This is a review of the Best Coast show.
I promise. Sort of.
Well you’ve probably read me enough to know what the case is. This is a review of the Clovers/Male Bonding/Best Coast show that took place at the Grog Shop last night.
Technically.
I was there. I will review it but really this is a show that will be discussed in terms of the things (read conversations) I heard. There are no pictures except for poorly drawn ones that I probably won’t post. Actually I lie there is this:
The only picture I took last night. It is of Admiral Ackbar with Stiller #2. After the show sitting at the bar I pulled him out (and the Admiral Ackbar too—Heyooo!) and stood him on the bar. John K who enjoyed the sentiment made the “It’s a trap!” cup soon after.
I’m getting way ahead of myself.
Like that is the end of the night and I haven’t even discussed the beginning.
You know the sex that took place beforehand. I’m just kidding.
Or am I? No really I am
Or—I know I know shut up and get on with it before you all leave.
Hello?
Anylamejoke before the night could begin we had to move the car from where it was. As we walked over to it a lady in an overalls shorts combo thing stopped us.
Lady: I’m gonna keep it real. I just got out of the Cleveland Heights jail cell. I just want a few bucks so I can get a beer and a cigarette. I’m just keeping it real you know what I’m saying.
The wife gave her a buck. I think.
On our way to the Grog Shop this happened:
Girl 1: “Remember the time we stole that wheelchair?”
Girl 2: “Yeah that was when we were stalking Dennis Kucinich”
We met Pelvic Joann out front and before we could get an old black dude said “Hey how you doing?’
Old black dude: Can I sing something for you?
Me: I dunno can you? (I’m such a dick.)
Wife: No. (The whole time she never looked up from twitter on her phone.)
He proceeds to give a mumbled low (if not somewhat creative) rap about Halloween. We headed in and there were a few minutes before the first band (Clovers) was to take the stage. As the lovely ladies I was with ordered the drinks I listened to the crowd.
A digression: I never saw so many people holding PBRs before. It was like every other person had one. Also someone was drinking wine at the grog shop? Really?
Apparently I should have worn v neck whit tee’s and skinny jeans. This conversation actually took place.
Guy in trucker hat: Dude. What is this band again?
Hipster in skinny jeans: Best Coast.
Trucker hat: What kind of music?
Skinny jeans: Hipster rock/pop.
Trucker hat: What the fuck is hipster rock.
Skinny jeans: A normal rock or pop show but you know by hipsters.
Trucker hat: Why do I hang out with you?
Now normally I may have sympathized with the trucker hat dude except it was a Budweiser trucker hat and he kept lifting up his shirt (you know “nonchalantly”) when chicks passed. Oh and he tried this line on a chick who was trying to snap a pic of her friend and herself: “You’re too pretty for a picture like that. You need someone who can capture that beauty.”
Anylameguy Clovers had a long set for an opening act at the grog. They weren’t too bad either. They had some catchy stuff but nothing that stood out too much. Number one problem with them was never said one word to the audience—other than “thank you”—at the end.
The next band Male Bonding was billed as a punk band but really did not come off as all that punk. I kid you not skinny jeans also at one point called them “Hipster Punk.” I left his area then. They too were not bad but not really memorable either. They tried a little more stage presence but couldn’t muster much.
The crowd surged for Best Coast. They played their known stuff and mixed in other (not as good—too harsh?) pieces too. The show was fast paced and hustled along. This was also because of a lack of interaction and connection, other than an awkward bit about her cat that has seizures. Best Coast came off a little heavier than what I had heard. I dug that.
I had no real connection to the band (other than liking what I had heard prior) and chose to not fight the crowd and stayed back. I scribbled some poetry in my book while letting the music and words float to me.
A strange but cute (I love you wifey!) blonde chick in an odd dress asked if I wanted to dance. When I politely declined she offered me some water. I don’t get it either. The whole time this was happening on twitter:
@Clevelandpoet (me duh!): @grogbrit now if I’m at the @grog_shop shouldn’t you be? If only for the fact that I am.
And eventually her hilarious response:
@grogbrit: @kittenkaboom @clevelandpoet – god, how do i explain? spastic girl running around, blue sweater, jeans, little heels? write that on my grave about 14 hours ago via web
Now unbeknownst to me (I couldn’t get my twitter to work—that sounds bad) I was actually chilling right next to the lovely Brittany for most of Best Coast. After the show we got her replies and eventually asked John K to help find her.
Or the wifey scared John K by saying Grogbrit! Then grabbing him by the shoulders and saying it again. He was like “what happened!” and then when explained pointed her out.
I must say the highlight of the evening was finally meeting her. I say this not just because there were free drinks involved but because she was way awesome! There had been several attempts that always fell through. This time was a success and good times.
Hooray for twitter.
Wait what was the point of this post again? Who knows but check out @overheardohio to see the funny shit that is heard daily.
