Eric is still holding a grudge from that time, back in the spring, when I rejected his invitation to a Mumford and Sons concert, especially now that I have a growing appreciation for live music (thanks to him).
#strategy
Tag Archives: concerts
3rd Wheel
When you’re on your couch but on a group text with a guy at the Phish concert and a guy streaming said Phish concert.
I Don’t Know Who I am Anymore
That moment when you agree to go to another Phish concert. On Saturday.
Rules for Phish
Tonight I am attending my first Phish concert ever.
Eric: “Your only job tonight is to embrace what’s around you, and if you’re judging, judge silently.”
Me: <Long, confused stare. Wondering if he knows me at all.>
Eric: “Ok, fine. Judge out loud, but only to me.”
Deal.
Proof
When I won tickets to last night’s Adele concert at Radio City Music Hall via a congratulatory email, I was certain it had to be fake. I never win ANYTHING. The email said I had 8 hours to respond with a copy of my ID and a signed affidavit. I simply didn’t trust it.
“How do I know this is real? What if it’s ISIS?!” I asked Eric in a panic.
“You’re insane.” He replied. “The email is from Columbia Records. You entered through Adele’s website. It’s real.”
“But…but…how do you know for sure?!”
The email provided a number to call should I have any questions about the contest, so Eric suggested I call it. “But what would I even say to find out if it’s real?!” I said.
Exasperated, he took matters into his own hands and dialed the number himself. It rang once and someone picked up.
Person: “Columbia Records.”
Eric: “Hi, is this real?”
Person: “Yes.”
Eric: “Ok bye.”
Eric (to me): “It’s real.”
(It was real, though).
The Roots’ #1 Fan
At an all-day music festival yesterday…
Me: “Oh The Roots are here! Do you think they’ll play ‘Send Me On My Way?!'”
Eric (frequent concert-goer and knower of music): “The Roots do NOT sing that song.”
Me: “Yes they do! <singing> I would like to reach out my hand…”
Eric: “No. Stop it. That’s not The Roots. That’s a completely different band.”
Me (feeing cool because I know something about music that he doesn’t): “I am like 100% SURE I’m right about this. The Roots sing that song.”
Eric: “You know who The Roots are right? They’re on…”
Me: “Jimmy Fallon! I know.”
Eric: “And you think they sing Send Me On My Way?”
Me: “Yes.”
They do not. That’s Rusted Root.
And I am never again allowed to speak at concerts.
I’ve Got Cocaine Running Around My Brain
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.
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