Still Loving You Sunday Morning...Despite Saturday

Joe and I were driving yesterday down to Bourbon Street, a bar downtown that shows local bands every Monday as part of 98 Rock's "Noise in the Basement", and talking about music. He was trying to find something worthwhile to listen to on the radio, and I made the comment about how listening to the radio stations today is like playing a card game, depending on the station you either get a commercially safe "rock" station, the soccer-Mom-approved American Idols station, or the classic oldies that have been raped for use on commercials. Just depends on who's got the better song at the time...or "hand" as the metaphor goes.


He said I ought to write about that, otherwise he would. I dunno, I think that was as far as I thought about it. So go ahead Joe, and take it from here...

Anyway, speaking of music, last Saturday was the long-anticipated M3 Rock Festival. Ever since I first heard that it was coming back around I have been so excited. And THEN they announced that the headliner was going to be the Scorpions - my excitement sky rocketed.

Now this is going to probably sound weird but I think the first time I heard "Rock You Like a Hurricane" was for a commercial for the very first "Monsters of Rock" album. I was fairly young at the time, just watching television as always, and I was struck by the sound...and the glimpse of the video that they showed during the ad. It was of a bunch of people slamming themselves into this huge metal-linked fence thing. The music was so punching itself it was as if the people couldn't help themselves or something. I dunno, it sounds weird but that image has always stayed with me, and that song always left a lasting impression. It may have been the reason I really started to feel out for more glam and hair metal (so you can either thank or blame them depending on which side of the metal-linked fence you are on).

From there I listened to anything of theirs I could get my ears on..."No One Like You", "Big City Nights", "Winds of Change", "Rhythm of Love", and my latest favorites: "The Zoo" and "Loving You Sunday Morning". Now I should say before I go any further that though I love this band, and really any band that I'm obsessed with, I AM one of those fans that actually knows practically NOTHING about them. Yes yes I am one of those, but I stand here (or sit here, rather) and admit it. I'm so bad I didn't even know the lead singer's name...Klaus something right? So before I get the tons of schooling, I just want to put it out there honestly that I pay attention to the MUSIC, not necessarily the band's bio. Fair enough? Ok, so back to the M3...

Now, being a fan of what you would call "older" music, has both its benefits and disadvantages. A benefit is that usually seeing these bands isn't terribly expensive. The disadvantage is you will probably feel out of place among the biker chicks and redneck guys. It's good because they seem to tour EVERY summer so even if you miss them this year you can always try the next. It sucks though, because there are only so many "older" bands out there....and they are always getting older. Surprisingly this wasn't a problem I noticed before with the other bands I've seen like Styx or Journey. Unfortunately, this fact DID come to the forefront on Saturday.

My friend and I actually made it to the festival at a reasonable time (as opposed to last year when I was so unforgivably late that we caught just the tail-end of Extreme). We managed to get our $11 sangria (no joke) and in the heat we downed those suckers like Juicy Juice. We also scored actual seats this year, considering that it is the Scorpions last hurrah before they hang up their hair and retire.

We listened to Kix, who were pretty awesome, and Cinderella, who freaking turned it out. Then finally it was the Scorps turn. Now again, let me pause a minute and give you a bit more back story as to why I was so stoked for this show. I've been trying to see these guys for years, but they never seemed to make it to the states (and if they did it was always to either L.A. or N.Y. at the worst possible time). So the fact that they were part of this already awesome line-up, going to be local, AND that it was going to be their last tour, I figured the Gods were hand-picking me for this destiny...ok, maybe that's a little dramatic, but hell, I was EXCITED.

We had our beers in hand, we had peed, and we had a pretty good view. We were ready. They came on stage. And then....what the hell is that? From where we were sitting the sounds were getting all garbled. We could just barely make out his voice. What song is this? A song from their newest album? We waited for a song or two just to make sure, but then we ended up leaving our seats to make it onto the lawn. The sound quality improved, but the songs didn't seem to. I sat there like a kid waiting on line to see Santa but was met instead by an obvious imposter.