There is a mystery afoot! The unexplained has occurred.
Call Mulder
Call Scully
Actually wait just call Scully. I mean rawr. I don’t need that dick Mulder cock blocking me.
I mean uhm…these aren’t the droids you’re looking for.
Yeah X-Files and Star Wars jokes at the same time! I really am the Ron Jeremy of nerd references. I really don’t think there is anywhere this post can go from here. So I might as well just end it right? Some DMX lyrics just popped in my head but then I find that I had one of the line wrongs and it no longer applies for this joke.
Sorry Ruff Ryders.
Now that I’ve lost every single reader I guess I’ll move on to the reason we need Mulder and the very sexy Scully. Well first off I went to bed last night with a post in mind for today but somewhere between then and the morning it flew away. I’m pretty sure it was stolen by Leo and the gang Inception style.
It was either that or the fact that several times I walked into the living room and sillie bean(the wifey) was watching Melissa and Joey. Yep it’s a new show on ABC FAMILY that pairs Melissa Etheridge and Joey Mercury.
That’s right kiddos as if my brand of humor didn’t already chase readers off I made a reference to a nonexistent television show. A joke using a pop-based folk-rock singer with raspy vocals and an a vague wrestler.
I know how alienate everyone. It my friends is a gift.
Anyvaguejokes the actual show (there is one!) stars Melissa Joan Hart and Joey Lawrence.
(Woah)
I only went the route of the easy woah joke because we all know each of you did it at the mention of his name. Don’t try to deny it. Don’t you do it.
I will turn this blog around right now!
(woah)
What the hell was the point? Oh right the painful show that erased or warped my brain and stole my idea. That isn’t even the real mystery though. Oh no it’s weirder. I woke up and after stumbling into the kitchen to make some coffee went out to get the paper. No the mystery isn’t how come the paper was actually out there for a change.
I then proceeded into the office to sit at my computer and write this up for you. Aren’t I kind?
Well who asked you? Don’t answer that!
As I sat down I noticed something was awry. There was villainy afoot! There was something rotten in Denmark and etc. There was a spoon just sitting next to my computer:
There are a few possible explanations. As I wait for Scully to come sex this place up investigate I’ll go over them.
First it could have been the little elf that will complete my plays for me helping me become rich and famous. Oh they only help with shoes? Damn.
It could be that I’m crazy and eat peanut butter late at night without remembering it. Perhaps my wife sat down at the desk this morning to use my computer (hands off woman!) and eat peanut butter. She does like to snack on spoonfuls of the stuff.
I think the most plausible explanation is that overnight Joey Lawrence snuck into our apartment and surfed porn on my computer. He is a well known peanut butter fiend. The porn he watched (I imagine he watched Big Trouble in little Vagina) got him so hot that he forgot to put the spoon away. Perhaps he heard something and rushed off leaving the evidence?
For what it’s worth the wifey thinks she put it down to give me a hug the night before but I don’t remember that. I think she’s covering up for Joey.
“Yeah I can get into this.” *Head bob and awkward looking body movement.*
Go shawty, it’s your birthday
“Hey! Don’t call me shor—”
We gonna party like it’s your birthday
We gon’ sip Bacardi like it’s your birthday
“Oh see that’s better. Though rather it be Jack Daniels but you know whatever.” *Cough* Wuss *Cough*
You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look mami, I got the X if you into takin’ drugs
“Uhm drugs? Plus did you just call me mami? You are strange.”
I’m into havin’ sex, I ain’t into makin’ love
So come gimme a hug, if you’re into gettin’ rubbed
“Woah big boy just stop right there with your pervert ideas. I don’t know who you think I am but I’m not into that stuff. Plus you know I really don’t like you calling me short. You spelled it wrong too.
Oh?
You think so? You wanna take it outside tough guy?”
And that’s the true story of how 50 Cent really got all shot up. Yeah I shot 50 cent.
Don’t mess with me I’m a Lawyer!
Sorry this isn’t the movie Hook, but really is my birthday.
I’ve decided to go with a bit of a theme for today’s Post it Note Tuesdays. The theme is numbers of course because being an English Major it makes sense to make my theme numbers. Enjoy and if you want to read some more just clicky click the pic below. If you want to make your own go here.
So on March 9th, 1997 one of the greatest rappers of all time (Biggie Smalls) was shot and killed. Today being March 9th I decided that I’d add him to the Pandora station I listen to the most to honor him. Well since I did Pandora has played 10 extremely white guys. I just found it funny. Believe me I’ll be pouring one out for my homie later.
This one is a little more self explanatory. Including today I’ve got 5 more shifts of torture before I’m laid off. I will be pouring one out for the store later too but only the cheap stuff.
I would love to marry my iphone but instead I will just continue to kiss on my wifey for getting it for me. The 4 apps I downloaded right away were espn score center, echophone (twitter), facebook and foursquare. Shut up.
