A Very Civil War: U of O A Cappella Group Takes on OSU

It wasn’t a Civil War for the ages, but tell that to the crowd at the sold out McDonald Theatre on Saturday night.  Friends, family, and fans from all over the Willamette Valley gathered for the light hearted sing-off between the University of Oregon’s On the Rocks a cappella group and Oregon State University’s Outspoken.  The night was broken up into four sets, with On the Rocks starting and ending the show. 

Both groups started with a casually attired set and ended with a more formal one, each, of course, sporting their respective university colors and logos.  While a majority of those in attendance were most likely OTR fans (due to the show’s Eugene location) Outspoken received just as much applause after each song.  The crowd, who perhaps expected Outspoken to be blown out of the water by The Sing Off contestants, was pleasantly surprised.  Outspoken certainly brought their A-game.

The night for On the Rocks fluctuated dramatically, performing a shaky “Eye to Eye” from A Goofy Movie followed by an incredible “Señorita” by Justin Timberlake.  Their remix of “Demons” by Guster was less exhilarating than their usual cover that brings me tears every time I hear it.  But I guess that’s to be expected; On the Rocks has been singing that song for more than five years now.  OTR selections included “Bad Romance/Poker Face,”  “Lullabye,” and “Live Your Life.”  Against my expectations “Call Me a Duck,” their “All the Above” U of O remix, was not performed.  But original songs from their latest album, A Fifth, were.  It’s OTR’s fifth recorded album, produced by founding member Peter Hollens.  OTR sang a couple other songs that I wasn’t familiar with, which made me think that a cappella is more enjoyable when you hear covers of your favorite songs, and more impressive when the group writes their own. The guys were their usual quirky selves, each one 20% actor and 80% vocal artist.  They’ve really refined their onstage presence; their antics are never overwhelming but have the right amount of comedic timing.  They seemed more comfortable with the audience than Outspoken did, often times exchanging a couple one liners with louder audience members.

Outspoken’s shyer demeanor may have attributed to the show being located on OTR’s turf.  Many of their songs started quiet and timid, but the guys generally got into their groove somewhere around 30 seconds into each song and ended them on a strong note.  They performed some classics like “Change the World,” “Macho Man” which included a slight striptease, and “Go the Distance.”  “Ghostbusters” seemed a little generic until they appropriately remixed it with Michael Jackson’s “Bad” which was as seamless as their surprising mix of “Would You Go with Me” by Josh Turner and “Africa” by Toto.  “Zoot Suit Riot” was a mildly funny choice to me since the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies hail from Eugene, but at this point Outspoken had won the crowd over and no one seemed to care about the irony.  Not surprising since Outspoken placed third in this year’s International Championship of Collegiate A Cappella.  “Hurt” – the Johnny Cash version, and *NSYNC’s “I Thought She Knew” were outstanding performances as well, and Outspoken livened their stage performance up with “Breakeven” by The Script.

Considering both groups’ recent successes it would be pretty tough to pick a winner, which wasn’t done at the Civil War show.  Unlike UO/OSU athletic rivalries, OTR and Outspoken were amicably promoting the talent of a cappella groups in both schools, rather than furthering the rift between them.  On a side note, if I had to pick a winner, I would say that Outspoken’s song choice was better than OTR’s, but OTR’s stage performance was stronger…which isn’t really choosing a winner, but they’re both winners in my ears.

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First Show at Matt Knight Gets Eugene Fired Up

Not your typical Sunday night on Franklin Blvd. to see thousands up people lined up, but the Matthew Knight Arena brought thousands of fans anxiously awaiting the venue’s first concert performance.  Hosting four bands, doors opened early at 5:30 and promptly began an hour later.

