If you missed out on this show, be sad.

Not as sad as if you missed out on their show at Trees almost 3 years ago, when they gave a seriously unbeatable performance, but be sad.

It is my personal, factual, undisputed, universally-accepted-as-truth belief that BRMC is incapable of giving a bad performance. The night of April 27th was no exception.

I arrived at the House of Blues with my just-as-height-challenged-as-me-if-not-more-so friend at about 7:20 since we got seriously lost trying to find the venue (why must Dallas have so many one way roads?). When the doors opened I obnoxiously ran to the front of the line and got in, because dammit, I’m 5 feet tall and I was not gonna stand behind ANYBODY. Last time I was at the HoB to see BRMC, I got stuck standing behind Sasquatch, some big hairy dude who was like 6’3” and was wide enough to pose some serious vision problems for me. BRMC is amazing live and after being right up against the stage at their 2010 Trees concert, I was not about to settle for another Sasquatch experience. So I ran, got yelled at to slow down, slowed down for 0.02 seconds, then ran again.

Success! My friend and I were both front and center, or rather, front and stage right. Robert Levon Been tends to stand on the left side of the stage, so we made sure that’s where we were, right in front of him. Unfortunately that put us right next to this tall douchebag security guard who all throughout the show kept checking the divider between stage and audience, making sure it was locked together. He checked the one in front of us about a billion more times than necessary, and I’m fairly certain he did it just to be a dick since he checked that particular lock more than all the others combined and because I scowled at him after he told me my arms were flabby before the show (uh, sorry, but I don’t take well to people randomly insulting me, especially when I made no attempt to talk to them in the first place, and seriously, Asshole Security Guard, WTF?).

But let’s get to the music part, yes?

First up was Plowboy, a band made up of BRMC fans who somehow managed to meet Robert and he told them they could open the show. How nice is that? The part that was really great was that they were actually good. Last time I saw BRMC at the HoB, the first opener was some shitty roadie band with like 6 members, four of whom played guitar (why? No, really, why?) and all of whom had super long hair that they desperately tried to flip around, perhaps in an attempt to distract the audience from their terrible music. Thankfully, Plowboy was nothing like them.

When Plowboy first took the stage, they sort of looked like a mini band, not in terms of the size of the band, but in the size of the band members. I assumed they were just underdeveloped or shrimpy 18- or 19-year-olds. Their performance was a little amateur, not in a bad way, you could just tell they didn’t have that much experience under their belts. Their musical style was heavily BRMC-influenced but also sort of 90s. And they physically looked 90s. They looked like rock ‘n roll Hanson.

After the show, I saw their guitarist and asked him how old he was. He said all the band members were 15. 15! No wonder they looked tiny and sounded relatively inexperienced. They’re prepubescent! Well, sort of.

It’s important to note that their lead singer sounds like a fully grown man, not like Taylor Hanson circa 1997. I strongly encourage you to check them out. They’re legitimately good already, but they’re only 15. Just think about how good they’ll be years from now. They’ll be selling out the House of Blues as the headliner.

It’s also important to note that my friend and I both did not drink anything from about 6:45 to the end of the show. We knew if we did, we’d have to pee and our front-line spots would vanish into thin other people. You might say, “So what?” but bear in mind, I am a drinkaholic. Water, soda, alcohol, I need to be drinking something, like all the time. So after Plowboy’s set, dehydration was starting to kick in.

About the time my tongue took on a chalky texture, Bass Drum of Death took the stage and performed excellently. I won’t say they killed it, but they gave a great set. I was surprised not to hear “Heart Attack Kid,” but they played “GB City” and “Velvet Itch,” so I was happy. If you’re unfamiliar with them, they can best be described as a cross between Ty Segall, BRMC and any band from Seattle. I was really happy they were the second opener.

After they left my ears feeling like cotton, my whole mouth felt like cotton, too. Water! my brain screamed. I felt like Katniss Everdeen before she finds the pond. Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but I was totally thirsty. At least I didn’t have to pee, though, so I could see…

BRMC! Fuck, they were good. Been’s bass was too loud though. The levels were off, and it was distracting and kind of buried the vocals, but they played well regardless. I was unsure of how they’d play Firewalker, my current favorite track off Specter at the Feast, but they pulled it off. Before they came on stage my friend and I were discussing what song they’d play first, and I called it! (Although it was a pretty obvious choice.) It was “Let the Day Begin.”

