Lyrics to a song, guys. Called “Cocaine Blues.” Jesus.

Go see this band: Escort

Like, immediately. They were AWESOME. I am not one to go to random concerts (seeing as though I’m afraid of loud noises, hot spaces, and people in general) but the Escort concert last night at Bowery Ballroom was unexpectedly phenomenal. I’m not sure why I said “unexpectedly,” as I knew nothing about them going in other than the fact that they were not Taylor Swift.

My one word of advice is to avoid this creepster, whose head was constantly, not-at-all-accidentally placed right in front of lead singer Adeline Michele’s vagina the entire night:

Seriously. Everything about this dude screamed “bodies in my basement,” and I’m pretty sure he spends his days sitting on playground benches with a high-zoom lens. I give props to the band for not kicking him in his serial killer face.

Also, highlight of the night: At the end of the last song, a wildly enthusiastic, sweaty dude (who had minutes ago removed his shirt) asked if he could kiss me. To which I obviously replied no, got super scared, and hid behind my date like a 3 year old who just saw the boogeyman. Then the girl next to him said “Aw, you can spin ME!” And he did– he benignly twirled her around. Then he twirled all the other girls in the vicinity around. Because he hadn’t asked to KISS me, he had asked to SPIN me–  making my dramatic, awkward reaction wholly unnecessary and causing me to look like a complete uptight bitch.

Secretly I’m glad he didn’t touch me, though. He was really sweaty.

Anyway go see this band. That’s the point here. I recognize it’s not an entirely clear point.

I’m pretty hung over, guys.