New Medicine kicked off the event killing the lights and filling the arena with an apocalyptic recording, causing fans to scream and maybe panic.  In fact, all four bands opened their acts with this style of frightfully fun intro, one of many resemblances they all shared.  New Medicine immediately amped up the crowd with their pop/punk hits like “Race You to the Bottom” and “Laid.”  Their song “Rich Kids” was extremely popular with the crowd, and slightly ironic with the giant University “O” looming above as they sang about parents paying for college degrees.  They slowed down their set just long enough for “Little Sister,” a ballad about the loss of lead singer Jake Scherer’s, you guessed it, little sister.  New Medicine, formed in 2009, had a surprisingly polished set, and their catchy lyrics and energetic beats were a perfect fit for the younger audience and a great way to start the evening.

 Matt Brady from New Medicine

Hollywood Undead ran onstage next, after a siren-blaring, heartbeat pounding, creepy children singing recorded intro.  Their six MC’s and drummer kept the energy level and fright factor high, not removing their monstrous Halloween masks until after their second song, playing on a Ying Yang Twins lyric singing "wait til you see my face".  Hollywood Undead had a minimal number of instruments onstage, but after Da Kurlzz jumped on a second drum kit and the other MCs traded off a keyboard and guitar, a more dynamic sound appeared, showcased during their song “Paradise Lost.”   They did not, however, have a minimal number of band members on stage, causing a few to mosy off at times, either because it was too crowded or they were too cool.  At the end of their set, half the crowd joined them in singing “Everywhere I Go” which seemed to impress and excite the band that so many knew of their song.  Hollywood Undead resembles the vocal dynamic of Linkin Park with explicit party lyrics like Eminem’s, making them more suitable for a slightly older audience than New Medicine’s.

Stone Sour was next and brought a more mature rock sound to the mix.  Their newest album, “Audio Secrecy,” has a much heavier metal vibe to it than their previous albums, but their set included a variety of songs from all three, giving their audiences a taste of each of the music genre’s they can give.  Lead singer Corey Taylor dominated the stage, and after seeing Hollywood Undead’s masks I realized how nice it was to see Taylor’s shining Stone Sour face rather than his Slipknot garb.  It seems Stone Sour is really finding their groove again, and their upcoming single “Say You’ll Haunt Me” is going to be a hit.  The most musically relevant moment of the night was when Taylor performed a solo version of “Bother,” and I was thrilled to see the rest of band rejoin him for “Through the Glass.”  

Finally it was time for the big Finale.  The Nightmare After Christmas 2011 tour ended in Eugene, and the entire production was as flawless as a live show could be.  The curtains dropped for this one, and, as expected, Avenged Sevenfold started their reign of terror with no lights and the piano intro to their latest album’s title track “Nightmare.”  As soon as the curtains lifted, a man dressed in street clothes with a noose around his neck jumped from the stage rafters and writhed through the air as A7X entered the arena.  The young man hung there, limp, as all six minutes and fourteen seconds of “Nightmare” continued, finally being carried offstage by extras.  This in no way fazed anyone in the audience except for maybe me, and the show went on.  (It was clear the actor had a harness around his waist and no immediate fear of heights or terrible accidents.)  This stunt was my f***ing nightmare, which was exactly the point of the entire album.

 A7X

Then came the fire!  And explosions, smoke, and fog.  The stage was elaborately decorated in oversized cemetery gates and tombstones, and multiple mini-stages were the providers of these pyrotechnics.  You could feel the heat as A7X continued playing through “Nightmare’s” tracks and the audience sang every single word along with them.  I was pretty much the only audience member who had not purchased a “your f***ing nightmare” tour shirt, as well as being the only audience member annoyed that they were playing almost all “Nightmare” songs.  By the time A7X played their sixth “Nightmare” song, I was no longer awed by all the shooting flames, but aggravatingly depressed that I may never again hear “Eternal Rest” or “Chapter Four” live again, or even “Bat Country” for that matter!  This was sinking in when The Rev’s tribute began.  Jimmy “The Rev” Sullivan was the band’s drummer since the incarnation of A7X in 1999 and in 2009 died from an inconclusive heart failure/possible drug overdose.  He was indescribable live, and though their touring drummer Arin Ilejay certainly got the job done, The Rev’s shoes are hard to fill. 

