Watch the latest episodes with Taylor Swift, January Jones & more online. Click Here »
October 25, 02:05 PM
I don’t know how, but I found myself at a concert on Saturday night. I started out at Poor Richards with a few Long Islands, picked up some onion rings from the cafeteria over at Marywood, and out of nowhere I was grooving along to some tunes at Battle of the Bands. It was the first time I’ve been to a concert since the turn of the century (this one) and it freaked me out.
Don’t get me wrong: I love music. Music is the only thing I can really remember for at least half of my life and I couldn’t live without it. Concerts, on the other hand, are like magnets for big dudes with hard fists. I had to swear them off -- too many jagged bottle cuts will do that to you. Concerts make me feel like a warrior and sometimes that’s not a good thing. Especially in the eyes of the law.
The only band I saw was called “Yule Eric and the Danielles” and they played rocked-out Christmas songs. They sound like Deep Purple if Deep Purple ever cut a Christmas album. There was this real hot number singing back-up – one of the Danielles – and I could have sworn she was the reincarnation of the girl I took to my prom, except this one wasn’t pregnant. She had this whole Italian thing going on with a little bit of the princess from Aladdin thrown in for good measure. Trust me, she was a fox and I don’t mean the animal kind, although she did have a fox-like nose. I’d let her sing to me all night long, but I probably couldn’t afford it. Chicks like that don’t sing for free.
At around eleven, the band started playing a metal version of “Silent Night” and the whole place got kind of rowdy. Rowdy’s my specialty, so I jumped right in the middle of the pit and started bopping. Next thing I know, there’s a kid on the floor with a busted nose and I’m being hauled out onto the street by the security guards. Now I’m not one to complain, but that guy’s face really left a mark on my elbow. I’m no spring chicken anymore and my elbow can only take so much trauma. Spent some time on WebMD when I got home and it looks like I’ve got what they call menstrual cramps. Anyway, I got a bruise that looks like Mama Cass and I never got that Danielle’s number.
Now I wouldn’t say that my return to the concert scene was a bust, but it certainly could have gone better. Next time I go, I’m just going to sit in the back, nod my head, and stay away from the roughnecks. Also, I’m going to bring my brass knuckles. That’ll show those punks.
You should see the band Discount Auto Parts. We could show yr elbow a thing or 2!
Um, your the second comment dumbass. Creed F that, go to my concert. The band is called Rottery. We rock out man
opps, sorry pat. Did nt realize the comments go from bottom to top. Sorry, you can throw an elbow at me.
Fifth post!!!
1st comment yeah. creed is my rolemodel
Creed, your blog keeps me going at this desk job with the suits. And I'm not sure how I feel about that.
Dude! Just do a little puff puff pass, and you'll be fine. And stay out of the mosh pit, unless it's filled with busty, drunk girls. Rock On, Creed!
rock on
Creed - I forgive you for busting my face up. I thought it was another guy but since it was you I can lie here in my hospital bed in peace.
Since you are covered by Workmens Comp, do the following. Pour a drink down the stairwell and then "slip and fall". Works everytime. You'll be home blazing away and getting paid for it. Fire it up Creed !!!