Steve-O at Charlie Goodnight's - 04/28/11

Karla 101: i have been known to have a crass, insensitive and juvenile sense of humor. my brother and i were inseparable friends throughout our childhood and his awful sense of humor had a tremendous influence on me. yes, i was the gentle piano playing nerd reading in the corner, but nothing could get me rolling like a good fart joke. in fact, brother and i, to this day still speak of "the chainsaw"; a fart so gloriously acoustic, flagellated upon the most perfectly wooden lacquered surface that it rattled the kitchen windows... we are crass, we are juvenile, we will do anything for a laugh. most of my friends know this about me already, you get this lesson for free: I'll usually take any dare and i find the most disgusting of body functions the most hilarious.

it's no wonder in the dawn of CKY and Jackass, my brother and I were smitten. Here were a group of guys doing the most taboo antics on national television and getting PAID for it. It was magical. Raab himself shitting the window, anything party boy, anything dicamillo because he is the love of my life (seriously) and then my sweet, sweet steve-o mutilating himself and barfing all over the place - It was glorious. (Can i just say the beehive limo was one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life? seriously.) I'd never seen anyone else do the shit my brother dared to do in real life other than steve-o. just, straight up dumb shit; anything for a laugh. granted my brother never pierced his ass cheeks together, but still... They are twin souls. and i love my brother, there is no one on earth funnier to me other than myself than my bro.

Yes, this is a music review blog, but you are going to have to take some special consideration, here. Music is not my only passion in life: Comedy. I am a standup junkie. My brother and I worship at the altar of George Carlin, Bill Hicks and Chris Rock. there isn't an Eddie izzard, Mitch Hedberg or Louis CK standup i can't quote for you word for word. I love to laugh. I love standup. I also like poop and fart jokes and seeing dudes get kicked in the balls, what can i say? I'm a 13 year old boy; the secret is out. Poop is hilarious.

Some website randomly announced Steve-o was doing Standup at Charlie Goodnight's. Before i could even comprehend what that even could entail, I pounced and bought two tickets for me and my brother. SUPERFANS! I can't even begin to count for you the number of times we've watched the Don't Try This at Home videos. I had bought the tickets months before the performance and literally had no idea what to expect and refused to read reviews of previous performances because i love surprises. I didn't know if he was going to do legitimate standup or light his nuts on fire with leeches attached to his eyes, I didn't care. bring it on! ....SUPERFANS!

It was positively surreal to see the man in the flesh. Kinda like seeing an old friend you hadn't seen in a thousand years show up at a Target. Random. He looked amazingly healthy, (his teeth were perfect, I have to say.) He clarified right from the beginning what we had all assumed and hoped, that he had been drug and alcohol free for nearly three years, was a vegan and was in the best health of his life (awesome. please live forever, steve-o.) He then spent the rest of the majority of his time recounting guffaw-inducing stories from his past (one story involving an oral situation with a certain girl that ending in flatulence that reduced me to tears as i was laughing so hard) and humbly, yet hilariously, making himself and his wiener the butt of many, many jokes. (PS - I also said "making his wiener the butt" because I am awesome.)  I was not expecting A) an actual honest to god, very well structured standup comedy routine and B) that it would be really fucking funny. I was very pleasantly surprised and highly amused. Maybe I am biased because I have a long history of fandom, but I think anyone with the right sense of humor and adventure who didn't know quite as much as my bro & I did would have truly enjoyed this show.

I also did not expect the drunk muscleheads being so disrespectful and heckling/shouting out random bullshit throughout his routine. i apologize on behalf of Raleigh. It irritated me, too.

He ended his performance with a handful of nail biting stunts in which i found myself pulling my knees up into my chest to survive. (I am easily entertained by such things, but i still worry. seeing them on video and seeing them in person was a different world.) After partially blinding himself and practically lighting himself on fire, the show was over, much too soon. He promised everyone in the room they would get the chance to get a picture with him, and we all did.

WE ARE IN LOVE

btw, did you know my brother is amazing???

I later went back, once the crowd had died down to try and talk to him for a sec and get his permission to use the pictures on my site. he agreed, of course, because he is actually incredibly nice. and then proceeded to take a handful More pics with me, using my own patented arm stretch self portrait mode. (*soulmate*).

 WE ARE THE CUTEST COUPLE - WHATEVER!