 Fire everywhere!

And then they did play “Bat Country!”  Not my favorite song from the “City of Evil” album but by far the most popular.  It gave me hope…that “Unholy Confessions,” by far my favorite and one of the most difficult A7X songs, was soon to follow.  And it was!  I jumped up like all the other seventeen year olds and sang with glee!  After attempting to ignite the crowd into a violent mosh pit (which didn’t happen) A7X exited the stage only to return for their first encore with “Fiction” from, what else?, “Nightmare.”  “Fiction” featured a piano, with no player, and spotlights on it, which didn’t have any significance that I could imagine.  Then again, I’m no longer a die-hard A7Xer.  Their second encore was to play “A Little Piece of Heaven” which I can’t believe is even a song that they take seriously (it sounds like a ditty from a Tim Burton movie), let alone end their entire tour with.  But again, everyone sang along and did *NSYNC style “Bye Bye” hand motions with lead singer M. Shadows.  Not exactly the A7X I once knew, but these new fans were clearly providing something that the old fans didn’t.  And that something would be funding for show ending fireworks.

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Eugene Gives Amos Lee and Crew a “Theatre Feel” at the McDonald

Amos Lee and Vusi at the McDonald Theatre, January 22^nd, 2011

Wintery Oregon air was nowhere to be found inside the McDonald Theatre Saturday night when opening artist Vusi took the stage with warm South African soul music.  His solo performance included just an acoustic guitar and a mic (sometimes a soapbox), but his mix of upbeat, socially aware tunes packed more than your average one-man-show punch.  If anyone was in a poor mood when they arrived, they were certainly smiling by the time Vusi’s set was done.  And after his first song, crowds here to see Amos Lee cleared from the lounge and entryways to hear his message.  Vusi, an activist/poet who still lives in his native country and has close ties with Nelson Mandela and Dave Matthews, really found a connection with the Eugene crowd, and was a perfect introduction to the main act.

Once Amos Lee and his band entered, girls went wild.  I overheard a female fan declare “I want to make out with his voice” and male fans got agitated when other concert go-ers blocked their view of the stage.  Everyone was ecstatic and men and women, young and old were swaying, clapping, and singing along.  Fairly impressive for an artist who’s currently releasing his fourth studio album. 

Lee was joined by an ensemble of seven, featuring two backup vocalists, a keyboardist, and a pedal steel player.  The set was a mixture of a solo acoustic sound which resembled his latest album, Mission Bell, as well as a full band sound with everyone on stage grooving together, keeping the audience amped up.

A few songs into the night Lee proclaimed to have a “shattered voice” after asking the crowd how he sounded.  Apparently the Portland show from the previous night had taken its toll on the band, who did not seem nor sound affected.  When I asked Andy, the pedal steel player, how the show felt in comparison to Portland, he said that “every show has its charm, and tonight’s was great; more of a theatre feel than a club feel.”  Sometimes that’s bound to happen at the McDonald Theatre, I guess.

The audience wasn’t fazed by the comparison, nor was Lee when an attendee shouted loud enough to be heard over the music “don’t touch me!”  Lee comedically carried the theme throughout the rest of the show with fans following suit shouting an additional “touch me!” here and there.

The band briefly left the stage to let Lee perform “Out of the Cold”, a song on Mission Bell he wrote after playing for wounded American troops.  When they returned they brought Vusi with them who sang “Jesus” and did the song wonderful, blues justice.  The encore featured a guitar-less Lee, who, with his glasses and plaid, had a very Robert Downey Jr. effect.

After a flawlessly executed performance there should be no doubt as to Lee’s talents and loyal fan base, and hopefully sales of Mission Bell, which releases January 25^th, will attest to that.

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That Which By Any Other Name

The other day while at work, I came across a patient’s name that I had never seen before.  Not just at my work, I mean I’d never heard of the name in general.  For the sake of HIPAA policies and that there might only be one of this person in the world, I can’t actually disclose his name, but when pronouncing it I had a choice to make: pronounce it exactly as it looked or pronounce it more…well, ethnic.  Our office sees patients all the time from various countries, so I made my best attempt at pronouncing his name Spanishly.  Well unfortunately this patient wasn’t Spanish, and I chose the wrong path.  I needed to go the phonetic route.  His mom politely corrected me with a twinge of “not again” in her voice.

