Thanks for a great night! The only thing that would have made it better is if you had brought your boyfriend and mine: Vinny.
As everyone who knows me and/or reads this blog is painfully aware, I love “Jersey Shore” and all the permutations. Your bromance with Vinny gives me life.
Knowing my jones for Jerzday, it should be no surprise that I HAD to go see you when you came to Atlanta.
I would have loved to take Gideon. We’re couch chooches. But it was a 21+ show, and he’s 13. Eddie was my lucky Plus One.
As I walked out the door, Gideon demanded photos and videos. Of course I obliged.
There was a lady in the loo who was challenged too — challenged by the soap dispenser. She kept banging on it and hollering, “I need soap! I need soap and Jesus!”
I’m not sure if she got either. I left to see the rest of your set.
The draw (besides the fact that I had to work a booth for my job for a bit)?
Live music: The Romantics, Spin Doctors and Smash Mouth.
For free!
Side benefit?
People watching. There were plenty of people.
So let’s get this party started.
Festival rules said no chairs (or coolers, which was a literal and figurative buzz kill). So we spread out blankets. As you do. But here’s the thing: The rules of personal space still apply.
Not for some people, apparently. Like this guy who parked himself practically on my lap.
There’s plenty of room. It’s a huge park. So why is he four inches away from me?
And here’s his friend:
My leg. His feet. He actually put his feet under my leg at one point. NO!
The ladies with them were no better. No awareness.
There was a line to get in you. A line! I haven’t waited in a line to get into a club in … OK, a week, but still. This was the longest. Ever.
Once inside, it was clear why the bouncer had the strict “one in, one out” policy. The fire marshal must be on retainer. Sardines in a can have more fin room.
Also, I am intrigued by the demographics. The swath appeared to be 25 to 75. I’ve never seen grannies grinding grandpas on a dance floor before, but there they were in all their glory.
And what’s happening here?
She looks like she came straight from her son’s soccer game or a book club meeting.
Anyway, anyone who goes out with me knows my nurturing instinct kicks in hard at some point during the night.
This occasion was no different. My first stray was Tanya.
Tanya had clearly had too much of a good time. I brought her into our group, where she was able to safely live her best life. She left to go to the ladies room. We continued dancing.
By this time, I had picked up another stray: Mark. We had helped each other bulldoze a path to the bathrooms. He was alone, so he joined us.
We were all dancing and suddenly Tanya popped back into our group. We couldn’t believe it; we actually cheered. And Tanya thought this was a karaoke bar. Here she is with her invisible hot mic.
Finally, we decided it was time to go. Things were getting sloppy around us. And Thankgod our Lyft driver was close. Literally “Thankgod.” Look:
And if that’s not a funny story close, I don’t know what is.
So Johnny’s Hideaway, thank God for an entertaining night. In the words of that great thespian Arnold Schwarzenegger, “I’ll be back.”
Here’s to your drink-free dance floor. (Now get rid of the cigs.)
Beth
Have I mentioned how much I appreciate you? You put up with my — how shall I put this — “projects.”
You know my motto as a writer: Bad decisions make good stories.
Take, for example, one of my most notorious adventures: The now-defunct Redneck Games in Dublin, Georgia. My posts about that event still get plenty of hits.
And then there were the chickens. Trish was the best pet, though, and I was very sad when she met her untimely end.
So when I said I was trying to plan a Southeast tour for a U.K. band, Jesse’s Divide, that I had seen and loved, all of you did your thing: a shrug, an eye roll, a sigh — whatever fit your usual shtick. But because you love me, you came out to support these chaps at one of their shows.
And every one of you said, “Beth! They’re really good.”
YES.
I KNOW.
Why else would I do something so crazy, so outside my comfort zone?
Don’t answer that.
Anyway, thanks to the JD guys and all of you for believing in me. I still can’t believe it really happened.
Here are Nick, Simon and Rob in my house playing Uno with my family and me. Surreal.
Now go listen to all their stuff on Spotify, iTunes, etc.
Elusive creature spotted at community park
From Staff Reports*
BROOKHAVEN, Ga. — A group that claims to track the mythic beast known as “Teenager” through the streets of Atlanta says they finally spotted the creature over the weekend in Dekalb County.
According to the group, the sighting occurred around 3 p.m. Saturday afternoon at Murphey Candler Park.
A woman named Beth said the creature made its presence known after she and fellow group members set up iPhones preloaded with Fortnite at various locations in an apparent attempt to lure the Teenager in.
“The angle of the sun was shining straight down on the seats on the Major Field and something big stepped into view,” Beth said. “I lifted my sunglasses to see better, and I saw a large bipedal animal covered in peach fuzz and ill-fitting clothes. It took one step into the stands, (then) I took off running toward it.”
The woman said that she and fellow Teenager trackers proceeded to follow what they claim was a large creature marginally recognized by modern science around the field to the concession stand.
“Its face was barely washed with no hair on it,” she said. “Its hands and feet were enormous. It was wearing clothes that looked way too big, but that is apparently the style among these creatures.”
Though not social, the creature did take extreme interest in the iPhone and was willing to sit near humans in the stands of the Major Field for moments at a time. Though it did not speak, the beast did grunt occasionally in response to stimuli.
7 p.m.
