It’s been a day since I returned from The Limousines concert and I’m still recovering. In my traditional concert going ways, there were some successes, a couple surprises, and like times before, a whole lotta party fouls. I asked my blogging buddy Tragic Spinster if anyone was interested in hearing about poor life choices that led to an unflattering result and she reminded me it’s the only way to go.
Finding a babysitter, the five hour roadtrip, and enjoying the city life are all the same from the other concerts I’ve attended in Portlandia. This show held the potential to have a good hair picture with the band after winning a “meet the band at soundcheck” prize. I thought my concert tragedies of wrecked hair and inappropriate comments were behind me.
If I go into all the different facets of awesome and how I got there, this post will be forever long. The soundcheck prize got cancelled and it (with some lemondrop help) started the ball rolling on the things I might regret the next morning. I think for today, I will stick to the cringe-worthy embarrassment highlight reel.
Screamed way too loud into a girl’s back who pretty much hated me by the end of The Limousines’ show.
Did my usual moves of photo bombing a stranger.
Screaming “Fuck” loud enough for people to stare when my selfies were not turning out.
Repeatedly telling The Limousines’ Eric Victorino “you are so cute.” (He was delightful and I whole-heartedly stand by this fact.)
Telling The Limousines’ Giovanni Giusti several times how disappointed I was they didn’t play from the first album. (Feelin’ like a lame-o today about it and kinda surprised he didn’t kick my ass.)
Asking Mona’s bassist Zachary Lindsey to play Southern Oregon and stay in our pop-up trailer. (Hubs followed this up with telling him he’d make pulled pork, which didn’t make us look any cooler.)
Falling madly in love with Eric’s girlfriend who worked the merch table and then forcing her to follow me on Twitter.
Lastly, suffering through a horrific hangover which led to throwing up in a plastic Ross bag on the drive home and not being 18 years old when I did it. I blame this on the devil bartender lady who convinced me blueberry vodka was the way to go. That was also the moment I seriously questioned some of my life choices. And thank goodness I don’t have a picture of this.
There may have been some things I might have done differently if given another chance, but attending the concert was not one of them. The Limousines exceeded my high expectations with being cooler than all get out. I clearly violated my no touching policy by being all up in everyone’s grille because there was so much love exuding from my vodka soaked pores. I’m even going as far as putting them up there with the complete niceness and approachability as my fave TATE, so you know this is serious. Eric was beyond generous with his time to answer some of my questions about writing and doubt, which makes me forever loyal.
If you have the chance to catch them on this tour, I can’t encourage you more. I’m crossing my fingers they decide to make a little stop on the way home to hit a small town in Southern Oregon. If they do, there’s baked goods, pulled pork, and a pop up trailer waiting for them.