Well lady, I’m sure your kid’s name means a hell of a lot to you, but it makes me feel like a real asshole when I say someone’s name wrong.  Especially when their parent, who chose this name above all names for their beloved child, is a witness to my misspeak.  This got me thinking about all the names I come across in a single day that are ridiculous, and how often I look like a jerk when I botch them.  Someone needs to tell these people to get real; your kid is going to hate their name as much as I hate saying “Hoo-ball” out loud as if it’s a real moniker.

Like some of my previous blogs, I’ve come up with a few simple guidelines to follow when naming your child, and have jotted them down on a stone tablet and gifted them to you, my readers, so that you may not be blind, but now see.  And I agree with baby-naming websites and books when they say: write down the potential baby name and have a person/persons close to you give their opinion.  It will give you wonderful insight to how the real world may embrace, or not, your child.  Don’t believe naysayers when they tell you that this will only make you dislike your baby name because someone you know will know a Jenny back from high school that they loathed more than all creatures and will forever hate all people with Jennifer derived names and therefore you couldn’t possibly be thinking of naming your son Jenny!  (I do hate all people with Jennifer derived names.)

Rule #1: Don’t get too creative
Yes, your new baby should be the most important thing in your world, and I know you just can’t seem to find the words to describe your joy.  (By the way, don’t name her Joy.)  But don’t attempt to make up for this when naming your kid.  Before you fill out that birth certificate, write the name out and ask someone to read it to you.  If they’re a decently intelligent human being and they get a quizzical look in their eye and attempt 3 pronunciations in one breath, don’t name your kid that word!  Just think of the little tyke going through life with that name: every first day of class, every trip to the doctor, every interview.  By the time he turns 18 he’s going to legally change his name to a number and be formally known as it he’s so sick of his birth name!  Likewise, don’t take a normal name and try and get too jiggy with switching up the letters.  Jimmy is spelled J-I-M-M-Y, not Jhimme.  And if I see another version of Kiley besides Kylee, Kaileigh, or Kyyylei I’m going to explode.  If your child’s name is the most difficult thing he/she learns how to spell by the 4^th grade, let’s not.  That means none of their friends can spell it either.  And if you haven’t heeded my advice and you find yourself correcting people constantly and getting angrier each time, back off.  It’s not our fault that Tania looks like Tuh-nee-ya and not Tawnya.

Rule #2: Don’t get any ideas from All Dogs Go to Heaven
Have you ever been somewhere when a human being has been introduced to an animal and they have the same name?  I have, and it’s super embarrassing.  For that person, and for the pet-owner.  The example that comes to mind I can’t mention because a close friend of mine just named her daughter the most common Labrador Retriever name in the universe.  So we’ll skip that one but let’s review the others: Max, Ollie, Duke, Jackson, Abby, Maggie, or Jake.  Your son or daughter is a person, and shouldn’t come running when the neighbor’s kitty is being called in the house.  So before naming Baby #2 do what I did just now: look up the most popular pet names for the year and stay as far away from any of them as possible.  Unless you want to name your kid Spike, because that would be awesome.

Rule # 3: Don’t choose their career path
Some of you may not be as Gentleman’s Club savvy as I am, but I’ll let you in on a little secret: strippers use fake names.  Granted their real names are often used by other strippers but that’s just the endless cycle of trash in America and we’ll talk about that at a later time.  Even if you’ve never visited a classy joint like The Silver Dollar, I’m sure you’re still familiar with common dancer names like Candy, Ginger, Jade, Jasmine, and Crystal. These names are also often used by southern white gold diggers.  It’s difficult for a woman to command respect when named after a baked good or semiprecious gem.  So, unless you want to become a grandmother at 40 or be financially responsible for your daughter until your death at 95, please reconsider.  Additionally, and this is really super top secret information, many names that were über popular in 2002 are now extremely common stripper names.  Names like Amber, Taylor, Veronica, Desiree, and Lily are all windin’, grindin’ up on the pole at this very moment.  So send in a scout, whether it’s either parent or your creepy brother-in-law Rick, and be sure you have a solid list of names to avoid until you throw Rick’s next bachelor party. 

