets magically appeared in my email account via the people that live in my head, or more to the point, the interwebs. VIP ones too! In that same exact moment I happen to come upon that precise amount leaving my credit card account. How fortuitous! Serendipity right there, meant to be!

I instantly printed the tickets out even if the show was 7 months away. You know, in case the entire world collapses into new world order with no internet, no electricity, no food, humans wandering the earth talking to each other and meeting their families for the first time in years - I will still have these papers and the show will go on! It must, apparently.

Now Johnny Depp said we could just leave them in my email and have them swipe the barcode with that miracle wand at the concert via my phone the night of.  Clearly he doesn't know just how many tickets I am printing out on a daily basis! Nor just how many people I have hired …

Rock. Paper. Scissors. (part 1)


In the run up of trying to get myself out of the house more, I decided the best way to go about this was to see live music with 75 000 screaming people. Like real people. Screaming. In the dark. Shoulder to shoulder people that move around and breathe. Weird.

On this go around it was only 17 000 people. Pffft. Easy peazy lemon squeazy.

Not so much.

Some of you may have realized by now that I hate people. And places. And travelling. And traffic. And new things. And just about everything and everyone.  No, not you. Well, maybe? Take a good long hard look at yourself and get back to me.

In January these two ding bats decide to announce a summer tour together:

Look at them, all jovial and peaceful. Assholes.

Three minutes after they announce their tour, I hear about it from the people that live in my head. More specifically though, the interwebs. I sat there staring off into the mid distance trying to absorb what this information meant in my life. Then I left my body. It wasn't …