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Everybody hates your backpack

We do. We all hate your backpack.

We all want you to know that it’s  a concert, not camping. Are you headed to a full day of classes right after the show? A sleepover perhaps?

What bonds people just as well as love, perhaps better? Hate. Shared hatred. Trés cozy.

I’m not talking that hate that inspires over-privileged selfish cowards to carry about tiki torches.  I’m all for loving everyone first and then picking out individuals to hate based on their selfish behavior. Have you ever been at a show and your hatred of some rude fuck molesting you with his backpack & torturing all that they touch completely bonds all around the offender? You all find peace and bond over the fact that yes, said person is ruining everyone’s experience with their complete disregard of every other human being. Yes. We are at a rock show, but that does not mean we all have to be assholes. If you have a medical need to do so, please do, otherwise it’s completely silly. My mom always taught me manners will always take you further in life.

Who is this person that insists on bringing a backpack to every show?. The largest purse to a tiny venue? Are you that person that insists that piece of luggage the size of a small child needs to be with you in the front row?Are these people on their way to O’ Hare? And of course, they need to be right next to the stage with their small child strapped to them apathetically slamming into all around them.  They turn to yell to their friends about that other friend who will be right there. I already know they also have a backpack and they are going to be standing directly on me in 5 minutes. Can’t wait. Cue, full turn around and (again) smashing me with the backpack, waving like a moron about 6 inches from my face to another moron to come stand upon me.  Why yes, of course, he’s extra drunk and smelly, why wouldn’t he be? Good thing they can’t feel it all because they’ve brought a backpack large enough to hold a goddamn tent. I plot about the opening of the bag and all the belongings just tumbling…

To the backpackers:
I hate your backpack and now I hate you.
Everybody hates you and your backpack
I will bitch LOUDLY about you to you and roll my eyes with our shared sufferers of your existence.
I plot about opening that bag and all their… seriously wtf is in there?  I do hope it’s precious. The bag empties it’s guts all over the floor and we the surrounding afflicted, mosh it all into oblivion. I dream of this moment. I swear it’s gonna happen one day. I’m gonna hit that right day and …yeah

AND SERIOUSLY WTF IS IN THERE?

Hell, this isn’t the 90’s, you have a phone which usually contains EVERYTHING.  Keys you are allowed to have keys, wallet, and a phone. Fine, it’s a day-long festival but seriously how much shit do you want to carry around with you, ALL DAY? Do you think that bringing a huge backpack is going to enable you to hide all your illegal fun stuff? Good luck on that.  I watched at Riot Fest as one guy shut down one of the lines for about 10 minutes while they insisted on ripping apart the very large, very packed bag and splaying its contents. If you bring a backpack you should make the decision that bringing all your worldly possessions with you should be left back where there’s room for that kind of lameness. Get to the back of the crowd where you belong. The pit is reserved for those who know how to exist without all of our belongings strapped to us.

We are the free, let us be free.

Sorry, not sorry. Fucking manners, people.

from the series Concert Etiquette

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Crushed and Exhausted

Crushed-playlist o’ summer

Another festival season is damn near over. Color me crushed. And exhausted.
Summer’s end always makes me sad but as much as I hate to admit it, hopeful.
Don’t tell anyone I have a reputation to maintain.
By the end of summer, I’m fucking tired. I need Fall and as much as I even further hate to admit- Winter.  I need a goddamn break after all the lakeside bike rides, the sweaty street festivals, and the weekend-long treks back and forth to a festival.
I need an excuse to lay in sweatpants and watch Netflix.
It seems like an odd time to start a series about festivals and concerts perhaps.
Sure,  the concerts still rage on in the winter. Winter shows just have a different flavor. The wardrobe, footwear, and venues change but the music still goes on despite the notorious Chicago Winter.
The cold weather brings a time of forced reflection. A time to reflect and not be distracted by the warm day and the sunny breeze. A time to reflect on all that I love about a good show, what I adore about squeezing through a crowd to stand with a bunch of strangers just so I can be that much closer to the band. Yes, I also will bitch about what I hate and life rules I just wish people would abide by. My rules.
If people would just follow my rules but like in a no-rule loving way that just simply included some damn common decency as I see fit.
Perhaps this entry will be the first in a series about me bitching about what I wish people knew at shows, perhaps some helpful advice.  I’m not quite sure where this will all go honestly. Let me pretend to be wise and all knowing and use my concert knowledge for good not evil.
Ok, some evil but good evil, fun evil.

Full disclosure: Here I am bitching about winter and festival season being over. I am heading out to Riot Festival this weekend to put a nice little finish to all my summer shows.  I refuse to admit summers over until after Riot Fest.

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Catcallers Beware

Catcallers should all be shot

 

These ladies most certainly rock

 

Because what lady doesn’t swoon as someone screams out to her about her nice ass?