Rule #4: Don’t be too unoriginal
If you’re dead set on naming your offspring Ann or Michael, perhaps to acknowledge a fallen family member, remember that your child is their own person, and paying homage to you great grandma on your father’s stepmother’s side may sound sweet and cuddly, but your child will be walking home with B-‘s on his Matthew J’s or Elizabeth K’s report card until he reaches college.  I can’t remember how many John’s there were in my 2^nd grade class but I do remember thinking that it would suck to have to differentiate yourself constantly to your own teacher let alone hope they didn’t get the wrong John when you saw John B. shoot a spitwad at Mary T.  The only way your child can pull off a name like that is if you have a ridiculously cool last name like Blankenship, Trueblood, or Huxtable.  Then teach him from an early age to sign his name P.T. Anderson or Bond, James Bond.  (On the contrary, if you have a freakishly wild/embarrassing last name, choosing a more moderate first name may be in order.)

Rule #5: Think of their last name when picking their first.  
I grew up with a guy whose last name was Hull.  He was dead-set on naming his children Lucy Hull and Titus Hull.  Hilarious when you’re 17 and joking, unfortunate when you’re signing Julia Guglia for the rest of your life.  The name Amanda may sound soothing on its own, but stick Loving (knew a girl with that name) after it and you’ve got a disaster on your hands!  This is a rule my parents should have studied when choosing my name.  Besides naming me 2 and a half decades behind 1985, they also felt I would be a strong enough female to walk through 4 years of high school with the initials BJ.  And learning from my parent’s mistakes I’ve had to accept the fact that naming my future son Jack Purvis will ultimately turn him into a child molester.  Speaking of which I went to high school with a kid name John Kanoff whose uncle’s name was Jack.  No effing joke!  Other real life examples: Paige Turner and Summer Lovin.  How cruel parents can be…

There are probably a zillion other baby naming rules that I could think of, and honestly I will probably break a few of them when naming my own children.  But if you feel the way I do that your name can make or break you, bring you fame or bring you shame, then it’s very important to take into consideration your child’s future and what he or she may be content with throughout the 80 or so years of their life.  Yes, Brenda is a very suitable name for a 50-something stay at home mom, but it’s been a struggle the last 25 years and I still have 25 more to go!  And yes mom, I agree that being fifty with a name like Tiffany might be more obnoxious.  But I doubt there was NO grey area between Brenda and Tiffany.  The truth is no matter how hard you try your kid will inevitably hate the name you gave them.  Therefore I have decided that at age 5, 13, and 21 all children should be legally required to rename themselves.  Which would have probably landed me the names My Pretty Ballerina, Mrs. Timberlake, and Sparkles the Tranny.  And thinking about that makes me appreciate my dull name just a little bit more.