Then I suddenly became terribly crest-fallen and critical of everything. He stuck his microphone out to the audience too much. They pulled Vince Neil back on stage to sing one of the songs. He wasn't reaching the high notes I had so anticipated hearing. I wanted to hear HIM sing the damn songs, not Johnny Nobody or freakin Vince Neil! I wasn't the only one either, and as my friend and I exchanged comments and looks of despair, I heard a woman lying on a blanket next to us suddenly offer some insight...

"He's been sick lately, that's why he can't sing the way he used to...plus the fact that the guy is pushing near 60," she said. I asked her if he always pushed the microphone into the audience this much.

"Yeah, I've seen them before and he did do that. But not as much as this. Again, probably due to his voice," she said, settling back onto her blanket.

We stuck around to hear the majority of the set, happy to hear "Big City Nights" and "The Zoo", but by the time we realized they were going to exit just to come back to do "Rock You like a Hurricane" as the encore, we packed up and headed for the car.

It wasn't the same feeling I got back when I was kid or later on in the privacy of my car or room. I guess that's the saddest part. It'll never be what it was, or in my case, seeing as how this will probably be my last and only time to see the Scorps, it never CAN be, because these poor guys are just going to get older. Kinda depressing, but at least I'll always have the memories...and a subscription to iTunes.

You guys bored? Depressed? Hungry? Don't worry, update on The Living Year and with some comments on I Love Lucy tomorrow.

Urine Trouble

Yes yes I know, this may be the most tasteless blog I've written. But I figure, who am I kidding? I'm not writing The Grapes of Wrath here, and I have the rest of my life to be buttoned-up and old. I promise, I'll try to use as much innuendo and as many puns as possible. And if you still don't like it, well, I'm allowed to have a miss every now and then. And if you are REALLY offended, well...you prob don't get me.

So you with me? Let's begin.

Despite the fact that I'm not a fan of camping, bugs, or not showering every day, I still don't consider myself a girly-girl. I'm clueless with fashion, I don't have to get my nails and hair done every month, and with a few exceptions I have a small tolerance for chick flicks. However, when I've had to go, I'm not above doing it in the woods, behind a dumpster, or even off a building (yes, a building). And any of these times were done so out of absolute necessity. Allow me to explain...

One time my sister, cousin, and a few others I think were tailgating at PNC Bank Arts Center in Jersey for a concert. We ended up parking WAY beyond the center, pulled out some beers and chairs and began getting hyped for the show. After a few we realized we had to go desperately. Of course, the nearest Port-O-Potty was a good distance away; the woods however was only a few yards. So there we were, armed with a red cup and a person standing keeping watch. Not my classiest moment, but I can tell you I felt a helluvalot better. It was also the first time I really felt a break in the chain of being a "girl". Usually guys have the upper-hand (pun intended?) in peeing outside, but we proved it can be done.

The next time was on a return trip from dancing at the gay bar in D.C. My friends Lauren, Erica, Mike, and I huddled back into the car and began trying to figure out our way back. As luck would have it we realized we were getting lost. Meanwhile, I felt nature calling and it was not leaving a message. We pulled off into a gas station to gain our bearings, and I hopped out looking for the bathroom. We seemed to have found the only NON 24 hour gas station that exists, and after spending as many seconds I could finding the bathroom I ended up crouching behind the dumpster. Did I feel like total white-trash? Certainly. Did I feel better? Hell YEAH!

Finally, my proudest/most shameful experience was on the Fourth of July last year. Joe's friends were hosting a little barbecue on the roof of a building downtown. It was kind of a pain in the ass getting up there, but it was well worth it. We had a gorgeous view of the city, burgers on the grill, and of course, beer. After only a couple I started feeling the urge and began looking around for a solution. I could try getting down and going all the way through to the nearest bathroom (but if getting up there was scary, trying to get back down--with a small buzz going--seemed a little too treacherous). His friend suggested I just go ahead and pee over the side of the building since it overlooked an alley. At first I refused. But as the minutes, and urine, mounted I started getting desperate. To make a gross story short, I did what I had to do. And even though I might have lost a little self-respect, I saved myself from a dangerous climb down, as well as further damage to my kidneys.

It's not really fair that guys can go anywhere at anytime. Girls have just as many urges and we sometimes need to go wherever is most convenient too. Hopefully these tales will allow we girls to urinate united. And for anyone that wants to judge, let she who has not peed in a place other than a cushy bathroom cast the first roll of t.p.