Yep every single time I went to get some coffee I’ve either almost dropped it or slammed it into the side of the coffee maker. I’m awesome like that. Wanna hire me?
Thanks Monster and some people are just dicks.
This is so awesome. I took it home and it deserves pictures more than words so:
That coughing for well over a month really sucks. (Technically I already knew this.)
That whether or not I work Mondays still suck.
This probably has a lot to do with negativity and our attitudes but then so many people hate Mondays perhaps it’s for a good reason.
That certain coworkers consider themselves members of the “superstar team” and from said conversation probably see’s me as the “C or D team”.
I can live with that because the Produce Department at a lame grocery store does not define who I am.
That I’ve become a little too comfortable with seeing blood after coughing.
Fuck coughing may be what defines…is it too late to take back the Produce Dept comment?
Working most Sundays means I miss a majority of the Browns “games” and this has meant when I don’t I’m
more likely to turn it off and spend time with my wife.
The fact that they suck doesn’t help either.
That I haven’t written a poem in about two months.
That making an effort to be a better husband can be as easy adding an extra hug to your day.
Assuming it’s your wife you are hugging.
That Cavs games just aren’t the same without the Rizza pulling and hitting me.
For an entire week I didn’t even have a notebook in my bag.
Isn’t that some sort of sin as a writer?
That drinking alcohol while taking antibiotics will flush the antibiotics from your system. Why my store manager felt the need to tell me this is beyond me. I think he thinks I’m a hardcore alcoholic.
That the phrase “Piss off” is often on the tip of my tongue.
My cat will steal an entire cookie from my hand and then eat it all.
The Big Lebowski soundtrack is a great soundtrack.
I can be way too amused by myself.
That I like it better when my wife enjoys Star Wars.
And that this will forever be one of my favorite things to watch:
Here is the second track from the E.T. CD. Yeah I like to avoid real writing.
Phonin’
[Chorus]
I got one big brown head, you don’t pick up I’m gonna be dead.
Baddies bang at the door, Reese’s pieces all ova the floor
This is just a speak and spell with a coffee can, tell me you have a secret plan.
Phonin’ Phonin’ Phonin’
My neck is all stretched out
And Elliot be looking like he got gout.
I learned all my words from Sesame Street.
Time running short, g men on my tail, your boy really be on the hot seat.
Gone are the good times back on Halloween.
I’m big time you know in the clutch I’ll make it out clean.
Give me my celly and drop me in the forest to roam
Excuse me Mr. Officer I just want to call home.
[Chorus]
I dropped the Hershey people a pot of gold.
June 82 I owned you, records knocked cold.
Hands down the best sci fi movie ever made.
May be an analogy for Jesus, don’t mean I can’t get paid.
So big I can have my own time zone, this alien be rich and it shows
Don’t act like my neck don’t bling, bitch even my heart glows!
In my left pocket an IPhone and in the right blackberry curve.
Beat back suckas with ease. Blink and you’ll miss my swerve.
[Chorus]
Worldwide you know I got that dough.
Get in my face and I swing steel like Imma golf pro.
How you gonna act like ET down cap?
Who you to think an alien can’t rap?
Bought my mom a planet with all the royalties.
Every time I come around got Henry Thomas tugging on my sleeves.
Tricked out tie fighters sit in my garage.
No more played out government vans for my entourage.
What is about to follow is the first single from E.T.’s debut self titled album. There is a detailed track listing to come. And yes I mean this guy:
Let’s start at the why: Because that’s how I roll. So my close friend Linzi has an irrational fear of E.T. so of course we exploit this whenever possible. We had a little stuffed doll and well one thing lead to another and he was rapping. Sometime along that car ride I decided I’d actually make his album. Without further adieu or fanfare I’m sure here it is.
Cus I’m an alien
Check that bassline out
Uh
Uh
UH
From travelling throughout the galaxies
To collecting sample among California trees.
Rollin’ on my own since I was a young pup
Mess with my Boy Elliot n you’ll get f’d up
Who be the only alien you know to knock back a brew?
You know I still be getting it on with Drew
(sigh)
Cus I’m an alien
UH
Cus I’m an alien
Uh
Cus I’m an alien
Made Spielberg the hottest thang since Star Wars
Popped on the scene and put Leia on all fours.
Just wanted to get it back with my peeps
But all those G men are creeps.
White suits putting me in plastic tents.
Play me? I’ll gat them and tell em get bentz
(Why?)
Cus I’m an alien
UH
Cus I’m an alien
Uh
Cus I’m an alien
All these imitators got to be joking
Red finger to the law cus you know I be smoking
Fools and scientist alike.
When you thought I was dying I said psyche.
I got my own theme park ride what you got?
Nothing you can’t feel me, like the sun I’m blazing hot.
Cus I’m an alien
UH
Cus I’m an alien
Uh
Cus I’m an alien
Posted by ClevelandPoet 
From the cheap seats 