Skool Boy Jim, Yeltsin, and Unicron

Skool Boy Jim, Yeltsin, and Unicron at Sam Bond’s Garage; December 17^th, 2010

Unfortunately, like many acts at Sam Bond’s Garage, Skool Boy Jim’s sound check took about an hour.  Fortunately, when he was done, he rocked his socks off!  Literally; the man played with no shoes.  He also played guitar, drums, harmonica, and sang.  Also fortunate was my discovery of Oakshire’s Hibernator, which I had a couple of…and which I am completely devastated to discover is only a single batch brew and am now committed to consuming my body weight in Hibernator as frequently as possible until it runs out.  This one man band was accompanied by a percussionist who wore a washboard that could only be described as medieval war armor.  And as he played upon his chest and swayed his body back and forth in a rhythmical trance, I realized that more instruments should be played upon one’s own body.  Jim strategically and magically placed multi-colored Christmas lights in his kick drum which mirrored the feel good sounds this guy was producing, which also may have led to a complete shit show of a few drunk dancers for most of his set but I’m going to hand over that win to Meth.  Skool Boy Jim exudes the warmth of southern soul music and the pop of northeast bluegrass and jazz, and featured some oldies but goodies that most audiences can appreciate.  Listening to Jim’s cover of “Death Don’ have no Mercy” by Reverend Gary Davis, I pictured myself in a speakeasy somewhere drinking illegal alcohol and doing the Charleston.  This cover would also be well suited for the credits reel at the end of a Trueblood episode.

Up next was Yeltsin who had a two minute sound check which knocked my socks off and they were up and running in no time.  Tonight proved to be one of Yeltsin’s successful performances, showcasing their rock/ska energy and years of playing together with a seamless set.  The trio was completely in sync, though I was disappointed that the sound guy was not paying attention to the lack of vocals coming from both Dana and Chuck, which, when heard, carries a playful and harmonic vibe throughout each song.  Jake’s vocals were loud and clear and slightly Julian Casablancas, and his custom Guild spoke heavenly words during “Oceanic Nights.”  He lets his guitar strings hang out and his ever increasing talent gives him the right to do so.  On a different note, seeing Yeltsin always makes me feel that if a Yeltsin were a creature instead of a Russian President, it would be Jake and it would be directly related to the teddy bear creatures featured on Grateful Dead memorabilia and leaves me with a warm, fuzzy feeling that I want to give Jake a gigantic bear hug.  Also in the same species: Ewoks, Leprechauns, and the members of ZZ Top.

And then there was Unicron.  Seeing the band members wander around the venue I was actually very excited to see what they had to offer.  Their name is original and two members featured animal headdresses; one of a white unicorn and one of a bear with a unicorn horn.  Topping the image off, the lead singer/Jonah Hill wore Blues Brothers regalia and if it were up to just looks I’d be a fan, even though he also left his front tooth at home, and apparently so did his brother?  (Who was in the audience.)  But it’s not.  They started off the show with some Merry (Fucking) Christmas sentiments and the lead guitarist with the bear head broke into an electric version of Pachelbel’s “Cannon in D” Trans-Siberian Orchestra style.  I was impressed and elated (I walked down the aisle to this song) until the bassist and frontman started yelling something with the word Fuck in it over and over, and we all know my sentiments for bands that are only familiar with the F-bomb.  Mixing Christmas and my wedding day with “let’s fuck” and “fuck you” makes even my heathen soul uneasy.  I had finally decided that the unicorned bassist might actually be decent at screamo when the lead singer shouted “if they don’t like it they can suck my balls” and I politely declined the offer and went home.

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Single Bucket List

I recently finished Chelsea Handler’s “My Horizontal Life” and am trying to read her other books but Amazon is really taking their time.  Her one night stand short stories really got me thinking how funny it would be for me and my college girlfriends to compile our own stories together.  Actually who am I kidding?  Just mine and my bff Rachael’s stories; our other friends had the audacity to be a little more conservative with their bad decisions.  Now that we’re old and married it would be nice to reminisce on a few bad nights and plenty of bad relationships to appreciate where we came from.  But I just couldn’t get to jotting down any tales…writer’s block, I guess?

Then I recently got an eye exam at the mall and was introduced to the world’s sexiest optometrist.  The entire appointment would have gone much different if I was the single version of me, but we just stuck to pleasantries, which got me as far as he is from Arkansas, married to a chick he met in optometry school, is 31, and now lives with her folks in Sweet Home.  Ok so that doesn’t sound super sexy; you’re just going to have to take my word on this one.  After all was said and done (he went out of his way to give me a Lasik vs. PRK demonstration which I secretly tried to convince myself was flirtation and not just his job duties) I started questioning what I would have done if I was single.  Confessed Arkansas accents have always been my fave?  Recited my telephone number when he asked me to read the third line on an eye chart?  Told him I had an extra room at my house if he was looking to rent closer to work?