Been was as great as he always is on stage, interacting with the audience and giving a sick performance, but I was more impressed with Peter Hayes at this particular show. At concerts past, Peter was more subdued and sort of seemed like he didn’t want to be there, but at the HoB this time, he was killer. He complemented his excellent vocal range with an attitude that seemed excited. I don’t know the man, but he seems to be more quiet and less animated than his counterpart. In his own, subtler way, he seemed happy he was on stage performing for the Dallas crowd, and that made me really happy.

He and Robert switched their sides of the stage for a song like they always do, which I think the fans always appreciate. I forgot about my dehydration, especially during the band’s signature acoustic session, when Been and Hayes each take the stage alone for at least one acoustic song. Been played “You Run” beautifully and Hayes resurrected one of my favorite BRMC songs, “Devil’s Waitin”, which is also one of the songs that first got me interested in the band way back when. Hayes was truly captivating.

The man has the voice of a chainsmoking angel.

BRMC played some tunes I didn’t expect to hear like “Windows” (which is amazing live) and “In Like the Rose,” as well as several songs off their new album. The one song I was surprised I didn’t hear was “Teenage Disease.”

Sometime after the acoustic session, Douchebag Security Guard disappeared and a portly, bearded ginger security guard came and stood right in front of me, right in front of Been. Not only was it distracting, but it was rude, and I was like, hello, why the hell are you standing right in front of me? It’s all about me, you know. (That was a joke, don’t hurt me… please?) His head blocked Been’s feet, so not cool.

But then, Been perched on the edge of the stage like an adorable bird and poked the security guard in the head with the head of his bass. He was like a fairy godmother because shortly after that the security guard took his rightful place at the side of the stage, not right the fuck in front of one of the band members. I think he just did it to be funny (which it was), but I like to think he did it to get the guy to move because he was bothering the fans. It really was distracting and I couldn’t have been the only one bothered by Portly Ginger’s presence.

On a separate but related note, what the FUCK, Dallas House of Blues? Why does your security staff suck so much? You don’t handle problems when they arise, you just fuck over the fans. What’s your problem?

Ok, that little rant is over.

Leah Shapiro gave a great performance all night. The woman is a beast on the drums. There’s not much to say about her because she was right on the money the whole time.

After the last song, Been laid down his bass and messed with a dial on his amp, creating some grisly, shrieking feedback. It was obvious he was going to make it stop once BRMC came back out for the encore, but holy balls was it horrible. I love the way BRMC uses atmospheric tones but Christ. It was one of the few times I’ve ever had to plug my ears at a concert. I wonder if he did it to shorten the length of time between the regular set and the encore, or to be “rock ‘n roll,” or to make people more excited to have BRMC take the stage again so they’d make the deadly frequency stop, or just to see if someone would pass out from it. Hell, maybe he just liked the way it sounded. Regardless, Robert Been, that was the one thing you’ve ever done live to make me hate you, just a little bit.

BRMC came back on stage for their 2-song encore (thank the Lord) and ended with a slow song like they like to do in Dallas.

It was a great show.

The merch line was super long, and my friend and I chugged a ton of water and went out to the tour bus to be annoying fangirls and beg for autographs and pictures (what’s the fun of a concert if you can’t harass the talent?). On our way a bouncer for an after party being held in the upstairs of the HoB told us and 40 other girls we could go in for free, and hinted that BRMC might show up, so we went inside. It was weird. Not sexy weird or cool weird—weird weird, like, an old man was twirling around a wooden pole. It was definitely not the scene rock stars would hit after a show, so we got the hell out of there.

We found the tour bus but BRMC took forever to come out (apparently they like to eat pizza after their shows, one girl said, and lo and behold, some of their staff came out with pizza slices in their hands).  We waited as the herd of fans got thinner and thinner until we decided to go wait in the car, or maybe just leave. We’d waited so long we’d surpassed superfandom and entered the realm of creepy stalkerfans, which wasn’t really the vibe I wanted to give off. I think BRMC left about 2-3 hours after the show. I know this because some drunk d-bag rear ended my car and I was stuck outside the HoB (but far away enough from it to where I couldn’t interact with the band, the worst of both worlds) dealing with the aftermath, and the tour bus was still there during most of the “Give me your policy number” bullshit, but once I finally finished dealing with that, it was gone.

