Friday, June 14, 2013

The Right Stuff

The morning after I posted my previous blog I was reminded what Archie meant.  It is pretty funny, but it will keep. 

Right now…

...from the eyes of a 39-year-old mother of two with limited concert experience outside the Dead/Phish/DMB crowd with the exception of an N*SYNC concert over TEN years ago (holy shit, has it been that long?). 

Sidebar: N*SYNC doesn’t count because we were older than most of the audience and therefore unable to be rude.  And we had not so good seats.  And we were still young enough to be ashamed of ourselves. 

At some point in the evening, once NKOTB came on stage, I decided I better start taking notes, because I wasn’t sure I was going to remember anything other than the ringing in my ears.  Here is a transcription of those notes…

Bon jovi dead or alive
Do French kidsin
Joey please don’t go
Jordan need a fan
Jn singing for the first time ever
Jrdn kiss
Do. It’s getting hot in here
Dirty dancing
Do throws shirt.  Biscuit
I do t care cat I live it.

Surprisingly enough, this all makes perfect sense to me.  But I have to back up a little, because the evening started well before this with the following facebook status “I feel like I’m getting ready for the prom.”  

Do you remember that feeling?  Waiting for that big photo op in someone’s parent’s back yard.  Putting on more make up in one night than you wore for the entire year combined.  Refraining from putting your hair in a ponytail.  Okay, I may have been a bit of a tomboy.

After lengthy debates around transportation, hotel rooms, and next morning obligations, we chose to take a cab downtown at 5 pm – two and a half hours before the show started – in order to grab dinner and drinks prior to entering the arena.

Clearly, we were not the only people with this plan.  Clearly. 

It is hard to describe this scene with unbiased accuracy. Because I would like to call every woman other than ourselves a hoochie.  However, I do know other people who attended the show that don’t fall into this category, so I probably should give some of these females the benefit of the doubt and assume they just wanted to get some liquor into them the same as me.

Since each restaurant on the street was bursting at the seams (including an HOUR wait at Corner Alley – why?  why would you wait that long at a bowling alley?) I made the executive decision to head towards the casino where we enjoyed our drinks two at a time after our B-Spot burgers and counted how many people were walking around with little Cuisenart hibachi grills????

Here is where I want to let you know that NKOTB concert goers fall into three categories of fashion:

Message Tees – either a concert t-shirt they have kept since the 80’s or a handmade job commanding “Donnie give me some grown man love” (not making that shit up).

Too Cool for School – the beotches that come dressed like they are clubbing (which I guess technically they could have been).  If you can pull it off, more power to you.  I just can’t imagine going to a concert in stilettos, minis and cleavage (well, maybe cleavage).  Perhaps that’s the hippy chick in me.

Just Trying Not to Look 40 – This would be my group.  Let’s just say some are more successful than others.  (I will admit there is an extremely small minority that can actually somehow look cool.  I’m pretty sure it’s not me.)

Once we felt ready (read: had consumed four drinks each) we walked back to the arena where Boys II Men had started playing, grabbed two beers each (basically, everything came in pairs for the evening in case that wasn't clear) and found our seats, which were twelve rows up behind the chairs at center stage.  This.

And technically it really WAS like prom because I’m pretty sure Boys II Men ballads were a requirement at ours.  I also gave G the “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday” single cassette tape as a graduation gift.  Classy.

I am pleased to report that I apparently do not know a single 98 Degrees song (no, I do not know how to get the degree symbol on my keyboard, is there a special code?).  This is in spite of the fact that I actually own Nick Lachey’s solo album and watched Newlyweds fairly religiously.

The best part of this act though, is when they brought four “lucky ladies” on stage and each band member took turns singing to them.  One of them was seriously heading into an 1800’s fainting spell and I feared she’d break her neck falling off the bar stool.  I hope one of her friends had a paper bag for her to breathe into after Nick got to her.

And then…the moment we were waiting for.  After I peed for the five hundredth time.  OH!  I almost forgot.  All restrooms were changed into Women’s.  Well, I’m sure they left a couple Men’s but we walked into the closest one and I couldn’t believe it only had four stalls, but then I looked around the other wall and there was a row of urinals.  HA!

It is pretty much a blur for the remainder of the night so I’m proud of myself for taking those notes which probably start about halfway through the NKOTB set when they had their band on the center stage and occasionally slipped into doing covers, including what you thought was going to be Bon Jovi’s “Dead or Alive” but thankfully turned into something else, Joey singing George Michael’s “Faith”, Jordan singing Prince’s “Kiss” and Donnie doing Nelly’s “It’s Gettin’ Hot in Here” (of course he did).