Quick get-together with Eddie, the kids and Brenon, an old friend in town for a funeral.
8 p.m.
Picked up Wendy to go to The Earl. Wendy is a college friend in town to move her son into our alma mater.
8:30 p.m.
Wendy and I met up with Lee Ann and Susan (and I hoped my worlds colliding would be a success).
The fundraiser featured plenty of crowd-pleasing songs such as “Bad Reputation,” “Stacy’s Mom” and “Hit Me With Your Best Shot.” Lee Ann’s poor husband Bill got stuck with “The Gambler,” though. Not a bad song, but not so great for this event/venue.
Here’s where the judging comes in:
Between each song, the host chatted up the fundraiser, all Jerry Lewis telethon style. After a while, though, he talked more than the bands played.
There he is, talking. Again. Still.
I began to hate him.
I actually looked in my pocket to see how much cash I had, thinking I could donate all of it to make him SHUT UP.
Lee Ann and Susan had left by this time, but Wendy was with me in sentiment (lest you think I was the lone hateful hag).
But then, something magical happened.
That’s right. He threw Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies into the audience to the tune of Michael Bublé’s “Haven’t Met You Yet.”
I should have learned my “book by its cover” lesson, but no.
Another group came on stage. Riff Raff with a dye job, an ’80s hair band reject wearing Uggs lite and smuggling chicken nuggets in his spandex, and a D&D basement dweller.
Whose basement exploded?
Wendy and I were being very mean.
Me: (About the RHPS lookalike) There’s your boyfriend.
Wendy: (Squeals) Every time I see him, I’m freshly horrified.
Y’all are the best. I joined the volleyball league to meet new people and have fun, and it’s working!
Last night was a little heartbreaking — good volleys but we couldn’t pull through in the clutch.
And right now I hear my other friends gasping in shock. Yes, believe it: I joined a volleyball league. (Waves hands in front of the faces of the passed out; shouts, “Give them some room!”)
Echo and the Bunnymen perform for the elderly at Chastain Park.
Dear Fellow Concert-goers (aka Grizzled Old Beasts Just Like Me),
It was great to hang out with you at the Echo and the Bunnymen and Violent Femmes performance last night. Between the sets, I was taking a good look at all of you — people watching, as I do. You know, finding inspiration for this blog and other writing projects.
I noticed plenty of partial and full hair loss, beer bellies, socks pulled up too far, white shoes, varicose veins, gray hair, etc.
“Jesus, these people are old,” thought I.
That uncharitable thought was followed quickly by this one:
Dang. That was a rude awakening. I’m still 27. In my head. Forever. As I bet you are too.
Notice the beer (which was delicious). Then notice who is beyond the beer. Notice the cane and the socks.
How we feel ≠ how we look.
It’s depressing.
😕
But not as depressing as the thought of the geriatric dating game. Some of you were definitely hooking up (or trying to, at least). I mean, good for you.
Eddie and I ended up joking about that this morning (I’m in blue, in case you are cursed with an Android phone):
(Don’t give me flak for hating on the stout hairless men of the world. We all have a type, and that’s not mine. And they don’t like me either. So there.)
If forced, I guess I’d have to get some Botox and lipo and start cougaring. But then I’d have to forget knowing every ’80s song, including the Femmes’ repertoire.
I cannot live a lie.
Just like us (in our minds), the Femmes’ sound hasn’t aged at all.
So I think we should all agree to keep on keeping on, just as Hunter S. Thompson recommended:
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, ‘Wow! What a Ride!'”
I wanted to like your festival. Heck, I wanted to LOVE it. Grilled cheese and beer — what’s not to love?
Well …
Here’s a short list:
1. The ticket price
Tickets were $30 plus service fees, making them $35.16. Festival entry, three samples, admittance to the “beer garden,” and live music were included in the price. Still seems a bit steep.
2. The samples
This is more my fault than yours, but I thought that with a ticket price that high, samples would be generous. At least a sandwich or half a sandwich. Nope, a quarter, if that. So 3/4 of a sandwich was included in the price. Yes, they were yummy, but …
3. The “beer garden”
That lofty-sounding moniker turned out to be one tent with about seven kinds of beer in cans: two craft and five crap. Some were not even cold. And they cost $7.
4. Live music
It was Christian music.
5. The heat
Brookhaven Park might as well have been the surface of the sun. Very little shade, 90+ degrees. Within five minutes, I’m sure that every single person in attendance had a steaming undercarriage. This event was supposed to be in April, which would have been much better. Can I suggest moving it to November or December? Or even an Oktoberfest event would be good. No one likes being hot while eating hot cheese.
This is about the extent of the festival. Disappointing.
6. The selection
When you said there was an “amateur division” for voting purposes, I naturally assumed there would be a medley of vendors. There was one amateur entry. One.
The professional vendors almost made up for the lack of amateurs. Just look at this menu board:
The “Hot Mess” was delicious. However, my favorite was the “Sour D” at a different place:
Garlic buttered sourdough toast with American cheese, avocado and bacon. Yes, please.
Anyway, if this is the way it is going to be next year, you are going to have to lower your ticket price. This was, at most, a $10 experience.
Now, if you want to add full-size sandwiches, beer samples and an indoor location in the summer, that’s different.
Observe and report 