I CAN FEEL HIS WIENER ON MY LEGGGGGGGGG

Just really want to say thanks for making my goofy little dreams come true. It's bizarre, I know. But I love Steve-O. I really, really do; as a person, as a perseverer and a performer. I had made a joke with my friends/brother that I was going to be able to convince him to come hang out with me (because I'm obviously so irresistible, right?) But when it came down to it, I got shy and reverent and I was just really honored to meet one of my heroes. thanks for coming to Raleigh, come back any time! xoxo

The Beatles - Yellow Submarine

I promise you this; you will never ride in a car with me and let a Beatles song come on the radio where I don’t explain their significance in my musical education. I will nearly always explain the same things: The Beatles taught me to sing. I am completely incapable of hearing or singing along with any Beatles song and not singing the harmony. The Beatles explained the execution of harmony before I even understood what it meant. Then, if you’re really lucky and I’m feeling chatty, I may go into the story of my childhood Saturday mornings with you.

My dad is a total Technophile. Or, he mostly was, now he’s just a slow-paced retiree with a golf addiction (we still love him) but he still has that 80s-esque yuppie compulsion to have the newest gadgets. I can remember when the first VCR came into our house. It was one of those gigantic ancient bad boys that was the size of a small coffee table. This was also back in the day before the production companies had released the licensing on cassettes, so very few places actually *sold* VCR tapes, only rented them. Of which, until I was older there was only one place that actually rented them; it was called Video1 in South Hills Mall; I think its part of a bridal shop now. But the point is, back when tapes were still scarce, they were purchasable, but viciously expensive; $80? $75? … a lot. Dad bought a few. I remember kinda feeling like hot shit because not only did my family have a VCR but we actually had TAPES. Dad bought the most random things… Patton, first of all (his favorite movie), Teen Wolf (what? Why?) And Yellow Submarine. Also Tommy got in there somehow at some point. Of course. (Reminder to self to write a post about Tommy.)

I was raised on the musical. My dad, in addition to being a Motown junky and a classic rock aficionado, was also inexplicably very into musicals… this is one of those million reasons why I always joke that my dad is gay. (Ps my dad is actually the antithesis of gay; he just has very funny things like this about him that I love to pick on him for.) (Ps again – I don’t know how I just made this connection, but this fact about my dad is most likely the predominate reason why I went to college for Musical Theater Performance. Durr.) So there was a big portion of the record collection I gleaned from my dad that was Rogers and Hammerstein and Andrew Lloyd Webber stocked. I listened to Jesus Christ Superstar and Tommy more than just about any other records in that collection. I’m not even sure if you would consider Yellow Submarine a musical (I would) or just a really long music video.

Of the vinyl I inadvertently hoarded away from my dad, there are 2 albums I am most emotionally connected to. The red and blue albums. The “best of”s I suppose. I used to sit in the floor turning those albums over and over again, watching the boys age before my eyes. Dad had sat down and recorded most of his vinyl, these albums included, onto cassette tape, and these tapes were probably played more on those Saturday mornings that any other one thing. My brother and I would ride around with Pop on these Saturdays singing our hearts out and I felt in my soul that harmonizing was the right thing to do; no one explained to me how or why to do it. (This was my Mozart playing thirds moment, I suppose?) It is impossible for me to listen to any Beatles song without singing the harmony. I joke that the Beatles taught me to sing.

I went today to see the new biopic about John Lennon, Nowhere Boy, in the theater. It was pretty spot on and was shot in all the right places. It was basically the telling of John’s childhood/early teens up until Hamburg. (Digression: it really amused me that there were so many people in the audience who didn’t know his story? Growing up with Aunt Mimi and that his mom died after being hit with a car? The gasping horror emitted by the majority of the audience made me kinda roll my eyes a bit… I wanted to be like, “people. Why are you here? Did you not know this shit already? Spoiler alert. Duh.”) As I stated in my facebook status update, I really only got weepy at the end, as the credit rolled there was a slideshow of childhood pictures, leading up the Quarrymen, which included babyfaced pictures of Paul and George. (I will have no hesitation telling you George is my favorite Beatle. Inside and out, I love that man on an atmospheric level. Missed forever… xoxo) so yeah, I forget that people don’t get as ‘involved’ with their favorite artists; needing to know entire biographies and meanings to certain songs. Also, having spent such a significant amount of time in Liverpool (story for later?) It was really cool to relive these places that I saw in the film again.

I have struggled off and on with my dedication/admiration of John Lennon. Yes, there are a bazillion reasons to love him, but there are those 2 or 3 little things that he did in his life that make me snarl a little. This movie helped humanize a little more of those things that bugged the crap of me about him, so that’s good. Also the boy playing him in the movie was so balistically hot, especially towards the end with those big ole black frame glasses and pea coat (so much how I like my men. [Plus beard. Obvs.])