And of course somewhere in there is D Dub having a make out session with some chick in the VIP area. (Do French kidsin, according to my notes), Joey Joe belting “Please Don’t Go, Girl” in slightly lower key than the original, Jordan in his traditional video stance that requires a fan to be blown at his billowing shirt and…wait for it…

Jonathon Knight SINGING.  If you are friends with me on facebook and braved playing my YouTube video of this rare phenomena, you already knew that.  For those that don’t understand the significance…Jon does NOT sing solo.  EVER.  And he cannot dance his way out of a paper bag.  He was basically in the group so there was never a tie when they voted on something.  And to look pretty.  And to pretend to be straight with Tiffany so they could have a love child that now works in my department.

At some point near the end of the show D Dub tears his shirt off and throws it into the crowd.  Riots ensue.  Biscuit gets involved.  (Biscuit is the name of the bodyguard that was in their cartoon.  Yes, I know this!)  Donnie is oblivious to the mayhem he creates.

Further insanity rages when the rap portion of “Games” is upon us (which I still pretty much have memorized thankyouverymuch).

And you may be wondering what “I do t care cat I live it.”means?  But it was really just them playing the song “I Love It” while they got ready for the “Hangin’ Tough” finale.  Not even sure why I felt the need to note it, although I do recall having to seriously pee again at that point.

And then it was over.

Depression. Sets. In.

Back, huh, stronger than ever, you think we'd sever? 
Never, we're too clever to be taken down clown 
By your ignorant state of mind, I ain't blind but 
Every time I look I find you dissin' a mission that 
Strictly be righteous, we gotta fight this so now I think I might just 
Take a stand, man, like never before, and I'm sure 
That we'll endure so now it's time to even the score 
I hear you knocking me but you ain't shocking me 
'cause jealousy is telling me that you're just jocking me 
So keep on talking skee, with pride I'm walking see, 
Because on anybody's block is where I'm gonna be rockin' gee. 

For real, yo!

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Time Warp

Just when I thought I had lost the will to blog...we went to Skate World.

And then twenty-seven other things happened to prevent me from blogging.  And then there was The Package and I knew I desperately needed to document that experience for posterity.  And then forty-six other things happened.

But now I'm back.  What am I skipping over in my month-long hiatus?  The end of my Early Childhood PTA tenure, Zoe's preschool graduation and birthday party, starting a new website for our salvage hobby, taking the girls to see Iron Man 3 after bed time, and a shit ton of soccer (official measurement).

I also wrote down in my blog notes the word "archie".  What the hell is that?  I have no idea.  Maybe I can't read my own writing.  All I can think of when I read that is Archie comics with Betty and Veronica.  I hope it's not something important.

Anyway, back to Skate World.  Yeah, I'm actually going to postpone The Package post for the moment and hopefully I get to it before next month.

Skate World should have been like a coming home to me as I headed out to Lorain County.  Even though I probably frequented the Skate LAND rink out in the boonies of Oberlin more often, it was pretty much the twin to this Skate World and there was definitely a rush of nostalgia.

Followed closely by a wave of nausea and a strong desire to shower.

It is sad to say I've grown quite accustomed to my little bubble of suburban middle class life from the moment I stepped onto my college campus.  Even though I spent three years in the armpit of Ohio (AKA Toledo) and then my required stint in Lakewood, I've been tucked in nice and cozy in Small Town, USA for going on seven years, which is really just a more "mature" version of Miami U.

So here we are for a roller skating party in something more along the lines of Napoleon Dynamite.  The smell of sweaty feet is a little over powering.  The feel of shag carpeted walls and grimy waxed wood makes me wonder if I should have gotten the girls an extra vaccination before this expedition.

It does not help that there was about 200% humidity in the air, reducing every surface to soggier versions of themselves, including my epidermis.

I am not exaggerating when I say this is how I left the place in 1984.  The only thing missing is an epic hair band ballad blasting through the speakers.  (I think they might have actually been playing an Alt Rock station).

Morgan immediately rolled up the pants she had on over her knees.  No slave to fashion, that one.  Zoe on the other hand, was ready for a roller derby.  If that is, she had any ability to skate whatsoever.

So I spent the next two hours attempting to guide fifty pounds of sweaty limbs and torso around a rain forest condition rink on the most hideous brown skates known to man.  Why brown?  Why not black?  Why did the 70's insist on orange and brown as their theme color?

Since this all happened over a week ago, I guess it is safe to say we haven't come down with diphtheria, gangrene or fleas.  Additionally, we didn't break any bones.

When we first tied the skates I gave the warning "Remember, this is how Barbie broke her arm last week.  Try to fall on your butt, not your hands."  I really need to stop handing out flip advice to Morgan, because she immediately slid into panic room melt down.  

But guess what?  Despite all of the above, we all had a great time.  I'm just going to make a note that roller skating is NOT a summer downpour activity.