So despite a douchey security guard, a ginger security guard, thirst and some random, not-even-a-BRMC-fan rear-ending me and causing me to miss getting autographs, it was an awesome night.

“OMFG AGAIN R U SERIOUS Y R U DOING THIS 2 ME” is what you’re probably thinking, if you’re a grammatically challenged 13-year-old girl. Yes, folks, I’m sorry to say it’s time for yet another shameless plug. I left out something important in my last post: I made two videos for Ishi, not one. As luck would have it, two is actually more than one in quantity (who knew?), so I’m spamming two blog posts instead of just one. Do me a favor and watch this video too (in HD, of course). If you do, I’ll hunt you down, wait outside your house dressed in all black, ring your doorbell and… give you a relaxing foot massage! What can I say, you scratch my back, I scratch your feet. Potato tomato. You can always hit that “like” button too… I heard if you click it, somewhere in the world, your enemies get shot in their faces. Think about it.

Wow! It’s been a long time since I’ve been on WordPress. I’m sorry, Bloggie, I didn’t mean to neglect you! I just got so busy with work and booze and finally watching Grimm…

Alright, so, this is some video coverage of an amazing performance ISHI gave when they opened for New Order back in October 2012. I might be a LITTLE late in posting this video *cough* but it’s only because SOMEONE didn’t pull their weight in the not-annihilating-my-precious-Macbook department (I’m looking at you, Illegal Copy of Adobe Suite and also at you, Heinous Apple Computer Virus I No Doubt Got from an Illegal K-drama Website—you b****es really f***ed me over this time).

Anyway, I hope you’ll give it a look-see (in HD, please—watching a YouTube video in 480p when you have the option of watching it in 1080 is sort of like choosing an Equate brand packaged chocolate chip cookie over a freshly baked one from your granny… you’re insane, basically).

Muchas gracias, folks!

State Fair mascot Big Tex died a mere 3 days ago. The beloved, terrifying giant cowboy is being mourned by Texans all over the world (or maybe just in Texas, ’cause they’re Texans).

The problem with mourning Big Tex is the obviousness that he’s a sex criminal (as evidenced by his face) using his celebrity to endorse Dickie’s, the makers of the worst clothes ever with the worst name ever. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll miss him, but I don’t think we should be sweeping his creepiness under the rug like we did when MJ died. We can’t fit him under a rug anyway.

Big Tex’s stare is at best unsettling and at worst the look of a Pagan god who’s been slyly wreaking havoc over the years with his innocent shrugging pose.

“Who, me? I’m just standing here, leering over you. This is Texas, so ah do what ah wawnt!”

Don’t tell me you didn’t get sick every year you went to the state fair. Fried foods and jerky rides hardly merit a pleasant post-fair experience. They’re the cause of your annual illness… or are they?

I think someone discovered Big Tex’s god qualities and tried to use them for her or himself, angering Big Tex. Suddenly rides are trapping people, Madonna cancels her Dallas concert and men are getting shot all the way in San Antonio. Coincidence? Pff.

The culmination of Big Tex’s anger was his own fiery pseudo-demise, ending his 60-year reign of terror. Check out Big Tex’s Wikipedia page to see his evolution over the years, somehow getting more creepy with time (except in 1956, when he was clearly seeking human sacrifice).

Big Tex will be back. That’s a given since you can’t kill gods. While he’s gone, fellow Texans, let’s enjoy our brief time away from him. If you miss him so much you went to his memorial service, think of it this way: at least Big Tex got to literally go down in flames.

… Halloween candy! YAAAAAAAAAY!

Fact: Halloween is the best day of all the days. Candy is the best food of all the diabetes-causing foods. Central Market is the best store of all the grocery stores in Texas. Therefore it stands to reason that Halloween candy from Central Market is the best of all the everything.

It is my great pleasure to review Central Market’s seasonal candy collection, which is what I’m about to do, in case you hadn’t figured that out.

The nice thing about Central Market is that along with normal, boring-people candy (Snickers bars? Puh-leeze), they have unusual, exciting candy for people who are really into candy, like me and… me.

Starting left, going clockwise, let the candy comments commence:

Fancy Candy Corn: Some people have a beef with candy corn. They say, “Candy corn, Y U NO TASTE LIKE CORN?” To them, I say, why the f**k would you want to eat candy that tastes like corn? Seriously, that’s disgusting. You’re disgusting. Go see a therapist or something.