This blog post has inadvertently become every discussion about the Beatles my brother and I have ever had. Of which there have been infinite. If my brother was guest blogging he would then have a terrible opinion about his favorite album/song and then I would force him for the bajillionth time to listen to the b-side of Abbey Road (you cannot deny it. None of you. Don’t make me make you listen.) Brother would then tell me for 200th time that he can never really tell which Beatle is singing and he would have to be dead to me for a while.

There is a new multimedia experience I am trying to add to this whole blog situation. I made a terrible quality video of me singing. Mostly this is to give you insight to my all day/everyday. Yeah, I know it’s dumb to drive around with headphones, but I just can’t get it loud enough without. I cannot listen to a song I know without singing alone. Especially in the car. I am a car singer extraordinaire.

My favorite part of this video at the end is when I am talking to another driver who is making poor decisions. Lol at the constant turn signal noise. I crack myself up. Enjoy.

Three Dog Night - Eli's Coming

The a-typical gender roles and overall dynamic in my family is weird. Most families are weird. I consider mine the weirdest, but probably because I’m in it.

A little overview before the story.

My dad is more like my mom. My mom is very dude-like. My dad is the homemaker. Despite the fact that up until he retired a month or two ago and made 4 times what mom makes, he was still the housewife. He cooks, cleans, does laundry, etc. still finds time to build porches and paint the house, all that good stuff. Mom, still works whatever hours she wants (she owns her own business) is very misanthropic. Has no friends, doesn’t want any friends. Growing up in such a large family, mom would now rather spend the rest of her life alone and quiet. Dad was an only child and craves love and attention at all times.

Growing up mom worked Saturday mornings. I can remember times before I started going to school (pre-kindergarten) where mom would do things with us (movies, swimming, etc), but what I most remember about growing up is my Saturdays with dad. Throughout the 80s, my dad drove a little Toyota truck and every Saturday morning my brother and I would pile up in the truck and fight over who got stuck in the middle while dad ran errands.

In the house I spent the early 80s in off Lake Wheeler road, (the house my engineer dad and his buddies actually built,) dad was forever building and home-improving. One of the biggest projects I can remember is the stand alone garage and workshop he and a friend built over one summer. The majority of our Saturday errands were trips to lumberyards and home improvement stores. Back in these days there was about 2 different home improvement stores in Raleigh and neither were big chains. One I remember very clearly was off capital blvd and is now a u-store-it kinda place. The day would always lead us to one fast food establishment or the other, sitting on the tailgate of the truck eating lunch. certain places will always stick out to me; the Hardee’s off Walnut Street in Cary. Arby’s on Hillsborough Street. Char-grill on Hillsborough. Although I have probably eaten at these same crap shops 1000 times since, I still think of dad, Kyle and I and being little and the grey Toyota truck.

There are 2 consistencies about these Saturday morning errands. A) Fighting over who got stuck sitting in the middle and the consequential ‘punch-bug’ fights that would ensue and B) my dad’s cassettes. Dad was always a music/vinyl junky. I owe my entire musical obsession to him. I owe to those Saturdays the fact that I can harmonize with the Beatles. It was on these errands dad would teach us all about his music. Tell us stories about each song (sound familiar?) some of my aural memories are recollections of my fathers’ memories (Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit and Viet Nam flashbacks, for example.) These Saturdays are when I remember my brother and I fighting over who could name that tune in the shortest amount of time. Couldn’t have been older than 6 or 7, we moved from the Lake Wheeler house to Apex in 1985.

One particular errand I can remember was pitching granite rocks that dad found via a rogue pile of off Beryl Road near the arboretum. I’m sure he was driving along and saw this big pile of scrap granite and hatched a plot. He was forever stopping to pick stuff off the side of the road. Pocket knives, hard hats, paint buckets, forever having a use for them somewhere. So one Saturday we drove out to the rock pile and spent the day loading the truck and driving back to the Lake Wheeler house and filling in our old sand box (which ran the entire length and breadth of the back porch of this house) with these rocks. It took a few trips. I remember complaining a lot.

I can’t tell you whether this song ever played on that particular day or not. But it’s one of dad’s favorites. I can’t hear this song without hearing my dad singing along. There are a million songs like this, for some reason this one sticks out. Most Three Dog Night, Beatles, Steppenwolf, Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, etc… songs are the same way. It was hard to pick just one, but I chose this one. Ironically my best friend had a son 4 years ago and named him Eli. I have meant to tell her specifically why that name meant something to me so many times and it has somehow slipped my mind until now. Every time I hear his name I think about Saturday mornings with my dad and brother and that little grey truck.