DJ I Am Funny When I'm Drunk

The following, presented without any kind of editing, are my drunken ramblings from last Friday night, when I went to a Dead Kennedys show with several friends from work and their 13-year-old daughters. We were actually all there to support one of the opening bands, which is fronted by the 15-year-old son of another guy we all work with. Got it? Anyway, I wrote this stuff down on Friday night when I got home at 10:30 (we ended up leaving after the fourth opening band) and found the boyfriend asleep already. I rediscovered it this morning and thought, what the fuck! I will just go ahead and post it as-is because my drunken ramblings are actually funnier to read than any cohesive description of the evening I’m capable of writing would be.

* * * [begin drunkenness] * * *

My friend Debbie got me all drunk. Then at one point she turned to me and shouted, “You know that band Social Distortion? These guys [one of the opening bands] sound kind of like them!” It was true, they did. I wonder why.

The mosh pit: it was so fucking cute that if I had a picture I would send it to Cute Overload. The kiddies were basically just skipping around in a circle and every so often shoving one another gently. I’ve hurt myself worse running into the coffee table. There was one kid (wearing a Bad Religion shirt) who I watched spend about 20 minutes screwing up the courage to enter this whirling vortex of death. I left before he did anything other than gaze wistfully into the maelstrom and gently push a few kids a little bit closer to making polite contact with other kids.

The audience consisted mostly of kids wearing pants so tight you could see they didn’t even have pubic hair yet.

About 35% of the audience (70% of the jailbait contingent) was wearing the exact same Dead Kennedys t-shirt. Some other t-shirts I saw:

• Bad Religion
• Black Flag
• Ramones
• Circle Jerks
• Vibrators
• Dr. Know (the opening band I was too drunk to form an opinion of)

The main singer of the band I was there to see (the friend’s kid) was wearing a homemade-looking t-shirt declaring “EMO MUST DIE.” But? He had emo hair. It was so confusing. Still, kind of loving him in spite of his jailbait status, mostly because his first words to the audience were an explanation of how his band isn’t really punk. Plus, totally fucking ripped for a 15-year-old.

Why is every 13 year old girl in the world mocking me? When I was 13, I was barely aware that it was possible for adults to be pathetic. These girls are very advanced.

This is the first concert I have ever been to where I didn’t smell pot even a single time. I did smell cigarettes, though. Wow those kids are daring.

Everyone working at the venue appeared to be under 18 and working the first night of the first job they’d ever had. The guy who tore my ticket dropped the stub on the ground twice and the girl who looked through my purse explained nervously to me that she would need me “to move stuff around in there” and giggled nervously when I did.

My friend Kim’s daughter Nicole and her friend, Taryn (!!) talked on the way home about their classmates, who have names like “Summer,” “Bubba,” “Hunter,” and, well, “Taryn.”

Kim told me about the guy she’s dating, who owns a Harley, has a miniature train track running through his house, and plays the didgeridoo. She was not going to take him to the disco party at the Carriage Museum Saturday night, because that crowd might disapprove of such an artsy fellow. I love Kim, she’s so completely awesome.

On the drive home, we listened to some radio station featuring one “DJ Hectic.” What a stupid DJ name. Hello, this is DJ Swamped At Work. DJ Where The Fuck Is My Other Shoe I Have To Leave Right Now. DJ Running Around And Around In Ever-Tightening Circles. DJ Brownian Motion.

* * * [end drunkenness] * * *

By the way, the band we were there to support is actually really good at what they do, especially for high school kids. The drummer is fucking 13 years old! They’re the new Silverchair! Anyway, it’s not really my thing, but they’re surprisingly talented. I don’t want to link to them or even give their name because I’m paranoid that the kid’s father will do a search for them and discover my blog, and I don’t really want people I work with to read this. So you’ll have to ask me if you want to know who they are.