Hot doctors have always been a dream of mine, but I never had the opportunity to proposition one when I was younger and meeting Dr. Beefcake (what his female coworkers nicknamed him) really put into perspective some of the things you miss out on when you get married at 24.  Now don’t take me wrong, I wouldn’t give up being married to my amazing husband for anything.  All I have to do is remind myself of all the douche bags I dated pre-Mitch, dated being a generous term, and I immediately reconsider any such regrets.  We might call this my “If I ever end up single again Bucket List.”

1.      Have a fling with a doctor

And no, not just an “I got my Ph. D. after five Bachelors and two Masters because I’m petrified of finding a real grown up job” doctor, but a legitimate “I showed up for my pap smear and today’s my lucky day” doctor.  And notice my utilization of the word “fling.”  I am not the marry a doctor type of girl because I have always been adamant about making my own money and not marrying into it, and by adamant I mean that’s how all my relationships have turned out so I have convinced myself it is my goal rather than my luck.  And this fling would have to be based on my own or close friend’s discovery, not a blind date set up with your coworker’s husband’s boss’s doctor-friend.  A quick wham-bam- office rendezvous followed up by a date or two at an extremely expensive restaurant, and then off to find another gynecologist, preferably a female, and that should do the trick.

2.      Sleep with your teacher

Again, notice my choice of word for “your.”  It doesn’t count if you sleep with any ‘ole teacher.  (Hell, my husband’s one and it does not have the same effect that my Single Bucket List is looking for.)  The fact that this person has control over the outcome of your grade or passing of a class is the real motivation here.  And I should really change this rule to “Sleep with your college professor” because let’s be honest, it really wouldn’t be cool to sleep with your tenth grade History teacher because he’d then be that guy that would bang a 15 year old and now we’ve crossed a serious line.  I know of one person from college and one person from high school (again, ew, Mary Kay Letourneau/my art teacher at RHS) who have accomplished this feat.  Both of them were male students, so I feel as if the women in my life, including myself, have really dropped the ball on this one.  I did once have a GTF that had an obvious vendetta against me which, by the end of the term, slightly unveiled itself as a crush, maybe.  But I’m not so sure that counts…

3.      Hook up with your friend’s dad

This is one I always awkwardly joked about growing up, sometime around the MILF era.  I coined the term DILF, and have since had some very bizarre encounters with Dad’s, though have never slept with one, thus the reason it’s now on my Single Bucket List.  In high school I joked about the attractiveness of my friend Jared’s dad on numerous occasions which unfortunately led to the torture of my friend Jared’s soul that girls would rather get with his dad than him which then led to his confession of being a 16 year old porn addict.  I realized I’d got myself in too deep and dropped the DILF comments for awhile.  During my next resurgence of DILF mania my previous college roommate also thought it would be a neat idea to hook up with her friend’s dad, but even more unfortunate was that her sights were set on my dad and I, again, had to lay DILF low for awhile.  I will also mention that this previous friend is a hooker and I will not let go of the fact that she is an awful Mormon hooker until the day that I die even though I am, in fact, over the whole thing.  The third installment of DILF took place around age 22 when my close friend Lindsay’s dad came into town for some sort of function and we all went out for drinks after.  And by we all let me illustrate a more accurate picture: my friend’s dad, about 10 college alcoholics, and multiple rounds of tequila shots.  Apparently I was either in a brown-out or too embarrassed to log the memory in my upstairs database, but I creepily and/or inappropriately asked my friend’s dad what kind of drink he liked and proceeded to buy him his drink of choice.  I was merely trying to make him feel more comfortable as he was in every father’s most petrifying situation: realizing how regularly drunk and crazy your daughter really is and how much money you actually are spending on her to go to college/purchase five Tic-Tacs 4 out of 7 nights a week.  My father reached this milestone my first week at U of O when I met him at a football tailgater.  He, unlike most fathers, relished in the realization that he wasn’t actually losing a daughter but instead gaining a drinking buddy.  We still pretty much have that same relationship.  When Lindsay told me of my strange actions we all had a good laugh and dreamed of DILFs again and what it would really be like to hook up with a dad.  The laughing stopped when Lindsay also told the story to her mother who did not so much enjoy it.  I think at that point my DILF days were over when I had to apologize to wonderful Linda Day for being a Slutty McSlut and propositioning her husband with Tanqueray martinis.