Others have a problem with candy corn because they think it’s gross. They have a point considering it’s basically just orange-dyed cones of corn syrup. (Wait—does candy corn get its name from corn syrup? That would make sense.) I, however, love candy corn. It is delicious, and Central Market agrees with me because they sell it, and that’s what that means… right?

But Central Market isn’t wasting valuable shelf space on plain candy corn—they jazzed it up. This candy corn, fancy candy corn, contains traditional candy corn, Indian corn and pumpkins, but also, gasp, differently shaped pumpkins, witches, cats, owls, skulls, bats and corn cobs. Yes, pieces of candy corn that are actually shaped like real corn. IT’S AWESOME.

I mean, it tastes just like normal candy corn, but it’s a lot more fun to play with, which is what really matters. The fancy pieces of candy corn come in orange, yellow, brown and other brown. The brown and other (lighter) brown pieces taste sort of chocolatey, but about as chocolatey as the ends of Indian candy corn, so, you know, not really chocolatey at all.

Caramel Apple Candy Corn: If you don’t eat the butts of caramel part of the candy corn, then it’s tasty like cinnamon apples. If you do eat the candy corn pieces whole, then they taste like delicious apple covered in sugar poop. I’m not much of a caramel person. I am an apple person, though. Side note: I did not eat 20 apples in the last week. That would be weird. It wasn’t me, okay?! Maybe it was me.

The cool part of buying a prepackaged container of this stuff was that it came with vampire teeth:

I mean, yeah, it’s just a factory screw up and these are really just prematurely-birthed candy corn siamese twins, but they look like vampire teeth. They were delicious, too, because there was no caramel on them.

Gummy Brains: Gummy brains taste so good that I decided to try real brains too. I wouldn’t recommend them. They’re all bloody and slimy. On an unrelated note, if anyone would like to post my bail, it would be greatly appreciated.

Gummy brains taste fruity, like watermelon!

Tangerine Candy Corn: At first taste, this candy corn tasted like a combination of little girl perfume and plastic, but in a good way. At second taste, I decided that they indeed kind of tasted like tangerines, if tangerines were sweeter and wore purple shoes.

Chocolate-covered Candy Corn: Pretty much anything coated in chocolate is good (except this), so as you’d expect, this ain’t bad. A little weird, but not bad.

Candy Corn Jujubes: These are definitely the strangest-tasting candies I acquired from Central Market and everywhere in general. They almost taste like candy corn and almost have the consistency of marshmallows—almost. The good news is they won’t rip your teeth out like most Jujubes, so you won’t have to get dentures before the age of 60, unless you get into some kind of horrible accident. Hopefully that won’t happen to you.

Unless you like Nickleback.

Pumpkin Spice Malt Balls: In general, I don’t like malt balls. They’re gross and taste like old people. However…

HOLY F**K THESE PUMPKIN MALT BALLS ARE GOOD. Really. They will

change
your
life.

Ghost Jujubes: Ghost jujubes come in orange, pina colada and black flavors. Don’t ask me what the hell the black ones are supposed to taste like, because I seriously don’t know. They’re like a cross between grape, black licorice and dried globs of hot glue. They taste good but they’re so difficult to chew that eating them might not be worth the effort. The orange and white ghosts are considerably easier to chew, though they still don’t slide down your gullet with the ease of gummy brains. Only the black ones are truly difficult. I could get racist with that, but I’ll leave it alone… for now.

Gummy BOO: Gummy letters always taste good, like gummy worms and bears. The problem with gummy letters is whenever you need to spell specific words, certain letters that you previously saw frequently disappear. That’s how you end up with a mangled letter B, as pictured above, because all the other Bs decided to hide in the back of Central Market’s candy trough where I couldn’t find them. B is for bitches.

I have two other candy items that are not pictured in the photo at the top of the post, due to making another trip to Central Market and finding two more things because self-control is a distant memory:

Gumball Cat: Isn’t Gumball Cat adorable?!

Gummy Teeth: The most surprising thing about gummy teeth is how delicious they are. Really. I bought these apprehensively (but still excitedly, of course), thinking they were cool but unsure of what their flavor would be. Toothpaste-flavored? Gingivitis-flavored?

