LOOKING FOR LLOYD DOBBLER I woke up yesterday feeling like someone had beat me with sledgehammer while I slumbered. Ever the worker bee, I took my sorry ass into work anyway, only to be told by 5 mother hens that I should go home and rest. Since I’d taken files home over the weekend, I took their advice, went home, and took the best medicine for what ailed me. Yes, I’m talking about the Cameron Crowe movie cure-all. You feel sick and a bit like the underdog? Watch Say Anything. You feel tired of all the bullshit and uninspired by your job? Watch Jerry Maguire. You feel like too much of a grownup and you long for the days of long hair and flannel shirts? Watch Singles. Want to commune with your inner band-aid? Untitled, the director’s cut of Almost Famous will do the trick. After three of these movies and an hour of yoga, I felt a lot better. Better enough to tell you about how I got Staind on Saturday night.
AARON LEWIS IS A WHINY BITCH AND OTHER STORIES L-Boogie secured tickets to a Live show at the Borgata on Saturday night. L-Boogie has always been the shit, but Saturday she was the Super-Shit because we had a perfect time. It all started with a pair of appletinis (yes, I still drink those, so not over it), perfectly mixed with a kiss of cinnamon and sugar around the rim of the glass. Went down like Mom’s apple pie with a little kick in the ass. We were too late to meet the band, but what would you say, anyway? “Hey, in 1995 I listened to your album three times a week. You guys still rock, but Ed, sometimes the whole bald head things says “skinhead” more than “making sure you don’t see my receeding hairline.” Your shaved head is slightly scary. Hold me. Yeah, now move your hand down a little bit. A little more…” Oh sorry. I was dreamblogging. So we’re slinging back drinks waiting for the band to start. Aaron Lewis of Staind is opening, and although I liked the “I’m on the outside looking in” song, I think this guy and his band both suck. Apparently he’s solo acoustic tonight, so it’s one part suckiness instead of five parts. L-Boogie and I figured if we got hammered, his music would go down a little easier. So he starts playing, and I’m thinking, what is this guy’s schtick? Does he think, “Ooh, I’m a heavily tatted, sturdy-looking guy, wouldn’t it be cool if I strummed my acoustic guitar and whined like a bitch? What a dichotomy! I’ll take classic rock standards and turn them into lamenting mournful tunes to which losers will cry and think about cutting themselves.” But I try to have a good time anywhere, so I go along with it, clapping and yelling, because fuck it, I’m here. We’re having a good time despite the hara-kiri music in the background. We make friends with these two guys standing in front of us. To my right are two amazon chicks who’re going crazy screaming, “Staind rox! Sing [insert lame song here]!” They’re having such a good time I lean over and flash them the devil sign. They take me for a fellow fan and they’re like, “Yeah, Aaron Lewis rocks!” so I say “Yeah, show us your balls!” The red head starts hysterically laughing and tells her friend, “Did you hear that girl? She just said show us your balls! That’s so funny!” Redhead’s completely trashed and she gets so worked up she starts to lose her balance. When she starts to fall backward, instead of catching her, everyone just moves back two steps and she lands first on her ass, then she falls back. She and her friend make a big production of getting her up, so I tiptoe to the other side of L-Boogie. Readhead starts telling everyone around her that she fell because “some girl over there said show me your balls.” Nice. As if she’s never heard anyone say that before. So we’re back to bullshitting with the guys in front of us, one of whom has managed to get it in that he’s in a band. Yay. I can’t remember much of what I said to that guy, except for leaning over at one point and asking, “Is this a Jethro Tull song?” To which he replied “No, it’s Black Sabbath.” Hot. But he must like silly girls who confuse the Flute King with the Dark One because when I went to the bathroom he was singing my praises to L-Boogie. It’s weird: When I’m single I feel invisible, but when I’m in a relationship it’s the opposite. Live were awesome, probably more so because we were right in front of the stage. At one point Ed was singing to L-Boogie. Alas, her hotness could not be denied. With some finagling, I managed to snag the setlist from the stage after the show was over. I’d enchanted the bouncer, who wouldn’t let me over the barricade, but brought me a bottle of water and said that if I came to a show at the Trocadero, I could do whatever I wanted. Nice. That crazy concert energy must’ve infused itself into the setlist page, because I as I held to my chest, I swear the twins tingled. Perhaps they just needed some attention, as they were dying to come out during the show, but I held them back. I'm saving them for the TV on the Radio show.