I know I should probably have a more respectable Bucket List, like see Mount Rushmore and go scuba diving, but that kind of Bucket List doesn’t really fit my personality.  I honestly hope that I will never have a chance to take a crack at my Single Bucket List and considering mine and my husband’s family’s track records, his Indonesian genes are going to carry him at least 20 years longer than my diabetic, anxious, hot-headed, Swedish-American mutt ancestry.  I have long lived a mantra of “No Regrets” and I don’t regret any circumstances that I may not have partook in.  I predictably landed myself in enough outrageous situations that my more respectable friends lived vicariously through.  My Single Bucket List will just have to sit up on the shelf with everyone else’s Bucket Lists as I am perfectly content with my myriad of embarrassing stories and joyous/boring married life.

And those of you that really know me know that “settling down” has not even brought me close to maturity.  Can we talk about flashing Portland on New Years or my last mushroom trip?  So do not fret; there is more Brenda yet to come.

Tom Heinl, Hot Drama, and The Underlings

Tom Heinl, Hot Drama, and The Underlings at Sam Bond’s Garage; December 3, 2010

Tom Heinl really is funnier the second time around.  If I wasn’t laughing the first time I saw him perform it’s because I didn’t want to miss a single word.  The best part of Heinl’s gig is that the audience giggles like schoolchildren in anticipation of their next favorite line, and then roars with laughter because his eye expressions and slight bodily descriptions pull the entire thing off seamlessly, again.  He has The Bob and Tom Show written all over him, and with ditties like “Glenwood Folk Can Survive” he will always be a hit with both Eugene and Springfield fan bases.  Best suited for audiences who don’t take their musical tastes too seriously and who know clever comedy when they hear it.

Hot Drama was next, and so was my first martini.  I opened my mind to appreciate the gender role reversals being played out – primarily trying to appreciate “Sassy’s” embracement of talking about sex onstage (usually more accepted public practices of men.)  But when she screamoed FUCK throughout most songs and in between all of them, the sexual enlightenment appeal began to wear off.  I finished my martini with a giant gulp when the Hot Drama groupies started shouting the only word the band seems to be familiar with into an extra mic.  This open invitation for sex with Hot Drama would have been liberating when I was 15 and it still wasn’t ok to talk about sex in front of large groups of people, only because not everyone was having sex yet.  When groupie “Joe” started banging on a cowbell, I got a fever.  The only prescription was more martinis.  Between shouts of “Con-dams” and “Who wants to fuck?” I noticed that the intros to most of Hot Drama’s songs I had heard before.  That’s because they were the intros to Blur’s “Song 2,” The Killer’s “Believe Me Natalie,” and Eugene band Black Delaney’s “Ordinary Men.”  I felt like I was on a bad trip and had boarded the wrong train – a train headed towards an S&M orgy at the Hot Drama after party.  In the end this was the wrong scene for Hot Drama, which was made clear when the only round of applause they received was after they desperately handcuffed Heinl onstage.  I may have been more “in the mood” at a roller derby venue or Castle Megastore.

The Underlings lucked out playing third on the bill.  The best marketing tactic for a band like this is to follow a horny girl band that inevitably made most men soft when raspily screaming/asking the crowd if they wanted to have sex tonight.  The Underling’s harmonized “whoa ohs” and predictable lyrics were a breath of fresh air, and reminded me that raunchy tongue-in-cheek band humor is best suited for groups like this with a Sam Bond’s audience.  Hot Drama is like Lisa Lampanelli: wonderfully hilarious in small doses; terrifying at night.