Turns out, they’re ambiguously fruity. They taste like fruit, but I can’t pinpoint any specific fruit. Maybe that’s actually what the insides of our teeth taste like, but we’ll never know.

Gummy teeth are also great for scaring off potential suitors. Unfortunately they attract creepy potential suitors in place of the ones they just scared away.

Now go eat some candy!

In keeping with my current trend of posting videos long after it’s relevant to post them, here’s another video.

A few weeks ago was Fashion’s Night Out. If you don’t know what that is, you’re lame. Sorry, but it’s true. Don’t feel too bad, though, because this year I was lame, too. I only went to the Northpark Mall for FNO festivities and missed out on some pretty cool stuff. Wah wah wah. There’s always next year. Anyway, while I was there I took some video clips, all of which I later realized were super awful and shaky. Like, in-a-paddle-boat-in-the-middle-of-the-ocean-during-a-storm-and-also-there-are-dogs-trying-to-bite-you shaky. Free Neiman Marcus champagne + my already shaky hands = terrible cameraperson. Anyway, I salvaged what I could, and this video features some new Ted Baker looks, so if you’re like me and scream, “TED BAKER!” in crazed excitement whenever someone mentions the brand, take a look-see.

Yes, you saw it correctly. In this opening montage introducing the affluent leading lady, there is an issue of Poople magazine. Movies and TV shows often have terrible names for prop magazines, but this is by far my favorite. I mean, even if you don’t know English that well, how can you write “Poople” and not feel like something is off? Whenever I learn a new language, I immediately learn the term for excrement and all the swear words. But maybe that’s just me and fifth graders.

This is either a sneaky joke or an embarrassingly accurate foreshadowing of the end of this drama. Either way, I’m referring to People as “Poople” from now on because honestly, it’s a more appropriate name anyway.

Not usually with video, though, which is why it’s strange that this vid I made a month ago is getting posted today.

OH WELLZ.

Seriously though, this video features some pretty cool designs from Dallas-based indie brands Mogul, Sirois, True Artist and Double Scoop Boutique. Check ‘em out!

Though the designs aren’t featured, the vid also shows the cool chicks behind the badass bra stylings of Dallas-based 72 Hour Freek Couture, who’s catered to the likes of Nicki Minaj.

Rebecca Black Friday Flakes: I’m assuming this person was hoping to find Rebecca Black-inspired cereal and not dandruff. If cereal’s the case (please let it be the case), they’re in luck because I just invented some.

For the mom who wants her children to fail at life. Part of a mentally unbalanced breakfast.

On this note, if you’d like to test your endurance for Friday Flakes, click here and see if you can make it to the 10 minute mark like a winner (yes, that is a challenge). I only made it 10 seconds.

Chicken Penis: Before you get all judgmental, ask yourself, do you know what a chicken penis looks like? I don’t. Most people don’t, because the rooster penis is internal, which I definitely did not learn by Googling “chicken penis” a moment ago.

Some Sort of Chicken with a Penis: This one you can be judgemental about.

Picture of a Chicken Face Nugget: What I would like to know is 1) Why is my blog the 4th image search result for this, 2) why aren’t there freaky pictures for this search term, other than the one shown below, and 3) what the what?

He Looks Like a Nugget: Yes, yes he does. Who are we talking about?

Don’t Eat Them Raw Asian Kid Puppies: Sound advice.

Fat Asian Man in Bra: Now here’s a search term that’s actually relevant because as a matter of fact, I happen to have one of those in this post.

Girl Japanese Dentures: The Japanese have all kinds of disturbing fetishes but I was unaware dentures were one of them. It makes sense, though, considering how sexy Americans find dentures. You can’t tell me you don’t get tingly when some old guy’s gum glue loosens and his teeth fall out of his mouth. Ooh la la. I did know about the yaeba trend, which can make Japanese women look more childlike (according to the article I linked to, anyway). If that’s true then it just confirms what we already know: Japanese businessmen like their women to look young—prepubescent young. Ewww.

Some Dude Named Gums: Look, Gums is just trying to live a normal life, okay?! He can’t help that his mom had a denture fetish when she named him. Leave Gums alone!

How to Wear Overall Shorts: You don’t. I repeat, you DO NOT wear overall shorts EVER under ANY circumstances. I mean it. I will find you.

A Shoo in Your Hair: I… what?

Men Sexy Armpit Hair: I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen this one, and variations on it, including “Man Armpit Hair Sexy,” “Sexy Armpit Hair Man” (which just makes me picture a man made out of armpit hair, which is strange-looking and also GROSS), “Armpit Sexy Chris Gorham” and “Christopher Gorham Armpit.” What is with you people and your obsession with Christopher Gorham and his armpit hair?! How is it sexy? HOW?

Armpit of Man Pictures: The armpit of man is probably Spencer Pratt.

Redneck Sluts Girls: I know I shouldn’t be surprised that someone in the world thinks slutty rednecks are sexy, but come on, how are rednecks sexy?

Never mind. I totally get it now.

Homemade Boobs: I don’t know why you need homemade boobs, and I don’t want to know what shows up when you Google this search term (aside from this blog, obviously), but interestingly enough, when I searched “redneck sluts,” this picture came up:

I’m not sure how Asian women wearing boob scarves qualifies as slutty or redneckish, but Asians have just as much of a right to be rednecks as ugly white people do, so I won’t stop them. Now that I think about it, wearing a scarf that looks like a pair of boobs is redneckish. Keep on truckin’, Asianecks.

Homemade Ken Doll Wig: I want to know why you need this even less than I want to know why you need homemade boobs.

And lastly but not leastly (leastly?):

Swelling of Lifeless Mannequins Porn Corn Videos: Self-explanatory. Only not. At all.

You should watch this (in HD) because I made it and it doesn’t make a lot of sense.

Late recap list version of Gorilla vs Bear II is go:

1. It was awesome.

2. Glass Candy is great live, even if Ida No shrieks like a toddler that dropped their ice cream, or whatever toddlers are eating these days. Cheerios? Gummy bears? Absinthe? I don’t know.

3. Twin Sister is also great live, though not as vivacious as Glass Candy, who could light the White House for a day with their energy, if they wanted. I don’t know why they’d want to do that, though.

4. Chromatics were good but a little boring. If I wasn’t so into their music (and required to be there), I might’ve walked out. Not because they didn’t perform well but because they didn’t wow me. I’m getting old (early 20s is basically prehistoric, right?) and getting to the point where live shows are only fun when the band seems like they actually want to be there. The whole “I don’t even care that people are watching me because I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to Portland and smoke cigarettes for a few uneventful hours while I stare listlessly into the abyss” thing is a heaping load of bullshit. They want you to step in the bullshit and get it on your shoe and make your shoe smell bad forever until you light it on fire because you just don’t know what else to do but you’re crying and you’ve been drinking and I got away from my point.

Bands need their fans. Without fans, they’d never be where they are or where they’re going. Having a cool persona on stage certainly isn’t treating your fans poorly, but I prefer the appreciative on-stage approach. I want you to want me to be there, bands. I bought a ticket and 3+ $7 beers, so, you know, put on a show for me. Plus, I just like high energy spectacles. Lights, dancing, smiling, jumping, balloons… all the things Glass Candy gave me.

5. Johnny Jewel, core member and producer of both Chromatics and Glass Candy (who played back to back), managed to come across as both cool and happy to be there the whole night. He also looked like he was doing almost everything musically for both bands. Ida No, charming as she is, just hopped around. Ruth Radelet strummed a guitar maybe thrice. One of the other members of Chromatics (name unknown because I don’t give an autographed fuck who he is) played bass and sang once, as he is the lead vocalist in “These Streets Will Never Look the Same.” Johnny Jewel, however, played his synth and weird electronic box things while bouncing around and sweating on everything. In fact, I’m pretty sure the venue was flooded with his sweat upon completion of Glass Candy’s set. That kind of sweating can only mean dedication. Or hyperhidrosis. Either way, he was still very easy on the eyes, even if you couldn’t touch him without your fingertips getting pruny.

Glass Candy and Chromatics both collaborate within their respective groups (although the bands are so close it may go beyond that). Johnny Jewel isn’t in total control. With the way they performed, though, you’d never know that. Not a bad thing, but JJ gets a few more awesome points from me for shouldering the weight of the live shows. He also gets 1,000 awesome points from me for being a feminist (cue smitten sigh).

6. Some fat guy standing behind me randomly took my camera to take some horrendously blurry shots of Ida No (the GH2 is for steady hands, guys… not that I have those). He repeatedly tried to borrow my camera until I finally moved away from him, but about two minutes after that, Glass Candy’s set ended. I have the best timing.